Cold Deception (His Agenda 4): Prequel to the His Agenda Series (15 page)

Terence shifted in his chair and wheeled his stool around to face her. “Are you married?”

“Do I look married?” She gave him a tentative smile.

“I can’t say. How does a married woman look like? Looking at you right now, I’d say maybe not?”

“Whether I’m married or not isn’t important.” She wrapped her fingers around her drink.

The ring mark was clearly visible now. Terence’s eyes rested on her hand for a long time as he fought to control his rage.

He reached out and ran a finger down her arm. “In that case, would you like to go somewhere? If there’s nothing stopping you.” He was taking a risk. She could say no, perhaps even slap him in the face. But her online profile had given him the confidence he’d needed to follow her. If only she knew how much he had on her. Besides, he was in no mood for chitchat. He was focused on carrying out his plan.

He knew she would say yes even before she said the words. She tipped her head to the side and bit the corner of her lip in a way that would drive any man wild with desire. “Sure, I’d like to talk someplace. It’s loud in here anyway.”

“There’s a small motel down the street.” He was getting down to business. Beating around the bush had never been his style.

She moved closer and whispered into his ear. “Sounds like a date. Let’s get out of here.”

A minute later they were in his car, their lips locked, Terence’s hand buried in her hair. It was as soft as he had imagined. Her tongue was soft too, and tasted both sweet and bitter from the drink. She slipped her hand into his shirt and ran it down his stomach. He almost exploded, but now was not the time. He pushed away gently. She insisted, kissing him deeper, harder, more passionately. But before she could unzip his pants, he gripped her wrist. “Not now. Not yet.”

She groaned and leaned back, buttoning her blouse. “You’re no fun. But whatever.” She crossed her arms. “A motel room it is.”

He licked his bottom lip, tasting the bittersweet.

There was a motel down the street, but he drove toward one in another part of town, far away from prying eyes. Krista didn’t object. On the way there, she leaned over and attempted to unzip his pants again, but he pushed her hand away.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Terence pulled into the motel parking lot and pulled out a wad of cash.

“I need to make a call. Why don’t you go in and get us a room for the night?” He handed Krista the money.

She giggled and got out of the car, swaying slightly on her blood-red heels.

The motel room was a closet furnished with only the necessities. Terence’s gaze took in the sagging double bed, the frayed carpet with some faint stains, the single lamp, and the bare desk next to the window. He breathed in the disgusting smells of stale coffee and old carpet and tuned out the sound of the shower running in the next room.

He pulled Krista over to him and lifted her off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He was already hard and would have taken her right there and then, but that was not part of his plan. He carefully lowered her onto the bed. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a set of slim handcuffs he had bought from Jack’s Surveillance Shop. The headboard had bars, which was perfect. She bit her bottom lip as he pushed her arms above her head.

“You’re a kinky one, aren’t you?” she purred. “I’ve never tried this before.”

The handcuffs clicked and Terence looked into her dark eyes. “With your husband or your lovers?” He kissed her lightly on the lips, not waiting for an answer. He had all the answers he needed.

“Hurry up already,” she begged. “I want you inside me.”

“I’m sure you do.” He took a pair of small scissors from another pocket. “But first I have to cut off your clothes, bit by bit.”

She didn’t fight him as he started cutting. In fact, with each snip, she became more aroused. Finally she was naked, shreds of her clothes strewn all around her. Terence ran his gaze down the hills and valleys of her body. Her breasts were round and firm, her nipples hard. He wanted her badly. But it was not going to happen. Lacey could fuck other men, but he would sleep with no one but her. He shouldn’t even have kissed Krista in the first place, but convincing her he was interested in a one-night stand was the only way to get her here.

“Now that you’ve cut up my clothes, what am I going to wear when all this is over?” She smiled playfully.

“I have some clothes in my car.”

“That’s good. Now, are you going to take advantage of me or not?” Her gaze traveled down his body, desire simmering in her eyes.

“I want us to play a little game first… a question and answer game.” He reached for the single chair and placed it at the foot of the bed. He sat on it, his legs wide apart, body leaning forward, and hands clasped. “I ask the questions. You answer.”

A line appeared between her eyes as she frowned. “You want to ask me questions? That’s not really what I thought you had in mind.”

“We’re going to do exactly as I say.” He smiled. “Was this your first time? Be honest.”

He saw her swallow hard. “First time? What do you mean?”

“Going to a motel room with a stranger. Cheating on your husband.”

Her eyes darkened. “What are you getting at? I thought…”

“You thought you were going to get fucked tonight, to cheat on your husband again, didn’t you?” He tipped his head to the side. “Maybe we were going to do it, but I changed my mind. You’re a whore. Has anyone ever told you that? I know everything about you, Krista Smith.”

“What the hell? What do you want? You don’t know anything about me.” Panic was welling up in her eyes now. She was coming undone.

Terence laughed. “I know more than you think. I know that last week you cheated on your husband with the groom of one of your wedding clients. I know your husband is a plastic surgeon and works long hours. Is that why you cheat?” A chill coated his words. “I know you’re a member of the DW—desperate wives looking to cheat on their husbands.” He ran a hand across his stubble. “Should I go on?”

Krista’s eyes widened and she attempted to free herself from the handcuffs. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’d call myself your worst nightmare.” He pointed at the handcuffs. “You might want to stop that. You don’t want to hurt your wrists. You’ll just make it more painful. It doesn’t have to be, you know.”

“Get me out of these.” She continued trying to free herself. Her voice was firm, but she was afraid of him. He liked that.

“Not until you see what I have planned for you.” He stood and went to his backpack, which he’d put on the desk. With his back turned to her, he relished the sounds of her whimpers mixed with the clinking of the handcuffs against the headboard. He reached for the whip inside the bag, gripping it tightly in his fist.

“How about I tell you a little about myself? The most important thing about me that you should know is that I’m also married, and my wife is cheating on me.” He sucked in the stale air. “I want to hurt her for what she did to me, but I can’t, because she left me. She walked right out of our marriage.” He turned around and faced her, his eyes blazing. “I can’t punish her for what she did to me, but it will make me feel a whole lot better to go to bed tonight knowing I have rid Serendipity of another cheating whore.”

Chapter Forty

A tear crawled down Krista’s cheek. Terence watched as it dripped into her ear. Her lips trembled. She had no choice but to give up the fight, to give in to him. She was completely at his mercy. He could do whatever he wanted with her.

He gripped the end of the whip and cracked it, letting out a snapping sound.

She shook her head desperately as he walked toward her. “Don’t hurt me, please.”

Terence smiled and moved closer until the shins of his legs touched the edge of the bed. “How do you feel when you cheat on your husband? Do you feel any guilty at all?”

“Yes.” Her voice was soft and brittle. “It kills me. I feel guilty.”

Was she telling the truth or just saying what she thought he wanted to hear? He pressed on. “Then why do you still do it? Why do you cheat on him if you feel so bad about it?”

Krista’s bottom lip trembled. “He never has time for me. He doesn’t see me anymore, even when we’re in the same room. All he thinks about is his job.”

Terence let the words sink in and asked the next hurtful question. “How about your kids, your three sons?” He raised the whip and let it come crashing down along her body, leaving a red line running down the middle of her torso. She screamed out and yanked at the handcuffs again.

“Stop, please stop.” She gulped for air. “It hurts…please. I do...I feel guilty. I—”

“Your kids don’t deserve to have a mother like you. If you feel so guilty about what you’re doing to your family, why are you here? Why are you here with me? Why are you doing it again?”

He raised the whip a second time and sent it crashing down again. Her scream was sharp and tortured. The sounds of her suffering satisfied him, but it occurred to him that someone might hear. He dropped the whip and picked up two long pieces of fabric that had once belonged to her stretchy blouse. “Shut up.” Ignoring her begging, he balled up one piece of fabric and stuffed it into her mouth, gagging her. The second piece he wrapped around her mouth, making a knot at the back of her head. Then he reached for the whip again. This time he whipped her across the stomach. When she cried with agony, no one could hear her but him.

“You thought you’d never pay, didn’t you?” He moved his face close to hers. “Well, there’s something you should know. I plan to kill you tonight. I’m going to kill you, and nobody will know a thing. Your husband doesn’t know where you are, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t tell any friends where you’d be tonight.” He paused. “I’m telling you this because I want you to be prepared.”

She squirmed and tried to bite the fabric inside her mouth. She could struggle as much as she wanted; he had already made up his mind. He was not letting her off easy. It was a little too late for her to be regretting things.

“You’re probably wishing I were a good person, someone who would have mercy on someone like you.” He sucked in air through his teeth. “I used to think I was a good person. Then I was sent to prison for a murder I didn’t commit. Thing is, when you’re told more than once that you are a killer, you start believing it.” He’d probably been a killer all along. If he had reached Smithers a few minutes earlier that night, he would’ve killed the bastard himself.

He ran a finger along Krista’s stomach, tracing the red line the whip had created. He thought of Lacey, imagined her on top of another man, allowing him to touch her everywhere, in the places reserved only for Terence. His anger rose like an angry snake, threatening to strike. It pushed him over the edge, blinded him.

His hands seemed to act on their own as they wrapped the whip around Krista’s neck and tightened it. Blood rushed through his ears so he didn’t hear her groans or see the pleading in her eyes. All he saw was Lacey fucking another man, Lacey betraying their vows. The clearer Lacey’s face became in his mind, the tighter he pulled the whip around Krista’s neck. He pulled until it dug into the flesh of his hands.

Closing his eyes, he enjoyed the pain, the triumph. Then he let go and stumbled back, staring at his shaking hands as if they were not his own. But the shock only lasted a moment before it was replaced by an inexplicable rush of power and an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. The kind of satisfaction he had felt the night Smithers died. He felt himself soar to a place where he didn’t recognize himself—a place where he was not the weak man his father had made him out to be. A place where he was stronger than his past, his pain.

He stepped forward again and observed Krista’s body, the horror frozen on her face. She was dead. The image of Lacey with another man dimmed, and Terence felt a little less out of control.

There was one promise he’d made to himself: He would make damn sure nobody ever found Krista’s body, because he was never going back to prison.

By the time Terence had disposed of Krista Smith’s body, it was long past dawn. He went home and took a long, hot shower, then went straight to the restaurant. He waited for a couple of hours, but Lacey didn’t show up. On his way over to Marion’s, he came close to crashing his car. The power he got from killing Krista had dissipated, and the wild thirst for revenge was back. He could go online and find another cheating wife to kill, but what would that solve? He had to return to his roots, to the person who was really to blame.

Marion wasn’t home, but Terence had a spare key. Thirty minutes at Marion’s place was all he needed to find their mother’s phone number.

Chapter Forty-One

Terence wasn’t able to see his mother immediately. When he revealed to her over the phone who he was, she denied knowing him and hung up. He decided he didn’t need her permission to see her. He used his research skills, and within a few hours had found out where she worked and lived. Now he was entering Milwaukee in a rented car.

At a traffic light he flattened the piece of paper against the steering wheel to check the address of her house. When he got there, no one was home. He had no choice but to drive to Bayside Hotel where she worked as a front desk clerk. It looked like the singing career she had given up her family for hadn’t panned out after all.

It was 11 p.m. when she finally walked out of the hotel, fumbling inside her bag for something. Terence climbed out of his car and called her name. She spun around and froze, eyes growing wide. Then she turned and walked faster, almost tripping. When a cab approached, she raised her hand. Terence got to her first. He gripped her arm and shook his head at the taxi driver who was slowing down for her.

“We need to talk. I think you owe me that much.” He studied her scarlet face. “Are you still going to deny that I’m your son?”

Age had changed her. The wrinkles on her face were visible even underneath all her makeup. But her blue eyes, while cold and frightened, were still sharp. The fake eyelashes that framed them spoiled their beauty. Her chocolate hair was pinned on top of her head, ringlets falling down the sides of her face. Was he really standing in front of his mother after all these years? His natural urge should have been to walk into her arms, to seek the comfort she had taken with her when she’d left, but that fact stood like a thick wall between mother and son. She had left him. Even when he was sent to prison—and his arrest had been publicized in all the papers in Wisconsin—she did not come and see him. She had completely cut him out of her life.