King’s (The King Trilogy #1)(23)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“Yeah, let’s.” I walked over to the armchair next to the glass coffee table and sat. King took the couch across from me and stretched his thick arms over the back. I got another tiny glimpse of that tattoo on his forearm. I wondered if it was the letter “K.” He seemed like the sort of narcissist that might do something like that—tattoo his own initial on his arm. Ode to wonderful me.

Oh, God. Why had I said I liked him? Why? And why had his touch triggered such potent, carnal urges in me?

“So?” I waited.

He grinned and stared at me.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.

“You surprise me, Miss Turner. That is all.”

“Meaning?”

He leaned forward. “Do you truly believe I have the ability to make a person see ghosts? Do I look like,” he leaned in a little closer and drilled me with his eyes. I felt that funny feeling deep inside that made my stomach lurch, “God? That I can perform miracles?”

When he put it that way… “No, I guess not. Your point?”

“My point is,” he leaned back again, “I have a talent for seeing people for who they are. You, Mia, already possessed the ability to sense and see the residues left behind by people or anything with a powerful energy force. I simply helped unlock who you already were: a person with a sixth sense, a Seer of Light.”

Was this why King wanted to own me? He thought I could “see” stuff? Crazy.

“Yes, and I saw Brian. But he wasn’t a ghost. He was alive and speaking to me. I didn’t imagine it.”

“What you saw were Brian’s remnants. Of his soul, so to speak.”

“Uh-uh. I spoke to him. We had a conversation,” I argued.

“Your brain created a fantasy, a story to explain what it couldn’t reconcile against your perception of reality. But you did not speak to Brian; he was already dead, and the dead cannot speak, now can they, Miss Turner?”

This was beyond insane. My head began to spin again. I wanted to retch. I leaned forward and covered my face.

“The dizzy sensation will go away once you stop fighting it,” he said.

“How is this possible?” I mumbled.

“Once again, I am not God, Miss Turner. I cannot explain why or how. Nor do I waste my time arguing with the facts. I accept them and plan my game accordingly. As must you.”

“You’re delusional if you think something like this can happen to a person and they’d just accept it without question.”

“It’s merely a question of priorities, Miss Turner. You can spend your time trying to figure out why you were born this way and understanding the evolutionary science behind it, or you can spend your time looking for your brother. One of the choices is time bound. One is not.”

He had a point. “Can you tell me anything? How many there are like me? Is it hereditary?”

He shook his head. “I do not know the details apart from your gift being rare. Extremely rare. But once this is all over, you have my blessing to waste the rest of your life asking questions and searching for answers. In the meantime, I suggest we get on with our task.”

Why would we be looking for Justin in London? My gut told me he wasn’t here. There was no reason for him to be.

Because a person you made up in your head told you that he’d just seen Justin in Palenque?

Crap. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. But I didn’t believe he was in London. I’d already told King that I thought the embassy lady had been lying.

I took a deep breath. “I want you to take me back to Mexico.” From there, I’d start trying to piece together what had happened at the dig site. Of course, my brother’s poor team and their families had to be dealt with, too. Those poor, poor men.

“Just as soon as we’re done in London.”

London. London? What a waste, being here. “Wait. Did you even call the police, King? Or did you just leave those men’s bodies buried there?”

“They’re dead. My telling the police won’t change that, but it will slow us down. The authorities will want a statement, they’ll want to know how you found them, and I will end up having to expend large sums of money to have you released quickly.”

Ass. “What about their families? They have to be worried sick!”

King stared me down, and his intense gray eyes said he was growing tired of this conversation. Clearly, he couldn’t care less.

“You can’t keep me here,” I said.

“I can; however, I won’t have to. You’ll stay on your own. And you’ll be showered, dressed, and fed in thirty minutes.”

“You’re evil and delusional, too? So talented. Can you also tap dance?”

Without responding, his commanding male figure rose and headed for the door. “I located the man Justin was working with. He was perhaps the last person to see him, as well. Be in the lobby in thirty minutes.” He closed the door behind him, leaving me there in my white robe, frothing with anger. Bastard.

There was a loud knock at the door. Funny. Really f**king funny, King. Was he trying to show me that he knew how to knock?

I stomped my way over and opened it. “I’m not laughing!”

It was a young woman in a burgundy uniform holding a tray. “Where would you like your sandwich, Miss Turner?”

I held back a growl and directed her to the small sitting area.

As King prognosticated, I was fed, showered, and dressed in my last clean outfit: pink T-shirt and jeans. However, and yes, call me spiteful, I wasn’t in the lobby in thirty minutes. I made it a point to show up three minutes late. Yes, just to piss him off. Which I knew he was by the way his square jaw ticked. However, he said nothing and simply nodded. He knew he’d won.

“King.” I nodded back.

Anger ticked in King’s eyes. He gestured toward the revolving door, where the infamous black SUV awaited us.

“Do you have one in every city?” I asked once outside.

“Yes,” he replied and opened the car door for me.

“Good evening, Miss Turner.”

Arno? “You got one of those in every city, too, King?” I asked.

King gave me a “don’t waste my time” sort of look.

“Hey, Arno. How are you?” I asked.

I slipped in and shivered. The fall night was drizzly and brisk, and I hadn’t packed a coat.

King reached behind my seat and handed me a black leather jacket lined with some sort of white fur. I wasn’t a fur wearer, but I was freezing and doubted that King would let me stop at the local Wally for a hoodie or a slicker.