King’s (The King Trilogy #1)(24)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“Thanks.” I slipped it on and zipped it up. It hugged my chest, waist, and arms like it had been made for my body. A perfect fit. I didn’t want to ask where he’d gotten it from or if it had been made for me. Then I’d feel guilty and have to be nice to him. Okay. Never mind. No, I wouldn’t. Besides, in his words, being nice was a waste of time.

“So,” I said, “are you going to tell me more about this mysterious man we’re about to visit?”

King’s eyes focused on the road ahead, and I scooted a few inches closer to my door. The way he took up the space in the back seat, his potent, virile vibe, made me feel more than uncomfortable.

“No mystery,” he replied. “His name is Vaughn. He is a collector of sorts.”

I knew that name, in fact…“That’s the name Guzman mentioned at the airport.” I’d forgotten about it. Perhaps on purpose. Just like I tried to forget everything about that day.

King didn’t seem surprised.

“How do you know him?” I asked. “How did you find out my brother had contact with him?”

“We happen to have a few mutual acquaintances who also happened to overhear Vaughn speaking about your brother’s work.”

This couldn’t be a coincidence. Not possible.

“Does he have something to do with this Artifact you mentioned?” I asked.

King stilled. “Perhaps.”

“Why do you want it so badly?”

“I am also a collector of sorts. It is something I’ve been trying to locate for a very long time.”

“This has what to do with my brother?” I asked.

“Everything. It has everything to do with your brother.”

I was about to ask yet another question, but I’d worn out my question-welcome. King held up his hand to silence me. “Enough, Miss Turner. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you simply didn’t speak until after we meet with Vaughn.”

Rude. King acted like he was a real king. Maybe the name had gone to his head.

“Why are you bringing me?” I asked.

He growled. “I was getting to that. Perhaps, if you’d cease with the questions, I might be able to explain myself.”

I wanted to claw at his horrible, beautiful face. Instead, I picked up a newspaper that had been folded and shoved in the seat pocket in front of me.

He continued. “I want you to look around his office and commit to memory everything you see. Specifically, if you see any residuals of the Artifact. That, however, is all you are to do. You may leave the questions to me.”

I grumbled something unladylike and opened the paper.

“This is serious, Miss Turner. You will remain quiet.”

Chances were slim. Whatever terror-induced silence King had been able to subdue me with in the past was no longer effective. Maybe things changed the minute I started talking to dead people and seeing colors. King’s scare factor got bumped down a few notches.

I illuminated the overhead light and focused on the paper. It was the only thing I could do to suppress the volcano of angry emotions just begging to bubble out and ooze all over the backseat.

“Miss Turner,” King said with a stern slowness, “do you understand?”

I dropped the paper. “Let’s cut the crap, okay? If you want me to start ‘understanding,’ you’ll have to tell me the why.”

Amusement flickered in King’s heavenly eyes, making me nervous. The last time I’d challenged him—about my brother’s team being alive and well—and he didn’t push back, I ended up having my world tipped upside down. That look in his eyes meant he might simply get out of my way and let me run myself over. It meant I was getting into something I didn’t understand.

“What aren’t you telling me about Vaughn?” I asked.

At that moment, the rain started coming down in buckets. The SUV filled with the sound of water pelting the windshield, which only upped my anxiety for some reason.

King scratched the thick growth of stubble on his jaw, then glanced at his watch. “He’s a psychopath. And when he wants something, he’ll move heaven and earth to get it.”

“Sounds a little like someone else I know,” I mumbled.

King’s hand landed on my wrist, and I gasped. “Don’t ever,” he snarled, “compare me to him, Mia. We are nothing alike.”

I waited for more, but King left it at that and released me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling completely shocked by King’s reaction. What kind of man was Vaughn that King would lose his calm like that? “Can you please explain, though, why you’re so worried about me speaking when we meet with him?”

The rain turned to hail, and it sounded like we were being pelted with rocks.

King’s magnificent frame grew more rigid. “If you do anything other than stand there pretending to be a cute piece of ass tonight, he might notice you’re different.”

A shiver of disgust crawled over my skin. “So you’re saying he’d try to take me?”

“He would try.” King’s words also meant that Vaughn would fail. At least, that’s what I hoped he meant. I didn’t want to ask how King, in this very strange, hypothetical situation, would stop Vaughn. I might not like the answer.

Instead, I asked, “So you really think I’m a Seer?”

“Of Light. Yes, I do.” King looked ahead, frowning a bit. “If you still need convincing, this is your chance.”

The SUV pulled to the side of the street. “We’re here, sir,” Arno said.

“Where’s here?” I asked, taking note of the graffiti on the buildings and crumpled wads of wet garbage on the sidewalk.

“Brixton,” King replied.

Again, I didn’t know London well, but I gathered that this was not the nice part. “Is it safe?”

King laughed. “For me, yes. For you, only when you’re with me.”

Arno walked around to the passenger side with a giant black umbrella and opened the door. I stepped out onto the flooding sidewalk. And in that one fraction of a second, right before Arno shut the door, I caught a glimpse of the back of that newspaper I’d been holding in my hand. Federale Shot at Mexico City Airport After Torturing and Killing Four Co-Workers.

My knees nearly buckled, but Arno caught my arm and steadied me. “Miss Turner? Are you all right?”

He probably thought it was just another of those dizzy spells.

“Uh, yeah.” I nodded agitatedly, trying to hide my panic attack. Was that King’s doing?