His gaze softened. “Then you may turn down my offer,” he said in a quiet tone, “but just remember, everything comes with a price, my dear Jeni Arnold. Even walking away. Perhaps the contents of my warehouse will fall into the wrong hands.” He lowered his voice. “But I trust you and your brave heart will make the right choices after I am gone.”
I couldn’t take it. I didn’t want him to die. Why was he asking me to do this when he knew how I felt? It wasn’t fair.
I know. And I thank you, he said without speaking. I will always be grateful to you. Still seated, he reached for my hand and bent his head, placing a soft kiss.
I soaked it in. Every second of it. He wanted to leave this world and go beyond the wall of death. He hoped he would find Mia and his children.
But I wanted him to stay. For me. I was terrified of a world without him. My dead king. But in my heart, I knew… Whatever this thing was between us, I couldn’t be selfish. He taught me that.
He released my hand, leaving his heat on my skin.
I looked at the floor. “I understand. But I still don’t want your things.”
“I am beginning to see that those things were never truly mine, Jeni. I was merely collecting them for their rightful owner. The woman who was truly meant to wield such power and make this world something better instead of darker—a task I was not up to, I’m afraid.”
“But you don’t understand—I think I lo—”
“You do not know what love is.” His tone went firm. “Not yet. But you will. Someday, my dear Seer.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Did I mean it? Was I really falling in love with King? For the remainder of the flight, I sat quietly in my seat. My mind kept fighting to keep my shit together, while my heart struggled with the notion of letting go of King. Not just letting go, killing him.
But the die had been cast now. The invitations had been emailed. I needed to worry about getting my dad back, which meant I had to stay strong and focused. No tears. No going into hysterics. No thinking about what was being done to him by that sadistic woman. King’s plan had been set in motion, and if I did my part, I’d get my dad back in one piece.
While I focused on all that, King’s phone began ringing nonstop. Yes, his plane had a phone. And people were calling, begging for ten seconds of his time before the “party.” Between Tallahassee and San Francisco, I must’ve listened in on a hundred speaker calls. I realized King wanted me to hear. It was a crash course in manipulation, diplomacy, and arm twisting. Every person wanted something from him: Am I on your shit list? Should I be worried? Where have you been? What will happen to Serina?
I deciphered the following: Everyone feared him, and nothing was sacred to these people. Nothing. They’d sell their own mothers to protect their asses.
A few minutes before landing, King ended the last call with a German woman who was worried about losing her court case and wanted King’s assurances her membership privileges wouldn’t “lapse.” Apparently, she’d filleted a few men for fun and got caught. Ten Club was making it all go away.
After he ended the call, I shook my head. “What a bunch of sickos.”
King sighed. “Yes. Quite.”
Sitting in front of him, I stood and took the seat next to him, across the aisle. “I can’t believe you voluntarily hung out with these guys.”
“It is a very long story.”
I bet. “So, is everyone coming to your evil shindig?” I hoped so because that was part of the plan, and I wanted everything to go off without a hitch. My dad’s life was at stake and, therefore, mine. I would never get over losing him. Not like this.
“They will be there,” King said, his tone cocky. “Even if it’s merely for the enjoyment of watching Serina and me face off.”
Ah. “But she isn’t more powerful than you, is she?” King never gave me his laundry list of skills, but I knew they were impressive.
“She believes she is stronger. After so much time, perhaps she is; but all we need is for her to show. Nothing else matters.”
I still couldn’t believe I was doing this. Neither could my tangled stomach. I just hoped my dad was all right.
“So how long has Serina been leader?” I asked.
King went back to work on his laptop. “Twenty-five years.”
“I don’t follow.” Not a surprise because King only spoke in puzzles.
His cold eyes slowly glided up to meet mine. “I have been gone for over twenty-five years.”
Wait. What? But how—I mean… I shook my head, trying to clear it up. “You were sitting in that metal box, drowning repeatedly, for a quarter century.”
“Yes.”
No. No. That couldn’t be right.
“I assure you,” he said, “it was as big a shock to me as it is to you.”
Holy crap. “That’s why you freaked out over the date in the newspaper.”
“I do not ‘freak out.’”
I’d take that as a yes. So, basically, when he “woke up” in that metal box, he hadn’t realized the date. And it wasn’t like he had a phone on him, displaying the date.
He went on, “I was too preoccupied with my situation to notice the year. I simply assumed it had been a few weeks.”
I scrubbed my face with my hands and whooshed out a breath. “You should’ve told me.”
“Would it have changed anything?”
“It sure as hell changed something for you,” I pointed out.
“It was a wake-up call. Until I faced my demons, nothing would resolve. Five years. A decade. Twenty-five years. A hundred. I realized I would not be allowed to die until I dealt with whatever circumstances had placed me in that box.”
Wow. Twenty-five years. He had been sitting at the bottom of the ocean before I was born. “Then one day, Hurricane Mia—named the same as your wife—came through and washed you to shore, right in front of my jobsite.”
He nodded.
How the hell was I supposed to believe any of this wasn’t being controlled by something greater? The events were too orchestrated, too timely, too perfect.
My mind churned, searching for explanations.
King said that Seers never truly died, that their souls remained anchored to the earth. It was all foreign territory to me, but maybe it was possible that they’d created the hurricane. Hell, it was even named after his late wife.
“Are you sure Mia crossed over?” I asked.
“Yes.”
My brain worked overtime, trying to connect the pieces—the hurricane, the pull I felt toward King, my desire to help him make things right, and my inexplicable feelings. I wanted him. I wanted to help him any way I could, even if it pained me.
I raked my fingers through my hair. Could King be wrong about Mia leaving? Maybe what I felt was her—her pushing me from beyond the grave to help him. Maybe she’s the one who protected me from Randall, not death. If she was behind all this, it would explain a lot.
King shot a distressed look my way. I knew he could hear my thoughts.
“Am I right?” I stood, hovering over him in his seat. “Am I?”
“I wish you were, but no. Mia is gone.”