by Joanna Wayne
He leaned back in his chair. “The victims were members of the Death Knights. They don’t know who killed them, except that one of the men was really big.”
“I know who killed them. It was Scott and his bodyguard.”
“That’s pure speculation.”
“That’s a fact,” Alexis said. “The big man was Bronco. His hands and feet are gigantic. His shirts could be used for a tent. And it would be just like Scott to show up with the baseball bat. He was there to have me arrested, but when he ran into the Death Knights, he killed them.”
“They may have attacked him first,” Tague said. “They arrived bearing gifts—like a bottle of acid, so they definitely weren’t making a friendly call.”
She shuddered at the thought of acid thrown into her face. It would be even worse had it touched Tommy’s tender skin.
She downed the rest of the whiskey in one gulp. “I’ve made such a mess of things. It’s hard to believe this all started with my wanting to help Lena and Scott have a baby. Now Lena’s dead. Scott’s gone mad. And I can’t give Tommy any kind of continuity or even keep him safe.”
“And none of that is your fault.” Tague reached across the table and laid his hands over hers. “We’ll get through this, Alexis. It takes time, but at least we’re working on a solution now. If you’d kept running, things would have only gotten worse.”
“Not if I’d never been caught.”
“You need a home, a real home and possessions that you don’t have to limit to what will fit in a couple of monstrous suitcases and some paper bags.”
“How long do you think it will be before Hampton shows up here looking for me? My real home will be a jail cell. And Tommy’s will be living with a monster.”
“I’m hoping for a few more days, but even if Hampton or any officer of the law shows up and arrests you, it will just be a temporary setback. I’ll keep working until I find a way to prove you didn’t kill Lena or start a fire, or do anything worse than protect the life of the boy you gave birth to.”
“Easy for you to say, but I’m telling you that Scott will make sure I stay in jail until I rot.”
“I hate to say this, Alexis, but I don’t think Scott has any intention of having you arrested.”
“Of course he does,” she protested. “Why else would he have been at my house?”
“If he’d planned to involve the police, he would have done so by now. He’d have given them your phone number and told them how to find you instead of showing up there with his pet giant. I think he called you because he wanted you to run.”
“Why would he want me to…?”
The truth finally hit home. “He wanted me to run so that he could kill me and make it look like he’d done it to rescue his son.”
“That’s the only thing that makes sense,” Tague said. “Only somehow he lost track of you when you left in my truck.”
“And when he went back to my apartment to see if he could get a clue to help him figure out where I’d gone, he ran into the Death Knight members and killed them. And just because he directs movies and makes millions for doing it, he’ll likely never go to jail for any of that or for setting fire to his own house with people inside.”
Alexis heard a car engine and then the slamming of car doors.
Tague rushed to the window and peeked through the slants of the blind. “It’s Damien and Emma,” he said. “Now that Damien’s on our team, the opposition doesn’t have a chance.
“Then send Damien to California.”
If Tague heard her, he ignored the comment in his rush to welcome two more Lamberts to the hunting camp.
She only hoped that Scott and Bronco weren’t the next visitors in line.
* * *
“HOW IN THE world did you get into a mess like this?”
“Your fault,” Tague said. “I went into town to pick up the saddle you had made for Emma and trouble found me.”
“I suppose the fact that trouble came in a beautiful package had nothing to do with it?”
“It might have added a bit to the lure.”
“So fill me in on all the details before I fall asleep. I’m still living on Paris time.”
Tague leaned back in the yard chair and looked up at the stars. “Okay, but listen close. This may be the most bizarre tale you’ve ever heard.”
“More bizarre than Emma’s being kidnapped by an arms dealer and living in captivity for months before escaping?”
“Let’s just say it’s in that same horror genre.”
An hour later they’d covered it all, and no easy solutions had jumped out at them.
“Let me sleep on it,” Damien said. “We’ll talk again in the morning.”
“Okay, but I’m counting on you to stay here with Alexis and Tommy tomorrow.”
“I’d rather make the California run with you.”
“But I need you here in case Detective Hampton shows up or sends someone in law enforcement from this area to make an arrest. I don’t want Alexis to try anything foolish and I damn sure don’t want her to get the chance to go on the run again. Not with Scott out to kill her.”
“You can count on me.”
“I know. It’s good to have you here, bro. Really good.”
“That’s what brothers are for.”
* * *
ALEXIS HAD JUST turned off her lamp and snuggled beneath the sheet when she heard the soft tapping at her door. She switched the light back on and smoothed the top of her pink pajamas as she sat up in bed.
“Come in.”
Tague stuck his head inside the bedroom. “Mind if I come in for a minute?”
“Of course not. Is something wrong?”
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“As okay as I’m going to get under the circumstances.”
He walked over and sat down on the other side of her bed.
She ached to reach out and touch him, the way she always did when he was near. But touch might lead to a kiss, and this time Tommy was asleep in the next room. He wouldn’t be there to bring her back to reality before she went too far.
“What do you think of Damien and Emma?” he asked.
“I liked them. Damien reminds me of you.”
“And Emma?”
“She’s terrific. I think if things were different we could become very good friends. We didn’t get to talk much, but she told me a bit of the terrifying ordeal she went through and how Damien had saved her life.”
Tague leaned back against the headboard and pulled his stockinged feet to the top of the covers. “You never talk about your family, Alexis. Why is that?”
“They’re not around.”
“Where are they?”
“My mother could be anywhere. My father is probably just getting home from work and dragging himself to bed.”
“There must be more to tell me about them than that.”
“They’re the opposite of your family in every way. Does that suffice?”
“If it’s all you want to say about them, I guess it has to suffice.”
“I didn’t grow up rich the way you did, Tague. We weren’t exactly poor, either. I mean I didn’t go wanting for food or clothes or material things.”
“What about love and happiness?”
“For the most part, I missed out on those,” she admitted. She pulled up her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees. There really was no reason not to tell Tague about her family. She was who she was.
“My mother was a singer with a jazz band. She was away almost every night and sleeping in when I left for school in the morning. When our paths crossed, it was for her to remind me to do my homework or clean up my room.”
“That must have been tough on you.”
“I got used to it.”
“How did your father feel about her being gone all the time?”
“I’m not sure he even noticed. He was a workaholic. He came home late, grabbed a sandwich or some soup and ate in front of the TV. Half the time he fell asleep on the sofa with the plate still in his hand.”
“Are they still together?”
“No, they divorced when I was twelve. My mother moved in with the drummer. I seldom saw her after that. And Dad worked even later. I quit school midway through my senior year of high school and moved to California. People kept saying I was pretty enough to be in the movies and I foolishly believed that was all it took to become a star.”
“No wonder you were taken in by the likes of Scott Hayden.”
“That was a few years and a dozen B-rated movies later. By then I was totally frustrated and weary of struggling to make a living by waitressing between auditions and movie roles that barely covered my rent.”
“And then you received an invitation to move into Scott Hayden’s Malibu beach house. I can see how you’d be thrilled at an opportunity like that.”
“From barely scraping by to living in a mansion. I thought I’d arrived. Turned out I had arrived in hell. My only salvation was Tommy. He became my life. He still is.”
“I can tell, but you’re young. You have plenty of time to make a new life for you and Tommy when this is over.”
“I’m twenty-five,” she said. “That’s not so terribly young.”
“It’s a year younger than I am.”
“Then you might be too old for me,” she teased.
“Let’s just see about that.”
The next thing she knew she was in his arms. Her heart was racing. Her insides rolled as if she were on a roller coaster. And the need inside just wouldn’t quit.
She melted into his kiss and the nightmare that had become her life dissolved into a passion-filled fantasy.
Chapter Fourteen
Tague kissed her until her lips grew numb and the rest of her became a raging fire. His fingers fumbled with the buttons on her pajamas. As the fabric fell away his hands cupped her breasts and his thumbs raked across her nipples.
She trembled with passion and arched toward him. The hardness of his erection pressed against her and she could feel the hot dampness in the triangle of her desire.
“Is something wrong?” Tague asked. “Did I hurt you?”
“You did nothing wrong, Tague Lambert. You do everything right.”
“Then I’m rushing you?”
“Something like that. Only it’s not you. It’s me. For most of my adult life, I’ve let life control me. I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to make decisions and take back control of my life.”
“And you’ve decided you don’t want me?”
“I want you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life, but I don’t want us to just happen because of the situation we’re in. I don’t want the first time we make love to be framed by my fear of Scott. I only want it to be about us. I hope you can understand.”
“I don’t understand, but I accept it.”
“You don’t understand because you’ve always been in charge of your life. Thanks to you, I’m just learning how.”
“Then I may have created a monster.”
He kissed her again, sweetly this time, like velvet brushing against her kiss-swollen lips.
The words “I love you” sang inside her, but she didn’t say them out loud. Like making love, that could wait until she held her own future and the assurance of tomorrow in her hands.
If she never did, then Tague would move on without her. And she’d go back to being Alexandra Cousteau, a woman who’d never found a place where she belonged.
* * *
SCOTT JEFFERY HAYDEN’S Malibu beach estate felt more like a cold stone fortress than a home. Elaborate decorations, modern furniture that looked like it was designed in a carnival house of mirrors and enough marble to open a mine.
Tague stood in the doorway of a formal dining room that was as long as most people’s houses. “Scott must throw some wingdinger dinner parties in this room.”
“He does, about twice a year. The rest of the time this room is a morgue for aging china patterns. But you ain’t seen nothing yet,” Lena’s sister Gabrielle promised as she led them to the next room.
Gabrielle was attractive, smartly dressed and Tague figured her to be in her mid-fifties or thereabouts. She’d offered the tour of the property, and he and Jackson had jumped at the chance for the guided excursion through the life and times of Scott Jeffery Hayden.
For the most part the household staff had stayed clear of them, but Tague had the feeling they were keeping an eye on them from shadowed hiding spots. Gabrielle didn’t seem the least bit concerned about them.
They entered another rectangular room, this one narrower and shorter than the dining room, but no less pretentious. The chandelier would have provided adequate lighting for the Texan’s football game on a dark, foggy night.
“This must be the awards gallery,” Jackson said. “Look at all the little statues, plaques and quaint doll-sized director’s chairs lined up to play homage to the great man himself.”
“Not to mention the framed certificates that cover the walls,” Gabrielle said. “Have you ever seen anything so egotistical in your life?”
“I take it you aren’t a fan of Scott,” Tague said.
“I’ve never seen Scott’s work. I seldom go to movies and when I do, I don’t want any reminders of the pompous bastard who made an addict of my sister and then killed her.”
“Do you really think Scott killed your sister?”
“I know he did and I finally convinced the D.A. to reopen the case.”
“Why are you so convinced it was murder?”
“Because she told me the morning she died that she feared for her life. Scott had apparently learned of some secret that she’d kept from him and he was furious.”
“Did she tell anyone else that?”
“I doubt it, but she shouldn’t have had to. I’m her sister. Telling me should have been enough.”
“What did you do to protect her?”
“Not one darn thing. She poured out her heart to me but I thought it was just the drugs talking. She came to me and I did nothing to help. Now I have to live with that, but I could live better if I knew Scott was paying for her death with his life.”
“How do you think he killed her?”
“He forced the drugs through her veins. She never gave herself injections. She took pills and far too many of them, but never injections.”
“Did you tell that to the investigating cops when she died?”
“Yes and again when our new D.A. took office and I persuaded him to take another look at the evidence. And then the cops immediately turned all their focus toward Melinda.”
“Then you don’t buy that Alexis had anything to do with her death?” Tague asked.
“Alexis? Hardly. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’m glad she left with Tommy. I hope the cops never find her. Tommy’s much better off with her than he would be with his rabid father.”
Gabrielle didn’t mince words. Honest indignation. Tague preferred that over insincere niceties any day.
“I suppose we should go to Lena’s room now and pack a few things,” Gabrielle said. “I’m sure my ex-brother-in-law will question the staff tonight about how much time I spent here and how many boxes I lugged from the house.”
“But he must trust you if he gives you the run of the place,” Jackson said.
“Scott doesn’t trust anyone. Dishonest men never do. It’s just that he knows he has nothing I want. Lena was a star long before she met him. She made sure I had ample money to live on the rest of my life without
working a day—if that’s what I chose to do.”
“Do you work?” Jackson asked.
“I’m a writer, a one-book wonder, or at least I will be when I’ve finished the book.” She put a finger to her lip as if to hush them. “I’ll tell you all about it when there are no curious ears hiding in the hallway.
“There’s one more room you’re sure to enjoy. Lena always called it the Wives’ Bizarre Bazaar, similar to the trophy room but with the trophies being the parade of wives. Pick a wife and learn all about that period of Scott’s life.”
The room set at the end of a long hallway was circular with panels of solid glass that offered a gorgeous view of the ocean. In between the glass were wooden panels of equal size, each one showcasing a portrait of one of Scott’s four wives.
“Lena’s theory was that each wife represented a different phase in Scott’s career. This is Angelique, wife number one.”
“She’s a looker,” Jackson said. “Which phase is she?”
“The struggling phase. Scott needed money to fund the projects that would eventually make him one of the most sought-after directors in Hollywood. Angelique was an heiress. He chose well.”
“And wife number two?” Tague asked as he stepped to the next panel.”
“Barbara. Scott was well on his way to the top. He wanted excitement and pizzazz and sex. Barbara was his sex goddess.”
“That’s the wife I’m looking for,” Jackson said.
Next was Lena. She had been a fabulous-looking woman when her portrait was painted. “Lena must have been chosen for the parenthood period of life,” Tague said.
“That’s exactly what she said. Scott had more money than he could spend. He had every manly toy money could buy, but the one thing he couldn’t buy was a son.”
Tague figured Lena had oversimplified the wives issue, but she probably wasn’t totally off target.
“And then there’s Alexis,” Jackson said. “What was she, the need-a-mommy-for-my-kid phase?”
“Indeed not. Everyone who ever saw Alexis and Scott together knew what Alexis represented. She was the happiness that had always eluded him. She was the one woman he truly loved.”