Artful Lies (Hunt Legacy Duology 1)

I roll my eyes and begin to search for anything resembling a door handle on his pretty motor. There’s nothing. ‘Becker, where’s—’ I’m interrupted when the engine roars to life, but not content with making me physically jump out of my damn skin once, he begins revving it, over and over, the noise each time making me jolt with fright. ‘Where’s the—’ The horn begins to sound, accompanying the unbearable booms of the high-powered engine, making my ears ring and my hands cover my face to muffle my incensed scream. He just can’t fucking help himself. He must either play with me or flirt outrageously with me. There’s no in between.

In a temper, I draw my foot back and launch it into the side of his Ferrari. Silence falls. Until Becker scrambles out of his car and begins to rant like a sailor, firing fucks all over the place. ‘What the fuck are you fucking doing?’ he cries, running around to my side and closely inspecting the paintwork of his baby. ‘Jesus, Eleanor, have you any fucking idea how much this machine cost?’

I shrug insolently when he looks at me in disbelief, casually inspecting my nails. I couldn’t be any more disrespectful if I tried. ‘I couldn’t find the door handle.’

He makes an overdramatic job of pointing at it, the muscles of his jaw ticking madly. He looks ready to clout me one. ‘Get in,’ he orders, releasing the door.

It glides up smoothly, revealing what can only be described as a spaceship inside. ‘Ooh.’ I give him a fake astonished look. ‘Fancy.’

‘Get. In.’

I fall apart on the inside but manage to keep it together on the outside, as I slide in and pull my belt on. I have a feeling if I show my amusement, Becker might wring my neck. The door comes down gently and he’s next to me in a moment, probably fearing what I might do to the inside of his precious car.

‘I don’t want to hear a murmur out of you,’ he orders through gritted teeth. ‘Not a peep.’

‘Fine by me,’ I retort, watching as he fiddles with some buttons on the steering wheel. After the shock my hearing has had from him revving the engine, the booming music that blares from the millions of speakers surrounding me has little impact. I still, however, throw him a filthy look. Not that he acknowledges it. No, he just relaxes back in his posh leather seat and skids off down the road.

I lose the urge to go crazy all over his arse when the track registers. Freemasons Uninvited.

Me? Am I uninvited?

Then why is he so passionate about me staying?Chapter 17I try not to show my confusion when Becker misses the road to The Haven, but my head slowly turning as we pass gives me away.

‘Now you can never quit again,’ Becker says. He looks at me out the corner of his eye, before returning his attention to the road and turning down a dusty alleyway.

‘Why?’ I sit back in my seat, not liking the serious look on his face.

‘Because you’re about to see the secret entrance.’ He swings the car to the left, and I spot huge, battered iron doors covered in graffiti sliding open ahead.

‘The secret entrance?’ What is he on about? We slip between the moving doors and they immediately begin to close behind us. The car comes to a stop and darkness descends, the sound of the engine reaching a whole new decibel level with us enclosed in what can only be described as a factory unit. It’s derelict, old, and grubby. It’s a shithole.

‘Yes, princess.’ He looks at me, that serious face still present. ‘You’re now in Becker’s Circle of Trust.’

I laugh nervously, not grasping where he’s going with this. ‘You show me a manky old factory and that puts me in your circle of trust?’

‘Precisely.’ He flips the sun visor down and presses a white button, keeping his eyes on me.

‘What’s that?’ I blurt, grabbing the side of the car when it starts to move without Becker controlling it. ‘Oh my God.’ The floor starts to rise around us, closing us in, making me come over all claustrophobic. ‘Becker, what the hell is happening?’ I move away from the window when I see concrete creeping up the side.

‘Calm down.’ Becker’s hand lands on my knee and squeezes gently, and I find my hand shooting down and claiming it, holding it tightly. ‘It’s an automatic ramp into my garage, that’s all.’

The sensation of being at an angle suddenly registers in my panicked mind, and I peek over my shoulder, noting the rear of the car is lowering and I’m pinned to the back of my seat. ‘Why can’t you have a proper garage like normal people?’

He laughs and uses his free hand to put the car into reverse. ‘I’m not normal people, Eleanor. Haven’t you figured that out yet?’ The car rolls off the ramp into a vast white room, and Becker turns off the ignition. I watch the ramp rise back to the ceiling with the assistance of a few hydraulic arms. I’m rendered stupid. Becker isn’t normal people, I knew that, but last night and this morning has taken my conclusion to a whole new level of not normal people. Normal people don’t fuck like Becker. Normal people don’t wind me up like Becker. Normal people don’t make my pulse race like Becker. And normal people definitely do not have secret underground garages that are accessible through the concrete floors of manky factory units.