King’s (The King Trilogy #1)(13)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

For a second time that evening, I felt ashamed for my criticism of King. Apparently, he didn’t mind sharing some things; he’d had a legitimate reason to put me on another flight. Had I misjudged him about other things, too?

Maybe. But it seemed easier to keep on hating him. If I started to soften towards him, where would that land me?

“You sure this is okay?” I peeked inside and held up my drink, wondering if it was safe near the equipment.

“Ah, I see you found the Macallan. King had me stock it just for you. He said you’re a whisky girl; although he only has scotch—the good stuff.”

Another gesture of thoughtfulness? At this rate, King might be out of the gutter and rated as an actual human being by day’s end. But…how the hell did King know what I liked to drink? Had he been spying on me? Interviewing my friends?

I looked down at my glass. “Well, this is much better than the swill I usually drink,” I said to make polite conversation.

Mack laughed. “For twelve thousand a bottle, I sure as hell hope so.”

“Twelve thousand? I better sip slower, then.”

“Don’t worry. He’s got a warehouse of that stuff he took as payment. He jokingly calls it the ‘cheap stuff.’”

King joked? Another surprise. And I wish I’d known that King accepted liquor as payment. I could’ve said “no” to working for him and offered him a bottle of the “good stuff.” Not that I’d be able to afford it. Maybe he would have gone for some liquor-filled chocolates?

“So,” I took a sip of my drink and sat in the empty copilot seat, “how long have you worked for him?”

Mack flashed a glance my way. “A while.”

“How did you meet?” I asked.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Did King tell you about my brother?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Then can you really blame me?”

“No, I guess not.”

“How do you know him?” I asked again.

Mack stared ahead, thinking before answering my question. “I needed something. He helped me.”

All right. King had snagged Mack in a moment of desperation, too. “So once you had what you wanted, why didn’t you just go?”

I knew my questions were forward, but I was in no mood to pretend or beat around the bush.

Mack shrugged his golden brows. “Not that I would, but no one reneges on a deal with King. No one. King takes every deal seriously. To the letter.”

My heart thumped against my rib cage. “Meaning?”

Mack stroked the corners of his mouth. “Use your imagination.”

I suppose I didn’t have to. My gut already knew. It knew the first moment I’d laid eyes on King that he was not the sort of man who took deals lightly. He was cold and dangerous, and if you crossed him, he wouldn’t hesitate to crush you. He’d basically said so, and I believed him.

“But if given the choice…” Mack was about to add something else, but stopped talking.

“What?”

“I guess if I could do it all over again, I would. King pays well. There is no bullshit agenda. And no one messes with you. Ever.”

From the way Mack spoke, it sounded like he had an extreme amount of loyalty towards King. And once again, I found myself poking holes in my “King is a heartless devil” theory. That said, what was it that they did where “no one messing with you” was a perk of the job?

“But…who is he?” I asked.

Mack simply shrugged. “He’s a businessman. He’s also good at finding stuff. For a price.”

I was beginning to grow tired of that explanation. “He hasn’t found anything for me yet.”

Mack laughed. “He will. Just give him time.”

Time…It had been the one thing I’d watch slip through my fingers since I agreed to this arrangement. Justin was either dead or damned close to it. “I’m out of time.”

And I could only ask myself one question: Why had I made this deal with King? Why? I’d given up everything—my dream job and, therefore, my home—and it had gotten me nowhere.

Because you were f**king desperate, Mia. There was no other choice.

CHAPTER SIX

After landing at a small airstrip surrounded by jungle somewhere outside the town of Palenque, a driver in a black SUV with tinted windows showed up to transport Mack and me to our accommodations for the night.

I asked the driver if he knew the address where my brother lived, thinking it would make sense to see if anything there could tell us more, but Mack quickly shut me down. “Trust me, King had people go through your brother’s place with a fine-toothed comb weeks ago. If there was anything worth finding, he already found it.”

What? I’d had the impression that King hadn’t lifted a finger in three weeks beyond finding out about those phone calls.

“King also gave clear instructions to meet him tonight at the excavation site.”

I looked at my watch. It was close to midnight already. “Tonight? Are you sure?”

“Yep.” Mack didn’t seem to think that was at all strange. “You have about an hour to rest, shower, eat, whatever. This car will be waiting for you.”

I looked at the driver, a portly man with thick, curly, black hair who hadn’t said a word to either of us. “Does he work for King?” I whispered.

Mack smirked. “You think King would leave you in the care of strangers?”

I had no idea what King would or wouldn’t do.

“The answer is no, Mia,” Mack clarified. “He is very protective of his possessions.”

Possession? “I’m not his possession.”

Mack didn’t respond.

“I’m not.”

Mack shook his head as if amused, but I chose not to get into a debate. They clearly lived by a different moral compass than my own.

Ten minutes later, the SUV pulled up to the hotel—a luxury resort with colorfully lit fountains and decorative pools, nestled in the jungle—where a bellhop in a tropical-print shirt immediately greeted us.

Mack slid out. “See you in the morning.”

“Wait? Aren’t you coming with me later?”

“I fly planes, and I do it better when I’ve had a little sleep.” He winked and sauntered off.

I glanced back at the driver, who still faced forward. “Ummm…see you in about an hour?” I said to him.

The driver nodded.

Wow. Friendly.

The bellhop had extracted my small overnight bag from the back and waited for me. “Right this way, Miss Turner. Your room is ready.”