Mack (King #4)(45)

His dark voice flowed through the door as if inside the small room with me. I was beginning to learn that while King was no longer a disembodied spirit walking in the world of the living, he still had an abundance of impressive and very spooky powers. Such as being able to project himself into a person’s head, mind control, and mass hypnosis. It was a f*cking miracle I was still alive because I realized he couldn’t kill me just by looking at me.

“I am not that powerful,” he said through the other side of the door. “You sound as if you watch too many of the Z-Files.”

“X-Files. And get out of my head.”

“I am merely attempting to ascertain if you plan to double-cross me,” he explained.

Why would I do that? I asked.

Because I have decapitated you, disemboweled you, burned you at the stake, and—

Okay. I see your point, I replied. But get out of my head! And he called the passengers on the plane “annoying.”

“I will never fly commercial again,” he said aloud. “They clearly design those cabins for men without cocks or legs.”

I laughed. Sadly, we’d been in a hurry, so he’d purchased seats on Southwest, not understanding this concept of economy-only seating.

“Yes, well, I thought I would simply take a seat in first class. Who invented such a plane without first class? A moron with a vagina, I am guessing.”

Still a chauvinist pig. How did Mia put up with him?

“Are you dressed yet?” he asked.

I finished putting on my tennis shoes and opened the door. He looked at me and a tiny smile flickered across his lips.

I looked down at my slot-machine sweater, complete with a sequin handle. “It’s all they have, King.”

He chuckled and followed me to the register so I could pay. I had to admit, seeing this different version of King—less callous, less serious—really made my heart ache that much more for Mack. I imagined how he might be if he weren’t carrying around all that baggage and self-loathing.

About forty minutes later, we were sitting in a suite called a Skyloft at the MGM. I’d never seen a hotel room that looked more like a five-star, modern townhouse slash nightclub with a view of Vegas.

“This Talia must be a high roller,” I said, looking out the two-story-high windows on the top floor of the high-rise hotel.

“When one has powers such as hers, gambling is just an easy way to make money.”

I understood that he meant she had her ways of winning, just like King had his ways of finding people and then convincing the bellhop to let us in to wait for our “friend.”

“Well, well, well,” said a sugary-sweet voice from the black lacquered double doors. “What brings the infamous King to my kingdom of sin?”

I looked at the woman and honestly didn’t know what to think. She had shiny long brown hair, was about my height—five seven—and weighed about a hundred pounds from the look of her. But her anorexic frame wasn’t what had me gawking. Lord, that face. Her skin was so tight from too many face-lifts, I was sure her cheekbones were going to pop out underneath the inch of pancake makeup she wore.

“Cut the bullshit, Talia,” he said in a cold, menacing tone, showing no signs of his recent change of heart. “You know why I’m here.”

“I can guess.” She dipped her head. “You’re looking for your brother.”

So Talia didn’t know Mack was dead. I assumed King wasn’t going to share either.

“No,” King said. “I am looking for something he stole from me. Something he then traded with you.”

She cackled into the air, then withdrew a cigarette from her shiny gold handbag and lit it up. “Well, then you’re wasting your time, King. Because I traded with him fair and square, per the rules of the 10 Club.” She blew out a big puff of smoke.

King stepped in. “It’s mine, Talia. I need it for another trade.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Don’t treat me like an idiot. I know you want the thing for your sweet little Mia.” She rolled her eyes. “God, I should’ve choked her when I had the chance.”

King didn’t react to the jab. I held my breath, waiting to see where this would go.

King shook his head condescendingly. “Since we both know you don’t need the chalice because you have no one you care for or who’s ever cared for you—alive or dead—why don’t you name your price so I can be on my way, Talia.”

A sinister rage flickered in her eyes. “I want Miranda taken out and myself appointed as the new president of 10 Club.”

His blue, blue eyes flickered. “You know that I am merely a member. I cannot grant such a thing.”

From the way she cocked a badly drawn eyebrow, I could see she didn’t believe him. “You and I both know you can make things happen—you have influence among the other members.”

King shook his head. “You wouldn’t last a day as president—the other members will kill you before the announcement goes out.”

She glared at him. “I wasn’t done yet.” Meaning, she had more demands?

“Go on.” King crossed his thick arms.

“I want you.”

He scoffed. “Never going to happen.”

“Why? Because you married that little Seer cunt.”