Provoked Read online

  PROVOKED

  By Angela Ford

  Copyright © Angela Ford 2016

  Angela Ford Books Publication

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Illustration and Design by Romance Novel Covers Now

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $ 250,000. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

  Look for the other books by Angela Ford Closure, Unforgettable Kiss, Forbidden, Blind Tasting, Christmas Wreath, Surrender, Spellbound Cinderella, Sunset Kisses, Time to Love, Love Again, Bare, Obsessed, Still, Christmas Treasure, Christmas in Tuscany, London With A Dare, Felt by the Heart

  Special Dedication to my Dear Friend, Basia Hazy

  Thank you for all your support, lessons in Polish, and the laughter we’ve shared while I wrote :)

  Chapter One

  December- Tatra (Tatry) Mountains, Poland

  Basia reached for the vial she’d slipped in her pocket once the coffee brewed. Her trembling hand released the poison into his thermos and secured the lid. She placed the empty vial back in her pocket. Basia planned to discard it along their hike on Eagle’s Path. He’d forced her hand to his demise. Darek left her no choice. She knew her actions were wrong but his actions had provoked her. She reassured herself there’d be no possibility the thallium would be found in his blood. If his body was found, they’ll report his death as a hiking accident. His fall from the cliff will be noted as his cause of death. I’m just helping his fall. Basia looked out the window at the beautiful scenery she hoped would ease her nerves.

  “Moja kochana, are you ready to hit the trails?”

  His voice startled her from her thoughts. She didn’t turn to face him. She couldn’t. The scent of his cologne hit her, and then she felt his coarse hands lift her shirt and slide around to her belly. I’m not your love.

  In the beginning she’d craved his touch. Now it sickened her. He leaned in closer and blew his hot breath on the nape of her neck. His throaty moan cried out arousal. The sudden hard grind of his groin against her backside confirmed it. She worried she’d have to make love to him one more time before she killed him. Even though he’d been attentive and caring in the past week, she didn’t believe in his promise to change. His drinking and abusive ways had destroyed every ounce of trust she’d had for him. His plan to kill her only forced her decision. Being blinded by love led her stupidly to tear up the pre-nup agreement; she’d believed in the beginning he honestly loved her. There was no other way. She knew it was wrong. It went against everything she’d worked for and believed in. But there was no way he’d take her father’s guide business, her family’s wealth, and get away with murder.

  Basia closed her eyes and prayed he’d be more interested in their hike, instead of making love. He released his hold on her and slapped her ass. Her prayer had been answered.

  “Let’s get going on our hike. The weather is perfect this morning.”

  Basia turned with a forced smile. “My father always said the weather up here is unpredictable, especially in the winter.”

  Darek’s smirk reminded her that he never worried about the weather. His ego clearly announced his hiking skills, which he believed, were better than anyone else and he’d survive any weather condition. He was the best guide her father had hired but he was cocky about it.

  “I’m the most experienced hiker of these mountains. Trust me; we will have the perfect hike.”

  Darek turned and walked away. Basia stood in front of the window for a few minutes and then joined him at the front door. She handed him his thermos and then reached for her rucksack.

  “I’ve packed drink, food, jumpers, and waterproof jackets.”

  She stressed on the last item and then added, “Just in case we encounter the unpredictable weather you’re so sure we won’t.”

  Her sarcasm caused his hearty chuckle. His ego would never admit to being wrong. He returned her sarcasm with his own.

  “And you packed the pitons and hammers?”

  She didn’t reply and walked out the front door. His sarcasm didn’t deserve an answer. She was just as experienced as a mountaineer as he. Her only hope—he’d finish his coffee along the trail before they reached the precipice. He usually did. She timed it perfectly with the lethal dosage she’d put in his coffee. Basia figured it would settle in his bloodstream once their climb began. Halfway down the cliff, he’d feel severe pain in his legs and arms. His heart, nervous system, and stomach would be affected. She knew he’d die a very painful death, probably due to heart failure. Once it began, it would be fast. She wasn’t completely heartless, but she wanted to make sure an experienced climber like Darek, fell to his death; as would be reported.

  “Let’s take the shorter way,” Darek suggested after he finished his coffee and handed Basia the empty thermos.

  She was happy to put it in her own rucksack. Then she could easily dispose it. She didn’t want any trace of the poison to lead back to her. He never asked her before to take the shorter route. He knew her father had always warned her about that precipice. His comment took her to the memory of the symbolic cemetery her father had shown her when she was a child; a memorial in the woods that also served as a warning to the living. It was one to commemorate the lives of those who died along the trail but whose bodies were never recovered.

  “That steep rock cliff is dangerous, even without volatile alpine climate. If the weather changes quickly...”

  Darek cut her off before she finished her sentence. “Stop with the worry of the weather. It’s a perfect day.”

  Basia took a deep breath and followed him along the trail. Her anxiety grew and she took quick breaths to calm herself. She knew he wanted her dead. The precipice they were headed to was just the place for him to succeed. Basia knew only too well of the lives it’d had taken over the years. Her father taught her at a young age to never take Mother Nature for granted and to be cautious in volatile weather. She knew there was a chance of bad weather, and for the first time, hoped Mother Nature was on her side if the poison didn’t set in as planned. If it didn’t, her life was at risk.

  The tall, athletic blonde looked more like a model than a forensics specialist. Basia had returned to Poland in the past year, when a forensic technician position became available at the morgue in Zakopane. The opening at the morgue brought her back to her hometown and the introduction to Darek Bernard.

  She knew the thallium wouldn’t be traced in the first blood run of an autopsy. Any forensic toxicologist knew that, along with its effects. It had been called a chemist’s poison, but known to many as the perfect poison, as it had also been in rat poisons and known to fiction writers as the perfect murder weapon. Perfect as it could only be found if searched for. Colorless, odorless, and tasteless; the poison was basically untraceable because it could be mixed easily into food and drink. The slow-acting, painful, and wide-ranging symptoms were often suggestive of other illnesses, but in high doses the thallium acted fast and killed. An old prestige poison, one that had been banned over time in many places, was an effective murder weapon.

  Basia grew up in the town of Zakopane in the Tatra Mountains in Poland. Her father and mother met at a mountain resort where they worked as guides. Her mother had come fr
om New York one summer and never left. Her mother’s heritage always intrigued her. It took her overseas for college, but after a decade in America; she missed her parents and the mountains. As far back as she could remember; she’d hiked those mountains with her parents. The high Tatras were made of abrupt protrusions of stone. Their sheer ruggedness was the reason why tourists flocked there year-round, but it also explained why the mountains were so hazardous. The Orla Perc trail, or the Eagle’s Path, was known to be quite demanding and a thrill for most hikers. Mountain weather was highly unpredictable and known to have fierce rainstorms or snowstorms without warning. She remembered her father’s first teachings. “Be extremely careful on the mountain trails. There can be sunshine one minute and a blizzard the next.”

  Darek Bernard worked for her father as one of his most experienced guides. The first time she met him at the family chata in the mountains, she’d been impressed. Besides the attraction to his good looks and athletic body, he easily enjoyed the company of her parents. They enjoyed a day of hiking and laughter. Darek not only placed a flutter in Basia’s heart, he made her laugh until she cried. No one besides her parents had that magic. For Basia, it was love at first sight. She’d spent most of her childhood and teenage years with her parents. She enjoyed hiking with them. Friends she’d met at school weren’t the least bit interested in mountain hiking. When Basia met Darek, she met what she believed to be her first best friend.

  They began dating after that weekend, and when her parents died in a car crash a couple of months later, he was there for her. He held her hand while she grieved and dealt with the estate. Basia decided to take time from work to manage her parents’ affairs. Darek took a leave from his job to be at her side. He practically lived in her parents’ home. Basia enjoyed his company and the strength he offered to help her get through such devastation. Two months after she buried her parents, Darek proposed. She remembered his exact words.

  “I can’t imagine one day without you, Basia. It saddens my heart at the thought of going back to the mountains and leaving you. Why don’t you take some more time away from work? Spend some time with me. You’ve been so wrapped up in the estate matters and your grief; you should take some time to breathe. Let’s plan a trip to your parents’ chata for the holidays and afterward we can travel. We’ll go wherever you want. I don’t care. I just want to be with you.”

  His words were sweet. She felt the same. She couldn’t imagine a day without him. When he knelt down on one knee and proposed, she didn’t think twice. He made her world beautiful and safe. Her father’s lawyer strongly advised a pre-nuptial. Darek laughed and stated it would be a waste of paper, but to prove his love he asked to sign it. Basia ripped it up in front of him. He had her. Hook…line…and sinker.

  Stupid bitch, Basia muttered to herself. How you could have ever believed him?

  She knew he had been too good to be true. He deserved what he got. His body, she hoped, would never be found. Then she overheard the two workers of the Tatras Rescue Service.

  “It’s another Tatry casualty. She said she seen him fall from the edge of the precipice, but we haven’t found his body.”

  “It’s such a pity, death happens here in these beautiful but dangerous mountains.”

  Ironically one raindrop hit Basia’s nose. Silently she laughed at the thought of Darek’s confidence that the weather wasn’t unpredictable. She then felt a tap on her shoulder.

  “I’m very sorry. We haven’t found your husband’s body. We’re calling off the search before the storm strikes. We should head back. The upper section can be nasty if wet. Were you planning to head back to town or your chata?”

  She nodded in agreement. She trusted her father’s knowledge of unpredictable weather and not Darek’s ego. The bittersweet taste of perfect timing went through Basia’s mind. A sudden explosion of bad weather started as the clouds stacked up and the sunshine faded. The storm approached fast.

  “I’m headed back to town. Will you search again tomorrow?”

  Basia played the part of a devastated but hopeful wife. The rescue worker touched her arm and shook his head.

  “It’s been days since the accident. We don’t believe your husband would have survived the fall. After a few days in the wilderness, there probably isn’t a body for us to find. I’m sorry.”

  The compassion in his tone only confirmed she’d gotten away with murder. But that thought sickened her at the same time. This wasn’t her. She felt weak and leaned back quickly toward her car but lost her balance. The rescue worker caught her before she fell.

  “Can we give you a ride home?”

  His concern for her well-being touched her heart but she shook her head.

  “No. I’ll be fine. It’s only a few miles from here.”

  She thanked him and opened her car door. She slid in behind the wheel and turned the ignition. Her mind wandered as she drove.

  Basia fought her conscious mind. She’d been raised to know the difference between right and wrong. She wondered if she should have gone to the police, but she didn’t have any evidence of his plan to kill her. She told no one of his recent abuse toward her. She had no proof. It would become he said…she said. Basia reminded herself there was no other way if she wanted to live. She had to kill him first before he killed her.

  She remembered when the control began. Darek became emotionally and verbally abusive. She learned quickly he no longer wanted to work. He wanted to live off her parents’ estate. She tired of his behavior quickly. She remembered the night he’d had friends over and they used her parents’ home like it was a bar. He embarrassed her with his choice of words used in their presence. It only proved to her that he was a lazy, selfish asshole after her money.

  “Fetch me a beer.”

  It sounded more of a command. An order; as though he had a servant and not a wife. His ass had become part of the couch. Basia ground her teeth, and in disgust, walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge to grab a cold beer. Under her breath she whispered. Here’s your fuckin’ beer. Enjoy it while you lay there with your balls up... If only she had the courage to say it to his face and then kick him out. Then she remembered there wasn’t a pre-nup. He didn’t even deserve half of her father’s wealth.

  The first few months of their marriage had been bliss then he changed. Or his true colors had appeared. She wished many nights he wouldn’t come home. Not that she wished harm on him, just that he’d go away and never return. She didn’t care where as long as he left. That was her dream. Then she knew she could live her life. She wasn’t living; she existed; in a cold loveless marriage. She began to live in fear. Fear of his next outburst. It always happened after he’d been drinking. He’d already smashed and destroyed a few priceless items in the house. Basia attempted to talk to him when he wasn’t drinking, but it made no difference. Darek’s cocky way, along with his need to control, stood in the way of any reasoning. After some time, it didn't matter if she behaved like he ordered. She did what he asked; portrayed the perfect little wifey. She wasn’t sure what that even meant. His outbursts happened more frequently and had become more physical. In the beginning, it was all about control; a game. He’d begun treating her as if she wasn’t any better than the dirt below his feet. Basia had always been a strong independent woman. She wondered how she’d let him talk to her the way he did. The degrading verbal humiliation he threw at her should have forced her to leave him immediately. But she wasn’t about to give the lazy bum half of her inheritance. She no longer prayed for him to leave. She desperately searched for a way to make him go. Basia told no one of his abuse. Then again who would she tell?

  She’d lived in the States for over a decade. She couldn’t go to the police. She knew, too well, how abused women were dealt with. They were advised to leave their abusers, press charges, go to a shelter; they were given many options, but they were never given the strength to do it. If they even admitted it; most never did. Partly because they were scared of the consequences from their abuser, an
d then there was the shame they felt to admit it. Basia now understood how trapped they felt. It only made her think of Beth; the waitress from her favorite diner in New York she used to see daily. Beth confided about the abuse from her boyfriend before Basia left the States. She’d given Beth the list of options but now wondered if she’d followed through. Basia hadn’t. She’d hoped Darek’s behavior was temporary or he’d leave. He didn’t.

  He’d changed; for the worse. He hadn’t worked since they married. Basia had to hire a new guide to replace him. He’d come home high and smelled of booze. It sickened her; just the smell of him. Then he’d put her down, called her names; degraded her. She shrugged him off as she searched for a way to divorce him, without giving him half her wealth. He didn’t deserve any of her father’s hard-earnings.

  Two days before she discovered his plan to kill her, he became physically violent. He gripped her arms and pushed her to the floor. He dragged her by her hair closer to him and demanded a blow-job. He unzipped his pants and let them drop to the floor.

  “Get down on your knees. It’s your wifely duty.”

  Basia lifted herself to her knees. He moved forward, smiled, and closed his eyes. She slammed her hands against his chest in a sudden push and ran down the hallway. She felt his hand on the back of her shirt and the sound as it ripped from her body. Basia made it to her bedroom, slammed the door shut, and locked it. She stood with her back against the door and attempted to catch her breath. The emotional abuse had worn her down but now it had become physical. She’d had enough of him. He pounded on the door with such rage.

  One tear led to another as she spoke, “You’ve changed. You’re not the man I fell in love with. You don’t even want to guide or hike anymore. You just want to drink with your buddies. You don’t love me, not like you did in the beginning. You don’t respect me. You don’t want me. You don’t even want a wife. You just want an obedient whore. Well, honey, I’m not her. Get the hell out of my house!”