Live Ammo

“I can’t let you in the car until it’s been checked for prints,” Whitfield said. “But I can see if your purse is in the vehicle.”

Dread squeezed the breath from her lungs. She should have realized they’d do a routine check for fingerprints.

And when they did, they’d find hers and discover her real identity.

“How long will it take you to check for prints?” she asked

“With the backlog they have in the investigation unit, we’ll be lucky if we get the report back this week.”

“What’s the quickest you could get it back?”

“Wednesday afternoon,” Whitfield said, “but that would only be if the chief put a rush on it.”

She couldn’t rule that out. It was Monday now. That gave her two days to disappear again. And she had no car.

“You should go ahead and alert your insurance company,” Whitfield said, “though I suspect they’ll total it. The Honda is what—about eight years old?”

“Ten.” She’d bought it from a used car lot in Vegas seven months ago, a few days after fleeing California. She’d have to settle for one older than that this time. Her ready cash was running low.

“I’ll need Tommy’s car seat before I leave today,” she said.

Whitfield dabbed at the perspiration that beaded on his forehead with a wrinkled handkerchief he’d pulled from his back pocket. “I’ll have one of the cops get the boy’s seat for you now. Then you’ll be free to go. Like I said, a detective from the precinct will contact you, likely later today.”

“My phone is in my purse,” she said.

“That’s okay. I need to get your home address anyway.”

She provided it and a few other relative pieces of information he would have normally taken from her fake driver’s license. And now she’d have a detective making a house call. Could this get any worse?

Yes, she answered herself. It could be a million times worse. Tommy might have actually been kidnapped or seriously injured or even killed in the wreck. And she was the one who’d vowed to keep him safe.

“Want to go home,” Tommy whined as Whitfield walked away.

“I know you do, sweetie.” He was hot and tired and recovering from a traumatic morning. And now he’d have to get used to a new home.

“Exactly how is it you called a friend when you don’t have a phone?” Tague asked.

Her irritation swelled. “So now you’re starting with the questions, too?”

“I’m just wondering how you plan to get home when you have no car and no money.”

“I figured I could bum bus money from you.”

“I never lend money to friends.”

“We’re not exactly friends.”

“We must be. I never offer rides to strangers.”

“I didn’t hear you offer.”

“Give me time.” He made a mock bow. “May I give you a lift?”

Her ready response was no. But she really did need a ride. And it wasn’t as if she’d be around long enough to worry about the cowboy trying to stay in touch.

“I live on the other side of town,” she cautioned. “You might want to consider that before you make those rash offers.”

“In that case, I may have to charge double.”

“You expect me to pay you?”

“I was kidding. Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay, but I have to make a stop before going home.”

“At the hospital, I hope.”

“If it’s necessary. First I’d like to check with my son’s pediatrician. If the doctor can check him out at the clinic near my house, it would be less stressful to Tommy. He’s familiar with the setting and the staff.”

“I can handle that. But you still need someone to check out your injuries.”

“I’m fine, and if you’ll stop with the questions and orders, I’ll accept your offer. But just for a ride,” she emphasized, just in case he was expecting more. Tague looked and acted like a gentleman, but she’d been fooled before.

“A ride was all I offered. You’re safe with me, Alexis. But I can provide references if you doubt me.”

“From your mother?”

“Either her or my parole officer.” He put a hand up to cut off her protests before they formed. “I’m only teasing.”

“Okay, cowboy. You’re on.”

Chapter Three

Tague thumbed through the newsmagazine for about twenty seconds before dropping it back to the waiting room table. It was his first time in a pediatrician’s office since he’d been a kid himself and he felt as out of place as a wasp in a beehive.

He was the only person in the room not accompanied by a kid or two. One woman was corralling three, none of whom appeared to be old enough to go to school.

Tague had nothing against kids, but the idea of being outnumbered by them three to one was a little frightening. They seemed more work than a herd of cattle, and they definitely required more supervision.

It had to be tough raising one on your own the way Alexis was doing. Already married and divorced though Tague figured she was likely no older than his twenty-six years.

The woman was definitely intriguing. She was feisty enough to try to fight off an armed thug and then commandeer Tague into action to go after her son. But she was ready to run from a cop just trying to help.

What really had him going was that she looked so hauntingly familiar. Yet he was pretty sure he hadn’t run into her before.

He couldn’t help noticing her great figure and stunning legs that did terrific things for her white shorts. Straight, blond, silky hair that cupped her chin and fell to her shoulders. Enticing lips.

But it was the eyes that really mesmerized him. Sort of a blue-violet color tucked in between thick, dark lashes. Sometimes fiery. Sometimes shadowed and troubled. Always hypnotic. She was not the kind of woman a red-blooded male would forget meeting.

And the druggie who’d stolen her purse had her ID and her home address. Neither Whitfield nor Alexis had mentioned the danger that could entail, but both had to be aware of it.

Even if the detective who’d be calling on her later today brought it up, he’d only warn her to be careful and keep her doors locked. She’d be on her own if the thug decided to show up for a return engagement.

Or maybe she wouldn’t be alone. She could have a jock live-in who could make the thug wish he’d kept running. But if there was a man on demand, Alexis hadn’t mentioned him nor called him—at least not on Tague’s phone.

That still didn’t make Tague responsible for her safety. After all, it was only a bizarre act of fate that had thrown them together. The only reason he’d been on that street at all was a detour prompted by a street repair crew.

Tague had come into town this morning to pick up a saddle from the best saddle maker in Texas. Not for himself, but for his brother Damien who’d had it made as a surprise for his new wife. He wanted it to be in the tack room waiting on Emma when they returned from their honeymoon.

It was midafternoon now and Tague was yet to pick up the saddle. Alexis had insisted he didn’t have to wait for her at the doctor’s office. But what kind of jerk would leave a woman and a kid stranded after the morning they’d been through?

Still, he was rotten at sitting and doing nothing. He stood and left the waiting room, choosing instead to pace the wide hallway of the three-story medical complex. Even that felt confining.

He took out his phone and called Cork. With his brother Damien on his honeymoon, he relied on his head wrangler more than ever.

“How’s it going?” he asked when Cork finally answered.

“Busy. Just finished moving the cattle scheduled for their injections into the holding pens. And one of the horses is acting colicky. Don’t know what brought it on. There’s been no change in the feed.”

“Which horse?”

“King.”

Damien’s personal horse. “Keep an eye on King. Administer the usual treatment, but don’t hesitate to call Doctor Benson if you think it’s necessary.”

“Will do,” Cork said. “Are you heading back this way yet?”

“No, I decided last minute to take care of some other business while I’m in town. I’m not sure what time I’ll get back to the Bent Pine,” Tague said. “I could be late so tell Mother not to wait dinner on me.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“If anything comes up, you can always reach me on my cell,” Tague added.

“Gotcha.”

While he had the phone out, he made a quick call to Harry Rucker and let him know that he might not make it to his shop to pick up the saddle today.

It was forty-five minutes of pacing later when Alexis came swinging out the door.

“Me got a sucker,” Tommy said, holding up a bright red lollipop before poking it between his lips.

Alexis’s brows arched. “You’re still here.”

“I told you I’d wait,” he said.

“I know, but I thought you might reconsider and decide you’d wasted enough time on me.”

“I wanted to make sure the boy is okay.”

“Really? You stayed for Tommy?” Her expression registered surprise and a hint of pleasure. “I appreciate that.”

“So where is my lollipop?” Tague asked.

“Sorry. You have to get examined to earn one of those.”

“Maybe we can work on that later?”

Her cheeks reddened.

“Once again, only teasing,” Tague said. “I’m just here to taxi you home.” He opened the door and they walked out of the waiting room together, Tommy sucking for all he was worth and holding fast to his mother’s hand.

Once Tommy was safely buckled into the backseat, Alexis climbed into the front seat with Tague.

Tague started the engine. “I’ll need directions.”

“Take a left when you leave the parking lot, then a right at the second light. My apartment complex is two miles down on the right. It takes up two blocks. You can’t miss it.”

“That would have been a long walk in this heat.”

“Ten steps is a long walk in this heat. I’m sure I would have opted for a taxi. I have cash at home that I could have paid him with.”

“Did the doctor give Tommy a good report?”

“He said he’ll have some bruising where the safety belt dug into his shoulder and on at least one of his legs. The flesh is already turning purple. But Dr. Pendleton detected no signs of internal injuries or sprains.”

“That’s great and incredible, especially seeing the condition of your Honda.”

“I know. I hate to even think about how close we skirted tragedy.”

“My mother would say that angels saw Tommy through the danger,” Tague said.

“I think I’d like your mother.”

Unfortunately, the thief had also been uninjured and able to flee the scene.

Alexis turned toward the backseat to check on Tommy. “Remind me when we get to my house and I’ll clean the sticky handprints from your seat.”

“Absolutely. Can’t have you messing up my work truck. Cows wouldn’t like it.”

Alexis wrinkled her nose. “You don’t really put cows in here, do you?”

“Not in the cab. And speaking of bruising, you have a nice range of ugly colors painting your eye.”

She pulled down the visor and checked her reflection in the mirror. “Pretty hideous, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Did the doctor say what you should do for that?”

“Put ice on it. In fact, his nurse had me keep a cold pack on it while I waited for the doctor to see Tommy.”

“What about that bump on your head?”

“He thinks I should have gone to the emergency room, but since I didn’t, and since I’m not having any problems with coherence, balance or unusual pain, he says I should just watch for symptoms of a concussion. In other words, it’s no big deal.”

“So you both got good reports. That should relieve your mind.”

“The only thing that could make it better would be to learn that the thief looks even worse after wrecking my car than I do.”

Once Tague had turned the corner, he spotted a supermarket on the right.

“You never got your groceries,” he said. “Do you want to stop now?”

“Thanks, but I can get what I need later.”

“Why wait? You have a vehicle and a guy to tote the bags now. Unless you have a handy man at your disposal.”

“I don’t have any man at my disposal, handy or otherwise.”

The answer pleased him, though it shouldn’t have. It wasn’t like he was going to stick around for more than a day. They were strangers. He was helping out in a crunch.

The fact that she was fascinating and a temptress even with her black eye didn’t mean he was looking to start parking his boots under her bed or even pop in for a beer on occasion. Not that she’d invited him.

He pulled into the supermarket lot and found a spot near the front door.

Alexis looked around cautiously as he parked, as if she half expected the monster who’d attacked her earlier to show up for a rematch.

“I don’t have any money with me,” she reminded him as she opened her car door.

“I do.”

“I’ll pay you back when we get to my house,” she said.

“Better than that, you can fix me a sandwich. I missed lunch and I’m famished.”

“I should provide more than a sandwich after all you’ve done,” she said, “but to tell you the truth, I’m a lousy cook.”

“Now you tell me after I’ve wasted a whole day on you.”

“Whoa, cowboy. I never asked you to do…”

“Just trying to ease a little of the tension that’s got you gripping my door handle so tight, you’re liable to dent it.”

He was beginning to think it wasn’t only cops she mistrusted, but men in general.

She exhaled slowly. “I am a little uptight.”

“And you have every right to be. But you’re safe now, so let’s go buy some groceries.”

“Want kokalat,” Tommy said, as she released the catch on his safety belt.

“I don’t think you need chocolate,” she said. “You just had a lollipop.”

“All gone. Want kokalat,” he said, unperturbed by reason.

“You can choose a chocolate bar for later, but you can’t open it until after dinner,” Alexis said as they started toward the door.

Tommy walked between them until they reached the lines of empty carts. Then Alexis swung him up and settled him in the child seat, buckling him in so that he couldn’t crawl or fall out.

It struck Tague how much they must look like a typical family out shopping.

The thought terrified him. He walked away from Alexis as soon as they entered the store, shopping alone to buy a few items, including a couple of steaks, two baking potatoes and a nice bottle of wine. Alexis could use a glass after the day she’d had. And he hadn’t been kidding about being starved. A sandwich wouldn’t cut it.

* * *

“T OMMY ’ S FALLEN ASLEEP ,” Alexis said when they arrived at her apartment with the few groceries she’d bought. “I should have known he was being too quiet.”

She shifted Tommy’s head to a more comfortable position and then unbuckled his safety belt before lifting him into her arms.

“Why don’t you let me carry him in for you?” Tague offered.

“I can handle him.”

“I wouldn’t feel too manly following you up the stairs empty-handed while you’re lugging a sleeping kid.”

“You’d be lugging groceries.”

“A carton of milk, a loaf of bread and a kokalat bar?”

“I bought more than that.”

“Not much.”

Because she’d be leaving town before the detective had his fingerprints and she’d be traveling light. And if Tague really knew her, he’d be running for the hills instead of offering to hang around.

“Far be it for me to offend the manhood of my chauffeur,” she said, handing Tommy over.

A niggling uneasiness crept deep inside her as Tommy stirred and then resettled with his head resting against Tague’s chest. It was the first time any man had held him since they’d fled Los Angeles in the middle of a dark, smoke-filled night.

She reached into the backseat for the groceries.

“Just get the chocolate so it doesn’t melt,” Tague said. “I’ll come back for the rest as soon as I put Tommy down.”

“I can easily manage two bags.”

“And leave my six-pack to boil? Besides, you’ve got to come up with a key. Do you have one hidden somewhere or will you need to have a manager let you in?”

“I’ll need to have a key reissued.” She would have never risked leaving a key where it could be found. She grabbed her two bags of groceries. The beer could stay where it was and go home with Tague.

She didn’t have time for company now. She had to find a way to get her hands on a vehicle that would get her out of town.

Tague stared at the three flights of stairs.

“I’m on the second floor,” she said. “Apartment 212, just up those steps and turn right at the top.” She motioned to the covered walkway that ran from one corner of the building to the other. “Two doors down. There’s an elevator at the west end of the building, but I never take it.”

“No wonder you’re in such terrific shape.”

She turned to hide the unexpected blush that burned in her cheeks. It was just an offhanded compliment. It shouldn’t have affected her at all, especially with all she had on her mind.

Tague started toward the stairs.

“You should probably go with me to the leasing office so that you can wait in the air-conditioning,” she said. “It may take a few minutes to get a key. It all depends on how busy they are.”

“We’re right behind you.”

She hurried to the first-floor office. Fortunately, one of the leasing agents was readily available and eager to accommodate. Alexis only told her she’d lost the keys, omitting any reference to the carjacking incident.

Once she had a replacement key in hand, she climbed the stairs with Tague at her side. The day’s developments, including his presence, were mind-boggling.

A day that had started out as normal—or at least as normal as any of Alexis’s days ever were—had quickly deteriorated. When that thug had driven off with Tommy, the terror had consumed her. The same way it had when another maniac had threatened Tommy’s life.

That fear still haunted her every waking moment and created a never-ending nightmare. No hunky cowboy had ever ridden to the rescue in that nightmare. And no matter how genial and accommodating Tague seemed, she didn’t dare trust him to play that role now.

They were almost up the stairs when she noticed an unfamiliar man leaning against the railing near her door. Tall, with red hair, a modest paunch, and ruddy skin. His stance and stare were intimidating.

Her muscles tensed and her arm tightened about the bags she was carrying, forcing a couple of oranges over the rim of the paper bag. They rolled for a few seconds before bouncing their way down the stairs like squishy orange balls.

“Are you Alexis Beranger?”

She left his question unanswered. “Who are you?”

“Detective Gerald Hampton with the Dallas Police Department.” He flashed a badge and an ID. “I

understand your vehicle was carjacked and then wrecked today.”

Her muscles relaxed until she was no longer grinding her teeth. “I was a carjacking victim, but I’ve already told Officer Whitfield all I know.”

“I’ve seen Whitfield’s report,” Hampton said. “But I’d still like to talk to you. This shouldn’t take more than a half hour.”

She juggled the groceries so that she could poke her key into the lock.

Keep cool, she reminded herself. Don’t do anything to arouse suspicions. She was the victim, not a suspect. She had to keep it that way.

Amazingly, the conversation didn’t wake Tommy. Apparently the day had taken a lot out of him, as well. “Just have a seat anywhere,” she said, as they entered the small and sparsely furnished living area. “I’ll put my son to bed so that he can finish his nap.”

Tague followed her to the bedroom and lay Tommy in his toddler bed. When she bent over her son, her arm brushed Tague’s. Awareness created a quivering sensation in her stomach. Was she now so desperate for a man to lean on that even a kind act affected her senses?

“Thanks,” she whispered as she backed away from the bed. “You handled putting him down like a pro. He didn’t even open an eye.”

“Beginner’s luck,” he assured her once they’d stepped into the narrow hallway. “Only kid I’ve been around is my brother and sister-in-law’s foster daughter Belle and she’s only a few months old.”

Alexis started back to the living area, but Tague stepped in her path. He leaned in so close she felt his warm breath on her neck. The quivery sensations in the pit of her stomach became more intense.

“Are you nervous about talking to the detective or am I misreading something?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were literally shaking when you spotted him outside your door.”

“It’s just been a very difficult day.”

“I can sit in on your meeting with the detective, if you like.”

“It’s not necessary.” In fact, it was downright dangerous.

At this point, Tague was likely a bigger threat to her anonymity than the detective was.

Yet, the truth was, she didn’t want him to leave her alone with a man who might recognize her at any moment and pull out his cuffs. Tague might only be a pseudo friend, but that was better than nothing.

“Stick around if you want, though,” she said. “I promised you a sandwich. Wouldn’t want to send you back to your cows on an empty stomach.”

“Good thinking. I’ll grab the rest of the groceries before they spoil in the heat and be right back.”

He gave her hand a quick squeeze. He was nice to have around. Nonetheless, when he left today, she’d have to make sure their bond was irreparably severed.

She joined the detective in the living room, choosing a chair opposite where he sat on the worn sofa she’d picked up at a secondhand store.

“I’d like you to start at the beginning and tell me exactly what happened, step by step, leaving nothing out no matter how insignificant it may seem,” the detective urged.

“I’ve already done that.”

“Sometimes people remember more after the crisis is over. Every detail is important. We can’t get the carjacker off the street unless we can identify him.”

“You’ll have fingerprints,” Alexis said, all too aware of how damaging that would be.

“We can’t count on that. It’s a lot more difficult to get usable prints than you’d think from watching TV crime shows.”

That offered little consolation. Her prints were undoubtedly all over the car. Some were surely distinct. She went through the particulars again. “I tried to scratch his eyes out,” she admitted. “I brought blood and I’m sure I left scars.”

“Did you tell Whitfield that?”

“I think so. I don’t remember.”

“It’s not in his report,” Hampton said. “But it is important. It’s possible you have traces of the perpetrator’s DNA under your fingernails.”

She studied her nails, but could see nothing beneath the hot-pink polish she’d applied herself. “I’ve washed my hands several times since the incident.”

“There could still be DNA under the nails. I have a kit in my car that will collect even small fragments of skin. I’ll take care of that once we’re through talking.”

“So you actually have no ideas about the carjacker’s identity?” she asked.

“Did you think that we would? Your description was vague.”

“It happened too fast for me to register a lot of pertinent details, but the guy was stoned and a thug. You must have arrested him on other charges in the past.”

“It’s possible. We suspect he’s a member of a neighborhood gang known as the Death Knights. They’re suspected of several drive-by shootings and instances of violence over the past twelve months.”

“But no one’s been convicted?”

“No, because no matter how many people witness the crime, no one will testify against them,” Hampton said.

“Why not?”

“Fear of being put on the Death Knight’s target list.”

Tague stepped into the room. “So you’re hoping Alexis will do that for you.”

Alexis had no idea how much Tague had heard, but apparently enough that he’d gotten the gist of the discussion.

Detective Hampton leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees. “I hope Mrs. Beranger will have the courage to testify—or at least try to pick the carjacker out of a lineup.”