Live Ammo

by Joanna Wayne

  That bit of news rattled his nerves. “What did Hampton want?”

  “He said he’s been trying to reach Alexis on her cell phone all day. She isn’t answering and she hasn’t been to her apartment. He was hoping we knew how to get in touch with her. He says it’s extremely important that he reach her at once.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That she left here this morning, planning to rent a car and drive to a friend’s house in Tulsa for a few days. He seemed surprised about that.”

  Tague breathed easier. If the detective had mentioned that Alexis was wanted for kidnapping and possibly murder, his mother wouldn’t be worried about unanswered phones. Which meant Hampton either didn’t know Alexis’s identity yet or had chosen not to share that info with his mother.

  “I’m sure Alexis is fine,” he said. “She’s probably having such a great time with her friend, she didn’t bother turning on her cell phone.”

  “Do you have her phone number?”

  “No,” he lied. “But I’m sure she’ll call the detective as soon as she gets his messages.”

  “I think you should call the detective, Tague. Find out why he seems so desperate to reach her.”

  “I suspect you’re reading way too much into this. Hampton probably just wants her to pick the carjacker out of a lineup.”

  “I think it’s more than that, Tague. I think she’s in some kind of trouble. I could hear it in the detective’s voice. If she is, we have to find a way to help her and her adorable son.”

  “Did you ask the detective why he was trying to get in touch with her?”

  “Yes, but he said he wasn’t at liberty to say. That in itself means it can’t be good.”

  “Not necessarily. I think we should stay out of this. It’s Alexis’s business, not ours. The carjacker has been arrested and she’s safe. That’s good enough for me.”

  “You don’t know that she’s safe. I think I’ll call Winston Harris. Hugh and he were great friends. They hunted and fished together.”

  “I’m sure it’s not necessary to bring the chief of police into this, Mother.”

  But he knew she would if he didn’t promise to do something. “I’ll give the detective a call,” he assured her, “even though I don’t think it’s necessary.”

  “I want to know what you find out, Tague.”

  “I’ll call you back once I’ve talked to him, but it may be tomorrow before I can get him. If you don’t hear from me within the hour, go to bed and get some sleep.”

  “I’ll try, but I’m telling you there’s something wrong. I have a sixth sense about these things.”

  Unfortunately, she frequently did.

  Tague broke the connection and went in search of Alexis. He found her rinsing the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher.

  “I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help hearing enough to know you were talking to Carolina,” she said. “Is something wrong?”

  “She’s concerned about you. Did you get calls from Detective Hampton today?”

  “Several, but that was after Jackson Phelps suggested I not answer calls from him. He didn’t leave a message. Why?”

  “Apparently he called the ranch to see if you were still there. Mother told him you’d gone to visit a friend in Tulsa.”

  The forks she was rinsing slipped from her fingers and clattered into the sink. “He must have identified my fingerprints from the car.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions. I’ll give him a call and see if I can find out what’s going on.”

  “Should you talk to Jackson first?”

  “Jackson’s a private investigator. I’m interested in what he uncovers, but I’m calling the shots.”

  “Then go for it, cowboy.”

  Tague made the call. The detective answered immediately. Tague identified himself and got down to business. “My mother said you’re looking for Alexis Lambert. Is anything wrong?”

  “You could say that. All hell’s broken loose here. I didn’t want to get into the gore with your mother, but it’s a damn good thing Alexis went home with you last night.”

  Tague’s muscles tightened. “What happened?”

  “I went by her apartment this afternoon when I couldn’t get her on the phone. When I got there, I detected an all too familiar and extremely unpleasant odor. I had the property manager give me a key.”

  Tague had a good idea where this was going. “What did you find?”

  “One of the bloodiest crime scenes I’ve run into in years. Blood was splattered from the floor to the ceiling. Two skulls were crushed like overripe pineapples.”

  Two skulls that might have been Alexis’s and Tommy’s had he left them there alone last night. His insides rolled as listened to the rest of what Hampton had to say.

  By the time the conversation was finished, his stomach was calmer, but his determination had solidified to the consistency of solid granite.

  He reached for Alexis’s hand.

  Trepidation was etched into every line of her face. “This is about Scott, isn’t it? What’s he done?”

  The questions flew from her mouth before he had time to even begin to answer. “Let’s go outside to talk,” he said. “I need some air.” And time to assimilate the tale of horror he’d just heard.

  “Let me check on Tommy first and I’ll be right with you.”

  “Better bring that beer for yourself that you turned down earlier. You’ll need it.”

  * * *

  “TWO YOUNG MEN were beaten to death with a baseball bat in my apartment.” Alexis repeated what Tague had just told her as she struggled to wrap her head around the brutal crime. “Why were they there?”

  Tague paced, wearing a beaten path in the grass with his heavy boots. “That hasn’t been established. Nor have the victims’ identities. The DPD’s Crime Scene Unit was in your apartment for most of the afternoon, but according to Hampton, even they’re having trouble making sense of the bloody chaos.”

  “Obviously, they don’t have the fingerprint report back from my car. If they did he’d have surely mentioned that, as well.”

  “The car’s likely been moved to the back burner after this. Besides, they feel confident they have the right perpetrator in jail for that.”

  “If I’d stayed in the apartment last night…” Her words trailed into silence as her thoughts took form.

  Tague reached for her hand again, this time tugging her to her feet. “I would have camped outside your door before I left you alone, not that I would have been expecting this. Let’s walk while I tell you the rest. I think better on my feet.”

  “There’s more?”

  “A little.”

  “I don’t want to leave sight of the house with Tommy inside. In fact, it’s all I can do not to wake him up just so that I can feel his sweet arms around my neck.”

  “I know. But he’s safe and you’re safe and I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it stays that way.”

  They walked slowly, past the fire pit and a couple of young cedars, finally stopping at a picnic table at the edge of the clearing. She looked back at the lodge, amazed at how safe and welcoming its rustic cypress siding looked in the moonlight.

  But no place was safe for her as long as Scott Jeffery Hayden was alive. Even the baseball bat as a weapon sounded like him. There were guns in the Malibu house, but he always slept with a bat beneath the edge of his bed.

  “You said there was more,” she said. “What have you left out?”

  “There were four sets of footprints in the blood.”

  “Two against two,” Alexis said. “Evenly numbered, but no fair fight.”

  “Hampton apparently has no clue at this point whether the four men came together and then got into the deadly head
bashing or if two men were waiting there to ambush the other two.”

  “But why in my apartment?”

  “No one seems to know and that’s what worries me most about the slaughter,” Tague said. “I’m hoping one of my investigators can get his hands on the official CSU report. That may tell us something.”

  “Scott has to figure in this somehow,” Alexis said. “He calls me and the violence breaks loose.”

  “But it was his call that may have saved you,” Tague said. “You flew into a flurry of packing after that. I’ve never seen anyone clear closets and drawers that quickly.”

  “Because I expected him to show up any second. Now that I think about it, I bet he was just outside someone’s door that he thought was mine. By the time he realized he was at the wrong apartment, I was gone.”

  “Those are all assumptions.”

  “They make sense. Scott waited on me and then when I didn’t show up, he got high on cocaine and flew into one of his rages.”

  “This wasn’t just a barroom-type brawl, Alexis. It was a massacre. This is far more likely connected to the carjacker and his Death Knight pals than it is to Scott.”

  Nothing Tague could say would convince her that Scott didn’t have a hand in this. And he wouldn’t give up—not until she was in jail and he had Tommy back with him. Nothing Tague could do would change that.

  Tague was brave, valiant and honest. But Scott was ruthless. And it was only in the movies that the good guy always won.

  “It’s still not too late to walk away from me, Tague. Pretend you never met me. Go back to your life.”

  He pulled her into his arms and held her close. She felt his heart beating against hers, felt the strength in his muscles and the protectiveness in his touch.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Alexis. Not until this is settled. Not until you’re safe. Now let’s go inside and get ready for bed. Six o’clock comes early.”

  But between now and then she’d have nightmares to survive, nightmares that were on the verge of becoming reality once again.

  “Stay with me tonight, Tague. Just until I fall asleep. I know it sounds childish but I don’t want to be alone.”

  “I’ll be there as long as you need me.”

  But even that would change. It always did.

  * * *

  TAGUE KICKED THE clods of red clay earth from his boots and stepped back inside the house. It wouldn’t be daylight for another hour, but he’d woken early and been too restless to stay inside.

  He wasn’t convinced that Scott Hayden had anything to do with the murders in Alexis’s apartment. The guy was a respected director. He didn’t go around bashing men’s heads in with a bat. Even in Hollywood, that wouldn’t fly.

  But he had dangled his own son from a balcony and tried to burn Alexis to death. That made Tague uneasy enough that he’d made a call to the same protective service they’d used when Damien’s wife, Emma, had been in danger.

  Cork was meeting with them at the ranch this morning. They’d make certain that Scott Hayden did not show his face at the Bent Pine Ranch.

  The more difficult call would be explaining this to his mother. But Carolina was a sharp woman. She’d already figured out that Alexis was in danger. She’d deal with having extra protection around the house and at the ranch.

  That was a start, but not enough. Hiring private investigators was all well and good, but Tague was starting to feel like a coach and he was hungry to take the field. He needed to be in on the action. The problem would be finding someone he trusted to stay with Alexis.

  Normally, he’d hire a protection service, just like he had for the Bent Pine Ranch, but that service and the others he was familiar with were owned by retired Texas Rangers or police officers. Chances were too great that one of them would recognize Alexis as Melinda Ryan.

  He slapped his Stetson against his thighs a couple of times and then set it on the shelf. His dad used to keep at least a half dozen hunting caps on that shelf, ones he’d collected from all around the world. The caps were packed away now, along with the memories of weekends spent out here with just his father and his two brothers.

  His dad had called this the man’s world, a place where they didn’t have to follow women’s rules like keeping your feet off the furniture and always remembering to put the toilet seat down.

  This was where his dad had given him the sex talk and the drug talk and the know-when-to-hold-’em-and-when-to-fold-’em lecture.

  He couldn’t help but wonder what bigger-than-life Hugh Lambert would have said about Alexis Beranger. It would likely be the same things Tague had already told himself.

  Stay objective. Don’t take unnecessary risks. Don’t fall for a married woman who’s wanted by the law and who never seems to give you the straight scoop on anything—at least not until she’s caught in a lie.

  He probably wouldn’t have followed his father’s advice any better than he’d followed his own. He stayed objective until she opened her mouth. Then he bought every word that came from those full, luscious lips.

  He was trying not to take risks, but how could he avoid risks when he had no idea what he was really up against? The two murders had no obvious connection with Scott Hayden or the carjacker, but it was inconceivable that they were random in light of all that was going on.

  And telling him not to fall for Alexis was like telling a teenage boy to stop thinking about girls. The attraction was devastating. The need to protect her was overwhelming.

  He hadn’t dared lay beside her while she fell asleep last night. The need to hold her and kiss her and make love to her had consumed him when he was merely sitting in a chair near her bed.

  And this was only day three of their relationship. How much more temptation could he handle without blowing a fuse?

  He started a pot of coffee and then pulled a package of biscuits from the freezer. His two investigators were due to arrive in thirty minutes. He might as well fix enough breakfast for them, too.

  He laid some sausage patties on the indoor grill and slid the biscuits into the oven while he waited for the coffee to finish dripping. He’d just poured a cup when his phone jangled. Probably his mother demanding to know why Cork had strangers on the ranch or one of the P.I.s letting him know they were running late.

  He grabbed it without checking the caller ID. “Hello.”

  “Bonjour, bro.”

  “Damien. Good to hear from you. How’s Paris?”

  “French. Very French.”

  “How’s the honeymoon going?”

  “Ooh la la.”

  “I take it that means good?”

  “I’m with Emma. How could it be anything but?”

  “So how come you have time to call me?”

  “I talked to Durk and Mother.”

  “That explains it.”

  “Who is this Alexis Beranger and what’s her story?”

  “How much have you already heard?”

  “That she’s married and wanted by the law from Durk. That she’s a wonderful lady who needs help from Mother. I’m guessing the truth falls somewhere in between.”

  “Both of those are probably accurate assessments.” Tague gave him the details in rapid-fire style since he was expecting Meghan and Jackson any minute now. He culminated with the two murders.

  “It sounds like you have your hands full,” Damien said.

  “I’m handling it.”

  “Yes, but I’m missing all the action. Besides I owe you one since you were right there for me when Emma was in danger. Emma’s on the hotel phone right now checking flights. With luck we can be back in Texas by tonight—your time.”

  “I appreciate the offer of help, but I don’t want you to cut your honeymoon short.”

  “You’d do it for me. Besides I’ve had enough
croissants. I’m ready for steak and eggs, and biscuits smothered in gravy.”

  “I guess Durk told you I’m at the hunting camp.”

  “He did. We’re flying into Austin. We’ll rent a car there and drive to the camp. So don’t mention to Mother that we’re leaving Paris. By the way, I’m assuming you’re making sure Mom, Aunt Sybil and Grandma aren’t in any danger.”

  “I’ve got that covered, but I don’t think you want to bring Emma into the middle of Alexis’s problems.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. But Emma’s not good about taking no for an answer. She says if anyone can understand what Alexis is going through, it’s her.”

  “She has a point. So I guess I’ll see you two tonight.”

  “Hopefully before too late.”

  And with Damien at the camp, Tague would be free to fly to California and see what he could uncover about the monster director who was married to the woman Tague might never get off his mind.

  * * *

  SCOTT SNEAKED IN the back door of his Malibu estate in the predawn hours, hoping none of the servants were awake to witness his arrival. Not that they’d suspect he’d just flown in from Dallas in his private jet.

  Nothing had gone as planned. The two thugs had come at him and Bronco so unexpectedly he’d barely had time to dodge the acid.

  Bronco hadn’t. A spray of the stringent liquid had landed on his forearm, eating the flesh in an instant. His terrifying scream had sent the men running from Alexis’s abandoned bedroom.

  But Scott had been too quick for them. Fueled by fury and fear, he’d dived for the baseball bat he’d brought in with him. He never carried a gun. His hands shook more than ever of late, and he was more likely to drop a pistol than send a bullet into someone’s brain.

  The long-term use of cocaine and other illegal substances had begun to take their toll on him. At least that’s what the doctors blamed his increasingly dramatic mood swings on. They were getting harder and harder to control. Sometimes he didn’t even remember them.

  But he couldn’t give up cocaine. Before he’d tried it, he’d been a nobody. He’d hated that and hated the people around him who were making their mark without possessing nearly the intellect he had. The drug had set his genius free.