Live Ammo. Joanna Wayne

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