The Carrero Contract - Finding Freedom (Book 3 of Contract Trilogy)

4

"I need to show you." Alexi gets up quickly, eyes still avoiding me, and walks off toward his room leaving me to sit here like a confused idiot. Watching the direction he went in and straining to listen to sounds as he disappears. I expect to hear a drawer open or something similar, but it sounds like he's punching in the digits on his safe keypad instead. Whatever he wants to show me he keeps in his bedroom safe.

Now I'm worried.

He doesn't use that thing like an extra cupboard; he uses it as its purpose intends. To store things you wouldn't want others getting hold of.

I wonder if it's something sinister or creepy; I mean he is the master at shocking me to the core with the lengths he goes to with his devil side. I'm not sure what I'm expecting but my gut says it's not good at all.

I fidget, fingers itching, so I pull a cushion into my lap to focus my nervousness. I blow out some air to try to expel the tension and tap my foot absentmindedly, so wrought and tied up with angst.

Alexi reappears quietly, startling me, carrying what looks like a black shoebox only a little squarer, and comes around to lay it on the coffee table in front of me. He slides it towards me, a heavy-looking offering, and stays standing, towering over me and looking a lot like a little boy in a lot of trouble.

My stomach turns over, skin prickling once more, and I just blink at it. I glance from him to the box, lungs struggling to function as anxiety sits on my chest like a baby elephant and I sit back nervously, steeped in mistrust.

"This better not be a severed head or something weird ... like a hand." I blurt out stupidly, nerves frayed, imaging some oozing past enemy or maybe Tyler, dismembered and bloated as some weird mob boss love token and Alexi just frowns at me so hard his eyebrows almost touch his nose.

"What?" It's all he says and with such disbelief, I try to smile and shrug like I was joking but still lean in tentatively and prod the box warily with my foot in case it's about to implode on me. I'm sure body fluids would be seeping out of what looks like cardboard, so maybe whatever it is dry...like a shrunken head or a jar of body parts.

"I swear to God, it's not a human limb. I think you need to steer clear of watching gangster movies, London." Alexi sighs, and flips the lid off for me rather dramatically, causing me to panic gasp and lean back, revealing something I never thought I would ever see again.

It's a sight that makes me shoot forward again and sit upright like a statue, as though someone just fired a rocket up my arse. My stomach somersaults fully and my heart literally stops beating as I'm winded so badly, I exhale sharply. It's so much worse than a severed head.

I actually wish it was a bloodied limb sitting there instead.

Therein lies several journals of my youth. My long-lost diaries all tattered and worn and displayed in tissue paper like he is presenting me with the crown fucking jewels.

I would recognise them anywhere. A sight worse than any I could have imagined.

I long ago left them in a damp-ridden, mouldy flat in London, hiding under a crooked floorboard when I ran away. I should have destroyed them instead of leaving them to rot along with everything I once held onto. I left every possession and tie to my mother in a building that was practically derelict thinking they would rot with her.

How he came to have them in his possession is beyond me. I don't even know how on earth he could have them or if they are even real.

What kind of witchcraft is this?

I gawp at him, so sure I'm dreaming and should pinch myself to break this god-awful nightmare once and for all.

Diaries of years and years of having no one else to turn to and offload the horrors of my life. This was how I got it out of my head and battled on to breathe another day. I put everything into these dire little notebooks. Every woe and dark secret. Every confession and dying dream. It was my outlet to stay sane, and I used them to tear the ugliness out of my brain and lock them away to burden the books instead of me.