Artful Lies by Malpas Jodi Ellen

Author:Malpas, Jodi Ellen
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781409197515
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2020-04-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

I 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.

Now I’m wondering what I’ve got myself into, but for a whole different reason. I’ve been working here for weeks.

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