King's

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  I’d thought about that, too. “No. He wants to find Justin as much as I do because he thinks he’s got his Artifact.”

  She bobbed her head and looked at me with her wide, brown eyes. “This is crazy, Mia. Totally fucking crazy.”

  “Yeah. I know,” I murmured. “But if I can find the Artifact, I can find Justin. Maybe get to him before anyone else does.” And then what? Would I have to make another deal with King to buy Justin’s protection?

  “Please be careful, okay?”

  “I will.” I placed the half-empty cup in the sink.

  “Good luck with your parents tonight. Call me as soon as you’re done.”

  I flashed a pathetic little smile. “Thanks for everything.”

  “You’re like a sister to me, Mia. I’m always here for you.”

  She left for work, and I dressed for a day in that cold, cold office: a warm blue sweater and jeans with black leather riding boots to keep out the rain. Another goddamned storm was hitting San Francisco. When I arrived at King’s loft, it was still dark out, and I found the usual, unwelcoming chill of loneliness inside the empty space. No King. No customers. Only silence.

  I took off my coat, turned on the lamp, and sat at the desk. I stared at my hands, wondering where all this would lead. How would it end?

  Just as long as Justin is okay. That’s all I ask. That would make this nightmare worth it.

  The sound of a woman’s giggle radiated from King’s office.

  I held my breath and listened. Another soft giggle and then the deep grumble of a male’s voice.

  Who was inside there? It couldn’t be King because that man never showed up before 6:00 p.m. I got up and placed my ear to the door, trying to determine who it might be.

  The door opened, and I stumbled forward, running right into King’s large frame.

  He caught me by the shoulders. “Miss Turner.” His tone was as cold as his stunning eyes.

  I straightened myself out and stepped back, catching a glimpse of the woman standing to my side. She looked…she looked…just like me.

  Same height, same build, same wavy, blonde bob. Of course, her face was different, but she could have been my sister.

  My jaw dropped.

  “May I help you, Miss Turner?” King cocked his brow.

  “Uh…no. Sorry. I just—just wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

  King flashed that charming smile that worked on everyone except me. “It is my office. Who else would you expect?”

  I ignored his question and walked back over to the desk, feeling like I’d been hit in the stomach. Why? I didn’t know.

  I watched King walk the woman to the door. And when she turned to say goodbye, he pulled her in close and kissed her hard. She melted into him and then sighed when he released her. It was exactly how he’d kissed me.

  “Call me.” She winked.

  “As soon as I’m back in town,” King replied and shut the door to the office.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked.

  King turned, and I finally noticed his appearance. His hair was completely mussed, his lips were red and puffy, his shirt was untucked from his pants, and his signature black tie hung around his neck.

  “What was what?” he asked.

  “You know what,” I said.

  He cocked his head to the side. “I think you know very well what that was.”

  I crossed my arms. “Actually, no. I don’t.”

  “I fucked her. What’s not to understand?” He headed for his office door, and I stood from the desk.

  “Yeah. The sex part is pretty damned obvious. But you wanted me to see her. Why?”

  He stopped in his doorway, with his back to me. “After Edinburgh, I did not think you would be here. And who I fuck is my own damned business.”

  Why was I so angry? I didn’t know. I just—I just was. “That’s bullshit. She looked like me. You were trying to make a point. What was it? That I’m replaceable. That you can find a new Mia anytime you like? One that won’t break or disobey you? Are you hoping I’d get jealous?”

  King turned and leaned casually against his office doorway. “Those are all fascinating hypotheses. But I’m sorry to tell you that none are correct.”

  More of his head games. I picked up a pen from the desk and threw it at him. Of course, the bastard had animal-like reflexes and caught it in midair.

  I growled. “Call me when you’re ready to stop playing head games and help me find out what happened to my brother.”

  I grabbed my stuff and headed for the door, berating myself every step of the way for allowing him to get under my skin.

  “He’s not dead,” King blurted.

  I stopped and looked back at him. “How do you know?”

  King lifted his dark brows.

  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” I fumed. “Will you at least tell me where he is?”

  King crossed his arms. “I don’t know. I’ve got people searching for him, but it would go a lot faster if I had another tracker.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” I asked.

  “Just go home. I’ll call if I have need of you.”

  I was being dismissed like his servant. “Thanks to you, I no longer have a home.” I left, but I could swear King’s eyes were on me every step of the way to Becca’s. I even smelled him in the air and felt his breath on my face. But there was no one there. I saw only the early morning city traffic and people walking to work. No King.

  I’m losing my mind. Or perhaps I wasn’t.

  I spent the rest of the day alone at Becca’s apartment, doing what I could to pick through all of the newspaper articles related to Justin and his team. Everything was written in Spanish, making the task long and arduous.

  Still, I had to believe there would be something there to tell me more, some sort of indication of what that Artifact was or why Justin would get mixed up with these people for it. Perhaps there’d be some clue as to where he’d gone or other parties involved. Sadly, I found nothing apart from two articles which said the exact same thing about the team being kidnapped. No follow-up. No leads.

  Those poor, poor families. I needed to talk to King about tipping off the local authorities. Those men’s families needed to know the truth. Or maybe I could contact the families directly, I thought. Perhaps send an anonymous tip.

  I tried to look up more information about the team: names, where they were from, etc., but again, didn’t find much. That is, until I found an article regarding the site’s discovery and that an American team would be leading the excavation. It said the work was being funded by a private company based out of the U.K.

  Could Vaughn have been the backer? It might explain why my brother had gone to London and why Guzman had told me that Vaughn wanted his things returned.

  I was just about to give up for the day and head over to my parents’ house, but decided to look up one more thing: Seer of Light.

  I entered the term into the search window, but only came up with a bunch of hits for a character from some fantasy role-playing game. The woman held a cocked bow and arrow and wore a sort of Viking-looking outfit.

  I hissed. Silly. Why did I think I’d learn anything on Google? Whatever this “gift” was, I somehow knew that King would be the only one to have answers. For a price, of course.

  I looked up at the clock, and it was almost six. “Crap.” I closed Becca’s laptop and grabbed my purse. I made a quick check in the mirror and confirmed that I did, in fact, look like shit. I quickly smoothed on some powder and lipstick and finger-combed my messy blonde mop. My mother was never the superficial type, but looking like I was about to die of some horrible illness wouldn’t ease her worrying.

  As soon as I got outside, the rain began to pick up again, making it once more difficult to hail a cab. I seriously missed my centrally located apartment. Becca lived all the way over in the Marina District.

  Thirty minutes later, I was finally at my parents’ door. I rang, and they buzzed me in.r />
  “Here goes,” I mumbled to myself as I made my way upstairs to their living room, but no one was there.

  “Mom?” I called out.

  “We’re in the kitchen, honey.”

  I noticed the sound of laughter almost immediately, and when I entered, I couldn’t believe who I saw.

  What the hell is he doing here? My jaw dropped.

  My mother’s blue eyes lit up. “Oh, Mia! Honey.” She popped up from the kitchen table and gave me a hug, but my eyes didn’t move from the exquisite man in the expensive black suit with the hypnotic light-gray eyes sitting at her table, enjoying a cup of tea. “It’s so nice to see you, baby.”

  “Uhhh. Nice to see you, too,” I said.

  “Mia,” she turned toward the intruder, “this is Mr. King. He works with your brother’s organization.”

  What the hell was going on? I almost lost the strength in my legs. Was this yet another dream?

  “I go by King. Just—King,” he corrected her.

  “Oh. Kind of like Madonna or Cher?” I said, fuming. How dare he be here!

  King shot me a look.

  Just then, my father entered the kitchen, wearing a blue golf shirt, holding a bottle of scotch. “Ah. Here’s the good stuff.” He looked up and saw me. “Mia, good, you’re here.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  My father was the first to chime in. “I think you should sit, Mia.” He hitched up his navy blue slacks and cleared his throat.

  I looked at him, then my mother, and finally King, who had a smirk in his eyes. Yes. In his goddamned eyes, of all things.

  I sat, trembling every inch of the way.

  “Mia,” my father placed the bottle at the center of the kitchen table, “I know this will be a shock, but your brother has been lying to us.”

  King had told them? “Yeah, I know,” I replied.

  My mother smiled. “You do? Oh, honey. I think it’s great. What your brother is doing for his country is…well, we couldn’t be prouder.”

  I blinked. “I think I’ve missed something.”

  King cleared his throat. “Mia, my name is King. I came here tonight to tell your parents about your brother’s work with us.”

  “You did?” I asked.

  “Obviously, the fact that he’s been working with the government is not to be shared, but we thought you and your family needed to know why he’s been out of touch for so long.”

  I swallowed down a glob of rage in my throat. “Wow. That is a shock.” What the ever-loving hell is going on?

  King flashed a glance at his watch—or had he just looked at the tattoo on his wrist?—and quickly rose from the table. His imposing stature and authoritative presence filled my mother’s kitchen. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting Justin’s family.” He threw a business card on the table. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call. However, Justin should be in touch in a few weeks.”

  I scooped up the card immediately and shoved it in my jeans pocket. I had questions. Lots of questions. Such as, what the hell was he doing at my parents’ house, serving up a giant, heaping pile of bullcrap?

  “Oh, but I thought you were going to stay,” said my father. “I really wanted to hear more about these drug cartels.”

  King flashed one of his signature charming smiles, and I could swear I saw my mother catch her breath as if entranced by the beautiful man.

  Oh my God. King was using one of his little mind tricks on them. That’s why they were so happy to swallow his story.

  “Perhaps next time. But I have an important meeting to attend.” King dipped his head. “Pleased to meet you, Mia.”

  I rose from the chair and was about to follow him out, but my mother wasn’t having it. “Just where do you think you’re going, Mia? You have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “I, uhhh, was going to show King to the door. Be right back.”

  I followed King down the stairs, ready to unleash a fury, but as soon as we stepped onto the front porch, he swung around and grabbed my wrist. He firmly held his palm over my tattoo. “Before you commence, Miss Turner, what I anticipate will be a colorful display of unhappy words, I want you to listen.”

  Son of a bitch wants me to listen? I’ll kill him!

  “Mia.” His voice was low as he stared deeply into my eyes. “Just listen.” He released my wrist, and I instantly felt my control return.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Stopping you from making a big mistake.”

  “What?” I barked.

  He held out his hand. “I know what you were going to tell your parents tonight.”

  “How did you know?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I think you are aware, Miss Turner, that some of the abilities I’ve acquired do not come with a ‘how,’ they simply are what they are.”

  More of his creepy bullshit. I wondered if his ability to listen to my conversations was linked to my tattoo. Why the hell not? He was able to track me with it and evoke a hypnotic-like suggestive state in me just by touching it.

  “Mia!” I heard my mother call.

  I sighed. “Why are you here, King?” I whispered.

  “Because telling your parents the truth, when you do not know the truth, would only cause them suffering. And I cannot afford to have you distracted, thinking about their well-being, wanting to be by their sides to console them when we have work to finish.”

  “You mean finding your stupid Artifact.”

  “Mia!” my mother called out again.

  I sighed. “I need to go.”

  King’s lips twitched into that little half-grin he made sometimes, and his eyes flashed to my lips.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I find it fascinating that you’re afraid of your parents, but not me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why’s that fascinating?”

  “Because I terrify the hell out of everyone else. And they are right to be afraid.” He turned and made his way down the short flight of steps leading off the porch onto the sidewalk. “I will send Arno to your friend Becca’s home in two hours. Pack light.”

  No. Not again. “I think we’re pretty much done.”

  “We are not done until I say we’re done.”

  I glared. “Is that all you got?”

  His eyes narrowed for a moment, and then he scratched his chin. I think he was debating his next move. “Did you not just come to my office and ask how you could help?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “There is new information.”

  “Are you going to share it?”

  “No.”

  Of course not. Because it would totally ruin his whole mysterious vibe. Can’t have that.

  “Then you’re on your own. And, by the way, we need to talk.” I wanted to ask him what he knew about Justin’s financial backers and also convince him to tip off the authorities regarding the horrible fate of Justin’s team. The families needed to know because the pain of not knowing had to be tearing them to pieces.

  “We can talk on the plane,” he said, not bothering to turn around or stop walking.

  “I’m not going!” I protested as he walked away. “And you can’t force me forever.”

  King waved into the air. “You’ll enjoy the trip. I promise.”

  “Not going!”

  My mother called for me again, and I gritted my teeth as King disappeared down the dark wet sidewalk.

  I took a calming breath and made my way back up to the kitchen. Now I had no idea what I was going to tell them about why I’d vacated my apartment, quit my job, and left town without a word.

  I guess it’s your turn to make up a big fat juicy lie.

  ~ ~ ~

  Having received the biggest chewing out of my life for hiding “the truth,” not asking for their help, and losing my dream job because of my “irresponsible and stubborn ways,” I called Becca the moment I left my parents’ house.

  Not only did I need to update her on the turn of events, reg
arding what they’d been told about Justin and my situation, but I needed to warn her that a rather large, unfriendly foreign gentleman would be showing up at any moment at her house to collect me.

  “Mia?” Becca answered on the first ring. “How’d it go?”

  “Like shit. You’re not going to believe it, but—”

  “King showed up, lied to them, and told you to be ready by eight thirty?”

  “How did you know?” I asked, terrified by how she might answer.

  “Because…it’s 8:45, and he’s here right now, waiting for you.”

  Huh? Dammit. I had the urge to throw my cellphone on the cement. “And he told you all that?”

  “Yeah. He said that I needed to know how important keeping your parents in the dark was. That if I wanted to save Justin, I had to lie, too.”

  He’d manipulated Becca. I just couldn’t believe it. I wanted to scream at the top of my goddamned lungs.

  “You’re going tonight, right, Mia?” she asked.

  Oh my frigging God. “Can you put him on, please?”

  I heard the muffled voice of Becca say, “She wants to talk to you. Can I get you a refill on that coffee?”

  I heard King’s deep voice reply, “You are too kind, Becca. But I’m fine.” There was a quick pause. “Hello, Mia.”

  “Son of a bitch. What did you do to Becca? Did you brainwash her? Use your weird sadistic powers on her? Because so help me—”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “What in God’s name are you doing there, King?”

  “I thought I’d try a more subtle approach with you.”

  “Subtle? You show up at my parents’ house, lie to them, and now you’re manipulating Becca. Leave her out of this.”

  “You are the one who pulled her in by sharing facts that were not yours to share.”

  How did he know that I’d told Becca everything? Shit. Probably the same way he knew I was going to my parents’ house that evening to tell them about Justin. Had the man bugged her apartment? Or, an even more horrifying thought, maybe he really was inside my head. All. The. Time.

  “What do you want from me?” I asked.

  “For you to get on a plane and attend a party in Los Angeles tonight.”