Free Chasing a Dream by Beth Cornelison Page A

refused to marry her legally and had tainted her view of matrimony, she clung to the memory of her parents’ happiness.
    Though she’d never vowed “till death do us part,” she hadn’t realized how ominous the truth was. Not only would she never have the chance to feel the special bond her parents had shared, she doubted she could ever truly free herself from the man who’d stolen her hopes and dreams.
    The weight in her chest tightened, rose to her throat, and Tess struggled to contain the tears that would serve no purpose. She had learned long ago to accept her lot in life. So why did she belabor the facts and torture herself now?
    Clearing her throat, she faced Justin again and scowled at him. “You’re on my bed, and I’m tired. Please move.”
    Instantly, she regretted the sharpness of her tone. She was mad at herself, not him. Discouraged by her emotional weakness, weary from the strain of the day, and pessimistic about her future, she unfairly took her frustrations out on the most convenient target.
    Such transference was unlike her. Around Randall, she had learned to bottle up her feelings and stoically bear the brunt of his temper. What had happened to her?
    Justin cocked an eyebrow and scooted off the bed. “All yours.”
    Her body and spirit sagged as she watched him meander toward his bed, where he restored his guitar to its case.
    “Justin.”
    His gaze rose to hers as he snapped the case shut. “Hm?”
    “I’m sorry. I’ve been rude to you all day, and it’s not right.” Guilt sapped her strength, and she wrinkled her brow. “Forgive me?”
    Bracing a hand on his hip, he regarded her with a placid expression. “Forget it. We’ve been on something of an emotional roller coaster today. What we both need is a good night’s sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”
    Despite her fatigue, a soft smile found her lips. “The eternal optimist. You’re amazing.”
    “Attitude is everything, Tess.”
    She mustered the energy to brush her teeth before crawling into bed, but sleep eluded her. A parade of worries marched through her head. She stared into the darkness, listening to the creaking of the next bed as Justin made himself comfortable and flapped the sheets.
    “Justin?”
    “Yeah?” A sleepy rasp thickened his voice.
    “What happened to her husband? Rebecca’s husband.”
    She heard him heave a deep sigh. “After tying up the courts and fighting the charges against him for two years, he was convicted of involuntary manslaughter last month.” Bitterness colored his tone. “He’ll get out after serving just two years.”
    “Two years?”
    “Yeah.”
    “That’s not right.”
    He remained silent for a long time before whispering, “No, it’s not. Rebecca lost probably sixty years of her life, and Mac will only lose two.” He paused. “Good night, Tess.” His bed creaked again as he rolled over.
    Two years . Fury swirled inside her at the injustice.
    The same thing would happen with Randall, she knew. With all his connections, his ruthless power, his lethal procedures, Randall would never pay for his crimes. He’d built a business empire, a legion of minions, and an intimidating reputation by sheer will—and cutthroat tactics. Randall was a steamroller who would take down anyone or anything in his path.
    Justin had unwittingly stepped in front of a speeding locomotive.
    She accepted the fact that she would always be at risk, would always have to look over her shoulder. But she couldn’t let Justin die for her mistakes.
    She knew what she had to do.
    Her decision made, she rolled over in search of sleep.
     
    ***
    “We’ve got men at the airport, the bus and train stations all over the area, in case she ditches the Jimmy. We’re doin’ everything we can, but . . .” Tony Morelli rubbed the side of his nose and floundered for the best way to explain the poor results he’d had finding Sinclair’s wife.
    Randall Sinclair’s face remained impassive as he leaned back