Chasing a Dream (27 page)

***

I love you, Bri.

Brian heard the words, the strange quality in Justin’s voice, replaying in his head as he drove to the police station. “I love you” wasn’t something men typically told their brothers out loud. It bothered Brian that Justin had felt the need to tell him now. He couldn’t shake the idea the words held some other subtle message. But what?

As he climbed out of his Honda Accord and hurried inside the police station, Brian pushed aside that frustrating question and the image of Justin’s haunted eyes. Clearly Justin was spooked, but why wouldn’t he be? Having a man shoot at you, having two cops bust through your bedroom door while you slept, and being arrested were enough to spook anybody.

“I’m the attorney for Justin Boyd and Tess Sinclair, who were brought in just a little while ago,” he told the officer at the front desk.

The man sat up and typed the names into his computer. “How do you spell that last name?”

“Boyd. B-O-Y-D.” Brian shoved his hand in his pocket and jangled his keys. Ordinarily, he could be calm, assured, professional, even standing in front of Judge Matthews, whose reputation struck fear in lesser men. But tonight his heart beat erratically, and his hand fidgeted in his pocket. Tonight he was going to battle for Justin, and his brother’s problems had him a little spooked too.

“No Boyd or Sinclair has been brought in here.”

Brian cocked his head as if he hadn’t heard right. “Pardon?”

“No Boyd or Sinclair has been brought in here.” The officer glanced up at Brian blankly.

“Well, maybe they haven’t made it down here yet. They just left my house a couple of minutes ago. Seems hard to believe I beat them here, but—”

“You can have a seat over there.” The officer pointed to a short row of folding chairs. “I’ll let you know when they get in.”

Brian’s gut twisted.
I love you, Bri.

He took a seat on one of the cold aluminum chairs, and his mind replayed the whole incident from the moment he’d answered the door. The men had quickly flashed badges at him as they pushed inside. The brash entry of the cops into his house had clued him something was wrong. The police wouldn’t have barged in unless they had reason to think their suspect or key evidence was about to disappear. Drugs flushed down the commode, convicts escaping through the back door, that kind of thing.

No such reason existed in this case.

And though he’d asked to see a warrant for Justin’s arrest, one had never been produced. He’d been so distracted by the sight of his brother in handcuffs, the terror on Tess’s face, and the disturbing way Justin said “I love you, Bri,” he’d let the warrant issue drop.

Brian’s heart thundered now, and he raked his fingers through his hair. After stewing for another minute, he stalked back to the front desk. “Are they here yet?”

The desk clerk shook his head.

“Damn,” Brian muttered as a frightening reality dawned on him. Justin had known it. That’s why he’d said he loved his brother. Justin didn’t expect to see him again.

The men that took Justin and Tess away weren’t policemen. They worked for Randall Sinclair.

***

The dark sedan pulled to a stop outside a warehouse in a downtown section of a city Tess didn’t recognize. She didn’t think they were still in Austin, considering the length of time they’d been driving.

The driver waited for a large sliding door to be opened then cruised slowly into a dim, cavernous warehouse. Apprehension rose like a fist from her stomach to her throat, strangling her.

Glancing at Justin, she met his eyes briefly, before he turned his head to survey the surroundings. She watched Justin’s expression for some glimmer of hope, some indication that he had an escape plan in mind. Instead, his face reflected grave worry. His uneasiness unsettled her even more.

Suddenly, Justin’s expression hardened. He straightened his back as his eyes narrowed on something outside the sedan. She turned her gaze in the same direction and met a dark, evil pair of eyes. She gasped involuntarily, her reaction rooted in the instinctive fear Randall always stirred in her.

The driver, his hand wrapped in a bandage, stepped out of the car and yanked open the back door. The second man who’d brought them like lambs to the slaughter leaned down and barked at Justin, “Out!”

When Justin ducked his head to climb out of the car, the driver sent the edge of his hand crashing down on the base of Justin’s skull. Tess whimpered as he slumped forward and fell out of the car, barely conscious.

“That’s for the whack you gave me at the fast food joint a couple weeks ago,” the man grumbled, poking Justin with his foot.

Tess seethed at the unfair and brutal treatment but only had time to gape for a second in horror before the same man reached inside and seized her arm. She stumbled as she was dragged out of the car. Coming to her feet, she found herself staring into Randall’s hard chest. Her gaze rose slowly to meet the unflinching, unforgiving eyes that glinted back at her.

“Tess, Tess, Tess,” Randall clucked, as if speaking to an errant child. “What must I do to teach you once and for all that I won’t tolerate your betrayal?”

She heard Justin groan in pain, and with a quick sidelong glance, she saw two men hoist him under the arms. They led him, stumbling, to one of two chairs set in front of the car, illuminated by the headlights. The injustice of Justin’s death at Randall’s hands clawed at her conscience. That afternoon she’d sworn to fight Randall for Justin’s sake, and the sight of her cowboy crumpled in agony fired that resolve. Tensing, she raised her eyes to Randall’s.

“Go to hell!” she snarled.

Surprise, then rage, flashed in Randall’s eyes, and he raised his hand. Tess steeled herself for the stinging blow that was sure to come but swore to herself not to flinch. Leveling a hard gaze on Randall, she met his dark eyes head on, her chin high. Randall’s hand stayed suspended in midair, poised, ready to strike. She didn’t move.

Her passive submission to Randall’s brutality and blind acceptance of his wrongdoing had fed his control over her and handed him power, carte blanche.

Don’t let him win. Take back the control.

His gaze narrowed on her, shifting slightly as if seeing something intriguing for the first time. She stared back, her body stiff and unyielding, though her stomach swirled with trepidation. The certainty that she would die soon lodged a rock of terror in her chest. But she wouldn’t go quietly.

Randall’s mouth curled in a humorless smile. “I see you’ve finally acquired a little backbone. I’m impressed.” He used the hand he’d raised to grab her chin, and his fingers dug into her skin. Putting his nose close to her face, he whispered, “Perhaps I will go to hell, but you’ll get there before me.”

Randall turned to Henry, who stood beside him. “Let’s get on with this.”

Henry wrapped beefy fingers around her upper arm and led her to the chair beside Justin, who blinked as he shook off the blow to his head. The short, stocky man who’d driven them to the warehouse pulled Tess’s hands behind the chair and bound them with duct tape at her wrists.

The second man who’d taken them from Brian’s house was taller and dark-haired. He walked behind Justin with another roll of tape. Tearing off a piece, he covered Justin’s mouth and leaned into Justin’s ear to growl, “Try anything stupid, and you’re a dead man.” He then tore off a second, longer strip of tape to wrap around Justin’s wrists. Taping Justin’s hands seemed like overkill to Tess, considering he was still handcuffed. That oddity set off warning bells in her mind.

“Take care of them, and dispose of the bodies,” Randall said. “I want nothing to connect me to their deaths.”

She directed a defiant, hateful glare at Randall.

Randall barely glanced at her. “And, Morelli,” he told the tall, dark man, “I want them to suffer.”

Tess swallowed a whimper. Despite the bitter taste of panic and dread in her throat, she refused to let Randall see her fear. With a boldness that belied the chaos in her soul, she leveled a grim stare at Randall.

He met the challenge in her eyes with a sneer. Then, turning, Randall walked toward the car that had brought her to the warehouse. She noticed he limped and had extensive wrappings around the foot Justin had shot.

Randall opened the passenger-side door as Henry slid behind the steering wheel. Pausing, Randall touched his fingers to his brow in a mock salute. “Good-bye, darling.”

Tess watched Randall climb into the car and close the door without so much as a flicker of remorse. The car backed out, and the man Randall called Morelli closed the large sliding door. The stockier henchman then turned to his prey and drew a revolver from under his jacket.

CHAPTER
TWENTY
-
ONE

Justin’s mind raced. Why would Randall’s henchman say something as absurd as “Try anything stupid, and you’re a dead man” when it was clear he and Tess were going to end up dead regardless?

Why would that same man then unlock Justin’s handcuffs while making a show of taping his wrists together? And why had the man wrapped the tape loose enough for Justin to wiggle his wrists free whenever he wanted? Although it would cost him some arm hair and a bit of pain, freeing his hands was definitely a possibility.

Caution kept Justin from taking advantage of the loose tape until he knew what they faced. He wanted to figure out what motivated the dark-haired henchman’s peculiar actions.

The tall henchman, Morelli, turned to his cohort with the bandaged hand. “Dominic, go check outside. Make sure there’s no unwanted witness who can hear anything and come snooping around.”

With a quick nod, Dominic left to follow the order, leaving Tess and Justin alone with his accomplice.

Morelli turned to Tess. “We meet at last, Mrs. Sinclair. I’m honored to know someone with the grit and brains to have outwitted your husband . . . twice. If you cooperate and do exactly as I say, you may yet live to tell the tale to your grandchildren.”

Justin fixed a hard, suspicious gaze on the man.

“What are you talking about?” Tess asked warily.

“I’m talking about the opportunity I’m giving you to get out of here tonight with your skin intact. You see, you’re more valuable to my mission if you’re alive. But the choice is yours.” Morelli walked over to Justin and aimed a snub-nosed gun at his temple.

Tess gasped. “What do you want from me?”

“I want your help in destroying your husband.”

“How?”

“Just make a simple promise. An oath that when the time is right, you will cooperate with me in bringing your husband down, however I see fit. That’s it. But if you break that promise, I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself. Of course, if you don’t agree to my terms, you both meet your maker tonight.” Morelli glanced toward the back door, where Dominic had disappeared, then continued. “Which will it be? We ain’t got long.”

“What are your terms?” Tess’s voice trembled, and her eyes widened with hope.

Justin listened carefully, processing and analyzing the turn of events.

“After tonight, as far as the world outside these walls is concerned, you and lover boy here are dead. Your husband has to believe that I followed his instructions to the letter. No one except you, me, and your boyfriend will know our little secret. Ever. You are to disappear, never to be heard from again. At least, not until I’m ready to use you in my plan.”

“I don’t understand. Why would you do this?” Tess eyed the man cautiously.

“Let’s just say I don’t want to burn any bridges before I know if I may need them again. I think you have information that will prove valuable to me. This way, your husband thinks I did what he asked, and I can keep his trust long enough to destroy him.”

“Why do you want to destroy Randall?” Tess tipped her head, her expression bewildered.

“Because he hurt someone I care about. The bastard made an enemy when he touched my wife, and for that, he will pay. Now . . . do you want to live or do you want to talk about it until Dominic gets back and the choice is taken from you? Dom plans to turn you into fish food, so I’m your only hope. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” Tess agreed quickly. She looked at Justin with wide, expectant eyes.

“That means you too, hotshot,” Morelli said. “No one knows you’re alive, ever. No one. Especially not family. That’s the only way I’ll agree to this.” He pressed the gun harder against Justin’s temple. “Hurry up, before my finger gets itchy.”

Justin thought briefly of the pain his parents, Brian, and Hallie would be put through, believing he was dead. He thought of the music career he could never pursue. He thought about the dream he and Rebecca had shared, the dream that would die tonight in order to save his life and Tess’s. Pain, like a million tiny shards of his breaking heart, filled his chest as he nodded his agreement.

What choice did he really have? Though he still saw himself as the wrong man for Tess, Randall’s thug had forced his hand.

Morelli lowered the gun and stuffed it into the waistband of Justin’s jeans. He ripped the tape from Tess’s wrists, and she yelped in pain.

“Take this phone, and keep it on. When I’m ready to reach you, I’ll call you and give you your orders.” He handed Tess a small cell phone then braced his arms on the chair and leaned close. She shrank back with a gasp. “If I can’t reach you, for whatever reason,” he snarled, “I’ll hunt you down and make you sorry you ever crossed me. I swear, Tess, if it is the last thing I do, I will find you. Got it?”

Her throat convulsed as she swallowed and nodded.

“You’re on your own to take care of Dominic. As for my part, you’re free to go. Now, Mrs. Sinclair, give me your wedding ring.”

When Tess cast the man a questioning glance, he scowled impatiently. “Your husband wants proof that you’re dead. Would you rather I send back your whole hand?”

Quickly, Tess fumbled to remove the diamond band on her finger then held it out to him.

“On the way to see your husband, I’ll pay a visit to a friend of mine who works in the city morgue. I’ll pick up a hand and your hubby’s none the wiser. Unless there’s no wedding ring on the hand. You follow?”