Blonde Demolition

Chapter 3: Unexpected Visitor

“Wait."

Jesse pulled Mallory into his arms and whispered in her ear. “Thanks."

At that, she turned away from him. The bay door closed behind her. The hum of it sounded like an alarm or a bell to change classes. She wasn't changing classes—she was changing lives.

It seemed the parking lot had lengthened since she arrived that morning. Each step took Herculean effort and for a moment, her vision closed to a pinpoint as if someone had turned off an old television.

One thing she knew was that life was short. And her search for her birth parents wouldn't wait until after the fair.

Her body dropped into the car seat, as she caught her breath. She closed the door a minute later.

Before she could start her car, a hand covered her mouth.

***

Mallory bit down, then yanked at the arm. Her meager strength came from another rush of adrenaline.

“Whoa, Mallory. It's just me."

The familiar voice froze her before she could do any damage. Oh, crap. As if her day didn't tank already.

One by one she uncurled her fingers from around his wrist. Her shaking hands grasped the steering wheel, knuckles white.

Her eyes fell closed. If she had a list of people she never wanted to see again, his name would be at the top. Why here? Why now? This was the last thing she needed.

She steadied her breathe, her gaze scanned the parking lot. No one stirred or walked to their car. She couldn't be seen with him.

“Don't turn around. Just drive. I'll be hunkered down in the back."

She started the car and drove home. Her knuckles remained white. “What the hell are you doing here?"

“I think you know."

Of course. “The bomb in our trailer?"

Emotions roiled her stomach. She'd have to stock up on antacids if Trey was back in her life. And she had just been thinking how nutty this week of fair preparations had been. Now it all looked so easy.

Her thoughts shifted to the events of the evening. Who had put the bomb there? It wasn't a prank if this guy was here. This was bigger than all of Coleville, Centre County.

She pulled in front of her house, a two-story Cape Cod set down a long driveway.

“We're here and no one can see you from the road," she said.

She disembarked, leaving her guest to follow.

She had a date with a shower and her bed.

Alone.

Whatever he had to say could wait until she wasn't in an adrenaline hangover.

Maybe the Earth would swallow him before he entered her house. She snorted, her gaze searched the sky for flying pigs.

As she unlocked the door, she felt more than heard him behind her. A whole host of emotions flooded her; robbed her of breath.

“There's some microwave popcorn in the cabinet, I'm taking a shower."

“Ah, you remembered," his gravelly voice said.

She whirled to look at him for the first time. He leaned on the door, his look as wild and dangerous as always. Worn, black jeans hugged all the right parts and his black t-shirt did the same. His craggy face sported his usual five o'clock shadow. No matter wheb he'd shaved, that beard always showed.

She hated herself for that remembered detail. And how that beard felt against her most sensitive parts.

His dark gaze held hers like a vice.

“I eat it, too." The sentence sounded lame. She shrugged. “I'm taking a shower."

***

Booth stood outside Mallory's house. He stood just inside the shadows. If she looked out she wouldn't have seen him. No streetlights in this part of town.

The lights were on in the kitchen and her ex-partner moved around in there. Booth figured he could take the guy if necessary. Right now it wasn't needed.

If he knocked on the door, what would happen?

Would she stammer that it wasn't what he thought?

He chuckled.

Studying his kill had never been so fascinating. No one had ever been so oblivious. Her alarms and security measures were a joke for him.

He could move like a ghost. God knows he'd been trained by the best the government had to offer.

Not like her, who'd been trained by a Johnny-come-lately group like Homeland Security.

He rubbed a hand down his face.

Time to go home and sleep.

***

The hot spray hit Mallory's sore muscles like a thousand needle points. Her heart raced. Her mind sped past it. “What could he want?"

“Ask me." She heard his voice through the translucent panel of the shower door. That voice that could send a thrill through her. That voice that had whispered to her of naked pleasures. That voice attached to a body that could fulfill those pleasures.

She shuddered not surprised to see him. He had a knack for pushing through her boundaries.

“Do you mind? I'm naked, Trey."

His laugh rumbled from the depths of his amazing body. “I've seen you naked. In fact, I could probably draw a road map of your body."

Her mouth went dry. She finished her shower and turned off the water. She let out a noisy breath before she opened the door. He would not get the best of her.

Trey McCrane held her towel as if he planned to make her barter him for it. A twinkle lit his ice blue eyes. “Towel?"

She leaned on the metal frame of the stall, refused to be intimidated. “Give me the towel."

He did, easier than she thought. His gaze roved over her as intrusive as if they were his hands. Even if she hadn't been naked she would have felt that way. Trey could look through people.

“Don't you want to know why I'm here?"

“No. I do want to know how fast you can make it out my front door."

“Is that any way to greet your former partner?"

She knew he meant “partner" in every sense of the word. They'd been partners in Homeland Security and in bed. “Leave, Trey. I have a good life."

“And a bomb in your beer trailer."

She wrapped the towel around herself and brushed past him to her bedroom down the hall. This wasn't how she'd envisioned her evening. Her vision held a bath and then bed. Alone.

Her vision had nothing to do with saving the world. “How do you know about that?"

“Because we were expecting it."

She dropped her towel, grabbed a shirt. His hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Let me see you."

“You don't get to see me." He'd lost the right five years ago.