Chapter 82


    I shake my head, stomach turning over as I put it back in my bag and hesitate, even though my heart is


    saying to leave it well alone. Something inside of me is fighting it and I’m not letting it go as I tilt my


    head back to let out an exaggerated sigh into the eerie surroundings. My inner stubborn is grabbing at


    my soul and begging me to end my own agony and reach out to someone I know will help me.


    ‘Just do it! … It can’t be worse than this.’ I say it out loud to myself, telling myself off, shaking some


    sense into me.


    I know before I pull that card out that I have already made my mind up. I’m weakening, my health, my


    heart, my fight. It’s all been shaky since the day I left that hospital and I have barely been holding on for


    months. I am so tired of struggling to fight every day, and the thought of someone else taking control for


    just five little minutes is like a life savour in the stormy sea. Just five minutes of not struggling to survive


    is all I need. My weary soul demands it.


    My phone is staring me in the face, reminding me that after four percent I will have no more phone until


    I go home. It’s enough to make a call. It’s almost like fate is telling me that it is now or never and I dial


    the number from the back of the card marked ‘Cell’ with no more hesitation, even though my heart is


    pounding through my chest. I wipe my free hand on my leg to remove the mminess and I’m


    surprised to find my sweats are already severely damp. I won’tst out here for hours if I get sodden


    this fast.


    As it rings, I begin to shake, mouth drying and knots inside my gut flip over and turn inside out. My


    chest gets very tight and I try to focus on the trees swaying in the gentle wind.


    It’s not that I’m afraid of Mico being cruel and telling me to leave him alone; I don’t think he will.


    I’m scared of having any connection to that fucking man, and Mico is well embroiled in the Carrero


    kingdom. Where there is one there is always the other, and they are too hard to separate.


    God, this is so dumb.


    I lose my resolve, fluttering heart giving up and I fumble, about to pull the phone away and kill the call


    as sense gets the better of me but a sound hits hard.


    ‘Hello? Who is this?’ The voice startles me; so husky, familiar, heart-warming, and he answers so


    quickly. It’s as though someone up there knew I was going to lose my courage and hang up.


    I realise he won’t know who this is unless I actually answer him. I ditched my phone from Alexi when I


    left the hospital, this is a throw away cheap phone, and he won’t have a clue who is calling him. I am


    just so overjoyed to hear his voice, it has my throat all clogged up with emotion, and the feeling of


    severe loneliness for the first time in months abates a little.


    I swallow down the bout of nerves dredging up inside of me and clear my throat to find my voice.


    ‘Mico, hey.’ I sound pathetic, voice small and shaky and lose my couragepletely. He sounds


    exactly the same; unemotional, strong voiced with that little Carrero depth in the tone. It makes my


    heart hurt to hear it. Both because it’s Mico and because it reminds me of another voice I never want to


    hear again.


    Every part of me is trembling as I close out the world and focus on that beacon of familiarity.


    ‘Cami is that you?’ He sounds surprised, his tone changes and then the phone seems to get muffled


    for a second as he either moves or switches ears. I guess he is surprised after four months to be


    hearing from me.


    ‘Yes. I’m sorry to call you so out of the blue, it’s just …’ My voice breaks, both with tears that are hot on


    my cheeks at hearing a genuine friendly voice on the other end, and with the effort of talking as my


    sickness takes over. I’m losing my voice, cracking and painful to talk and my nose is practically a


    running tap, dripping, so I have to keep wiping it on my sleeve.


    Damn this bloody New York weather.


    ‘What is it? What’s wrong? You sound upset … Are you hurt? Do you need help?’ Mico sounds like


    Mico, genuinely concerned, mildly panicked and so decent it almost breaks me in two. I forgot what it


    felt like to have someone give a shit about me and I burst into tears, stupidly emotional. No one is ever


    nice to me and it sends me over myst tiny edge.


    It feels like a lifetime since I saw him and knew what safe felt like. Just knowing another person out


    there somewhere is connected to me in a genuine way is painful, in a good way. I’m so tired of being by


    myself and watching my back all the time. He reminds me what it was like to have a home. Even one


    with Alexi.


    ‘I got robbed. My apartment did, I mean. I just need help to secure it so I can go back and get myself


    together.’ My voice is barely audible as it breaks again, and I try hoarsely to talk. It’s obvious I am either


    sick orpletely exhausted. I’m both.


    ‘I just need you to help me get my door shut and locked, that’s all. I’m sorry to ask this of you but I


    didn’t know who else to call.’ Tears are blinding me as I struggle to get thestcklustre words out of


    me.


    ‘Don’t think that way, I told you if you needed help to call me. Now give me your address, I’ming


    right now. Cami, are you sick? You don’t sound so good, in fact, you sound awful.’ Mico, gorgeous,


    caring, safe Mico. He sounds like a haven of hope, and I am suddenly so relieved I called him. I don’t


    know why I was so afraid. He will help me, of course he will. He was always my saviour.


    ‘It’s nothing, just a flu bug. I just need to be able to lie down at home. I’ll text you the address before my


    phone dies on me.’ My voice fails, croaking to nothingness by the end of my sentence as sirens re


    nearby on the road past the park.


    ‘Are you outside?’ He sounds stern and bossy, a little Alexi for a moment and it sobers me right up.


    That connection is never far away and I nod silently, searching for some strength to give him.


    ‘It was safer than where I was.’ It slices to speak this time and I hold my throat as I squeak down the


    phone. I need some water, some warmth.


    ‘Jesus Christ. Text me now, I’m getting in my car. Hang up and get back to where I can meet you. I’ll be


    there ASAP.’ He’s in amanding tone. The voice he uses to deal with his staff and it gives me


    reassurance that he will do what he can for me.


    ‘Okay. I’m a good walk from it now so I will head back,’ I whisper and hang up without hesitation to


    save battery, not sure whether to feel relieved or just in despair that I had to ask for help, but d that


    it’sing.


    If I wasn’t sick maybe I would be stronger tonight, but I’m just so tired. I have been this way for so long


    that I forget what anything else even feels like anymore. Foggy head and morose mood is my constant


    companion.


    I text him the address and then get up and pull my bags with me, dog walker is still lingering in the


    grass area, and he eyes me warily from his distance, obviously having heard my conversation.


    Something in that wandering gaze gives me shivers and I waste no time making a move to get out of


    here.


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    I get back to my apartment fifty-five minutes after calling him, weary from lugging my bags and just


    in unwell. I tried to walk fast but my legs could not handle the effort and as my battery died on my


    phone, I couldn’t even alert him to the fact I was moving slowly. I have a low fever which I know will


    spike to knock me on my back soon enough and just need to get in and lie down as soon as earthly


    possible.


    I pause by the ck four-by-four in the street, parked on the edge of the pavement, and look around


    because it is so out of ce in this downtrodden area, among the crappy cars held together by duct


    tape. It’s too modern and spanking new to be from this neighbourhood, so I guess Mico is already here


    and upstairs, which gives me a boost of calm. I guess he will be more than likely freaking out that I


    have passed out somewhere in a ditch … considering how crappy I sounded on the phone. Not being


    able to get in touch has probably made him a bit bad-tempered and I progress into the building wearily.


    I drag myself upstairs pulling my body by the bannisters, somehow relieved to know he’s up there


    already and I am not walking into the apartment alone, settles my nerves. I hope he didn’t encounter


    the two wannabe house breakers when he got here, as no doubt he would have kicked them both out


    with broken faces. Mico is much like Alexi in that you do not fuck with him and as he’s built the same as


    his cousin, he has no issue enforcing his dominance. It’s why I guess he is Alexi’s second inmand


    and very efficient at it. He can be just as terrifying and cold.


    Ie face to face with some strange man at my outer door, unscrewing something in the hinge area,


    and stop in surprise that he already has someone here doing this, and isn’t just going to help me fix it


    ourselves. I guess I should have known a Carrero would bring in a professional pronto, and it just


    makes me feel a little lighter immediately. I guess that’s one trait he shares with Dick Head Devil that I


    never hated. They take control and sort things out with minimal effort or fuss. They make you feel like


    you are being taken care of, even when ying bastards to your face.


    It always confused me about Alexi. How he could care enough to protect me while fucking me up in the


    head, but then I could never tell how much real, and how much was designed to mess me up.


    ‘Can I get past you?’ I look him up and down, casually dressed but the bag of professional tools tells


    me he is either a carpenter or a locksmith. He smiles and moves out of my way, opening the door like a


    gentleman for me to enter. He has a fatherly air about him, mid-forties, kind-faced and just a repeat of


    most greying haired middle-aged dads in this city.


    I pull my bags with me, dropping them inside my door as my eyes scan the room, and spot Mico in the


    small kitchen area putting cutlery back in the drawer and clearing up. The room already looks less


    chaotic and I swear my heart melts for a moment at both the sight of my friend who fills me with an


    insane bursting bubble of warmth and the fact he is trying to put to rights some of the chaos for me.


    It just brings tears to my eyes, immediately overwhelmed with the sight of him, that I push away


    stupidly and give myself a shake. It’s not the time to fall apart.


    Stop being so soft, Cami!


    ‘Mico?’


    I startle him, and he spins around, a look engulfing his face that goes from joyously happy to see me, to


    complete horror in a nanosecond. His eyes scan me in poised shock, as though he isn’t sure how to


    react.


    I forgot I looked like I lost a fight with a truck, the swelling and bruising are pretty numb from the cold


    and as long as I don’t touch my face, I can almost forget it’s even there.


    ‘Jesus Christ, Cami.’


    Mico’s response ispletely overshadowed by a harsh-toned snappy statement thates at me


    from behind, making me jump, my body bristling instantly in stupefied reaction as my reunion with a


    friend is abruptly interrupted.


    ‘Where the hell were you?’ It’s a harsh usatory deep tone that makes my skin instantly tingle in


    response.


    I didn’t know I could have a full physical bodily reaction to one sentence, but I do; a very negative one!


    Which boils my blood on sound alone and stiffens every single muscle in my body. I would know that


    voice any day of the week.


    Turning to see soulless grey eyes piercing mine as he stalks aggressively into the room from the same


    door I just walked through and I swear I start snarling at the man. There’s an instant ignition of an


    electric voltage between us as sparks fill the musty air.


    Thest sight I ever expected to see, and thest man on Earth I ever wanted to. I don’t know who the


    fuck he thinks he is and I never invited him in!


    Alexi looks enraged at my battered appearance and stalks towards me in jeans and a leather jacket


    zipped up to his throat. His eyes, in that tanned and toned face, devouring the mess of me, but it only


    serves to make him madder for some reason. I step back, making it clear he gets no closer, with an


    angry snarl pasted on and he stops awkwardly … four feet apart as we just stare at one another. So


    much tension in the air that I don’t know whether tough, cry, or kick him in the head.


    I have never had a full-on violent urge to physically force something sharp into someone’s eyeballs


    before now, but if I was holding anything worthy of doing the job I would have done it already. Just


    being here makes me hate him with a vengeance I didn’t know I was capable of, and I am barely


    holding in the overwhelming crazy anger bubbling like a moltenva pit inside of me.


    He smells of outside, aftershave and him and although everything seems like it did way back when I


    last saw him, he seems different to me somehow. He looks exactly as he did—irritatingly good looking,


    all dark hair, tall and foreboding—muscr, well-groomed and smoother than fucking smooth.


    Expensive clothes, those peeks of sinister tattoos at his neck and hands, empty almost colourless eyes


    and an expression that tells you nothing at all. It’s like the past months have never happened and I


    have walked back into the room that night to find him the exact same way. Except … I don’t feel like I


    did. I am not scared of him anymore.


    I guess I have no more shits to give about him, and only sheer contempt stands between us. My anger


    and defensive hatred spikes from nowhere, shocked to the core at his sudden appearance and really


    not expecting it at all. Like a wild cat backed into a corner by her most loathed predator, I turn on him


    viciously.


    ‘What the hell has it got to do with you, and why are you even here?’ I bite at him; that old fire in me


    bristling into fury and reigniting a spewing volcano in my belly I haven’t been able to muster in a while.


    Pulling my hood down and coat off and chucking it across the room at the couch in a rage as my


    temperature continues to rise, in a bid to expel the sudden burst of new-found energy his arrival has


    given me.


    ‘I have been driving around these fucking streets for the past half hour looking for you! It was only


    because I saw a small figuree in here that I parked up to check if it was you! Where the fuck were


    you?’ He just snaps right back at me, that husky raspy tone of a pissed man. Lord and bloody


    commandeering fucking Carrero. He never changes.


    He ignites that fury inside of me that kindles so very effortlessly in his presence, and from down deep in


    my toes I find Cami curled up in her recoiled position. That Madame herself gets her arse off the floor


    and faces up to meet the one man she will never back down to again. Only Alexi could raise her dead


    rotting carcass inside of me.