Cold Deception (His Agenda 4): Prequel to the His Agenda Series
Read Cold Deception (His Agenda 4): Prequel to the His Agenda Series Online
Authors: Dori Lavelle
COLD DECEPTION
(Prequel to the His Agenda Series)
By Dori Lavelle
Cold Deception (Prequel to the His Agenda Series)
Copyright © 2016 by Dori Lavelle
All Rights Reserved.
Cover Art: Dori Lavelle
Editor: Leah Wohl-Pollack and Samantha Gordon
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
BOOK DESCRIPTION
*Cold Deception is a tragic love story that should be read after books 1, 2, and 3 in the His Agenda Series.*
They say he’s a monster, a very dangerous man. But they don’t know him. They don’t know the depth of the darkness lurking inside his soul. They don’t see the burn of the wounds on his heart. If they did, maybe they would understand why he became Jude Macknight.
Cold Deception offers a peek into the past life of Jude Macknight…when he used to be someone else, when he was married to the woman who introduced him to his dark side.
**WARNING: Due to sexual situations and adult content, Cold Deception is not intended for readers under the age of 18, and anyone who is unable to read books containing the following issues: kidnapping, murder, rape, and extreme abuse. **
Prologue
A thunderstorm raged outside the walls of the Sunshine Orphanage, rattling the tiny basement window as if wanting to rip it right out of its frame.
Terence Pirone wrinkled his nose at the smell of mold mixed with his own sweat. His heart slammed against his chest as he dragged himself across the cold and dirty cement floor, the cracks rough against his naked skin, scraping it, shredding it. He wedged himself between boxes stuffed with plastic party decorations on one side and pieces of broken furniture on the other.
He looked up with terrified eyes. Bright light shone from the naked bulb that hung from the low ceiling. It spilled onto the head of Brett Smithers, making his sweaty bald patch shine.
Terence watched as Smithers pulled up his pants and fastened his belt under his wobbly stomach. He swallowed hard, wishing he could rid his mouth of the bitter taste of bile, and the blood drawn when he’d bitten himself earlier.
Smithers cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes, his bushy brows hugging in the middle. “Say one word to anyone and you’ll be out on the streets. A bitch like you wouldn’t survive out there, trust me.”
Terence pressed his back against the cold wall.
Fuck you
, he thought.
I’d be safer anywhere but in this so-called children’s shelter, you son of a bitch.
When Terence remained silent, Smithers smacked him hard across the side of his head. “Are you deaf, boy?”
“No, sir.” Terence turned his face away, his head pounding. “I won’t speak to anyone.”
“Get up.” Smithers crossed his arms across his chest. “Go get some sleep. Be here tomorrow, same time.”
Terence smiled inwardly. He had no plans of returning to this basement—not tomorrow, not ever. Tonight would be the last time he would hear Smithers’s voice or smell his onion breath. After tonight, he would never feel Smithers’s rough hands on his skin again.
Smithers shot him another warning look and walked up the creaking stairs, disappearing through the door. He entered the other side, where he pretended he was a good man, the respectable founder of the largest orphanage in Serendipity, Wisconsin.
If only the world knew what rotten scum he was.
Terence and the other boys had attempted to rat Smithers out to the other staff members, but so far, nothing had been done. Smithers was the boss. No one could touch him.
Left alone, Terence dug into one of the boxes beside him and pulled out the knife he’d brought down to the basement earlier, when he was carrying out his chore of stocking the shelves with canned foods.
He placed the knife on the floor and pulled up his shorts, gritting his teeth at the pain. He reached for his t-shirt and pulled it over his head.
Then he exited the basement with nothing but murder on his mind, the consequences drowned by rage.
He walked down the corridor in the dark, an invisible angel of death. Six doors down, he’d find Smithers in the staff bathroom. He always went there afterward.
As Terence crept along the hall, he stepped into something slippery and fell forward, landing on a surface that was hard and soft at the same time. The knife flew out of his hand. He scrambled to his knees, his head snapping up when something creaked. He caught a faint light at the end of the hallway as the door to the staircase opened. A shock of red hair appeared in his line of sight a split second before the person disappeared through the door. Freckle-faced Jasper Gordy. Terence’s roommate.
In the dark, Terence felt around with his hands, trying to figure out what he had fallen on. He picked himself up off the floor, almost slipping again, and found the light switch. His heart stopped as yellow light spilled across the bloodied body of Brett Smithers. A fountain of blood bubbled from the hollow in Smithers’s neck and more gushed from his gut. Terence’s knife lay in the sticky pool beside him—the knife that should have killed him. But Smithers was already dead, and his murderer had escaped.
When the cops arrived, they arrested Terence. After a long trial, backed by evidence from Terence’s diary that detailed how he had planned to murder Smithers, he was found guilty of first-degree murder. At the age of sixteen, Terence Pirone was sent to prison.
Chapter One
Terence
At noon on the dot, Terence reported to the receiving and discharge department of the Serendipity, Wisconsin Correctional Facility to be processed out. For his walk out the door, he was handed a plain white t-shirt, old jeans, and a pair of running shoes. The normal clothes felt alien on his skin, but he still couldn’t return his jumpsuit fast enough.
The clothes he had worn as he entered the prison eleven years ago no longer fit the man he had become. Thanks to maturity, hard labor, and exercise, the once thin, long arms now boasted hard biceps that would tear right through any teenager’s t-shirt.
“Wait here,” a guard barked, and Terence sat down on a rough bench, waiting for the paperwork to be completed. He had to restrain himself from punching the guard’s already flat nose and telling him to fuck off. He had waited eleven fuckin’ years already. Years he’d never get back.
The door to the outside world finally clicked open, and Terence was escorted through metal detectors. Minutes later, he stood at the front gates. The sun hung high in the sky as he walked through the metal gates, the rays beating down on his face. His whole body sagged with relief as he took a breath of cool, clean air. Fuck the smell in that place—a disgusting stench of sweat, urine, mildew, and hopelessness. Fuck rules and curfews. Fuck the other prisoners. Fuck prison. He was a free man now—an angry, free man—walking away with a handshake and an apology. He would never have respect for a system that threw innocent kids behind bars and took eleven years to sort out the truth.
He froze when he saw his brother, Marion, in the parking lot. He wore a leather jacket and clean jeans, and was leaning against what looked like a brand new SUV. He was tall and muscular, but Terence was satisfied to detect that his brother’s dark hair seemed to be too thinning at the top…a few years too early. The ponytail he wore at the back of his neck didn’t fool anyone.
Marion came to visit Terence in prison for the first time two months ago, after Michael Wheeler, Terence’s lawyer, had tracked him down to inform him of Terence’s impending release. Terence had been furious when he found out. During that visit, he had sat across from his older brother without saying a word. What could he say? They were practically strangers. A year before Terence was sent to prison, Marion had left the Sunshine Orphanage to live with a foster family. He got the good life while Terence got the shit end of the stick.
“I told you not to show up here. Where’s my lawyer?” Terence walked past Marion, determined to get as far away from him as possible. Marion jogged to catch up with him. His departure had shattered Terence. Marion had always been the one he could count on.
“Wait up, Terence. I’m here because you’re my brother. We’re family.”