Dangerous Intentions (His Agenda 2) Page 11

  I suddenly remembered Jude was not his name. “What’s your real name? I know Jude Macknight is not it.”

  His eyes flickered with surprise and then he composed himself. “That’s not important. Continue calling me Jude; I’ve come to like it. A real man’s name.”

  “You killed Leon, didn’t you? The man you made me believe I murdered.”

  “Wow,” he breathed and turned back to face me. “You’re getting smart, Haley. I cannot believe it took you this long to find out.” He sighed. “I did. I saw you and had to have you. I had been following you for weeks, watched you strip for other men, dance on their laps. Leon was my instrument. That whole night was engineered. That champagne you drank… it contained a strong sedative. At least he didn’t suffer when I stabbed him.”

  “I couldn’t remember anything that happened because… because you drugged me. You smeared me with his blood and put the knife in my hands.”

  “Smart girl.” He clapped his hands. “You finally figured it out.”

  My stomach turned. I looked up and my eyes ached at the sight of him. How could I have been so stupid not to see him for who he was?

  “You thought I was your knight in fuckin’ shining armor, didn’t you? Girls can be so easily fooled.” He walked back to me. “But I could have been, if you’d let me. I gave you everything. I wanted to give you the life you never had. But you were too stupid to just take it.” He paused. “That man—your client—he was homeless. I love the homeless. They’re desperate and no one misses them. He was so easy to get rid of.”

  “What did you do to the body?”

  “It’s buried in the garden of our home.” He raised a hand. “Well, our old home. I sold it. We have to start over.”

  My mouth dropped open and I gasped for breath, feeling as if my air supply had been cut off. I had been in that garden on so many occasions, sat there hoping to catch a moment of peace, not even aware of the skeletons buried under my feet.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Before we go and dispose of your lover, I think there are a few things we need to catch up on.” Jude cupped his groin. “I missed you so, Haley.”

  I recoiled as he approached me, one thing crystal clear in my mind. I’d kill him before he raped me again. But I had to think fast of a way to get out of this situation. I needed to get out of this barn, go and find Dustin, and get him help. Hopefully it wasn’t too late.

  The door to the barn was locked and Jude had the key on him. If I allowed him to get close, I might get the chance to reach into his pocket and take it out. My gaze swept the room for objects I could use to hit him on the head so he wouldn’t overpower me before I could escape. I wouldn’t let it be like in the movies where the victim attempts to open a locked door while the captor is still fully capable of shooting them in the back.

  The thought of letting him get close, inhaling his musk cologne, having him touch me made me want to gag, but I had to pretend I wanted it. If he was stupid enough to think I would willingly sleep with him after everything he’d done to me, I would use it to my advantage.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said as he unbuckled his belt. “I can read you like a book, Haley.”

  I bit my bottom lip and my insides started to tremble.

  “You think I’m stupid enough to release your arms and legs in order to fuck you.” He whipped out his cock and started to run his hand up and down the shaft. “What you seem to have forgotten is, the only thing I need is your pussy. And I can have access to that in an instant.”

  Shit. I watched his penis grow in his hand and already felt the ache between my legs—a response to the memory of the pain he had inflicted there over and over again. I couldn’t let him do that to me again.

  Think, Haley, think.

  Before I could come up with any kind of solution, he reached down and ripped my blouse open, popping a few pearl buttons. Then he pulled a slim pocketknife from his pocket. He flipped it open and a long blade appeared.

  Oh God. Did he want to kill me first? I inhaled sharply when he slipped it between my breasts, under my bra. The coolness of the blade made me flinch. A tear slid down my cheek as Jude snipped my bra apart.

  I sighed with relief that he hadn’t stabbed me. He tossed the knife behind him and it slid underneath a bale of hay.

  My blood was hot now, and I mentally swore to myself that I would not let him rape me. I would kill him first. I didn’t care if I went to prison for it. At this point, I would rather be in prison and have him dead than allow him to live and keep tormenting me. One of us was going to die tonight.

  He breathed hard as he opened the rest of my shirt buttons, making his way past my stomach. I gasped and bit my lip so hard I drew blood.

  Once the blouse was fully open, he pushed my shorts to my knees, sliding his hands underneath me to lift me. Then he attempted to remove my underwear. That was when I started writhing so fast I made it difficult for him to get a grip on the elastic of my panties.

  The next thing I knew, one of his hands was around my throat. “You’re my wife,” he said through clenched teeth. He grabbed my crotch and squeezed tight. “You owe me this.”

  I gasped for air as he blocked my windpipe. My hands fluttered wildly behind my back. I wished they were free so I could push him away. The blood rushed to my head and pain shot through me. My body begged me to be still, to stop fighting, to conserve my energy. But how could I let him take what he wanted? We were married only on paper. Or were we, given his false identity?

  My flailing must have caused the rope that tied my hands together to loosen some, because suddenly I felt it slide down my wrists. I stopped moving for a moment, more out of shock than anything else.

  “Good girl,” Jude said, loosening the hand around my throat, satisfied that he had put me in my place. “Be an obedient wife and I’ll let you live.”

  I blinked. My throat ached so badly, I wanted to move my hands to it, to soothe it. I started to cough hard. Without him noticing, I moved my wrists around and used the flexibility of my fingers to try and release my hands completely, but I needed to wait for the right moment to fling them out into the open. I needed to make sure that when I revealed that he had fucked up at tying me up, I also had a plan for how to disarm him. I might only get one shot.

  He finally managed to push my panties down. Tears ran down my cheeks as I prayed I would not mess this up. I needed to get out of here, to get to Dustin.

  He looked into my face and grinned as he grabbed his cock again and positioned himself over me. I only allowed him to get as far as having his crotch above my knees. Then, with every ounce of energy I possessed, I shot both my knees up and slammed into his crotch as hard as I could.

  “Bitch,” he howled and stumbled back, his eyes wild with horror.

  While he was his weakest, holding his groin in agony, I flung my arms forward and lunged for the bale of hay I’d had my eye on.

  He recovered quicker than I expected, and swearing under his breath, he grabbed the chair to which my ankles were still tied and yanked it and me away from the hay. My face struck the dirty ground and scraped against it as he hauled me toward him.

  I screamed and kicked as hard as I could with the chair still attached to me. I must have connected with a part of his body because he suddenly released the chair and I took my chance. With the chair dragging behind me, I scrambled to all fours, twisting to the side. Before he could catch on to what I had in mind, I lifted my arm and lowered it with all the force I possessed, sinking his knife into one of his feet and twisting it.

  His howl was like that of an animal. Before he lowered himself to grab his injured foot, I yanked the blade out again and did my best to push myself away from him, the knife still in my hand.

  Still on all fours, I pushed the hand holding the knife between my legs, while keeping my eyes fixed on him. His eyes were scrunched shut, his face red with anger and pain.

  I sawed into the rope at my ankles as fast as I could, and right at th
e moment he recovered and started limping toward me, the rope gave way and I scrambled to my feet. I pulled up my panties and shorts and stumbled to the door.

  Then I realized my mistake. I had forgotten to take the key from him. I whirled around and held out the knife. “Come near and I swear I’ll kill you. I won’t even think twice, Jude.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” he said. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You don’t have it in you to kill anyone.” Suddenly aware that his penis was hanging out, he pushed it back in and zipped up his pants. He knew he wouldn’t get what he wanted from me now.

  “And yet you made me believe I did for all those years.” I shook my head. “After… after everything you did to me, I would be happy to kill you, Jude. Don’t underestimate me.”

  He started to laugh so hard his shoulders shook. Then suddenly the laughter left him, and he charged toward me so fast I didn’t have time to take a breath. In less than a second he had grabbed me by the shoulders, spun me around, and sent me crashing to the floor. The impact was so intense that the air rushed out of my lungs, and pain radiated inside my chest. My hand lost its strength and he pried the knife from my fingers.

  He stood above me, one foot on each side of me, the knife hanging by his side. “You’ve run out of chances. You’ll never respect me. I have no choice but to kill you.”

  All I could do was whimper. I’d messed up. I couldn’t see another way out of this. Why wasn’t anyone coming to help me?

  ***

  The coldness in his eyes told me he meant it. Today would be the day I died. Jude knew he could no longer control me. I’d never stop fighting him, and apart from instilling fear in me, he had nothing else he could hold over my head. The secret he had apparently been keeping on my behalf had crashed and burned. Nothing stood between us now. No secrets, no lies, no love—just a deep-rooted hate.

  So it would have to end here, once and for all. He would kill me, but I would not give up without a fight. I still wanted to see him hurt just as much as he had hurt me. I wanted to see the fear in his eyes. I wanted him to know how it felt to lose control to someone else.

  He squinted and his mouth set into a straight line. “I really wanted this to work. I was ready to forgive you. You’ll never get it, will you? You will never understand just how much I love you.”

  “What you feel for me is not love, Jude.” I met his gaze head on. “It’s obsession. You have no idea what love is. How can you? You’re an empty shell. You have a deep, empty hole right in the middle of your chest.”

  It happened so fast, it took both my mind and body by surprise. I felt his weight on me, his breath on my face, saw the fire in his eyes. And then I felt the pain, hot and sharp, digging deep into my flesh. The knife was no longer there, just its memory. He had rammed it into me and yanked it out again just as fast. Now it was pressed against my throat.

  I clenched my teeth to ease the pain in my left shoulder, but it raged like a wildfire. My eyes pleaded with his.

  He lowered his lips to mine and whispered something. I didn’t catch the words. My mind was too distracted by the pain. Maybe he was insulting me for the last time.

  I felt dizzy now, wanted so desperately to drift into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness. But I had to fight. I couldn’t let him win so easily.

  “Goodbye, Haley.” He pressed the edge of the knife deeper, the blade cool and wet against my skin. I felt a trickle trail down my throat—blood the knife had stolen from my shoulder.

  “I still love you,” Jude said softly and his eyes said he meant it. Between all the hurt and rage, I saw a flicker of the poisonous love he felt for me. “So I’m giving you a choice. Do you want me to slit your throat, or should I strangle you?”

  My breath quickened and I started to shake my head, then realized I would end up cutting my own throat if I did. My mind raced, searching for an escape.

  “Answer me,” he growled and pressed his lips to mine. “Tell me how to kill you before I fuck you for the last time.” His breath, I noticed, was tinged not only with the smell of alcohol, but also cigarettes. When did he become a smoker?

  It didn’t matter, because suddenly I saw a possible way out. In my mind, I strung together a few escape routes. I had to try the one I thought he would react to most strongly.

  “Let me go,” I croaked. “I’m… I’m pregnant.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Jude stiffened and removed the knife from my throat. His eyes melted, filling with tears. “It worked.”

  I’d never seen Jude cry before. I just prayed he didn’t have a pregnancy test on him. I had stopped underestimating him a long time ago. This lie was meant to give me the opportunity to breathe and give me a chance to move on to my next plan of attack. It seemed to be working, because he got off me, then pulled me to a sitting position and into a tight hug, rocking me back and forth.

  I decided not to confront him with the issue of him switching the pills. Best not to rock the boat. I’d just keep pretending.

  “I love you,” I lied because it seemed that was the only way to get to him. No one was coming to save me. I had to save myself. “I’m pregnant and you were hurting me. That’s why I left. I still love you. I always will.”

  He pulled back and just looked at me for a long time, searching my eyes for signs that I was lying to him. Then he spoke, and his words were hard. “Is it his kid?”

  I knew who he meant, and I shook my head. Pain stabbed my heart as I thought of possibly never seeing Dustin again. “I never… we never. I love only you.”

  He pulled me into his arms and I had to restrain myself from flinching or pushing him away. Instead, I snuggled into his shoulder and cried, even though my own shoulder hurt like hell and I thought I might pass out any second. I cried because I was scared that this could all blow up in my face and he would punish me by not only killing me, but also decapitating me like he had done to Diana. But I had to make the most of the situation. If he was now a smoker, there was a chance he carried a lighter. Letting him hug me was the only way I could get close enough to find it. I hoped he kept it in the same pocket as the key.

  As he held me, I felt his shoulders shaking. He was crying harder now, his tears dripping onto my injured shoulder.

  Trying not to get caught, I slid a hand down his back as if to comfort him, and then down toward his side, making cooing noises all the while. He was trembling hard now and whimpering. It took me only a moment to feel around in one of his pockets and come up empty. But when I moved to the other, I found it. Now I had to find a way to get it out. But how? He would definitely notice. Then an idea popped into my mind.

  I pushed him away gently and kissed him, trying not to throw up. “I missed you so much, Jude. But… I was afraid to come home. I thought… I thought you’ll kill me.”

  He wiped his cheeks and then mine. “I’d never hurt the mother of my child. You should have said something. You don’t have to be afraid of me.” His eyes had a soft red tinge.

  Fresh pain stabbed my shoulder and I touched the throbbing place with my hand.

  “I’m so sorry, darling.” He removed his shirt and pressed it against my wound, but it only seemed to bleed more.

  “I think… I think I need to see a doctor,” I whispered. “I think I’m going to pass out. The baby…” I started to sway as if could no longer hold myself upright.

  “No,” he said. “You need to hang on, sweetheart. Nolan will be here soon to take us to the jet. I have the first aid kit there.” He placed my hand over the bunched up t-shirt on my shoulder and pulled out his phone. He stood up with it pressed to his ear.

  I cringed inwardly. I should have reached into his pocket sooner. What if he didn’t get that close to me again? Deep down I knew he would. My lie had hit his raw spot, and right now he was in the palm of my hand. Unless I made a stupid mistake.

  “Nolan,” he growled. “Where the fuck are you?”

  I still cringed at the thought that Nolan had been around me for day
s and I hadn’t even known it was him. But how could I have known it was him, speaking in a British accent?

  My head lolled forward and this time I wasn’t acting. I felt dizzy and my energy was draining fast. And then I saw my rescue glinting in the dirt, half of it drenched in my blood. I didn’t waste time. Adrenaline caused me to forget the pain; I grabbed the knife and jumped to my feet. I rammed it as hard as I could into his back and yanked it out again. Then I stumbled back, away from him. I held the handle tight, ready for him to follow me so I could stab him in the face if I had to.

  “You bastard.” The rage inside me made me breathless. “I don’t love you and I’m not pregnant. Having children with you would be a punishment. A future with you would be hell.”

  He turned slowly and his eyes fixed on my face. His lips twitched a bit as if he was about to smile. Just as I prepared to stab him again, he fell to the ground. But he didn’t give up. He crawled toward me, causing the contents of his pocket to fall into the dirt—the lighter, the key, and a pack of cigarettes. “I will kill you,” he said, his mouth frothing at the corners. “I will fuckin’ kill you.”

  “I’ll kill you first.” With strength I never knew I possessed, I charged toward him and gave him a massive kick in the ribs that tipped him to the side. He groaned, but before I could back off, he grabbed my ankle in an iron grip and I fell to the ground face first. I turned my head to the side. I was facing his feet. Only for a moment, though, because he was pulling so hard at my ankle that I was being dragged along the floor, toward his face. Dust rose and plugged my nostrils.

  At first I screamed and then I remembered I still had a weapon. Even with the fall, my fingers were still wrapped around the knife. I breathed in and forced myself to stay calm. I stopped fighting to make it easier for him to pull me, the floor scratching my cheek.

  My fingers tightened around the knife as I slid past his thighs. Then I raised the knife and jammed it into his groin. “This is for every woman you’ve ever raped, you sick bastard.” I pulled out the knife again.