by Joanna Wayne
“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.
Chapter Four
The phone slipped through Alexis’s fingers and clattered to the living room floor. Her face was a ghostly white and she looked so unsteady that Tague feared she was about to faint. He rushed across the room and pulled her into his arms.
She shuddered, but didn’t pull away. Her silky hair brushed his chin and a fierce need ripped through him. Unexpected. Unwanted. Damned untimely.
“Who was on the phone?” he demanded.
“I don’t know. He didn’t give his name.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. I just heard his breathing.” She drew a jagged breath.
“Son of a bitch. Have you gotten calls like that before?”
“No. It has to be the carjacker. He must have gotten my number from information in my wallet.”
Tague’s muscles knotted. He would love to get his hands on that guy for about two seconds. If the rotten jerk called anyone after that, he’d be talking in soprano.
“I’m not leaving here tonight until you do, Alexis. It’s not safe for you or Tommy.”
But he would go to his truck and retrieve his trusty pistol. Sometimes that was the only language a man on drugs understood, especially one bent on violence. Not that calling meant he’d actually show up at Alexis’s door, but even the detective hadn’t ruled that out.
Alexis pulled away, then tilted her head to meet Tague’s gaze. Fear shrouded her eyes, but determination pulled her face into tight, tense lines.
“I need a vehicle to get to my friend’s house, but I doubt anyone will rent to me without a valid driver’s license.”
“Your insurance company can make arrangements for you to get a car in the morning.”
“That won’t help me tonight. I hate to ask you for another favor, Tague, but I’m desperate. If you’d drive me to the rental agency and get one in your name, I’d turn it back in the first thing in the morning. I’ll pay you for the day’s rental rate in advance.”
He could do better than that. He could get her any vehicle she wanted with a phone call—a car and a driver for that matter. The company had a contract with a local transportation service they used mostly for foreign executives when visiting Dallas.
He could get her a car. Be on his way. Chalk this off as an interesting day with a supermodel-type mother who’d fallen into a heap of trouble.
That would be the sensible choice.
But he wasn’t the type who could just walk away and leave her to fend for herself against a criminal.
“I have a better idea,” he said. “Call Detective Hampton and let him know about the phone call. Then get your things together. I’ll drive you wherever you want to go.”
“Please, just do this my way,” she pleaded. Desperation clung to every syllable.
The suspicions kicked back in. “There’s no friend, is there?”
She hugged her arms around herself and stared at her feet. “No friend except you,” she admitted. “I need this favor, Tague. Please. I wouldn’t ask except I have to keep Tommy safe.”
“I’ll help,” he said, “but only if we do this my way. I’ll either stay here with you or you can go back to the Bent Pine Ranch with me.”
She hesitated, and her lips stretched into tight, unsmiling lines. “I don’t like being around strangers.”
“If there’s no friend for you to stay with, then wherever you go, you’ll be around strangers. You may as well take your chances with me and my family.”
“Tell me about the ranch,” she whispered in a shaky voice.
“We raise cattle and horses just like almost every other Texas ranch.”
“Is it near Dallas?”
“It’s south of town, thirty minutes from the Dallas city limits but a world apart.”
“Do you live alone?”
“Far from it. There’s my mother, Carolina Lambert.”
“The sophisticated socialite whose picture is in The Dallas Morning News on a regular basis?”
“That’s Mom.”
“I never pictured her living on a ranch.”
“Really? I can’t imagine her living anywhere else. And there’s Aunt Sybil and her infamous black wig that we all swear was once a mutant animal. And Grandma Pearl—who entertains us all, especially when she doesn’t wear her hearing aids. That’s most of the time.”
“Sounds like an interesting group.”
“We’re dysfunctional at its most endearing best. My brother Damien and his wife live at the Bent Pine, as well, but they’re currently honeymooning in Paris.”
“I think I read about their wedding in the newspaper. It was a small affair in a quaint chapel, attended by only family and close friends.”
“You are into that society hoopla, aren’t you?”
“Just since I moved to Dallas. I like checking out the Texas spin on life.”
“We do have our own way of doing things. I hate to disappoint you, but there won’t be any shindigs tonight. Mother’s playing grandmother to Damien and Emma’s five-month-old foster daughter, Belle, in their absence. Belle is the princess around which the Lambert household revolves.”
“And you all actually live under one roof?”
“Yep, usually in harmony, though it can get off-key at times.”
“How big is this house?”
“Big enough that you and Tommy can have your own small suite if that’s what you’re worried about. You’ll have your privacy and you won’t be putting anyone out.”
“What will your mother say when you show up with a pair of strays?”
“‘Welcome to the Bent Pine Ranch,’ and then she’ll set about making sure you’re comfortable. She trademarked Texas hospitality.”
“Then she won’t be upset?”
“She’ll be thankful that you don’t have to be
‘de-fleaed’ like most of the strays I show up with.”
“Then I have just one more question, Tague.”
“Fire away. I’m an open book.” Which he was pretty sure she wasn’t.
“Why are you sticking your neck out like this to help me when you know absolutely nothing about me?”
“You got me there. But I don’t have a lot of rules when it comes to living, Alexis. I go with my gut instincts more often than not.”
“And what do your gut instincts tell you about me?”
“That you love your son enough that you’d do anything to protect him. And that you’re running scared.”
“Good instincts. I’ll get packed and be ready to go in a matter of minutes.”
“There’s no rush.”
But apparently there was for her. She turned and practically ran to the bedroom. He’d best call and give notice to his mom.
* * *
CAROLINA PLACED BELLE in her play seat. Belle immediately began to kick and babble and hit at the dangling toys strung across the chair that rocked a bit with her every jerky movement.
Carolina missed Damien and Emma, but she loved every minute of caring for Belle. At five months, she was a constant ball of energy and had developed quite a personality.
Carolina was already so attached to her that it would be pure agony to give her up—when and if Belle’s biological father was ever found.
Neither the police nor the detective Damien hired had discovered any new leads and Carolina was beginning to think the man might have moved from the Dallas area.
Carolina couldn’t help but think of Belle as her granddaughter. Her first granddaughter. She hoped for many more and some grandsons, too.
“You like your chair, don’t you, little princess?”
Belle agreed with a smile as her tiny fingers closed around the point of a soft plastic starfish.
“You play, and I’ll throw together a salad to go with our leftovers. But no baked chicken for you. You get yummy pureed fruit and a couple of spoons of baby cereal before your bottle.”
Belle definitely brought much-needed joy into the house, but the evenings after her bedtime were incredibly lonely for Carolina—even when the rest of the family was around.
It had only been six months since her husband had been killed in the crash of his private plane, and she still found herself listening for his booming voice and his boisterous laughter.
But the worst was when she crawled into their empty bed at night. She ached to feel Hugh’s arms around her. Missed the rhythmic sound of his breathing. Hungered for one of his teasing kisses that wrapped her world in love.
She’d love and miss him forever, but she prayed that someday the heartbreak might not be quite so poignant or so constant.
The house phone rang and she answered at the kitchen extension.
“Is this the Bent Pine Restaurant?”
“Yes,” she responded. “Tonight’s menu is chicken baked in a savory wine sauce, buttered baby corn and a salad made from summer gre
ens picked this morning from the restaurant’s private garden.”
“Leftovers, huh?”
“Yes, there was so much chicken left from last night’s supper that I gave Alda the evening off. She deserved it since she spent the afternoon helping me make plum preserves.”
“Homemade preserves and giving the cook the night off. You are definitely in a domestic mood. Did Cork tell you I probably wouldn’t be home for dinner?”
“Yes, but he didn’t say why.”
“I drove into town to pick up Emma’s new saddle and ended up in a wild car chase in pursuit of a carjacker.”
“Now, why are you really late?”
“Long story. I’ll fill in the details later.”
“There’s not a problem, is there?”
“Not with me.”
“Are you staying in town tonight?”
“Nope. In fact I’ll be headed that way in a few minutes. I’m bringing company.”
“Who?”
“Alexis Beranger and her son, Tommy.”
The names did not sound familiar. “Have I met them before?”
“No, but you’ll like them. Like I said, I’ll explain everything when we get there. I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”
“How old is her son?”
“He’s a toddler. Don’t go to any trouble, Mom. And don’t worry about food. Alexis and I had either a very late lunch or a very early dinner, according to whose timetable you’re on.”
“What about the boy? Has he eaten?”
“I’m sure Alexis will take care of that. If she needs anything special for him, we’ll pick it up on the way.”
Something didn’t add up. “Was there actually a carjacking?”
“Yes, but no one was hurt—except for a black eye and a bump on the head.”
“Are you sure you’re all right, Tague?”
“I’m sure. It’s not even my eye that’s black. Gotta run now. Later.”
Carolina cradled the receiver a few seconds before hanging up the phone. If Tague had a girlfriend with a toddler son, that was news to her. Her guess was he didn’t. Tague wasn’t big on secrets.
But she’d never heard him mention anyone by the name of Alexis and she certainly didn’t know what to make of the carjacking comment.
