King for a Day (The King Trilogy #2)(19)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“I can’t believe you wanted me to come here in my jeans and Skechers. Can you believe this place?” It was over-the-top gorgeous with large palm trees, fountains, arched doorways, etc.

I rang the doorbell a second time and prayed to God she was home instead of off doing whatever evil crap she was into.

Finally, a man answered the door. He wore only a pair of snug black underwear, and his body was chiseled from top to bottom. His brown hair looked flattened on one side like he’d just rolled out of bed.

I glanced at my watch. It was almost 4:00 a.m. Yeah, a little late. Or early. Depends on one’s lifestyle, I suppose. In any case, I was in King’s world now, where the rules of politeness were of no concern to anyone. That included showing up at someone’s house at this ungodly hour.

“Hi. Um, is Miranda here?”

He scratched his groin, and that’s when I noticed the marks all over his muscled arms. Bruises and deep scratches. “Who are you?”

I held up my wrist and put on my toughest face. “I am here on behalf of King. He’s sent me with a deal, one she’ll want to hear.”

His mouth made a half-frown. “Wait there.” He slammed the door in my face.

I turned to Arno and let out a breath.

“They are watching you.” His eyes flashed to the security camera above the doorway.

I straightened my back and flung out my hip, trying to play the part of someone who carried the full weight of King’s authority.

Several minutes passed, and I was about to ring the doorbell again, but that’s when it hit me. King wouldn’t bother being polite. He’d walk in like he owned the damned place.

I sucked in a breath. Be King. Show no fear.

“Wait here,” I instructed Arno. “I mean it.” I opened the door and walked in. The place was dark inside, so I flipped on all the lights. The living room, a decorating monstrosity of gold and white everything, was to the left, a large staircase with gold tile to match the foyer was in the center, and a formal dining room—huge gold table—was to the left.

Okay, now what? What would King do?

Besides throw up on her disco-gold furniture? He’d help himself to a drink or something.

I entered the dining room and did, in fact, find an antique bar in the corner. I grabbed a tumbler from the cabinet, poured myself a…I wasn’t sure what from a crystal decanter, and then leaned back against the bar. I hoped to God I looked like a total self-centered, arrogant, powerful bitch, because my knees felt like Play-Doh.

“Who the hell are you?” The woman had bleach-blonde hair pulled into a ponytail on top of her head and wore pink silk pajamas. She couldn’t have been taller than five feet and didn’t look a day over twenty. This was Miranda? The Miranda?

I tried not to look surprised given that despite her size and age, whatever she’d done to Mack had resulted in extreme emotional and, perhaps, physical pain for the poor man. And from the look of her boy-toy’s arm, she was doing the same to him.

Maybe she had acquired the same “ability” as Talia—superhuman strength.

Doesn’t matter, Mia. Show no fear. I jerked my head at her and took a sip from my glass. Ick. It was cognac. “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for five minutes, and I’ve got shit to do.”

Miranda’s brown eyes narrowed. “It’s four in the f**king morning. Who the hell are you?”

I casually slid up the sleeve of my white blouse and showed her the “K” on my wrist.

She rolled her eyes. “What the hell does he want now? I told him I’m done making deals with him. It’s too risky.”

I wondered if this wasn’t the first time King had requested her to partake in a Vaughn-related deal. If not, I wondered what King might have traded.

Focus, Mia. You have to convince her to get that hand.

Ick. Hand.

Don’t think of it as a hand, but as your key to salvation.

I smiled, trying to mimic how King smiled when he was about to let you dig yourself into a deep, dark hole, when he knew more than you did. Which was just about all the time.

Miranda looked at me and tilted her head. “Oh no. What?”

I took another sip. “King wants you to sneak into Vaughn’s trophy freezer and look for that arm he lost. If it’s there, King wants the hand.”

“What?” She started to laugh. “Is he out of his f**king mind? Vaughn won’t let me near his precious freezer. No deal. But tell King I heard about the party. If only I could’ve been there to see the look on Vaughn’s face when King ripped off his arm.”

Oh my God. These people were so very twisted. But thankfully, it did appear that Miranda hated Vaughn as much as I did, so that was something in our favor.

I chuckled, trying not to sound fake. “Yeah. It was priceless.” It was the most horrific thing I’ve ever seen.

“That’s right. It was you!” Miranda pointed at me as if I were a famous celebrity. “You were the one Vaughn cornered in the bathroom.”

I nodded and casually set my glass down on the counter, trying not to remember how that a-hole held a knife to my ribs and then shoved his hand between my legs. Sick pig. “I don’t think an arm was sufficient penalty. Neither does King.”

“What would be?” She lifted her brows and flashed an interested grin.

“A head might suffice.” And I meant it. Disgusting pig had intended to violate me, and would have if King hadn’t shown up.

“You’re serious?” Miranda’s smile faded away.

I nodded then looked at my watch. “It’s four-ten in the f**king morning. Do you think I came here just to drink your shitty cognac?”

She looked at her feet. I seriously couldn’t believe I was getting away with behaving like such a…prick.

“Head for a hand. Yes or no, Miranda?” I asked, doing my best female impersonation of King.

She looked up at me. “What’s the time limit?”

Shit. I had to think about it. I had no idea when the hand needed to be delivered or how long it would take to make it “work” if I were lucky enough to find whatever “tool” King used to do the trick.

“You have six hours,” I replied, a complete stab in the dark.

Something shifted in her demeanor, and her eyes narrowed a bit. “Why so fast?”

I literally felt the power balance shift in the room. Oh no. I messed up. But what did I do wrong? Because I suddenly felt like a person hanging on the rail of the Titanic, trying desperately to stay away from the icy waters below. Stay calm. Stay calm. Look for the lifeboat.