“She’ll be fine. It is just a cold.” King glared down at me with those steely eyes. “Isn’t that right, Veronica?”
Veronica? He’d lied to Vaughn about my name. Was King trading me away to this decrepit monster of a man or was King playing him? I didn’t know.
I looked around the room again. The wood paneling dripped with syrupy red blood that wasn’t really there.
Holy crap. I quickly had to choose between trusting King or calling his bluff with an apparent serial killer who wanted me as a sex slave. I decided against becoming the Bride of Chucky.
I nodded dumbly and then faked a sneeze. “Just a cold.”
Vaughn smiled. “Then I should get a discount. For what it’s costing me to acquire your stupid little trinket, I could buy five just like her.”
“But they won’t have that ass, those tits, and they won’t be virgins.” King gripped my wrist and pulled me up from the couch. “Let’s go.”
Ass. Tits. Virgin. Were those my selling points? For the record, I was no virgin.
We were just outside Vaughn’s office door when his two thugs blocked us. I hadn’t really noticed on the way in, but the two brawny-looking dudes with flabby arms and thick bellies were more mass than brawn.
“Move,” King commanded, his voice pure menace.
I know it sounds strange, but I understood that death was a part of life, and I’d gladly take someone down with my own two hands if it meant saving myself from being murdered or raped. Short of that, I didn’t want to watch anyone die. Yet, as the tattoo on my arm began to tingle, I knew I was about to see it happen anyway.
“Vaughn,” King said, his eyes sharply pinned to one of the men, “are you sure you want this? Because I’m not leaving without the girl, and you’ll have one hell of a mess to clean up.”
Vaughn hadn’t moved from his desk. “I have another proposal. You leave the girl, and we let you walk with only one of your arms missing.”
King quickly glanced at me. “Close your eyes.”
I didn’t want to, but like before, I couldn’t stop myself from obeying him. My lids reluctantly slid over my pupils. The door to Vaughn’s office slammed shut, leaving him inside, I presumed, and leaving us in the dark, disgusting storeroom alone with Vaughn’s two thugs. I didn’t hear screams or any sounds of a struggle. I simply heard a whoosh of air and then two sad little gurgles.
“Let’s go.” King’s powerful grip tugged me out of my stupor. I opened my eyes, stumbled forward, and flashed a glance over my shoulder. The two men lay face down in a pool of blood.
Ohmygod. Ohmygod. He killed them. He killed them. Don’t panic, Mia. Stay calm.
When we got inside the SUV, Arno calmly drove away like we’d just made a stop for a refreshing Fresca and a bag of Doritos. I didn’t dare say a word. Don’t get me wrong. There was a cataclysmic fear hammering away inside my chest over what just happened, but now I knew without a doubt that I had to get away from King. He’d killed those men in less than a second, he’d done something to my mind, and I was sure he’d killed those officials at the Mexico City airport. King was dangerous, perhaps even more than that psycho back at the store.
Who had I gotten myself mixed up with?
Fuck. I had to get away. Every step I took only pulled me deeper and deeper into a situation I wasn’t equipped to handle or comprehend.
I bit my tongue and focused on my breath. My passport and things were back at the hotel. I would grab them, take a cab to the airport, and get the first flight to anywhere.
I am so sorry, Justin. I hope you’re okay. After all, I’d done all this for him, but only to tragically get myself tangled up in some horrible mess.
“I’m surprised, Miss Turner,” said King.
“Oh?” I kept my focus on the nocturnal scenery—rows and rows of houses butted right up against each other and covered with graffiti.
“No questions? No snide remarks?” he said.
“Not really. You did what you had to,” I said, playing it cool. I began to hum “A Hard Day’s Night” by the Beatles, but then stopped myself. Humming wasn’t going to soothe away this much anxiety.
“I always protect what’s mine,” he said with a venomous scowl. “And did you do what I asked?”
“Mine.” It felt so strange to hear him refer to me as his possession. It created an unusual little tingle right where my heart was.
“I didn’t see anything,” I lied.
“I find that rather odd.”
“It doesn’t matter what you think. I didn’t see anything,” I lied again. Maybe if he thought I was of no use to him, he’d let me go. “Maybe I’m not this light-seer person you think I am.”
“Then why is your heart pounding like you’ve just seen a horrible monster and you want to flee?”
Hold it in, Mia. Hold it in. “I watched two men die after a botched attempt to sell my body to a mass murderer.”
As soon as I said “mass murderer,” I knew I’d slipped up. That meant I’d seen something in that office to tell me Vaughn had killed people there.
Oddly, King didn’t call me out on my lie. “That was not how I’d planned the event to unravel, and before you interject another of your witty colloquialisms, my plan was not to sell you. My only objective was to get you inside long enough to look around. I did not anticipate that Vaughn would want you so badly.”
Insult or compliment? I wasn’t sure.
“Then why not tell me your plan going in?” I asked.
“You are no actress, Miss Turner. I did what was needed to sell the story.”
“Which was?”
King looked away and stared out the window. “I told him you were someone else. It doesn’t matter now.”
I scoffed. “And what did you ask in return? For that stupid Artifact? What is it, anyway? A bowl or a cup for your Inca collection?” After all, I suspected that’s really what this had become about. King could care less about finding my brother unless it was a means to his precious little Artifact.
“The Artifact isn’t Incan. Nor is it pre-Hispanic. But none of that matters because Vaughn lied. Vaughn doesn’t have it, or he would have traded for you right there on the spot.”
Great. “And what’s to stop him from coming after me?”
“He doesn’t know who you are, and I wouldn’t worry about it now even if he did,” King replied.
That was a strange response because I sure as hell was worried. “Why?”
King’s beautiful eyes glittered in the dark. “He won’t come after you because now he’ll have his sights set on something infinitely more valuable.”
“What? The Artifact?”
“No. Me.”
I laughed. That was the funniest damned thing I’d heard all day. “He wants to make you his sex slave? That’s scary.”
King leaned back in the black leather seat and allowed his superbly masculine body to take up most of the space: long legs stretching toward my feet, one large arm extending over the backseat, touching my shoulder. “That certainly would be frightening, but no.”
I tried to inch away, but I was practically against the door as it was. “So why would Vaughn want you?”
“As I said, he is a collector of sorts.”
He collects arrogant, rich bastards?
King mumbled something to himself and pushed up his left sleeve. The orange streetlamps flickered across the interior of the vehicle, and I caught a glimpse of his forearm. Contrary to my earlier guess, his tattoo wasn’t like mine. King’s was a sundial about four inches wide and the most intricate body art I’d ever seen. The effects were astonishing, as if the dial stood up like a shark fin from his skin. And the roman numerals were raised, too, giving the design a sort of lifelike movement to it.
“When we return to the hotel,” King noticed my eyes fixated on his arm and pushed down his sleeve, “you will stay with Mack while I take care of a few things.”
I wondered if King meant he was going to “take care” of Vaughn just like he??
?d taken care of those people at the airport. Didn’t matter. I was getting the hell out of there.
“Sure. Whatever,” I responded.
King’s pupils suddenly looked like those of an animal when caught in the headlights.
I held in a gasp.
“Do not think of going anywhere on your own, Miss Turner. It is not safe out there for you.”
Clearly. And it wasn’t safe with King, either. Yes, he’d kept me from being taken, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.
The SUV pulled up to the hotel.
“Stay with Mack,” King said. “This is not a request.”
I nodded, opened the door, and entered the lobby. Feeling his eyes watching my every step, I tried to keep the pace of my stride calm and collected; I didn’t want King to sense the horrible panic undulating just beneath the surface.
As soon as I was out of sight, I rushed to my room, grabbed my passport from the safe in the closet, and went into the bathroom to get my toothbrush. When I came out, I unexpectedly saw Mack on the bed, eating some snack from the mini-bar, drinking a beer, and watching rugby on TV.
I yelped.
“Hey, I ordered a sandwich for you. Wanna watch the game?” He muted the channel.
“I’m not hungry. Where the hell did you come from?
He shot me a glance. “The room next door.”
“Knocking would be really nice next time.”
He looked at the stuff in my hands. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I thought I’d go to the gym for a few minutes. I need to work off some serious anxiety.”
He took a sip of beer, but kept his eyes on the match. “Yeah. I just heard. Sorry I missed the fun.”
“How did you hear?”
“King called right after he dropped you off. He said the meeting didn’t go well.”
“Did he tell you he killed two guys?”
Mack shrugged. “I’m sure they had it coming.”
That was his response?
“And, no,” he added, “you can’t go to the gym. You’re staying here.”
I glowered. “Are you prepared to physically keep me from leaving this room?”
Mack sighed, dusted off his hands, and swung his legs to the floor. “Mia, don’t do this. You’re a smart young woman, and I am an extremely well-trained man. If I wasn’t, why would King trust your safety to me?”
“I just want to go to the gym, Mack.”
“If you really want to work off some stress, there are other ways.”
His statement was not accompanied by a suggestive smirk or an innocent example such as yoga or meditation, so I wasn’t sure what he’d meant. Therefore, I opted to respond with a frown—a safe bet, just in case he was testing the hookup waters.
“You’re not leaving.” He stood from the bed and towered over me. When Mack wasn’t serious, his face had a playful, boyish look to it—lively blue eyes, messy blond hair, and a funny smile. He reminded me a little of Justin. But when this man was serious, I could see he went to the King school of intimidation. His “don’t fuck with me” gaze was well rehearsed as was his menacing body language.
I threw up my hands. “Fine, Mack. You win. I’ll stay. But then you have to swing by the gift shop and buy my tampons.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow.
“And some pads,” I added. “I sleep with pads. Extra thick so I don’t leak. My flow is really heavy on the first day.”
Again he swallowed. I could smell the fear.
Bad ass, my ass.
“I’ll go with you and stand outside while you buy them,” he muttered.
“Wimp.” I threw everything on the bed, except for my passport and wallet, and headed out the door.
He didn’t argue, and I could swear that during the entire elevator ride down to the lobby, the man’s face sizzled red.
Seriously? The period thing was the oldest trick in the book.
Well, lucky me, I supposed.
We walked to the small convenience store at the back of the lobby, where Mack stood outside the window watching me like a hawk as I perused the array of sundries. Crap. I needed him to look away for a minute. Just one lousy minute. Didn’t matter which way, either. I could slip out the back or the front. Instead, those puppy-dog eyes, filled with reserved caution, watched closely. I had to do something.
I grabbed the biggest box of tampons and held them up. “Hey, Mack!” I shook the box high in the air, causing the other two customers, the clerk, and a few lucky guests passing by the entrance to look at me. “I don’t know these brands. Which do you think is better for the gusher between my legs? I don’t want to stain the sheets. It’s such a nice hotel!”
Mack frowned and blew out an uncomfortable breath, cheeks inflated and everything. He turned away, pretending he didn’t know me.
“Mack! Hey, Mack!” I yelled.
He crossed his arms, stared at his feet, and sort of slinked away. He was just a few yards from the entrance, but it was all I needed.
I dropped the box, bolted out the door, and headed to the back exit of the hotel. One and a half blocks away, I grabbed a taxi.
“Heathrow,” I told the driver, but then realized that would be the first place Mack and King would look. I couldn’t get on a plane. Not yet, anyway.
But you can get on a train.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” I said to the driver. “Can you take me to the train station instead? Not the closest one. Make it a few stations away.”
She gave me a look, but didn’t argue.
“And could we stop by a bank on the way there?”
I’d have to withdraw some cash and keep moving every time I did that. Otherwise, they’d be able to track me down. I felt my phone vibrate in my leather jacket.
Crap. It was probably Mack or King asking where the hell I’d gone. I’d have to turn it off.
I dug it from my pocket and looked at the screen. “Oh my God, Justin.”
“Mia, I told you not to come looking.” Justin sounded furious, but I couldn’t care less.
“Goddammit. Where are you, Justin? Where?”
There was a pause. “You need to go home, Mia. Tell Mom and Dad that I love them, but not to come looking, either.”
“No. Goddammit. What’s wrong with you? Are you mixed up with that Vaughn man? He’s dangerous, Justin! Do you hear me? He’s a killer. He buys women and kills them.”
“Mia, what the fuck did you do?” He laughed with a bitter groan. “Shit. I can’t believe this.”
“Justin, what. Is. Going. On?”
“Mia. You have absolutely no idea what you’re getting mixed up in. Don’t go near Vaughn. Just go home. You can’t help me.”
“Come with me. Are you here in London?”
“Fuck. You’re in London? Get the hell out of there! They’ll use you to get to me. They’ll kill you.”
“Who’s they?” I asked. “King? Is King one of them?”
“I don’t know King, but you can’t trust anyone. They have eyes everywhere. And stay the fuck away from Vaughn.”
Had he lost his mind? And who was “they”?
“Justin, did he kill your team? Does this have to do with that Artifact?”
There was another long pause. “Mia, I won’t be calling you anymore. I can’t risk it. Just…Mia, go home. Tell Mom and Dad I’m sorry. That I didn’t know what I was doing. I love you.”
The call ended, and I simply stared at the empty screen. The breath slipped from my lungs, and the life drained from my body. I felt myself being washed away, carried off in the current of this nightmare. The tears trickled from my eyes. “I can’t go home, Justin,” I whispered. I was now stuck in this mess, too.
CHAPTER TEN
When I arrived at the Edinburgh station, it was just before midnight, and I immediately asked around for the nearest hotel-slash-motel-slash-whateverwithabed. I needed to close my eyes somewhere safe and think things through. The long train ride had done little more than g
ive me another migraine and heighten my sense of dread. Was it because I knew that running from King wasn’t a permanent solution? Sooner or later, that man would find me. After all, he could find anything or anyone. Except the Artifact and my brother, apparently.
Shit. My brother…What was I going to do about my parents? It wasn’t like Justin to be out of touch for so long, and the lie I’d told them had expired. I should be back at home by now from my fake trip. With me nowhere to be found, they’d be panicking. They’d be shattered. But what the hell could I tell them? The truth was out of the question, they wouldn’t believe another lie, and if I tried to feed them the bullshit that Justin fed me, then they’d do exactly what I had: come looking.
“What a shitty situation.” I trudged my way up the stairs to the third floor of the small hotel. The building was old and smelled like an antique shop. I had no clue why I chose this city of all places, but I simply wanted to get out of London, and Edinburgh was the next train to depart.
I supposed, too, that King wouldn’t look for me here. Once he figured out that I hadn’t gotten on any flights, which I was sure he would, then he’d start checking places he’d know were familiar to me and, perhaps, traveled to previously for work. How would he know that? That man probably knew everything about me, including my bra size. He’d known about Sean—the guy in New York I “dated” casually. No one knew about him. Not even Becca. King also knew that I hummed Beatles songs when I got nervous and that my favorite “stress-elixir” was whiskey.
I unlocked the hotel door, flipped on the lights, and sighed. It was a gloomy, cramped room with brown carpet and a small bed. Still, it was better than nothing.
I locked the door behind me, flipped off the lights, and lay down, covering my eyes with my forearm. Tomorrow, when my head cleared, I’d think out options.
“Hello, Miss Turner.”
I bolted to an upright sitting position. The tall, imposing shadow of King’s frame lurking in the corner was unmistakable.
I blinked several times. “Impossible,” I whispered. This had to be another one of those crazy dreams.
King stepped toward the bed, the lights from the street illuminating his face. His beautiful, luminescent eyes burned with the kind of fury that could stop a person’s heart. “No. Not impossible.”