Chapter 39
1581words
While he was wallowing in shame I took the chance in a frenzy state of mind to start banging at the window, hoping that I could break it and escape.
"Will you stop that?" Mr. Moore groans, his hands clutching tighter at the steering wheel as he rested his forehead against it.
Ignoring him I kept on profusely hitting the glass.
"Stop that!" He yelled and grabbed my hand.
"Fuck!" I exclaimed and slapped him hard across the face with my other hand. He groans and let's go of my hand. "I deserved that." He chuckles lightly, rubbing his cheek that was now turning red.
Panting from all the slamming and the adrenaline I glared at him wearily as I stroked my hand that was now stinging from the earlier slap.
"Baby girl." He cooed reaching out for me, but I recoiled away finding refuge in my old friend, the corner.
He sighed dejected. "I know that this must be shocking, but-"
"Oh, you think!?" I interjected him angrily and continued trying to break the window, switching from fists to legs.
"You'll hurt yourself!" Mr. Moore yelled, his handsome forehead marred by deep worried lines.
I rolled my eyes. "That's why I am using my other leg. Will you just fuck off already!?" I gritted, frustrated at how there were still no cracks appearing on it no matter how hard I tried to destroy this see-through barrier. "What is this made of!? Diamonds!?" I exasperated.
"Fuck April, Stop it!" He yelled, his tone hard and surly.
"No you fucking stop it!" I retorted.
Mr. Moore opened his mouth to say something just to close it again. He closed his eyes and took a big breath as he went through his hair with his finger. "This is going nowhere, April. We have to talk to make some progress." He said.
'Talk? Hell no!' Talking means letting everything sink in and I am not ready for that! I prefer to just go at it like a charging bull, full in rage. But…this is really going nowhere. We did have to talk at some point.
My kicking slowly came to a halt and I slouched back in to the chair crossing my arms defiant. "Fine." I grumbled.
He exhales relieved. "Thank you."
"So who and what are you?" I snarled, my eyes narrowed at him.
"I am Mark Moore. I am a killer and your future husband, but I am also known as Jack, the dude that has been stalking and protecting your ass for the past few weeks." He stated with a full-blown grin.
I snorted. "More like causing havoc in my life." I grumbled lowly. "Also I refuse to believe that you're Jack." I added my voice laced in pure denial.
His perfect arched brows started to knit together. "What do you mean, I am not him?" he asked bemused, his broad thick arms crossing over each other as he slightly leaned back; watching me with full expectance in his eyes.
"Well like I said. There's no way you're him. Jack is a flirtatious, ingenious, annoying creepy dude." I said, listing the points on my fingers.
He rolled his eyes. "Do I have to talk slowly for you to understand? I. Am. Jack." He said slow, exaggerating his mouth movement. "But you had some nice things to say about Jack, who is also me, so thanks baby." He leaned in closer, corner of his lips turning up, displaying a smirk.
I blushed brightly and started to stutter. "S-Still that doesn't explain the fact that you were jealous of yourself. Like who the fuck gets jealous of themselves!?" I said doubtfully.
He groans and dragged his hand down his face. "How many times do I need to tell you I am fucking Jack. You gave me this stupid name based of Jack the ripper and I still want to rip off James head for trying to kill you." He clenches his fist, knuckles turning white at the sheer thought of James.
"Also…" He started with a crooked smile. "Of course I would be jealous. You didn't know that I was him, so you were basically flirting with some other guy." His eyes never wavered from mine trapping me in place. With his thick rough fingers he softly let them trail down my cheek until they reached my lips. "You were such a bad kitten." He growled lowly. His eyes flashes with desires as he strokes my lips with his thumb.
My throat went dry; my eyes wide. He chuckled lowly at my reaction. "I wanted to take my time in courting you and tasting you, but I guess that we will have to speed things up." He spoke sensual.
He started to lean in closer. His hot minty breath fanning my face, our lips so close that we only had to say something and they would touch.
"April I really love yo- OUCH!" I somehow was able to break free from whatever trance he put me in and hit his head with my fist.
"Don't you fucking touch me." I growled at him in sheer anger. Appalled at him for playing with my feelings and disgusted at myself at how I ever had some feelings for my CEO, this fucking jerk.
I could just hurl. "You better let me go right now or I will make sure you'll regret it." I threatened raising my fist again.
He kept rubbing his sour spot, pouting his lips at me.
"You really do pack a punch, huh." He said impressed winching when he could feel a bump forming on his head.
I was about to throw another one until he stopped me; waving his hands in front of me in a defensive manner. His wobbly smile not leaving his face.
"I get it! I get it! Just give me a second." He said and turned around. Trashing around in the glove compartment, searching for something.
"There it is." He said happy.
And the next thing that I know a clicking sound could be heard followed by a cold metallic feeling around my wrist. Astonished I glanced down and saw the same thing that police officers likes to carry around, a fucking handcuff.
"What the fuck?" My voice went an octave higher as I struggled to free myself. "Are you serious?" I asked, my eyes blazing with anger.
He looked at me like a pet who was playing with a new toy his eyes glisten in amusement at my futile struggle. "Oh I am dead serious." His lopsided grin only knew how to fuel my anger even more.
"Don't be angry. Look I even laced it with red fur so that it wouldn't bruise your wrists." He traced with his fingers against the soft crimson material of the cuffs that matched the color of my hair.
"I will kill you." I threatened.
"Before you kill me isn't there a more pressing matter that needs to be sorted out?" He smirked unfazed by my threat.
"What else is there to talk about except the fact that I should rip out your hair -OH" My anger was replaced by realization and fear of the situation. "I know who you are so are you…?" I asked, my face blanched.
He nodded, his face stoic as he rumbled for something else in the glove compartment. A few seconds later a spray bottle made its appearance and Mr. Moore was now wearing a breathing mask.
My eyes widens up in fear. "I-Is that chloroform?" I stammered.
He shook his head. "That trash that they show in movies may knock people out, but the dosage that takes to kill or knock someone out is really small. I wouldn't use that on you. Sleeping gas will do it for my sleeping beauty." He spoke tentatively, his eyes softening as he looked at me.
"What a gentleman." I croaked sarcastically; tears prickling behind my eyes.
He held up the bottle in front of me ready to knock me out.
"Y-You don't have to do this Jack-uh I mean Mr. Moore. You can just let me go home and everything will be forgotten." I begged, clasping my hands together, staring at him with my watery glazed eyes.
"No."
"Please." I begged again. "You can even go back to threatening me that worked fine, right?"
"No." he said firmly.
I could see the bottle inching forward to me and how his finger slowly pulled down on the trigger.
My body went in to an immediate flight or fight response and I kicked the can out of his hand. "I won't go down without a fight!" I yelled and ducked away from the can that was now flying uncontrollable in the tight confined space hitting almost every inch of it.
Mr. Moore cursed and tried to grab it. I saw this as a chance to make a shotgun for the passenger's seat in an attempt to escape. I pulled at the door handle, but…the door won't open.
'The fuck?'
I kept slamming myself in to the door my shoulder colliding with it hoping that the sheer weight of my body would manage to budge it open.
"Why wouldn't it open!?"
A shallow breathing could be heard next to my ear stilling my movements. "Didn't I say that only my side would open." He whispers lowly.
