Chasing a Dream (34 page)

“Oh, yes, Randall. You miscalculated me.” Her voice resounded, deep and strong, in the confines of the car. “And you miscalculated the power of love to break the chains of intimidation and dominance you used against me for so long. Justin has shown me the strength of love, and I will fight you to the bitter end to defend what I have with him and win my freedom from you.”

Randall scoffed. “You think he loves you? That punk just wants the free sex you’re giving him. I’m the one who laid the world at your feet.” He poked a finger at her, and his face grew florid. “I gave you everything money could buy, invested thirteen years of my life, and asked only for your loyalty.”

“But did you even once love me?”

As if she’d pulled a plug on him, Randall appeared deflated. “I tried, but you were so weak. Like my mother.”

“Weak? Randall, you tortured me! You hit me and demeaned me and stole my self-respect! That’s not love!”

He snatched her upper arm and drew her closer. “None of that matters now, does it? You betrayed me, and for that, you’re going to die.”

His dark eyes glittered with evil intent. Self-preservation erupted inside her. Tess launched herself at him, clawing his face like a cornered alley cat. Her arms flailed, her body thrashed, and her legs kicked as he tried to subdue her. A sound she barely recognized as her own voice growled and screamed like an injured animal. She raked Randall’s face and arms with her fingernails.

“Stop it, bitch!” he yelled, when she jabbed at his eye. “Henry, tie her hands! Henry!”

Randall seized one of her hands and twisted it behind her until she cried out in pain.

“Stop fighting me, or I’ll break your arm!”

Gasping for breath as lightning-like pain shot up her arm, she met his glare. “I won’t let you win. You may kill me, but I won’t just roll over and die.” With a yank that cost her another sharp bolt of pain, she wrenched her arm from Randall and twisted away from him.

“Henry!”

While Randall yelled for his hit man, she scrambled for the door. He sank his fingers into her shoulder and hauled her back. Spinning to free herself from his grip, she met his hard eyes.

He tore his gaze from her, presumably to look outside the car for Henry. When an evil grin curled his lip and he leaned forward to peer out the front window, she followed the direction of his gaze.

Henry and Justin, locked in a struggle, inched dangerously near the edge of the overpass. They lurched and pitched as they fought each other’s wrestler-like stranglehold. A chilling dread arced through her, paralyzing her briefly.

Randall’s satisfied chuckle goaded her into action. Grappling for the door handle, she rocked backward into Randall’s chest with a force that knocked him off balance. Throwing open the door, she scurried from the car. “Justin!”

Randall caught her shirt before she made it two steps. He jerked her back against his chest and wrapped his arm around her waist. A hard lump poked her back with a menacing jab. Randall had a gun hidden under his suit coat, she realized, and trembled.

“Stand back, people,” Randall said, and only then did she notice the small crowd of curious onlookers. “These fugitives are dangerous. Let us handle it.” The cool authority in Randall’s voice, his businesslike attire would have fooled her, too, if she hadn’t known better.

She swung a desperate look to the crowd. “No! He’s not the police. Please, someone help!”

No one moved. Not that she blamed them. What they witnessed had to be terrifying.

Justin’s grunt drew her attention. As she watched, Henry shoved Justin up against the short wall, pinning him. Justin’s knees buckled tiredly.

Her breath caught in her throat.
No!

Grabbing a leg out from under Justin, Henry hoisted his opponent over the side of the short wall. Justin clutched the top edge of the wall, while Henry pounded him in the back with his elbow.

“No! Stop!” Tess struggled against Randall’s grip as foreboding settled on her chest. She wrenched her body desperately, trying to free herself. She had to help Justin, had to help him before he fell.
Please, God!

Even as she thought it, she heard a gunshot. Then a second. And a third. She stiffened with alarm.

Henry’s body jerked and slumped forward until the weight of his massive body pulled him over the concrete wall. As he slipped over the edge, he grabbed for Justin. Henry dragged Justin’s legs with him as he fell, and Justin slid farther over the wall.

Tess screamed in terror.

Randall released her and ran to look over the wall. On rubbery legs, she rushed toward the spot where Justin clung precariously to the edge of the overpass.

She grabbed for his wrists. “Justin, hold on! Don’t let go! Please!”

His arms trembled with the effort of supporting his weight as he dangled. He kicked his legs up at the wall as he tried, unsuccessfully, to gain a foothold.

Randall appeared at her side and smirked as she tried to save Justin. Snaking his arm around her again, Randall hauled her back toward the car, and her hands slipped from Justin’s wrists.

“Justin, hold on!” she wailed, kicking and scratching Randall’s arm.

“Sinclair!” The male voice distracted Randall long enough for Tess to bite the arm that hooked across her chest. With a vicious curse, he dropped her. She fell with a jolting thud to the pavement. She cringed as Randall reached for the pistol tucked in his waistband and swung his arm up to fire.

Rapid gunfire rang in her ears. Something warm and wet sprayed her clothes and hair. A large red stain spread on Randall’s chest, and his eyes became fixed and glazed. A small dark circle marred his forehead, and he crumpled on the pavement beside her. Shock rendered her mute and numb. On some level she knew he was dead, knew his blood and tissue dripped on her, but she couldn’t move. Horror welled inside her and choked her breath.

When a dark shadow spread over her, she looked up with a start, jolted from her daze by a new terror.

“That’s for Maria,” Morelli said calmly.

Tess gaped at the new threat anxiously. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She blinked at Morelli in confusion. “You killed him.”

“He killed my wife. I returned the favor.”

Morelli’s flat, unrepentant tone sent a shiver down her spine. Then his gaze shifted to her. For a moment, hope flickered inside her. This was the man who’d freed them from the warehouse, after all. Maybe—

“You’re next, Mrs. Sinclair. You broke your word. You didn’t stay dead, and now because of you, my Maria is dead.”

“No,” Tess argued. “I didn’t tell anyone. I swear! I don’t know how Randall found out.”

“He found out from Dominic. I gave lover-boy a gun so he could eliminate Dominic, but he didn’t finish the job. And the phone I gave you, the one you haven’t been answering. Where is it? And your smartass boyfriend sent his brother a postcard. Bingo! Brother knows where he is and that he’s alive.” Morelli crouched down and stuck his nose in her face. “You tell me. Does that sound like you kept your end of the bargain?”

“I didn’t know about the postcard. I swear I didn’t.” Tears burned her throat. She glanced to the concrete wall where she could still see Justin’s fingers as he clung to the edge for dear life.

“Whether you knew or not, I told you what would happen if I had to come after you. Remember?”

She whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut as he raised the gun to her temple. “How sweet,” he mocked. “You and Randall get to die together.”

She heard the cold steel click as he cocked the gun, and she held her breath. Her body convulsed with tremors of fear. Did it hurt to die? She prayed it would be quick.

“Ciao, Tess.”

She winced, waiting for the pain, the darkness.

“Police! Drop the weapon and put your hands where we can see them!”

Tess’s heart lurched.

Morelli swung the gun away from her, toward the source of the new voice, and fired his weapon. Answering gunfire rent the air. Tess opened her eyes to find Morelli sprawled on the ground, a pool of blood spreading from under his back. Two uniformed policemen rushed forward, their guns aimed at Morelli.

One policeman checked him then Randall. “They’re dead.”

The second policeman rolled Dominic over and felt for a pulse. “This one’s alive. Cuff him until we find out what’s going on.”

Tess sucked in a deep breath of relief.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” the officer hovering over Morelli asked.

She nodded, hugging her trembling body. “Justin.” His name rasped from her throat. She turned her gaze toward the overpass wall and pointed a shaky finger. “Help . . . Justin.”

The police officer pivoted to look where she pointed.

But as she watched, Justin’s fingers slipped from the wall.

“Justin!” Tess screamed in anguish.

The nightmare she’d fled had claimed an innocent man—the man she loved.

Justin’s blood was on her hands.

A black veil shrouded her eyes.

CHAPTER
TWENTY
-
SEVEN

Tess stood alone beside the casket draped in flowers. The tears streaming down her cheeks cleansed her heart. She grieved for more than the man in the casket. She grieved for his wasted life, the unrealized potential. She mourned also for all the loved ones who hadn’t escaped his brutality and for the naive and desperate young woman she’d been when her nightmare with him began.

Today she buried that former self, as well. Justin had helped her rediscover her strength and her joy for life. With her tears, she released all that was past, forgave herself for the sacrifices she’d made to survive, expunged the bitterness and resentment that no longer had a place in her life. From now on she would look forward.

For all the tragedy and trauma, the past weeks had taught her the value of hope and love. She’d discovered love with a man who’d risked everything to give her back her life. But most importantly, she’d learned to love herself.

By choice, there would be no official funeral. Tess wasn’t prepared to answer the inevitable questions, questions she still asked herself, questions for which she had no answers. The only thing she knew with certainty was how much she longed for Justin’s arms to comfort her now. The violent resolution to her days of living in fear weighed heavily on her heart. Though free of Randall and his menace, she would always live with a graphic memory of what her liberation had cost her and others she loved.

Still, she felt Justin’s presence. He was a part of her new self. His love had changed her, transformed her, helped her find an inner peace.

She stared through her tears, watching as men in dark suits loaded the casket in the back of the hearse, ready to make its journey back to Texas. Stepping nearer to the casket, she dropped a white rose on the lid. A lonesome chill washed over her, and she tried to feel something other than the emptiness in her heart as she bade her last good-bye, but she could find no emotion for the deceased. Not even hatred.

Somehow, such bitterness toward the man who no longer posed a threat seemed a waste of energy, a pettiness to which she refused to stoop. She’d given too much of herself away because of him. Now, she reserved her energy for healing, for rebuilding, for new beginnings.

With a final deep breath to cleanse her mind and spirit, Tess turned away and headed back to the cab that waited for her. She needed to hurry to the hospital to meet Hallie, who would arrive from Texas any minute to join her injured husband.

***

Tess waved when she spotted the blond woman stepping off the elevator. She made her way over to Hallie, whose face reflected the worry she’d suffered since Brian left on his mission to save his brother.

“Tess!” Relief melted the harsh lines in Hallie’s expression.

To Tess’s surprise, Hallie hugged her with a firm grip. “Oh, thank God you’re all right! Where’s Brian? Do you know which room he’s in?”

Smiling, Tess nodded. “Of course. This way. I know you’re eager to see him.”

Hallie clutched Tess’s hand, and they hurried down the hall. With a sideways glance, Hallie asked softly, “How are you holding up? I know this has been a terrible ordeal for you.”

“I’m surviving. I know better days lie ahead, and that’s what pulls me through. That and Justin’s love.”

As she and Hallie entered Brian’s room, Tess sought a familiar pair of blue eyes. When she found them, her heart gave a giddy leap.

“Did I hear my name? My ears are burning.”

“What are you doing out of bed?” she chided, though a grin split her face.

Despite the purple and blue bruises that distorted his face, the repairs needed to his stitches, and the fresh cast on his leg, she thought Justin had never looked better.

“We’re comparing casts,” Brian volunteered.

“Yeah, he’s all cocky ’cause his cast is bigger. But I keep telling him that size doesn’t matter.” Justin flashed his brother a devilish grin.

Hallie flew to her husband and wrapped him in an embrace.

“Oh, Brian, I was so scared. When you said you were in the hospital . . .” She pressed her hand to her mouth and shuddered.

“As you can see, I’m alive and well except for a shattered femur. I’m going to need surgery later, but, for now, the doctor said just rest my leg and let it heal.”

Hallie turned to her brother-in-law, sitting in a wheelchair beside Brian’s bed. “And what about you? You look like heck warmed over.”

Justin lifted an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks.”

“I didn’t mean . . .” She huffed impatiently and propped a hand on her hip. “What did your doctor say?”

“He said I broke my fibula.” Justin propped his forearms on the armrests of the wheelchair. “He said most of my stitches needed redoing, hopefully for the last time. All these bruises are nasty-looking but superficial. Nothing broken up here.” Justin aimed a finger at his face. “I can get out of here tomorrow, if I promise the doctor to get a good night’s sleep tonight.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Hallie settled on the edge of the bed next to her husband. “Tell me the whole story. Leave nothing out. What exactly happened to all of you?”