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.
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