King for a Day (The King Trilogy #2)(46)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“Becca. It’s me, Mia.”

“Mia? Oh my God. Where the hell are you?”

“I don’t know, but I need your help. I need you to hire a courier and deliver this phone number. Can you see it on your caller ID?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Write it down and have the courier go to the address I’m going to give you. But whatever you do, don’t go anywhere near the place. Do you understand?”

“Mia, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

I heard the distress creeping into her throat, making her words come out all shaky.

“It’s okay, Becca. Everything will be okay. Just tell the courier to ask for a man named Mack. He has a scar over his right brow. Make sure they give this phone number to him. Tell the courier to wait all day if he has to. Okay?”

I only hoped that Mack was still keeping an eye out on the warehouse. It was worth a shot.

“Uh, okay,” she said.

I repeated the instructions and address; all the while the freaked-out mortician stared at me from the corner of the room. I told Becca I loved her and hung up.

The man said something again, and I shook my head. “Sorry. I don’t understand. No English?”

He shook his head.

“Spanish? Un poco español?” I asked. It was worth a shot.

He nodded. “Un poco.”

That was encouraging. “Ummm…donde estamos?” I asked, hoping he could at least tell me where we were.

“Grecia,” he said, but it came out as “Grethia.”

Grecia. Grecia…“Greece! We’re in Greece.” I rubbed my hands over my face.

I wonder where they found me.

“Okay. Ummm…donde yo,” I couldn’t remember the Spanish word for “find.” Encontrar! “Donde encontrarme?”

My Spanish was horrible.

The man shook his head from side to side. He didn’t understand. The morgue door burst open, and an officer pointed a huge frigging gun at me. With his thick build, black eyes, and dark, wavy hair, he reminded me of someone.

The officer yelled in Greek, jerking the gun, but I didn’t know what he said. I assumed the obvious.

I held up my hands, but not too high. My dress was so damned short and growing shorter by the moment as it dried. And every time I moved, the sand sticking to my skin rubbed me raw. “I don’t understand.”

The policeman quickly switched to English—thank goodness—and instructed me to turn around slowly.

I did as he asked, but…Crap! I had to stay here. Mack would be calling. And I certainly didn’t want to be running around where I might bump into someone.

“Can you ask him where I was found? Please?” The policeman handcuffed me and spoke to the mortician, who answered promptly.

With a thick accent the officer said, “You were found on the beach a few hours ago. He says you were dead. He is certain you are a ghost.”

“Pfff…Yeah, right. Ghosts. Do I look like a ghost to you?”

“No. You look like a suspicious person playing sick games. That is why you are coming with me.”

Shit. I had to tell these guys something. I didn’t want word getting out that a dead woman had been found on the beach and then turned out not to be dead.

“Why am I being arrested? I was kidnapped, and…I jumped off the boat. ” I stared with my best traumatized expression—not difficult to do given the situation.

“Who kidnapped you?” he asked in the world’s most condescending tone ever.

“I don’t know. I was on vacation with my friends, and we met some guys in a club. I think one of them put something in my drink.” I am such a horrible liar.

“Where were you?”

My mind scrambled, trying to think of somewhere within this hemisphere where I’d been on business. “I was in Venice.” I’d been there on a photo shoot once. I at least knew the name of a hotel and one bar.

“You are a long way from Venice, Miss…?”

“Mia. Mia King.” I don’t know why I lied about my last name. It was a stupid thing to do.

“Well, Miss King, I will take you down to the station. We can sort all of this out there.” He nodded at the mortician.

“But what did I do? I’m the victim here,” again I lied.

“If that man,” he pointed to the terrified mortician, “says you were dead. You were dead.”

I huffed. “So what are you saying? I was dead and just woke up? As if.” I shook my head. Crap. Crap. Crap. Can this get any worse?

“No. Of course not,” he replied. “But perhaps you and someone else took the real body. And you thought this little game would cover up its disappearance.”

Okay. I didn’t have a reply to that other than, “Who the hell would do such a thing?”

The officer looked at me with his large, brown eyes. “We will find out.” He ushered me toward the door.

My mind spun frantically, hoping to hell that Mack would get to me before anyone learned about me being alive. “I called my friend. I gave him this number. He’ll be worried sick about me.”

The policeman spoke to the mortician and then told me if anyone called, they’d be directed to the station. He walked me through a small administrative office and outside to his car. We looked to be downtown—the historic-looking, gray, brick buildings were stacked tightly together, and there was a large bank on the corner. It was also early morning. The sun wasn’t fully up, and there was a bit of traffic. I wondered how long I’d been gone.

A small chilly wind kicked up, triggering a shiver as the officer put me into the back of his car. I hoped the ring would prevent me from getting pneumonia because I swore I felt icy seawater sloshing around in my cold bones. It was unsettling. Why the hell had King arranged to throw me in the ocean? Landing me here of all places?

“If you are telling the truth,” said the officer with the deep accent, “I apologize for the harsh treatment. But it is not every day that our coroner calls, screaming that the dead have awoken and want to eat his brains.”

Normally, I would laugh at that, but the gravity of the situation had robbed me of my funny bone. I doubted I’d be able to even work up a genuine smile until King was free, Vaughn was dead, and Justin was safe.

“I don’t think I’ll be eating anyone’s brains,” I said. “But I would love a shower and some dry clothes. Or pants. I’d settle for pants.”

He looked at me through the rearview mirror. “We will see what we can do.”