Heart Of Marley (42 page)

On that warm Chicago night in June, David made his way back to his government car, thinking about the immense pleasure he felt every time he had Jolene tied up and could do with her what he wanted…what he needed. He was startled when he heard the service door open and close loudly, followed by an echoing “Hush.”

He slowly turned around, not wanting anyone to be alerted to his presence.

“Come on, Jolene, baby. Free and clear, honey girl.”

His eyes grew wide. What was going on? Someone was helping his Jolene get out of the hotel? The girls never left. They weren’t allowed. He knew all too well what kind of operation Falconi was running and he supported it one-hundred percent, as well as the various charities that Falconi had established to prevent the very thing he was involved in. Senator Murphy didn’t blame him for it. Falconi was a businessman, plain and simple. He saw a marketable need and he catered to the very distinct tastes of wealthy men. But Jolene… She was his. Senator Murphy felt a connection to her that he never had with any other girl, and it wasn’t just because he had mortgaged his house in order to pay Falconi to be her first.
Money well spent
, he thought to himself.

His heart raced when he saw the head of housekeeping hide the tall, leggy blonde in the back seat of a station wagon. He clenched his teeth and fists, his blood spiking in rage and anguish at the thought of never being in the presence of Jolene again. Never listening to her sweet voice beg for mercy when she had misbehaved. Never getting his dick hard from the look of fear she had in her eyes. He needed Jolene in his life. She couldn’t get away.

“Where to, senator?” his driver inquired.

Shaking his head, he snapped out of his thoughts, desperation taking over. “Follow that car. The run-down station wagon.”

“Yes, sir.”

The government Town Car turned off the alley onto Michigan Avenue, driving the streets of the city that David had called home for years. The Chicago skyline transitioned from magnificent hotels to smaller apartment buildings, most of them decrepit and in need of serious repairs. For the duration of the long drive, he made sure to keep the station wagon in his sight. His vision was a little blurry from all the scotch he drank earlier in the evening, but he had a mission. Follow Jolene. The thought of losing her sobered him up quite a bit.
 

After driving for a little over an hour, the car eventually pulled into a bus terminal.

“Stay close, but don’t make it obvious,” David instructed.

“Yes, sir.”

He watched for several moments while the station wagon remained in a secluded area of the parking lot, an older black man getting out and running toward the station.

Almost immediately, he noticed a few of Falconi’s men pull into the station, as well. They looked frantic as they held up a photo, approaching nearly everyone. David’s mind turned calculating, thinking they must have realized that Jolene was missing and were looking for her, too. If Falconi’s men knew that she was in a station wagon in that very parking lot, they wouldn’t be questioning transients about whether they had seen the girl. This presented a golden opportunity for him. Instead of calling Falconi and having him forever in his debt, he had a new course of action. Follow her, and get what he always wanted… Jolene all to himself. He was giddy with excitement over the thought as he observed the black man walk Jolene, wearing an atrocious wig, to a bus.

As the bus drove out of the station, he looked at his driver. “I hope you’re ready for a road trip. Follow that bus.”

“Yes, senator.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A
NTHONY
F
ALCONI
WAS
STARTLED
awake with a pounding headache in the middle of the night.

“Jo-Jo Bear! Bring me some aspirin!” he yelled out, wondering what kind of party he had with her the night before that would cause the room service tray to be dumped all over the floor. And if it was a party, how come he had no memory of it? The last thing he remembered was having a drink with that sleazy Senator Murphy after he had finished with Jolene and escorted her back to the suite. Once he had said his good-byes to the senator, he settled down in his suite for a late night snack, courtesy of one of the room service attendants.

“Jolene?! What did I just say?!” he shouted, his temper beginning to flare. He listened and didn’t hear anything other than the whirring of the air conditioner in the suite.

Groaning, he raised himself off the couch, going in search of Jolene. “What the…?” His eyes scanned the guest bedroom, looking for any trace of the blonde-haired angel that should be in that room.

He ran to the door of the suite, his heart dropping when he found his two security agents were nowhere to be found.
 

“JOLENE!!!!” he thundered, not caring that he may be waking up some high-paying clients at that moment. It didn’t matter. Jolene was gone. And someone was going to have to pay for that.

When I was growing up, I always participated in a summer theater program for middle school and high school aged kids. I think that’s where my love for all things dramatic has stemmed from. After I graduated high school, I went on to college to study music. But every summer, I returned home, having been lucky enough to be asked to join the staff of this theater program as its music director. And it was a position I held each summer until I started law school, encouraging kids to step out of their comfort zone for six weeks of their summer vacation. Each and every kid that I taught will forever have a place in my heart… One in particular.

Several years ago, I got an e-mail from the woman that had directed alongside me, telling me that one of the students that I taught had committed suicide. It was his senior year of high school. I never found out the details, but it was definitely a shock to me. He never had the lead in any of the plays, but that never stopped him from joining in on all the theater games we used to play. That made me realize that you never can tell what’s going on in someone’s life, despite outward appearances.

The same is true for so many people out there. I know this book may not have the happily ever after you all crave, but Cam’s story goes on. And Marley’s does, too, through Cam. This was a story that I needed to tell, to make people think twice before judging someone. To make people realize that it’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to talk about your past, no matter what.

I’ve been navigating this crazy author world for the past year and, with every book, the number of people I need to thank increases. First and foremost, a big thank you to my wonderful beta readers… Lynne Ayling, Karen Emery, Lea James, Natalie Naranjo, Natasha Rochon, Stacy Stoops, and Kimberly Twedt… Thanks for taking the time to read through this book. I know the subject matter isn’t the easiest to deal with, so I appreciate all your feedback. I promise the next book will be much lighter.

A big thanks to my street team, my very own angels, who go above and beyond in spreading the word about my books. Alexis Brodie, Anna Kesy, Brenda Mcleod, Cecilia Ugas, Cheryl Tuggle, Christine Davison, Chrissy Fletcher, Cindy Gibson, Claire Pengelly, Crystal Casquero, Crystal Solis, Crystal Swarmer, Danielle Estes, Donna Montville, Eann Goodwin-Giddings, Ebony McMillan, Erika Gutermuth, Erin Thompson, Estella Robinson, Jamie Kimok, Janie Beaton, Jennifer Goncalves, Jennifer Maikis, Jennifer Patton, Jessica Green, Joanna Haskins, Johnnie-Marie Howard, Katharine Cordy, Kathryn Adair, Kathy Arguelles, Kathy Coopmans, Kayla Hines, Karrie Puskas, Keesha Murray, Kim King, Kimberly Kazawic, Kimberly Twedt, Lea James, Lindsey Armstrong, Lori Garside, Lori Moore, Marianna Nichols, Meg Faulkner, Megan Galt, Melissa Crump, Melissa Miller-Mattern, Melissa Stickney, Natasha Rochon, Nicola Horner, Nicole Chronister, Pamela McGuire, Rachel, Fowler, Rachel Hill, Shane Zajac, Shannon Baker-Ferguson, Shannon Palmer, Shayna Snyder, Sherri Stovall, Stacy Hahn, Stefani Tabakovska, Stefanie Lewis, Suzie Cairney, Sylvia Chavarin, Tabitha Stokes, Theresa Natole, Tiffany Reid, Tiffany Tyler, Tricia Crouch, Tracey Williams, Victoria Stolte, Yamara Martinez… Thanks for all you do for me!

To my parents and sisters… My amazing family… Thanks for providing me the inspiration, motivation, and the love of reading, without which, none of this would have ever been possible.

To my editor, the amazing Kim Young… Thanks for the time and effort you spent on this book. I know this one wasn’t an easy subject matter for you to work on. I promise, the next book will be full of laughter instead of tears.

To my husband, your unyielding support means the world to me. I love you… To the moon and back.

Last, but by no means least, to my readers. Thanks for all your love and support over the past year. I never imagined that ten people would buy my books so the fact that my stories have spoken to you on some level is truly humbling. Thanks for the past year. Here’s to many more years to come.

T.K. Leigh, otherwise known as Tracy Leigh Kellam, is the
USA Today
Best Selling author of the Beautiful Mess series. Originally from New England, she now resides in sunny Southern California with her husband, dog and three cats, all of which she has rescued (including the husband). She always had a knack for writing, but mostly in the legal field. It wasn’t until recently that she decided to try her hand at creative writing and is now addicted to creating different characters and new and unique story lines in the Contemporary Romantic Suspense genre.

When she’s not planted in front of her computer, writing away, she can be found running and training for her next marathon (of which she has run over fifteen fulls and far too many halfs to recall). Unlike Olivia, the main character in her Beautiful Mess series, she has yet to qualify for the Boston Marathon.