Chasing a Dream Read online

  CHASING A DREAM

  BETH CORNELISON

  Copyright Information

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author‘s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2006 by Beth Cornelison

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  eISBN: 978-1-937776-30-5

  Also by Beth Cornelison

  Trust in Me, Amazon Kindle Bestseller!

  Reyn's Redemption

  Healing Luke

  Under Fire

  Soldier's Pregnancy Protocol

  Visit Beth online at www.BethCornelison.com!

  Follow her on Twitter: @BethCornelison.

  Table of Contents

  CHASING A DREAM

  Copyright Information

  Also by Beth Cornelison

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  Author Bio

  Special Excerpt from Trust in Me, Amazon Kindle Bestseller

  Dedication

  To my son, Jeffery—believe in yourself. Dreams do come true!

  PROLOGUE

  LOCAL BUSINESSMAN RILEY FANNIN FOUND DEAD, APPARENT SUICIDE

  A ripple of uneasiness shimmied through Tess Sinclair as she reread the newspaper headline. Fannin. She knew that name. But from where?

  “Randall?” She peered over the top of the paper to the man seated across their opulent living room on a black leather couch.

  He glanced up from his business magazine with an impatient glare. Accustomed to Randall’s short temper and not sure her curiosity warranted upsetting him, Tess hesitated.

  “What?” he asked irritably.

  Tess drew a deep breath and plunged forward. “Don’t you have a business associate named Riley Fannin?”

  Randall’s glared darkened. “My business dealings are none of your business. It would behoove you to remember that.”

  She nodded, trying to appease him. “Yes, I know. I only ask because the paper says he died. Apparent suicide.”

  Randall dropped his gaze to his magazine again. “Good riddance.”

  “Randall, that’s an awful thing to say!” Tess gaped at him, disconcerted by his callousness, though she shouldn’t have been. After twelve unhappy years of living with Randall, she should have learned to expect such coldness from him. Deep in her soul, the naive and idealistic girl she’d been when they met still harbored a tiny hope that somehow, someday, Randall would change. But after twelve years, Randall still hadn’t deigned to marry her, although he called her his wife and took all the privileges. To Randall, Tess was just another possession, bought with his money and subject to his iron will.

  Now, as he glowered at her, a muscle in Randall’s jaw twitched, a sure sign he was getting angry. Tess’s defenses went on alert.

  “The man was weak. A nothing. And I don’t tolerate weakness, Tess. You should know that better than anyone.” He paused, and his menacing dark eyes found hers. “Get me a scotch.”

  Obediently, she rose from her chair and crossed to the wet bar to pour his drink. Her hand shook as she poured, knowing how alcohol encouraged Randall’s fits of rage. She was adding ice to his glass when she remembered where she’d heard Fannin’s name. “The call.”

  “What?” Randall groused.

  Tess spun to face him when she realized she’d said the words aloud. “I . . . I said ‘the call.’ You had a call last night from someone about Fannin. I overheard because the answering machine picked up at the same time you did.”

  Randall narrowed a speculative glare on her and slapped his magazine aside. “You were eavesdropping on my phone call?”

  She swallowed. Why had she brought it up? Better that he’d never known. “Not on purpose. I swear. The machine came on while I was starting dinner. I had raw chicken on my ha—”

  “Shut up!” Randall surged to his feet. His dark brown eyes glittered with wrath as he stalked toward her. When she’d met him, Randall’s swarthy good looks had been appealing. Now his height and dark features seemed more intimidating, especially when he used his size advantage against her.

  Her grip tightened on the crystal highball glass while fear squeezed her lungs. No. Not again.

  Hand trembling, she held the scotch out to him. He knocked it to the floor with a swift lash of his arm. “What did you hear?”

  Panic swelled in her chest as she met the blaze of fury in his eyes. He clenched his jaw, flexed and fisted his hands at his sides, waiting for an excuse to use them.

  A pit of despair, the gnawing sense of being trapped and at his mercy, filled her gut. She marshaled what courage she could and fumbled with the two-carat diamond on her left hand. On nights like tonight, her jewelry felt like a noose.

  “Nothing really. I—”

  With a jarring smack, the back of his hand connected with her cheek. Pain streaked through her and weakened her knees. She tasted the familiar metallic flavor of blood and had to suppress the urge to vomit.

  “Don’t lie to me, Tess. Don’t ever lie to me.” His tone was frighteningly calm, like the lull before a Texas tornado. “What did you hear?”

  Frantically, Tess tried to remember exactly what the man on the phone had said to Randall. The call had puzzled her, she recalled, and the male voice had been unfamiliar.

  We took care of Riley Fannin. He won’t be a problem anymore.

  Tess caught her breath when the man’s strange words came back to her, and she jerked her stunned gaze up to Randall’s.

  You idiot! I told you never to call me on this line! Randall had answered.

  Sorry, boss, I thought—

  But whatever the man had thought had been lost when Randall slammed down the phone, disconnecting the call.

  Now, Tess blinked in disbelief as the significance of what she’d heard sank in. Icy fingers of horror clawed at her. “You killed him,” she rasped.

  “Give me some credit. I’m not stupid enough to dirty my hands with such things.”

  No, of course not. Randall wielded his power and position like a despot. He’d have had one of his many minions carry out the seedy details.

  “But you knew about it. You . . . ordered his murder. Didn’t you?” Just the idea made Tess nauseated, light-headed with shock.

  A sarcastic grin tugged one side of Randall’s thin lips. “You always were the smart one, weren’t you? Which is why I’ve always kept you out of my business affairs. I didn’t need your bleeding-heart, sanctimonious morality interfering with the way I do business.”

  “Murder is not business! It’s criminal! It’s evil!
” She should have kept her mouth shut. She knew what it meant to challenge Randall. But everything inside her and everything she believed balked at the obscenity of what she was learning.

  Randall stepped closer, grabbing her arm with a viselike grip. She gasped as his fingers bit into her arm.

  “Are you threatening me?” he growled, his nose shoved close to her face.

  “No!”

  “Good. Your sister wasn’t smart enough to keep her whoring mouth shut. I’d hate to have to deal with disloyalty from you the way I did with her.”

  Tess’s stomach somersaulted, and she shook her head in confusion. “Angie? What does this have to do with Angie?”

  “Only that when she got a notion to hold my business dealings against me, she, like Fannin, learned how I deal with traitors.”

  Bile rose in Tess’s throat as she processed this new insight to her sister’s thirteen-year-old murder. She’d been living, sleeping, having sex with the man responsible for her sister’s death! A man for whom murder was a business tool. She’d known he had a bad temper, known he became violent when she angered him, but had never imagined the scope of his malice or his immorality. And now that she knew the true extent of Randall’s treachery, what could she do?

  “Her pimp owed me money,” she heard Randall say, though her mind already reeled with the implications of his previous revelations. “He handled Angela when she stepped out of line, and I forgave his debt. A simple business transaction.”

  Tears of rage filled her eyes, her own safety forgotten in the shadow of the horrid truths she was learning.

  “You bastard,” she muttered with every bit of venom that seethed inside her.

  Randall jerked as if hit. Fire erupted in his eyes, and he shoved her backward with a force that knocked the breath from her. Crystal tumblers and wine glasses shattered around her as she crashed into the wet bar and slumped to the floor.

  “How dare you speak to me like that!” Randall delivered a sharp kick to her ribs. “I took you in when the only other way you could have survived was as a whore. I laid the world at your feet, bought you everything money could buy! And this is the thanks I get?” Another bone-jarring kick. “You ungrateful bitch! I ain’t gonna take it!”

  On some level, through the haze of pain, fear and loathing, she heard Randall’s language slip into the street slang he’d grown up using. The lazy speech pattern he worked meticulously to avoid as an adult and a respected San Antonio businessman. His regression spoke for the extent of his fury . . . and her danger.

  “I swear, woman, if you ever rat me out, I will kill you.”

  Tess shuddered and closed her eyes, squeezing back her tears.

  “Think about that if you have any half-assed ideas about taking what you know to the cops. The cops can’t touch me. I’ve made sure of it.”

  She was sure of it, too. How else had he gotten away with his crimes for so long?

  He’d hidden his vile business practices from her well, kept her ignorant to the extent of his evil nature. But she should have known. Had she turned a blind eye to the signs of his wickedness in self-preservation? Had she been too stupid to see what was right before her? More importantly, now that she knew who and what Randall Sinclair was, how did she survive? How did she look at herself in the mirror, knowing how he paid for the clothes on her back, the jewels on her hand?

  She heard the rasp of his pants zipper and cringed. The beatings were bad enough without humiliation heaped on top.

  Tess searched for answers, prayed for guidance. She knew she had to leave, had to get away from Randall somehow. She’d find the conviction and courage to do what she should have years ago. Her mind set, she began planning her getaway.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Tess clutched the steering wheel with a death grip and checked the rearview mirror once more. Her escape seemed flawless, yet she knew better than to relax. Randall would come after her.

  Fear clawed at her, accelerating her pulse. Nudging the gas pedal, she urged her new Jimmy to eat up the miles of Texas highway just a little faster. The farther she got before Randall discovered her flight, the safer she would be.

  She worried her lower lip and sighed. “Safe” was a relative term, and she doubted she would ever consider herself truly free of danger. Randall never forgot a betrayal.

  Dark clouds loomed overhead, eclipsing the late morning sun. Driving rain obscured her view and made the interstate treacherous. But she pushed on.

  Her survival, her sanity depended upon fleeing the parameters of Randall’s power and influence. She needed to fade into the sweet obscurity of the American populace. Without any specific destination in mind, she headed across the plains of South Texas, leaving behind a nightmare beyond anything she’d ever imagined.

  She’d had to act quickly. Too quickly. Spontaneity had never been her strong suit, but under the circumstances, she couldn’t afford the time extensive planning would involve.

  Her affronted ethics had compelled her to act. Panic had guided her escape. Desperation now led her quest for seclusion and anonymity. Certain only that she had to make a new life for herself, Tess plotted her next move while she drove.

  She’d avoid large cities where Randall could have contacts. A newcomer in a small town would draw too much attention as well. Someplace about the size of—

  Thunk!

  Tess gasped. The loud bump and pull on the steering wheel jerked her out of her deliberations. A gunshot? Her gaze flew back to the rearview mirror. A fresh surge of adrenaline swept through her. Her heart thudded against her ribs, and her hands shook.

  The steering wheel slipped in her sweaty palms, and the Jimmy listed to the right. In her distraction and in the blinding rain, she must have hit something on the road and damaged a tire.

  “Oh, no.” Her chest tightened with dread as she eased to the shoulder. Not only would changing a flat tire waste precious time, but stranded along the side of the interstate, she became a sitting duck. She’d be an easy mark for one of Randall’s lackeys who had no compunction about using her for target practice.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she fought the swell of panic rising with the taste of bile in her throat. The swishing windshield wipers kept time with the steady cadence of the June rain on the car roof while Tess quieted her jangling nerves. Pressing the heels of her hands against her closed eyes, she curled her fingers into her hair and counted to ten.

  You can do this. Just stay calm and think clearly.

  After cutting off the engine, she glanced around the floor and realized that, in her haste to change vehicles, she’d left her umbrella in the BMW she’d traded for the dark blue Jimmy.

  Digging her cell phone from her purse, she turned the device on to call a tow truck. Then hesitated.

  With a groan, she discarded the idea. She had to learn to take care of herself, survive alone, and she might as well start now. Besides, the less attention she attracted, the better.

  From the glove box, she withdrew the owner’s manual for the Jimmy she’d owned for less than two hours. Hands trembling, she studied the instructions for changing a tire then tossed the manual on the passenger seat.

  With a heavy sigh, she opened the door and stepped out into the torrent. The warm summer rain dripped from her hair and nose. After retrieving the jack and lug wrench from the storage space in the back of the truck, she set to work.

  Having positioned the jack under the car frame as the instructions in the manual described, Tess threw all of her body weight into loosening the lug nuts on the tire before levering the truck. Within minutes her muscles ached from fighting the stubborn nuts, which refused to budge. When the wrench slipped in her wet hands and clattered to the pavement, she growled her frustration. She dropped onto the ground and, despite the puddles she sat in, leaned back against the truck.

  Surrendering to the tears that stung her eyes would be easy. Though distraught, discouraged and drenched, she mustered enough strength in her quivering muscles for another try.
r />   Giving up was not an option. Quitting now meant certain discovery, defeat, even death. She didn’t delude herself for a minute by hoping that Randall would forgive her flight, ignore the damning things she’d learned about him, and allow her to live.

  Memories of his rage the night she’d confronted him with the truth knotted her stomach and persuaded her to struggle to her feet for a second attempt with the stubborn lug nuts. Grasping the wrench with a grip as firm as her resolve to rid herself of Randall’s menace, she jammed the tool in place and tugged with all her might.

  “Looks like you’re having a little trouble.”

  Tess’s heart slammed against her ribs at the sound of the male voice. Her hands stilled. A pair of muddy hiking boots appeared in her peripheral vision. She eased her gaze over to study the man’s shoes while her mind raced.

  Was he one of Randall’s men? Should she run? Could she defend herself with nothing more than the lug wrench?

  As she raised her head, her gaze traveled up a pair of long legs, clad in blue jeans, and past slim hips to a broad and imposing chest. Though not what she’d call muscle-bound, the stranger’s torso, clearly delineated beneath a clinging, wet T-shirt, looked strong and capable of inflicting harm if he so chose. Her 110 pounds held no chance against his brawn.

  Gulping a breath, she dragged her gaze to his face, shadowed under a black cowboy hat, and she searched for her voice. “I—I can handle it.”

  The man squatted beside her, his long legs splaying wide. “Are you sure? I don’t mind giving you a hand if you want to get out of this rain a little quicker.”

  On eye level with him now, she surveyed the stubbled cheeks and square jaw of the man she estimated in his late twenties. “I’m already soaked, so . . . I . . . thank you anyway.”

  Bright blue eyes stared at her from under the dark rim of his Stetson, and his mouth curved in a lazy grin. He reached for her, and Tess shrank back with a gasp. The fingers that curled around her grip on the wrench felt surprisingly warm as he gently pried the tool out of her hand.