Live Ammo

by Joanna Wayne

  “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.

  * * *

  “TOMMY’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 quick
ly 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.”

  “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.”