King’s (The King Trilogy #1)(51)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

My stomach twisted in on itself. Obviously, that was a lie. King had marked me even before we went to Vaughn. And even so, Vaughn never gave King the Artifact. There was no “deal.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

King smiled. This time, it was a genuine one. “Are you worried for me, Miss Turner?”

I shrugged and looked down at my feet. “Can you tell Justin I love him and that I don’t blame him for any of this?” The tears began to trickle again. “And…if he ever gets the chance, we hope he’ll come home.”

Even as the words left my lips, I knew that would be hard unless Vaughn was somehow dealt with. And from what King had just said, that might not ever happen unless someone, other than him, decided to take Vaughn down discreetly.

King nodded and headed for the door.

“Take good care of him, King,” I said.

“If your brother delivers the Artifact, he will want for nothing the rest of his life.”

Except his family, I thought. But it was better than him being dead.

“Oh, and Miss Turner?” King looked back at me with those hypnotic eyes.

“Yes?”

“You are not off the hook. Remember, I am a man of my word.”

I swallowed hard and watched his large, sleek, suited body disappear out the door. King meant that he still wanted to punish me.

“We’ll see about that, King.”

I would never again make the mistake of giving in to my desire for him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

After King left, I took a long, long time to gather myself. After all, I was in no hurry to go anywhere with my broken heart. King would be gone for the next few days, permanently severing my brother from my family while I’d be stuck with Mack, wondering what on earth to say to my parents. Soon, they’d be receiving word that Justin was dead. Dead. And I’d know that wasn’t the truth.

“This can’t be happening,” I muttered.

“I feel like that at least once per day.”

I jumped.

Mack. He stood in the doorway looking exhausted. He wore a pair of faded button flies and an army green T-shirt. The ink on his bare meaty biceps and forearms was on display, making him look more like a football player than an ex-military-whatever-slash-pilot-slash-bodyguard.

“Hey,” I said and flashed a smile at his tired face.

“Hey.” He jerked his messy blond bedhead in my direction and yawned. It had only been about an hour or so since we’d landed at SFO.

“Long time no see.” I sighed and passed him, heading for the elevator, where I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the stainless steel doors.

Crap. I tried to smooth out my own bedhead—the one resulting from five frisky minutes with King—before Mack noticed.

“Yeah,” Mack said. “Being away from you was so brutal that I decided the only way to cope was sleeping.”

That man really liked his sleep. “Sorry. I’m sure you know this wasn’t my idea.”

“Yes, I know. So…how’d it go? Was he hard on you?”

Oh hell. How could I possibly respond to that? King had been hard on me, but not the way Mack meant. “I guess you could say that.”

Mack responded by crinkling his brows, as if to say, “Huh?”

We stepped inside the elevator and rode down in awkward silence. The elevator doors opened, and we stepped outside onto the cold, wet street. At least the drizzle of rain had stopped.

“So,” I said. “I guess I should call Becca and warn her we’re coming.” I started to dig my cell from my handbag.

“You’re staying at my place tonight.”

I looked at Mack’s jetlagged expression. “Your place?”

“Relax,” he grumbled. “Don’t look so panicked. It was King’s suggestion.”

“King suggested I sleep at your apartment?” I found that hard to believe.

“I happen to live in a house, Mia. But, yes, this was his suggestion. He said that after your punishment, you might need a little comfort.”

Comfort? Punishment? I ran my tongue over my teeth. What did that even mean? If I’d had sex with King, was he implying that Mack would be there to cuddle with me afterwards because King sure the hell wasn’t going to do it? Or had King really intended to hurt me and leave me a mess? What a sick—

“You okay, Mia?” Mack asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“What did he do to you?”

I cleared my throat. “Nothing. He did nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Mack raised a brow. “Okay.”

My cell buzzed in my hand. It was my father. “Dad?” I looked at my watch. It was three in the morning. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s your mother. She had a stroke.”

My body filled with a shock so profound that I couldn’t move. “Is she all right?”

“No. She’s in a coma.” My father’s voice quivered.

“Where are you?” I asked. Mack gripped my shoulder, knowing something bad had just happened.

“We’re at the St. Francis emergency room.”

“I’ll be right there,” I said.

“Mia,” he said, “I remember you took that man’s card. The one who came to see us about Justin. I need you to call him and find your brother.”

Shit. My brother. “Uh. Okay.” I ended the call and looked at Mack. “I need to get a hold of King. It’s urgent.”

Mack slipped his cell from his pocket and dialed. “Here.” He held it out to me. “Leave a message.”

“I thought you said that he’s never far.” Not that I fully understood what that meant.

“He told me if anything came up, this was the best way to reach him tonight.”

I grabbed this phone and waited for the beep. “King. It’s Mia. You can’t let my brother do this. My mom’s in the hospital. Shit, King. Tell Justin he can’t do this to us. He can’t do this to my father. We need him here.”

I ended the call, knowing there was little hope of King changing his plans; there wasn’t a compassionate bone in that man’s body. But I had to try. Didn’t I?

Mack and I loaded into his car, which had been parked along the street. It was an expensive-looking, black Mercedes with tinted windows.

“Before you say anything, this is King’s car. Mine’s in the shop.” He smiled. “I drive a Prius. A green one. Because I’m green.”