Live Ammo

“I’ll help if I can,” she lied. She wouldn’t be around that long.

The detective turned to Tague, scrutinizing him as if he were a suspect—or at the least a troublemaker. “Are you a friend of Mrs. Beranger’s?”

“You could say that. I was with her at the scene of the wreck.”

Hampton studied his notes. “Tague Lambert?”

“That’s right.”

Hampton leveled his stare at Tague. “I’m surprised you’re still here. Whitfield’s report indicates you and Alexis never met before today.”

“Alexis needed a ride. I provided it. I don’t find that unusual.”

Hampton worried a frayed spot at the edge of his pants’ pocket. “Texans do tend to help their neighbors. You may want to stay in the picture awhile longer. I have good news and bad.”

“Good news would be that you apprehended the carjacker,” Alexis said.

“It’s not quite that good,” Hampton admitted, “but we did locate your handbag. It had been tossed into some shrubbery about two blocks from where the wreck occurred.”

“Was my wallet in it?”

“No wallet and no keys, but your phone was still in the side zip compartment. The handbag is being held for evidence at the present time, but I rescued the phone for you. I figured you might need it.” He took it from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Thanks.”

“So the armed druggie who attacked her still has the keys to her house and her wallet with her ID and address,” Tague said.

“That’s the bad news,” the detective said.

“What kind of protection do you propose to provide?”

Hampton looked a tad indignant. “We’ve alerted the patrol team for this area. They’ll keep close watch on your apartment, Mrs. Beranger. If you hear or see anything suspicious, call 911 and officers will be here in a matter of minutes. If you have a friend you could stay with or who could stay with you for a few days, that’s not a bad idea, either.”

No, but having cops watch her house was a horrible idea. That would make sneaking away in the night all but impossible.

“I won’t be staying here tonight,” she said. “I’ve already made arrangements to stay with a girlfriend.”

“That’s probably the best solution,” Hampton agreed. “By the way, we need your place of employment for our records.”

“I’m currently unemployed.”

“If it wasn’t a job that took you to that specific part of the city this morning, why were you there?”

“Horrid luck. But it was job related. I was planning to put in my application at stores in the mall near where the car was stolen,” she lied.

“Had you been to that market before?”

“No.”

“Then we can rule out that you were a targeted victim rather than a random one.”

“I’m sure I was random.”

“You might want to find a safer area to go job hunting after this,” the detective said. “And a safer place to shop.”

She didn’t care for his insinuation. “Are you suggesting that I deliberately took my son into a risky area?”

“I’m just saying you should be aware of your surroundings.”

Now he was starting to piss her off. “That market looked perfectly safe. The parking lot was full of cars. I saw other women with children. Is it not safe for them, either? If that’s the case, the DPD should do a better job of policing the area or put up signs saying Unsafe for Lone Female Shoppers.”

“That’s the first incident of a carjacking or violence in that particular parking lot,” Hampton said, going on the defensive. “I’m heading up a newly formed task force to clean up the area. And I will apprehend your carjacker,” he said. “Count on it. But we can’t work miracles overnight.”

“Maybe not, but you’d best make some headway quick if you don’t want to lose lives.”

“The department is aware of that.” Hampton stood and rocked back on his heels. “Now if you’ll walk down to the car with me, Mrs. Beranger, I can scrape beneath your nails and have the findings checked for possible DNA of the suspect.”

“I’ll be happy to accompany you.”

Suffocating heat smacked her in the face as she opened the door, but that was nothing compared to the fire-breathing urgency that filled her lungs as she followed Detective Hampton back to his vehicle.

He was the leader of the task force. His reputation was on the line. Nothing was going to get past him. Not even her.

She had to find a vehicle to use for her escape and she had to find it fast. Right now, her only option might lie with the cowboy who smelled of musk and pine and swaggered like a man who was incredibly comfortable in his own hunky body.

By the time she returned to the apartment, Tague had steaks sizzling beneath her broiler. She checked them out.

“Where did these come from? I was only going to make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

“I did some shopping of my own while we were in the market. I also got potatoes to cook in the microwave.”

“I’ll wash them and get them started.”

“First, can you get me a corkscrew? The wine I bought probably needs to breathe.”

“Why did you buy wine? It’s not as if this is a celebration.”

“I thought it might help settle your nerves. But you don’t have to drink it.”

“Maybe just a glass. There’s a corkscrew in that top drawer just in front of you.”

As the odors filled the room, her stomach reminded her that it had been almost twenty-four hours since she’d supplied it with food.

She never ate breakfast and while she’d fed Tommy his lunch before they left the house, she’d merely had another cup of coffee while she’d studied her city map.

“How do you like your steak?” Tague asked.

“Free and cooked by someone else,” she admitted. “And medium rare.”

“Good. Judging from your lack of body fat, I was afraid you only ate carrots and lettuce on tasteless diet bread.”

“I can make a meal of that,” she admitted. “But I’m not opposed to a good steak.”

While the potatoes cooked, she set the table and then put out the sour cream and grated cheese Tague had picked up at the market. The guy thought of everything.

And he had a great truck—a truck she desperately needed to make her getaway. Maybe she could just take it. How difficult could a carjacking be if a man who was stoned out of his mind could do it?

“Are you really looking for a job?” Tague asked, jerking her back to sanity—at least for the moment.

“I am. Do you have one for me?”

“Do you have any experience as a wrangler?”

“I rode a horse once.” Actually, she hadn’t, but she was supposed to. A double took over when she’d panicked in the saddle.

“Once won’t cut it. But my brother could probably find you a position with his company.”

“Baling hay?”

“Nothing that glamorous. But he’s always looking for good office personnel. Only problem is he’s in the Middle East right now negotiating a very important merger.”

“What’s his company?”

“Lambert Exploration and Drilling. It’s a major subsidiary of Lambert Inc.”

That got her attention.

“Have you heard of it?” Tague asked.

“I’ve heard of it.” Anyone in Dallas who’d ever picked up a local newspaper or watched the evening news had heard of it. The company was not only a major player in the international oil scene, but was a major contributor to the Dallas arts and charitable organizations. “So you’re one of the filthy rich Lamberts?”

“I wouldn’t call us filthy—well, except when I’ve been shoveling manure.”

“But definitely among the city’s elite. Yet I don’t recall seeing you grace the society pages of The Dallas Morning News.”

“I’m not the gala type. Tux trapped me in a stranglehold once and thought I’d never break free. But I’m not completely without fame. I did get quoted in the Cattleman’s Association newsletter last month.”

“Thank God. I’m sure you said something brilliant.”

“I can have it printed on a T-shirt for you if you like,” he teased.

“I can hardly wait.”

Too bad she wouldn’t be around long enough to get it. One of the wealthiest men in Texas was basically slumming in her kitchen. Under other circumstances, it would have been great fun to check him out.

Now he was simply her get-out-of-town-free card—or he could be if she played this right. But she couldn’t make mistakes. If Tague found out who she was, he’d turn her over to the authorities even faster than he’d come to her rescue.

Neither of them talked much once they began eating. Her stomach was still uneasy, but she managed to get down most of the steak and a few bites of the nuked potato. Yet even with a full stomach, she couldn’t figure out her next move.

Tague wiped his mouth on the napkin and took a gulp of his cold beer. “You really remind me of someone, Alexis, and it’s bugging me that I can’t place who.”

“It’s the black eye,” she said. “It gives me that familiar girl-next-door look.”

“The girl next door to me is seventy, walks with a cane and has gray hair. Trust me, you look nothing like her.”

Just her luck. Apparently Tague had seen one of her three box-office failures. He might be the only one in Dallas who had.

She was building up courage to ask to borrow his truck when her cell phone jangled. Probably Detective Hampton with more questions.

She rushed to the living room to grab her phone before it woke Tommy. He’d slept long enough, but she needed a few more minutes alone with Tague.

“Hello.”

No response.

“Hello.”

She heard breathing on the line. Her palms began to sweat. “Who is this?”

Still no response. She started to shake.

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want, Melinda.”

Her blood ran cold as the sound of Scott Jeffery Hayden’s voice burned into her soul.

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