Chasing a Dream (23 page)

He gave her a suspicious glare before his hand snaked out and caught her by the arm. He hauled her forward and snarled in her face. “Unfaithful whores like you are only good for one thing, Tess.”

With a yank, he dragged her toward the sofa while she wiggled to free herself from his grip.

“No!” she cried, frightened of what Randall planned to do and more terrified of what Justin might do, despite his promise to stay hidden.

“What?” Randall tipped his head in disbelief, his muscles taut. “What did you say?”

Tess mustered all her courage, all the hatred she felt for Randall, and leveled a challenging glare at him. “You heard me. I said no!”

An evil grin spread across Randall’s face, and he delivered a slap across Tess’s cheek that made her ears ring. “Now what do you have to say, slut?”

The closet door banged the wall as it flew open.

“I’d say someone needs to teach you respect for women, asshole,” Justin growled.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

“Justin, no!” Tess shrieked.

Randall released her and turned to face Justin with the misleading calm Tess knew so well.

“You must be the bastard who’s been screwing my wife,” Randall said, bracing his hands on his hips.

“And you’re the prick who’s been terrorizing her for years.” Justin strode forward, his shoulders back. A fire blazed in his eyes that Tess had never before seen in their blue depths. “Didn’t your mother teach you better than to hit a woman, Sinclair?”

“My mother was a bigger coward than Tess. All I learned from her was that I had to look out for myself. My father taught me how to keep a woman’s respect.” Randall’s jaw tightened as he glared at Justin.

Tess shivered as the two men squared off.

“Intimidation is not the same as respect, you sonofabitch.” Justin balled his hands into fists. “If you want to hit someone, hit me. But if you so much as lay a finger on Tess again, I’ll tear you apart.”

Tension coiled in Tess’s chest, and her knees shook. She had to do something to stop the storm that brewed. But what?

Randall smirked. “How very noble of you, Mr. . . . ?” He paused in a manner that awaited a response.

“Boyd. Justin Boyd.” Justin stepped forward, his posture as rigid and uncompromising as the tone of his voice.

Randall’s face reflected a moment of surprise then understanding and recognition. “Ah, yes. Of course. I’m familiar with the Boyd family of Wellerton. Rebecca would be your . . . what? Sister?”

Justin’s brow furrowed with suspicion. “What about Rebecca? How did you know about her?”

“Perhaps we could retire to my office to discuss this like gentlemen.” Randall directed Justin toward the closed office door with a wave of his hand.

When he started in that direction, Justin followed.

Tess mentally assessed Randall’s eerily polite manner. She knew things weren’t what they seemed. Randall was plotting, or setting a trap, or waiting for Henry to return, or . . . what?

As she trailed behind the two men, she thought about the only time she’d darkened the door of Randall’s hallowed office just a few days before. He’d tested her recognition of Rebecca’s yearbook picture, blatantly intimidating her with—

The gun!

Already Randall was reaching for the top drawer of his desk. She threw herself on Justin and screamed, “No!”

A loud pop reverberated through the room. Pain seared her shoulder as she and Justin tumbled to the floor with a hard thud.

Justin scrambled to put himself in the line of fire, shielding Tess with his body.

Clamping a hand over the source of sharp pain in her shoulder, she found it damp. She drew back her hand and gaped at the blood darkening her fingers.

Randall rounded his desk, clearly enjoying the position of dominance his weapon gave him. His grin gloated his power with demonic glee. “Nice try, Tess. But I still have five bullets. I can put one in each of your heads and still have three left.”

“You’re sick.” Justin breathed in quick, shallow pants, but his eyes blazed with defiance. “If you kill us in cold blood with your own gun, the cops will be all over you. You’ll fry, Sinclair.”

Her gentle cowboy’s courage flooded her heart with love. If Justin was prepared to fight, then so was she. She had nothing left to lose and so much to fight for.

Knowing the gunshot would bring Henry downstairs, she thought fast. She had precious little time to plan.

“How sweet of you to be concerned,” Randall said. “But I’m smarter than to let the pigs pin anything on me. You broke into my house and killed my wife. My killing you was a clear-cut case of self-defense.”

While Tess listened to Randall’s scheme, she scanned the area within her reach. She spied a decorative doorstop just past the reach of her fingers. But if she stretched . . .

She inched her hand across the Persian rug then hesitated. If she tossed the weighted sculpture at Randall and missed, he’d start shooting. They had to get the gun away from him. She could only pray Justin would follow the same line of reasoning.

And pray she did as she grabbed for the iron doorstop. The quick movement sent currents of pain shooting from her injured shoulder, and she bit back a moan. In a flash, she rolled on her back and lobbed the iron piece at a decorative mirror on the wall across the room from her. The mirror shattered with a loud crash, and Randall reflexively jerked his head toward the noise.

Justin seized the moment of distraction to kick a long leg up at the gun in Randall’s hand. Randall spun back around as the gun flew from his hand and landed behind him. When Randall turned to retrieve the pistol, Justin clambered up from the floor and tackled him from behind.

Tess searched the floor for the gun, but Randall managed to scoop it up before Justin grabbed him. The men battled for control of the weapon. Metal flashed. Hands grappled. Antiques shattered.

“Mr. Sinclair?” Henry shouted from the hall.

Tess gasped and scrambled for a plan. Quickly, she hid behind the office door. Snatching an Oriental vase from a bookshelf, she flattened herself against the wall, out of view. The minute Henry stepped into the room, she jumped from behind the door. Swinging with every ounce of her strength, she smashed the vase on Henry’s head.

The burly man crumpled on the floor, and for a fraction of a second, Tess worried that she’d killed him.

The crack of Randall’s gun grabbed her attention. In a flurry of fists and elbows, Justin still struggled to subdue Randall. Tess caught her breath and watched the deadly contest. Randall backed Justin against the desk and pinned him. Blood stained the front of Justin’s shirt near his waist.

With a howl of pent-up rage and hatred, Tess charged Randall’s back and jumped on him, clawing like a rabid wildcat.

“Get off me, bitch!” Randall grabbed at her scratching hands. Justin took advantage of the distraction to lift a well-placed knee to Randall’s groin. Randall slumped, clutching his injured crotch. Justin wrested the gun from his opponent and aimed it at his head.

“Justin, no!”

“Why the hell not?” Justin’s hands shook, and his eyes blazed with a wild fire.

“Because you’re not a murderer. If you kill him, you’re no better than he is,” Tess squeaked, her throat tight with fear and tears.

She saw the turmoil swirling in his eyes. A muscle in his cheek twitched. “If I had killed Mac when I had the chance, Becca would be alive today.” His voice sounded strangled. “But I didn’t, and I’ve regretted it ever since. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Her heart beat double-time as the depth of his pain and conflict became clear. She reached for his hands and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “Becca didn’t want you to kill for her. And neither do I. I know you’re hurting, but killing Randall won’t bring Rebecca back.”

Randall peered up, assessing the situation with dark eyes.

Justin cut a quick sideways glance at Tess. “But it would solve your problems.”

“No. It would only make new ones. You’d be wanted for murder, and the gentle goodness I love about you would be destroyed.”

The gun in Justin’s hand drooped. The blaze in his eyes cooled. Behind her, Henry moaned and stirred. “Let’s just get out of here,” she said. “Please, Justin! We have to hurry!”

Justin aimed the gun and fired a bullet into Randall’s foot. Randall screamed in agony, and Tess yelped, startled by the shot.

“At least I can slow him down,” Justin said, backing toward the door.

When Justin grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the living room, Tess nearly tripped over Henry.

“Which way? Where’s Randall’s car?”

“Through the kitchen.”

Stumbling, she headed for the garage with Justin on her heels. Flying down the flight of steps from the kitchen door to the ground level of the garage in one leap, Justin slid across the hood of Randall’s Jaguar. Scurrying behind him, Tess plunged into the front passenger seat.

“Where’s the key?” He groped the ignition and floor mat.

Tess groaned. “I don’t know.”

He flipped down the visor, and a key fell into his lap. He grinned smugly, but before he could crank the engine, a tall form darkened the kitchen door. Tess glanced up with a start. Henry plowed through the doorway and down the steps, while Justin coaxed the engine to start.

“Come on, baby, we’ve gotta roll!”

Tess locked the car doors with a flip of a lever as the engine roared to life. A rumble caught her attention. Henry had lowered the garage door and was punching in a code on a keypad. Tess mashed the button of the remote control in the car, but the door didn’t budge. “Henry’s locked us in!”

Henry moved to her car door and pounded her window with the butt of his gun. Holding her breath, she waited for the shattering of glass and the blast of Henry’s gun.

“Hang on!” Justin shouted, gunning the engine. He popped the clutch, and the Jaguar rocketed toward the closed garage door.

Tess barely had time to shield her face before they crashed through the door. Splintering wood rained down, and metal crunched.

As the Jaguar flew down the driveway and bounced over the curb, Justin floored the accelerator. He gave a victorious whoop which was cut short as the back window shattered.

Swiveling in her seat, Tess watched Henry empty his pistol at the car. Bullets hit the car with ominous
thunks
.

“Get down!” Justin shoved her toward the floor.

When he took a corner too fast, the car nearly went up on two wheels. She whimpered and closed her eyes until she felt the wheels regain traction.

“We just got away from two guns. Try not to kill us now with your driving!” She glared at the sassy grin Justin flashed her. She clung to the edge of the seat and sucked in a deep breath, trying to restore her ragged heartbeat to a normal pace.

“You’re bleeding. Are you hit?” Concern laced his tone, and he nodded toward her shoulder. Tess peeled back her shirt to examine her wound. “It’s just a graze, a shallow cut. It’s barely bleeding anymore. Keep driving!”

He frowned but didn’t argue. The need to get some distance between them and Randall and company was an unspoken priority.

After a few minutes, Tess moved back up on the seat and looked out the window. “Any idea where we’re going?”

“I’m working on it. I have a couple ideas.”

“Such as.”

“The police.”

Tess shook her head adamantly. “I told you before, Randall has allies in the police department. He must. Too risky. We have to hide. Disappear.”

“All right. Then plan B is we go to Austin.”

“Austin?” She knitted her brow as she turned a stern gaze on him. “No, Justin. Don’t get your brother involved. Don’t put him at risk. It’s bad enough I’ve endangered your life.”

“Do you have a better idea? You’ve been shot, and I’ve ripped my stitches. If we go to the hospital, they’ll have to file a report with the cops. We need money, food, rest, and time for a breather while we plan what to do next. I’m not suggesting we stay long, but we need to regroup.”

Tess stared out the passenger-side window. She hated the thought of drawing anyone else into the horror show her life had become. Realizing how close she and Justin had come to losing their lives, she shivered. The notion of risking Brian’s life, too, riddled her conscience.

But she trusted Justin and couldn’t think of any other option. After a moment, she sighed and turned back to him. “All right. We’ll go to your brother’s. But just for one night.”

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

“You’ve lost your wife again?” Tony Morelli worked hard to contain his amusement.

“Watch yourself,” Sinclair warned. “Or I’ll settle for your blood instead of Tess’s.”

Morelli drew a hand over his mouth to conceal a satisfied smirk. “Any idea where she might have taken off to this time?”

Who’d have thought that Sinclair’s wife would have the nerve and the smarts to escape from her husband twice? Sinclair had had the fancy new security system installed, so Tess’s escape surprised Morelli all the more.

Sinclair’s wife had earned Morelli’s respect. She had gumption and guts. The extent to which her defection riled Sinclair intrigued Morelli, as well. He’d known the businessman lorded his power with an iron fist and abhorred any defiance, but something about his wife’s disappearance carried his vengeance to an extreme. Morelli had never seen Sinclair so obsessed with finding and controlling one certain person. Which meant either Sinclair thought he loved Tess, or Tess knew enough about Randall’s operation to destroy him.

Morelli didn’t waste time with the notion that Sinclair could love his wife. Not like Morelli loved his Maria. Cold and hardhearted, the bastard couldn’t possibly appreciate what a good woman could mean to a man. So did Tess have inside information about Sinclair that could help Morelli ruin the miserable bastard? Interesting . . .

Either way, Tess was a chink in Sinclair’s armor, a weakness that Morelli could use to his advantage. Staying in Sinclair’s circle of trusted employees remained essential until he knew he’d found Sinclair’s Achilles heel. But now Tess had provided a promising possibility. How could he use the situation to bring Sinclair’s empire down?