Cold Deception (His Agenda 4): Prequel to the His Agenda Series (20 page)

Earnest Striker

Terence ran a hand through his greasy hair and took another drink. He reached for his cell phone and switched it on. At least ten of the messages were from Marion. He deleted them without listening to them, and then he listened to the two from the lawyer. Striker repeated exactly what he had written in the note—he wanted to speak to Terence urgently concerning an important matter.

Terence was convinced that the man who had been sniffing around his house was the Striker guy. What the hell did he want from him? He’d give the guy a call first thing in the morning to find out. He switched off his phone again and stood. He hadn’t had a shower in three days, and he craved one. He took his gin bottle with him to the bathroom but instead of drinking from it, he spilled its contents down the drain. He had no use for booze anymore. He was in control of his life again. He had taken life in order to breathe new life into himself.

After the invigorating shower, he went to look for something to eat. He pulled week-old leftover Chinese takeaway from the fridge and settled on the couch to eat it cold.

Marion showed up two hours later. He found Terence back on the couch, watching television. Marion picked up the remote and switched the TV off.

“It’s done. This is the last time I will be cleaning up your mess.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” Terence folded his arms. “I was planning to get rid of the body myself. But you had to butt into my business, didn’t you?” He stood.

The punch that came flying at Terence’s nose took him by surprise.

“You ungrateful bastard. If I hadn’t helped you, you would have gotten your ass arrested. In the state you were in, you would have made mistakes. You better stop thinking you’re above the law. One wrong move and you’ll be locked up for life this time.” Marion took a step back. “You need to get out of this place for a while. Come stay with me. Someone might come here looking for Lacey.”

“It’s all sorted. No one will come for her.” Terence touched his bleeding nose, enjoying the pain, the feeling of being alive. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not as stupid as you think.”

Marion shook his head. “Sometimes I regret being your brother, you know that?”

“Tough luck. We can’t choose our families.”

“Damn right we can’t. Right now I wish I could.” He paused. “Get your shit together. We’re leaving.”

Chapter Fifty-Five

The next morning, after a strong coffee, Terence gave Earnest Striker a call. Marion had left to do more cleaning up at the old house. He had given Terence strict instructions not to leave his place. Terence didn’t fight him. He had been too distracted by this business with Striker to care about Marion’s bossiness.

Terence thumbed Striker’s number into Marion’s house phone and asked the receptionist to connect him. Striker was on the phone in seconds.

“Mr. Pirone, I’m so glad you called. You’re an impossible man to get a hold of.” There was a slight impatience to his voice.

“I was out of town for a few days. So, what’s this about?”

“Mrs. Deloris Holt. She passed away two weeks ago. I’m sure you read about it in the papers. I’m the attorney handling her estate.”

Terence was still for a moment. It saddened him a little to hear of Deloris’s passing. He had liked her, and Terence didn’t like many people. She’d had such a fire in her eyes, it was hard for him to believe she had died so soon.

“I’m sorry to hear of her passing, but what does it have to do with me?” Terence pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing his damn hangover would piss off already.

“You are one of the beneficiaries of her will, Mr. Pirone.”

“No way.” Terence stood up from his chair so fast it crashed to the floor. “I don’t understand.”

“It is true, Mr. Pirone. Mrs. Holt left you an inheritance, and I need to discuss it with you.”

“But I didn’t know her… not really.” Terence ran a hand through his hair. “How is this possible?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that question. My job is only to inform the beneficiaries of their inheritances.”

Terence’s face lit up. “I understand. I’m ready to talk when you are. Can we do it over the phone?”

“I’m afraid not. She left a letter for you. Maybe it will answer any questions you might have. I can come to your house tomorrow morning at ten?”

“No, no,” Terence said quickly. “I’ll come to your office.”

Chapter Fifty-Six

Earnest Striker was a gaunt, tired man with thinning hair and bags under his eyes. He looked as though he hadn’t slept for days. Terence observed the man’s thin face, tapping his fingers on his knee. Marion hadn’t believed him when Terence had told him the news yesterday. Terence couldn’t blame him. He himself needed proof. And that proof could be in the envelope Striker had just handed him.

“She advised me to give this to you before we discuss anything further.”

Terence opened the envelope so quickly he almost tore it. He pulled out the sheet of paper and read the letter.

Dear Terence,

I have a confession to make. I knew who you were from the first time we met. You’re the boy who was imprisoned at sixteen for the murder of Brett Smithers. As a major donor for the Sunshine Orphanage, I followed your trial closely. When you were sent to prison, I thought you deserved it. No one has the right to take another’s life, I thought; not even a child. Years later, I did more research and found out about the molestation you and many other innocent boys suffered at the hands of that man, a man who was once a good friend of mine. I also discovered that you were not the boy who had murdered him after all.

I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I hadn’t done something about it. I was the one who hired and paid your lawyer to do everything he could to get your case reopened, and to prove your innocence. I’m glad he succeeded.

You have your freedom now. You were robbed of so many years. I cannot give them back to you, but I’d like to give you the best chance to rebuild your life. I’ve left you a bit of money to help you get started. This is money I would have donated to charities and orphanages, but I lost faith in such institutions a long time ago. My life is almost over now, and yours has just begun. Live it to the fullest. If you ever feel the need to thank me, bring a bottle of vodka to my grave. Don’t tell my nephew about it.

Yours sincerely,

Deloris

Terence lowered the letter with shaking hands. “I can’t believe this.” He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. His time in prison was paying off in ways he hadn’t even expected. He couldn’t wait any longer. The moment of truth had come. “How much… How much did she leave me?”

“Three million dollars.” Striker said calmly.

“Holy shit.” Terence rose from the leather chair and went to the window, his hands on both sides of his face. Terence didn’t cry when he was sent to prison at sixteen, nor when his mother left, nor when his father died. But now, a tear slid down his cheek. He swiped it away and turned back to Striker. “How do I get my money?”

“The process of claiming an inheritance is pretty straightforward since you’re named in the will. All you need now is patience. It could take several months for everything to be settled.”

Several months sounded too long to Terence, but he was in no position to argue with the man who was making his dreams come true. He’d have to keep a low profile as he waited it out, and make damn sure no one found out about the murders before his money came through. Once he became a rich man, he would change his identity and start a completely new life. A life worthy of a millionaire. “What do you need me to sign?”

***

“Bullshit.” Marion looked up from Deloris’s letter, his eyes bulging from his face.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought when he gave me the figure.” It excited Terence to be sharing good news with Marion for once. “It’s for real, man.” Terence went to put an arm around his brother. “Guess what that means?”

“That you’re a freakin’ millionaire? Damn, and after all the shit you’ve been pulling lately.” Marion’s eyes dimmed for a moment, but then the dollars signs reappeared. It seemed millions of dollars were enough to make Terence look good in his brother’s eyes.

“Forget the shit I’ve been pulling.” Terence rubbed his hands together. “What this means is that we can start over. No one will ever be able to connect me to Lacey’s death. We can be anyone we want. We can do anything.” He breathed in. “I already spoke to someone who can get us new identities.”

Marion laughed. “New identities? I don’t know, man.”

“Well, you can keep your identity if you prefer. But there’s a little problem. If someone finds out about Lacey, you could get burned.”

“Thanks for reminding me not to get involved in your mess anymore.”

“That’s not the way to talk to a millionaire.” Terence grew eager. “Come on, let’s do this together. Let’s leave our shitty lives behind. I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of. You don’t even have to work if you don’t want to… or you can work for me. Whatever you want.” Terence threw his hands in the air. “Come on, this is a no-brainer. Say you’re in.”

Marion was quiet for a long time, shadows of doubt fleeting over his features as he thought about giving up his life. His face finally relaxed and he nodded. “I guess I’m in. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”

“You bet.” Terence laughed.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Jude Macknight

One Year Later

Jude closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the prostitute’s butt as he pushed into her for the last time with a grunt. His body rocked as he exploded, gripped by an orgasm that seemed to last forever. When it released him, he pushed the beautiful blonde off him. She caught herself before she landed on the carpeted floor.

“Thank you. Your money is on the dresser.” He swung his legs out of bed and put on one of the Lux’s robes. Treating the prostitutes he fucked badly was becoming a habit. He used to treat them well—months ago, after he had inherited his fortune. He had felt fulfilled and powerful then. His cheating wife was gone, and he had been rewarded by life. He had spent money as if it grew on trees, mostly on women, cars, and houses. Fortunately, he had also made some very wise financial decisions that kept the money flooding in.

As Jude Macknight, he fucked his way through Wisconsin, spoiling women rotten with jewelry, expensive champagne, and large amounts of cash. But for a month now, the shine of the good life was fading. It all started when he went through his old stuff and came across photos of Lacey. One of them in particular he had taken the morning he gave her his mother’s infinity necklace. Out of nowhere, after months of being glad she was dead, he yearned for her. He yearned for someone to come home to, someone to spoil with all the money he had now, someone who belonged to him. But not just anyone. He wanted Lacey back, the way she used to be before she’d wanted out of their marriage.

The prostitute dressed, took her money, and left while Jude was in the shower. When he came out, still steaming from the hot shower, he dressed and switched on his laptop to see if Nolan Ross—his brother had finally ditched the name Marion—had found out anything about Lacey’s sister, Haley. Finding her had been an idea that had come to Jude during the space between dreaming and wakefulness. He had shot out of bed, excited. If he found her—Haley Bradley—she could be the one to fill the hole in him. She could bring her sister back to life, back to him. He had seen a photo of her online, and she looked so much like Lacey had when they met. He had to find her.

“Yes.” Jude punched the air as he read Nolan’s email. It was short—three little words that brought a smile to Jude’s lips.

I found her. N.

EPILOGUE

Jude pulled the velvet curtain aside and watched Haley Bradley through a small window in a hidden room of Allure. The glass was such that she would not be able to see him, even when she turned her nervous green eyes in his direction. He could watch her in peace, running his gaze along the length of her body, enjoying the contrast between her long, golden hair and her crimson satin chemise and panties.

She paced the room as she waited for the next horny bastard to enter for a lap dance, and a touch of her silky skin. She never let them get further than that. He knew she was thinking of diving into the deep end. She needed the money.

Jude took a sip of fizzy water and a smile tipped the corners of his mouth.

They had found her months ago, but Jude had not wanted to rush into things. He’d taken his time preparing for her arrival into his life. Until the last few weeks when he’d started stalking her, studying her life, her habits, and most importantly, her problems. At first it had angered him when she started working at Allure, where she allowed men to touch her, to jerk off on her, but he’d soon discovered it was a good thing. She was desperate, and desperation meant she needed to be rescued.

When she became his, it would be forever. She wouldn’t leave him like her sister had.

Of course he could get into her heart the natural way with no problem. He had the money and the looks. And she was struggling to make ends meet. But that would leave the opportunity for her to walk away one day, just like Lacey had. This time, he would pay a higher price to lock her into his life. The price of blood. To get his wife back and keep her, he would commit one more murder. He’d gotten away with it before; he would do it again.

Only a blood sacrifice would ensure she needed him beyond love and attraction, beyond financial security. He wanted to become her fuckin’ knight in shining armor, just as he had been Lacey’s. But this time he would not let her walk away. He was prepared to give her everything a woman could want—even a baby. She would not need to work.