King’s (The King Trilogy #1)(42)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

I nodded.

“Your balls are bigger than I thought,” he said. “I’ve seen King kill for less.”

“Doesn’t it bother you to work for someone like that?”

Mack looked at me and tilted his head, grinning. “Who’s to say I haven’t done the same?”

“Have you?”

He looked away. “I’ve done many things that would shock you, Mia.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He looked at me, and I caught a glimpse of his pensive face as a car passed by. “I’d kill for him, and he’d do the same for me.”

I had the feeling that what Mack really meant was they already had. “What exactly did King do for you?” I just couldn’t figure out how someone like Mack could be so happy working for a sadistic bastard like King.

“He…” Mack took a shallow breath, “acquired me. At a party like this one, actually.”

“What the hell?”

“It’s a long story. All I can say is that after I served in Iraq, I wasn’t the same person. I did things I’m not proud of and got mixed up with someone who took advantage of me.”

How anyone could take advantage of a man like Mack boggled my mind.

“Who?” I asked.

“Doesn’t matter. But they weren’t kind to me. Once the fog began to clear, I knew I needed to get away. King helped me.”

So Mack had been looking for his freedom from someone. That was the deal he made with King.

I sighed to myself. “How does someone ‘acquire’ another person?” It was morally repugnant.

“The world is full of some sick people. As for 10 Club, once you make a deal with any of them, you’re in for life. They own you, just like King owns you.”

“He doesn’t own me,” I protested.

“You really believe that?”

Yes, I did.

“So,” I said, “you’re trying to tell me this 10 Club is really some secret society of demented, wealthy people who go around making deals, ‘acquiring’ people, and then trading them like baseball cards?”

“No. They are a group of very rich, very powerful people who collect things, all kinds of things. To some it’s a game—entertainment. To others, it’s about power—the more, the better. And some play because they genuinely need something.”

“Need. Like what?”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. No one wears their true intentions on their sleeves. Anything you care about is a weakness, and the members will exploit it if they figure out what it is.”

Frigging insanity! Was he serious?

“But we’re going there tonight looking for something; won’t they know what we want?” I asked.

“Not really. You could be trading for something that someone else wants. Most of the time, you could care less about the things you’re negotiating for. It’s a means to an end.”

This was some crazy, messed-up stuff. And in some ways, it explained why King was such a cold, calculating, heartless person. Or had he always been that way and then found his flock? I didn’t know, but now I knew why he had no qualms about using my weakness—Justin—to barter for something he wanted: me. Or my services, anyway.

“I can’t believe this,” I whispered.

“Believe it.”

“Who would be insane enough to dream this up? To start an entire society like this?” I asked.

Mack shrugged. “It’s been around for a very, very long time. Some say it dates back six hundred years.”

“So King, he wants the Artifact. Is it because he really wants it, or is he trying to trade for something else?”

“What the hell do I care?” Mack asked. “I show up when I’m needed. I don’t get involved in the why.”

Funny. Mack didn’t care about the why, and King didn’t care about the how. They were perfect for each other. Like peanut butter and jelly.

“What about this?” I pointed to my wrist. “And what about all of the other crazy crap I’ve seen?”

It went way beyond a psycho group of rich people bartering for whatever-the-hell.

Mack looked uneasy, almost…well, pissed off. “It means you’re off the table. Permanently.”

“Sorry?”

“King has branded you. No one can make a play for you. It’s against the rules.”

There are rules?

“Mack? Why are you telling me all this?”

“King asked me to.”

More conflict. King wanted me to know what lie hidden behind the curtain, which meant he was showing me trust. But knowing that you’re only a foot away from the deadly grip of a monster’s sharp teeth wouldn’t bring you a good night’s sleep.

“Why didn’t he tell me himself?” I asked.

“He felt the truth might be better received if it came from me.”

“Oh.” I seemed to be saying that a lot lately. But what else could I say? “Yippee” and “super-duper” weren’t really options.

“I’m sure I don’t need to point out that sharing this information with anyone on the outside would require your immediate execution,” Mack said remorsefully. “There are only a handful of rules. That’s one of them, too.”

For some strange reason, I wasn’t surprised. “And the other rules?”

“King didn’t approve my sharing those. You’ll have to ask him yourself. Ah. We’re here.” Mack straightened his bow tie and then looked at me. The limo pulled up behind a long line of flashy cars.

Oh no. This was it. I must’ve looked like I’d been hit by a very large, heavy vehicle, perhaps carrying a load of bricks.

Mack reached out and squeezed my hand. “You’ll be okay, Mia. You can handle this.”

“Sure.” I just needed to…needed to…

I bolted from the limo to throw up in a hedgerow. Nothing came out. A few people passed by and stared, but I was mostly hidden in the bushes.

“Mia?” Mack gripped my shoulders from behind. “Are you all right?”

I straightened myself up, and he handed me a handkerchief. Lucky me, it was tux night, so he’d had one handy.

“Thanks.” I blotted underneath my eyes and wiped my mouth. “Just nerves, I think.”

Mack looked down at me with his wide blue eyes. “Just focus on breathing, smiling, and doing whatever you Seers do.”

It was the first time someone besides King had mentioned my “ability.” In all honesty, I had been doing everything in my power to ignore the whole thing. It made me uneasy to have a skill I didn’t understand, but as King rightly pointed out, there’d be time for figuring out the “how” later.