AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Peyton: Wth is going on? Do I need to kick his ass?
>
I laughed, tapping the phone against my lips. What was I supposed to tell him?
Physically, I was fine. For how long was debatable.
It was my emotions that were stuck in a tumultuous tail-spin.
I’d been through worse than this before; the faint scars on my wrists were proof of that. But I’d never cared about someone like I did Mateo, and it was affecting everything.
My eyes shifted to the black leather book that had supposedly been found beneath the seat in what was left of my PT Cruiser.
I hadn’t lied when I told Mateo I’d never seen it before. I wasn’t about to admit that I’d heard of it.
Nothing about it jumped out at me. It was the size of a composition and just as plain.
He said people died for this thing.
He said a whore shot his father before stealing it, and the bundles of bloodstained cash sitting haphazardly beside it.
As my mind replayed his words, I processed them for the first time.
A whore shot his father, stole the book, and stacks of cash. That couldn’t have anything to do with my sister. Unless…
Knowing what his definition of a whore would be gave me pause. The part of me that hoped Eva would return to her old self, that prayed it was still inside her somewhere, said she would never do something so reckless.
Common sense begged to differ.
Blood money, kilos, and corrupted men were a lethal combination.
It was a nauseating thought that made a little too much sense, and I realized how long I’d chosen to live in denial. That explained her funds for the clothes, the jewelry…and the cocaine.
For her to sleep with Mateo’s father and steal from him, though…that was a suicide mission. I just couldn’t fathom her truly being that stupid.
Had I known what, or whom, the book belonged to, I would have never so carelessly encouraged her to steal it.
No one screwed with the Remmingtons and lived to tell about it—Mateo especially. That was an unwritten and sacred law in Vice City.
But what else could he have meant? And what was really in the book that was worth killing for?
Questions piled upon more questions as my brain worked overtime trying to find answers I didn’t have. The urge to look inside the book was compulsive. I couldn’t resist knowing what secrets it held.
Listening for any sound of footsteps or voices, I slowly rose from the leather chair I’d taken root in, sitting my playing card where my ass left an imprint.
Looking around the room more carefully in search of cameras, I moved towards the massive mahogany desk when I didn’t see any.
I reached for the book, pausing with my arm mid-stretch.
Gnawing on my lower lip, I stared like the thing was going to spring to life at any given second.
I reasoned with myself that since Mateo had left me alone in here, he had to know I would look inside it. Still, I didn’t want to be caught with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
“Grow some damn balls,” I muttered to myself.
Unsure how long his ‘meeting’ would take to wrap up, I opened the cover, feeling the rigid bumpy surface beneath my fingertips.
“What am I looking at?” I stared at the page in front of me.
