Blonde Demolition

Chapter 6: What Does He Want?

“We could step in," Trey said.

With one phone call, he could make it all go away.

She rubbed a spot on her forehead that began to ache. “I notice you use the Royal 'we.'"

“I've always been a company man."

Bile rose in her throat. Yes, he had been. That had been her biggest obstacle with him. She never knew where the job ended and Trey began. “I haven't forgotten."

He leaned into her, his steel eyes sharp. “What else do you remember?"

She slammed her hand on the table. Her beer wobbled, but she caught it. “You are not seducing me back into this life."

He shifted away from her, his arms crossed. His expression didn't change. He hadn't even flinched at her outburst. Not even at her use of the word “seduce" which she knew any shrink would have a field day with.

Had he predicted what she would do?

When they had worked together, he'd known before she did that she had to pee. She'd never met anyone so in tune with her. Maybe she never wanted to have anyone know her that way again.

“I'm different now. I have this great life." Her finger stabbed the air, punctuated every word. “You cannot take that away from me."

“I'm not taking away anything. I'm giving you something. I'm giving you back the ability to make a difference."

She stalked away from him. “You think I don't make a difference? What about the family whose house didn't burn down because I was here?"

“You can prevent many more houses from not burning down with us."

“It isn't the same."

She shook her head. He would not pull her strings.

He would appeal to her sense of honor and her strong desire to help people. He knew all the cards she held and how to play them to his advantage.

“No, it's better," he said.

He rose to his full height, towered over her. She wasn't intimidated. He hadn't meant her to be. That wasn't his style. He charmed so she braced for it.

“No one dead, this time, Mal. Think about it. Think about a bomb on a kiddy ride." He leaned into her and she knew he'd go for her jugular. “You don't want anymore kids to die, do you?"

***

Booth's phone rang as he returned home. He lived in a modest ranch house. He didn't want anyone to know the riches he had stashed away in a bank account.

“Her partner came back again."

“Doesn't mean she's going back to Homeland Security," he said.

“Why are you so reluctant?"

Good question. “I'm not."

“You getting morals in your old age? The pay off is a big one."

Booth rubbed a hand down his face. “No. I just want proof before I have to kill her. That's all."

“She's more valuable to us dead."

“I'm sure she is, but what if I killed her and then you find out she had information that could help you. You'd be s**t out of luck."

“Stay put for now. You'll get your orders when it's time."

“Shall I stay close to her?" Not that it would be a hardship. He tamped down that thought. He had a job to do.

“Yes."

“Can I kill her how I want?"

“As long as it can't be traced to you."

Booth snorted. “I am a professional."

***

Mallory taped up her hands, slid on her purple boxing gloves. She had aggression and anger to beat out of her punching bag.

Someone had tried to hurt children. Someone planned to do it again. She had a choice to stop it or stay in the safe cocoon she'd built.

She could fail. Again. But would she ever be satisfied if she didn't try? She'd never been content to sit on the sidelines.

Even as a firefighter she'd learned every aspect of it. She'd been up ladders fighting fires from the top. She'd been inside fighting them at the source. Not even if she'd been paid could she have sat by, poured coffee while the others risked their lives.

Her fists hit with a thwack.

The bag held no answers, but her head would be clearer.

Dawn was a promise on the horizon, but she didn't have to go to work. She'd explained to people who asked that she had a trust fund. The reality was that the government paid people well for service, more so if the government wanted you to stay quiet.

Mallory kept her end of the bargain as long as she didn't have to punch a time clock or sit behind a desk.

Or defuse any more bombs. That thought stopped her for a moment. Her chest heaved while her hands dropped to her sides. The government had broken their promise. They wanted her back.

The enormity of it washed over her. She shook it off.

She slammed a fist into the bag as if it were Trey's face. Then her foot. Her form raw, she began more of the moves she knew. Power surged through her as her anger transferred to the big bag in front of her.

But she knew her rage was misdirected. She should be angry for all the innocent people killed in a world gone mad. She should be angry for the children who had thought it was more important to give their lives to a cause than be there when their child arrived home from school. She should be angry at an American who financed it not because of some cause, but because he could.

The sun peaked into the window of her attic she had turned into a workout studio. Her venom spent, she stood drenched in sweat when the phone rang.

“Mallory."

Jesse's voice floated through the phone. “Good morning."

“Hey."

“Feeling better?"

She wished she could give him an affirmative answer. She couldn't feel worse. Well, she could. If he were hurt in the crossfire of her old life returned. “Sure."

“Did you sleep?"

A sigh ripped out of her. “No."

“Sleep all day, trust fund girl."

She didn't know what to say to that. The ruse didn't fit her image of herself, but she played along anyway. She had to. Otherwise, there would be too many questions.

“Mallory? You always go silent when I say that."

“I'm sorry, Jesse. I'm a little ragged from lack of sleep."

“And you always have an excuse, too. Mal, you can tell me. Whatever it is that you hold back from me, you can tell me." The sincerity in his voice cut her heart to shreds. He couldn't be a better friend. “It doesn't matter."

I'll still love you is what he didn't say.

She knew her past wouldn't make a difference to him. The understanding was all he offered on that one day a year she wanted nothing to do with people. The anniversary she'd never shared with anyone.

The one that made her scar ache.

Along with her heart.

She took in a deep breath, letting it out with no noise. “Oh, Jesse. I wish sometimes that I could."

She could hear him as he shifted in his office chair. The one she'd helped him pick out. “You'd have to kill me afterwards? I've heard that before."

She chuckled again. Jesse always made her laugh. She cared about him for that alone. God, he was easy to be with.

“My forte isn't getting rid of bodies. There would be way too many questions." She kept the joke going. Maybe she'd feel better if she laughed.

Her mind returned to what Trey had said last night about children dying.

“Oh, Mal. I have a tour of the firehouse today, can you do it?" Jesse asked.

She shuddered. Children. “How many and what age?"

As much as she didn't want to see kids die for causes created by adults, she didn't want to be around them. Too painful, but if they were older, school age or so, she could get through the experience.

“A Mom's club. I think ten of them. Four and five year olds, maybe others."

A Girl Scout troop she could do. Even a brownie troop. The visitors would be all girls.

She had to face this fear and put it to rest. Now wasn't the time, not if Trey was back in her life. She couldn't let Jesse down either.