King for a Day (The King Trilogy #2)(28)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

I couldn’t bear to look at her. “Thanks, Mom. I knew you’d understand.” I stood up. “I’m sorry I can’t be there tonight, but I have to fly out in a few hours.”

My mother smiled reassuringly. “Not to worry. We’ll celebrate when you’re back.”

I took one last look at her. “Tell Dad to behave, okay.” I winked.

“Oh! I almost forgot. That man who works with Justin stopped by to check on me. He was asking about you.” She paused, thinking. “You know, that’s the other reason I think Justin might not be sharing the whole truth about Mexico.”

My mind shuffled, quickly trying to process. “Mom, what are you talking about?”

“Well, don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence that King man comes by on the day Justin leaves? I bet Justin asked him to keep an eye on me.”

“King was here? Today?”

“He came to see me earlier,” she said.

“When?” Was my mother going insane like me?

“A couple hours ago.”

A couple? “King was here? With you? Two hours ago?”

“Yes, why?”

Oh my God. That was about the time Vaughn and Miranda showed up at the warehouse.

If King had been here, then maybe, just maybe he was still alive and Vaughn had been lying. It also meant that those visits of his were real. But that wouldn’t explain why King kept coming and going. Not that the popping in and out of thin air was abnormal for the man given he had that ability. (Yes, it still scared the hell out of me that he could do that.) However, why wouldn’t King pop in and help us? I mean, we were in a crisis. And the Club was about to take all of his crap away!

You’re not crap. Neither are Arno and Mack. No, we weren’t. And I was supposedly King’s “most prized possession,” which made it even more illogical that King would simply abandon everyone.

I’m so confused.

“What did he say?” I asked my mother.

“He said not to worry. That everything would work out. I assume that he meant Justin’s work. ”

Of course, that would be wrong because King didn’t really work with Justin. So what had King really meant? Had he been referring to my situation? Or his?

I swallowed back my tears and covered my face to hide the confusion and torment in my eyes.

“Mia, I know this might sound crazy, but I don’t think that man is who he says.”

She was right. She thought he was some secret government agent. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

Her blue eyes fixed on her clasped hands. “I know you’ll think I’m crazy, Mia, but when I was in a coma, I dreamed of that man. I think he brought me back. No, I don’t know how, and I won’t dare question it because I’m grateful. But that man, I swear…he’s…he’s…there’s something different about him.”

I held my hand to my mouth and nodded frantically at her. The tears began to stream. “Yes, Mom, I think you’re right.”

“Honey? Why are you crying?”

I began to sob even harder. King was alive, but I didn’t begin to understand what was really happening. I needed to leave before I lost it. “I’m crying because I’m happy, Mom. That’s all,” I lied again, feeling so ashamed of who I was becoming. I stood and kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Bye, sweetie.”

I left one final message for Justin during the cab ride back to my parents’ house, where I planned to shower, eat, and gather up some clothes and things to make it look like I’d actually taken a trip. While leaving the message for Justin, I prayed he’d told my mother the truth and had actually gone to Mexico. But given that I strongly suspected otherwise, I begged him to stay away from Vaughn and any other 10 Club members. “No more deals, Justin. Promise me.” Not that Justin would have anything to trade. Vaughn now held all the cards, including King.

I hung up and stared out the window. It was a bright and sunny day for once, but my mind felt like soup. King…King…What is going on? My mind whipsawed back to all of the dangling threads I couldn’t tie together. So many things just didn’t make sense: King popping in and out, telling me to run, telling me to read that horrible story about Hagne and Draco. Then there was the fact that King had said he didn’t want to disclose where he was so we wouldn’t come looking for him. Is King hiding out from Vaughn? Is that what this was all about?

If that was the case, why would Vaughn tell me that King was dead, when clearly he wasn’t? My mother had seen King a few hours ago, about the same time Vaughn, Miranda, and her boy-toy had come to see me.

Nothing made sense.

Unless King is pretending to be dead, which Vaughn believes, and now King is trying to hide from Vaughn?

No. No. That doesn’t make sense, either. King wouldn’t hang us out to dry. Would he? I mean, I knew the man was dark and cold, but he wouldn’t allow the Club to take “ownership” of us simply to fake a disappearance.

Ugh. I don’t know! Maybe he would. Or maybe I was missing something. Something big.

~~

While at my parents’ house, I made a pathetic attempt to calm myself and prepare for what was to come. However, instead of getting the grip I so desperately needed, I’d ended up working myself into a frenzied panic. My tortured mind drilled in on the fact that I’d been laser-focused on stopping the Club from seizing King’s property, but I was overlooking something bigger and perhaps, more importantly, another way out. Then it occurred to me that I’d never found King’s copy of the Club’s rules.

I took a two-minute shower, threw on a clean pair of jeans and a navy blue sweater, scarfed down some cold lasagna I’d found in the fridge, and shoved a bunch of random clothes in an overnight bag. I needed to get back to that warehouse.

Yes, at this point, I realized I was grasping at straws, but perhaps I could find a loophole. For example, if I proved that King was taken or that there was some foul play, maybe the Club would have to investigate before seizing King’s property. Or maybe I’d find some other rule to escape this situation. Who knew? But I had to try.

When I arrived back at King’s warehouse, I ran upstairs to his chamber. I searched through every shelf, but only found more of King’s books and journals. There were perhaps a hundred written by hand. I only wished I had the time to read them. Sadly, however, after digging through all the shelves, I couldn’t find the rules.