Chasing a Dream (31 page)

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Authors: Beth Cornelison

Tags: #Romance, #Suspense, #Texas, #Nashville, #spousal abuse, #follow your dream, #country music, #musician, #award winning author, #Louisiana author, #escaping abuse, #overcoming past, #road story

BOOK: Chasing a Dream
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The woman gave her boss a bored look.

“Not only that, three customers complained last night that their rooms were dirty. One even said the sink was full of someone else’s hair. You have to be more thorough!”

“You want it done better, then do it yourself!” she snapped then stalked off.

“Crista, come back here! You can’t just leave like that! Crista! I won’t give you a good reference!”

Justin started toward the road again, but Tess grabbed the back of his shirt. “Justin, wait! This is just what we’ve been looking for. The man said he was desperate for help. I can clean a motel room, and maybe we could get a room where we can stay thrown in as part of my salary.”

Smiling her excitement, she saw Justin raise his gaze to the balding man. His eyes brightened. “Why not?”

She hustled across the parking lot with Justin at her heels. “Excuse me, sir,” she called, “but I couldn’t help overhearing your discussion with that woman about your need for help.”

“I’m sorry. Did we wake you?” He smoothed a hand over his bald spot.

“No, nothing like that. I was hoping you’d consider hiring me to clean for you. I need the work badly, and I’ll be thorough and quick and—”

“You’re hired.” An expression of immense relief crossed the man’s face. He turned to Justin. “How about you? Are you willing to change sheets and vacuum? I’ll pay you each two hundred dollars a week. ”

Justin’s eyes widened in surprise at the suggestion that he clean motel rooms, too.

Tess grinned. “How about it, cowboy? A little domestic work never killed a man.”

Grimacing, he arched an eyebrow. At the same time, his mind raced. Two hundred a week was slave wages, but if they were paid under the table, so to speak, there’d be no paper trail. “Pay us in cash and throw in a free motel room, and you’ve got a deal.”

The motel manager’s eyes widened, then he nodded. “Follow me. You can start right now. My regional manager is coming later today, and I need the place to be in top form. Oh yeah, my name’s Jim Beam, and no, I’m not kidding. My mother didn’t drink, so she didn’t know what she’d done to me until it was too late.”

The man expelled a frazzled sigh, and Tess glanced at Justin, who was working to hide an amused grin. “And you two are?”

“Jus—”

“David,” Tess interrupted, before Justin could finish. Both Justin and Jim Beam looked at her with curious expressions. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “David and Mary . . . Camper.” She held out a hand to Jim, and he shook it.

Justin muffled a chuckle, and she elbowed him. Fortunately, she poked him in his good side, since she realized her mistake too late to recover the jab.

Jim shook Justin’s hand, too, then turned to lead them to the office.

“Camper?” Justin asked under his breath.

“It was the first thing I thought of, okay?”

“Okay,
Mary.
” He grinned and followed their new employer inside.

 

 ***

“I have a healthy new respect for housewives who do this every day.” Justin dropped onto the bed in their motel room and heaved a tired sigh. They’d cleaned several rooms, dividing the chores and conquering the work in an organized and efficient manner.

Justin made the beds, vacuumed the floors, and emptied the trash, while Tess, who drew the short straw, cleaned the bathrooms.

“Housewives only have one house to clean. We cleaned the equivalent of three or four whole houses today.” Tess propped herself up on the bed next to Justin, who flipped on the TV and clicked through the channels. He stopped briefly on a music video channel and watched a man in a black cowboy hat sing about watching the taillights of his woman’s car fade in the night.

Justin sighed again and changed the channel.

Though he said nothing, she could see the pain in his eyes, and she shared a longing ache for what he’d given up. He stopped on a cartoon and watched absently for a minute.

“I just don’t get it,” he said suddenly. “Coyote keeps on buying stuff from Acme, even though every single device he’s ever ordered from them has backfired or not worked in some way. If he’s stupid enough to keep buying things from a sorry company like that, he doesn’t deserve to catch the Roadrunner.”

Tess furrowed her brow. “Pardon me?”

“Coyote and Roadrunner. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of them?”

“Yeah, I guess I remember them from when I was a kid. I just never analyzed them to such an extent.” She grinned up at Justin, and he smiled back. As always, Justin’s attitude was good, his teasing in place.

“Well, think about it. Has anything Coyote ever bought worked like it was supposed to?”

Tess rolled on her side and swung one leg over his. “I’d rather think about you.” She kissed him on the chest and trailed roaming lips down the plane of his stomach. Justin sucked in a sharp breath and turned off the TV.

“Mercy,” he mumbled as she worked her way back toward his lips and settled more fully on top of him. The Coyote’s buying habits were quickly forgotten.

 

***

“Hmm. That’s weird.”

“What is?” Brian looked up from the evening newspaper at Hallie, who browsed through the day’s mail.

“You got a postcard from Samson, Arkansas, but there’s nothing written on it.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know anybody in Arkansas. Let me see it.” She handed him the card, and he turned it over to study the postmark. When he saw the handwriting, his pulse screeched to a stop. “Oh, my God! It’s from Justin.”

“What? But I thought—”

“This is his handwriting. I’m sure of it.” Stunned, Brian stared at the card another moment, examining every detail. “The postmark is only two days old. He’s alive! That’s what the card is for. To tell us he’s okay and where he is.” Relief as pure and sweet as anything he’d ever felt rushed over him. “I knew he’d contact me somehow, but . . .”

“But?”

“He doesn’t want anyone else to know where he is. Otherwise, why use such strange and vague means to contact us?”

“Do you think that means Tess is all right, too?” Hallie’s tone sounded as hopeful as the light in her eyes.

“I don’t know.” Tapping the card against his palm, Brian narrowed his eyes. “But I intend to find out.” He shoved out of his chair and stalked toward the back of the house with Hallie trailing after him.

“What are you going to do? Brian, if Justin’s being this secretive, doesn’t it stand to reason he might not want you to blow his cover? I doubt he sent you the card to have you come after him.”

He threw his suitcase on the bed while Hallie fussed.

“He’s my brother. I just have to make sure he’s okay. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“I don’t like it. It could be dangerous for you.”

Turning, Brian pulled Hallie into his arms. “If it’s dangerous for me, then it’s dangerous for Justin. And that’s all the more reason for me to try to help him.”

“Oh God, Brian. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.” Hallie hugged his waist and turned worried eyes to his.

“And I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to Justin, and I hadn’t tried to help him.”

She sighed sadly. “I understand, but I don’t like it. Not one bit.”

Squeezing her tighter, he kissed the crown of her head. “I love you,” he murmured into her hair then turned to finish his packing. “I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

 

***

Hallie’s scream jolted Brian from his sleep.

“Don’t give me a reason to kill her.” The gruff male voice sent panic sluicing through him as he spotted the dark figure holding Hallie from behind.

Shadows shrouded the man’s face, but the gleam of the gun aimed at Hallie’s head was unmistakable.

Brian’s heart leaped to his throat. Raising his palms slowly, he said, “Okay, easy. Don’t hurt her. What do you want?”

“I want your little brother and Tess Sinclair. Where are they?”

“I don’t know.” Brian prayed his courtroom training would help him out-bluff the man holding his wife at gunpoint.

The click of the gun cocking reverberated in the dark room. Hallie whimpered.

“Come on, guy,” Brian begged. “Let her go. We don’t know anything about where Tess is.” That was almost true.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Brian pulled in a slow breath.
Don’t panic.

“Look, I read about Tess’s death in the paper. We assumed that meant Justin was dead, too. Some men dragged them out of here the other night and—”

“I know all that, asshole. I was one of those men. But I made the mistake of trusting your punk brother and the Sinclair woman when they couldn’t be trusted. Now Randall Sinclair’s after my neck and theirs. I don’t plan on dying. I plan to find Tess and your brother first. And you’re gonna help me.”

Listening carefully to the man’s explanation, Brian gauged his motives and calculated the risks. “What if you do find them first?”

“I’ll ask the questions, pal. Tell me where they are, or I’ll blow blondie’s head off.” The thug nudged Hallie with the gun again, and Brian’s gut clenched.

“I don’t know where—”

“Don’t lie to me!” The man jerked his arm tighter around Hallie, and she gasped.

The sudden volume and desperation in the man’s voice alarmed Brian. He played a dangerous game for his brother’s life, but Hallie’s danger was immediate.

“I’ll kill her! I saw the suitcase. Where are you headed?”

“A business trip.”

“Bullshit!”

Brian heard Hallie sniffling. He fumbled quickly for a plausible story. “Nashville.”

The man didn’t answer. Brian held his breath.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I swear to God. Justin always wanted to go to Nashville. If he’s anywhere, he’s there.”

“What if I said I was going to take blondie here along for the ride? If I don’t find little brother in Nashville, blondie dies.”

Brian’s palms were sweating. “Take me instead.”

“Not a chance. Your brother and Tess betrayed me and cost my wife her life. If I don’t have my wife, why should you have yours? Last chance, brother. Where are they?”

Knowing he only had one chance to save Justin and Hallie both, Brian sent up a prayer for assistance and courage. He had to tell the man what he wanted to know then hope he could find Justin before this maniac.

“I got a blank postcard from Samson, Arkansas, today. I think he’s there.”

The thug remained silent as if considering the information. When he finally released Hallie, she slumped to the bed, sobbing. Brian rushed to her.

“You’ve been most helpful,” the intruder said as he backed toward the door with the gun still aimed at them. “Do yourselves a favor. Don’t say anything to the cops about this, or I’ll be back. Blondie won’t be so lucky next time. Got it?” He disappeared into the hallway, and Brian wrapped his arms around Hallie. She trembled violently in his embrace. Or was that him shaking so hard?

“I want you to go to your parents’ house. Wait there for me. I’ll check in with you tonight. If you haven’t heard from me in twenty-four hours, it means something’s gone wrong. In that case, call the police and tell them what you know . . . everything that’s happened.”

Levering himself higher, he peeked out the bedroom window to watch the light-colored sedan pull away from the front of the house. He dressed in a hurry while Hallie gaped at him in horror.

“You’re not still going after Justin, are you? Brian, you can’t!” Her voice was high-pitched and hysterical.

“I have to get to him before that creep does! Get dressed and get out of here! Go to your parents, and don’t talk to anyone unless you don’t hear from me.” He snatched up his suitcase.

“Brian!” Hallie screamed in panic.

He stopped long enough to blow her a kiss. “I love you, babe.”

CHAPTER
TWENTY
-
FOUR

 

 

“Morelli just left the brother’s house. You want me to rough up the brother and find out what he told him?” Dominic asked his boss via cell phone.

“No. Follow him.” Randall fumed at Morelli’s betrayal. “Once you have an idea of where he’s headed, call me back. We’ll meet you. I think Mr. Morelli will lead us straight to Tess and her boyfriend. Then we can pop all three at once.”

“Yes, boss.” Randall disconnected the call then leaned back in his desk chair to wait for further news. Ten minutes later, Dominic called back. “Morelli seems to be headed out of town. Going north. You think he’s going to that little podunk town Boyd’s from?” “That’s what you’re to find out. Don’t lose him! We’ll be right behind you.”

 

***

Night encroached on the horizon by the time Brian passed the sign that welcomed him to Samson, Arkansas. His eyes scanned the town with a heightened sense of awareness, and apprehension wound inside him. What if Justin had merely been passing through town on the way to Nashville or Canada or . . . ? Stopping at a red light, he dragged a hand over his face and sighed. He was bushed. He’d driven nonstop after being awakened early that morning by the thug with the gun. Lord, his life had been turned upside down. When he found Justin, he’d kill his little brother himself!

Spying a small motel, Brian pulled in to get a room. He couldn’t do much to find Justin until tomorrow, so his first order of business was sleep.

 

***

Tess walked up behind Justin, who hunched over a notepad at the tiny table in their motel room, and she rubbed the muscles in his shoulders. She glanced at the paper he worked on while so deeply in thought. “What are you doing?”

“Hmm, that feels good.” Justin rolled his shoulders as she massaged them. He tossed his pen down and handed her the pad of paper. “I’m trying to reconstruct a few songs I’d written. I thought maybe I could use a different name and try to get them recorded, even if I can’t be the one to sing them.”

Tess moved around to the edge of the bed and sat down with the pad, meeting Justin’s bright blue eyes with a smile of admiration. “Never say die.”

“Huh?” Justin wrinkled his nose as he absently scratched his stubble-darkened chin.

“You. Your never-going-to-quit attitude. Your faith and doggedness.”

“Are you calling me stubborn?” Justin tipped a wry grin at her.

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