Mack (King #4)

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Authors: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
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complained. “Last time I did, I ended up dead. Why did you hire him as your driver again?”
    Dead? This had to be a dream.
    “Because I am a man,” he replied. “One who doesn’t ask permission from a woman.”
    “You went there? Seriously?” She sighed. “Go check on him. Please?” she added sweetly.
    “Fine. But this is not over, Mia. And you owe me hot desk sex—”
    Desk sex?
    “Yes. Fine. It’s a deal. Go,” said the woman.
    “Promise?”
    “I’m no welsher—you know that.”
    “Excellent,” he said, his voice filled with lust. “Today is turning out much better than I’d hoped. Except for the part where you didn’t allow me to kill my brother’s executioner. That part is irritating, and we shall have words tonight.” I heard heavy footsteps walking away.
    “Honey, can you hear me?” the woman said, a soft hand stroking my cheek.
    “Who are you?” I mumbled, trying to get my eyes to focus on the young blonde woman sitting on the edge of my bed. She wore a brown leather jacket and had her hair pulled back, but those were the only real details I could focus on.
    “My name is Mia. I’m Mack’s sister-in-law.”
    The Mia from the story? So she was real. Of course, that didn’t mean the rest of his story was. “Why are you in my house?”
    “We need to find Mack before you do.”
    Huh? “I don’t understand.”
    “I know you’re not feeling well, but we need to know if you’ve seen him.”
    “Seen who?” I tried to play stupid.
    There was a long pause. “Mack. He’s blond, tall, goofy smile, and has those all-American good looks? Lots of tattoos on his arms.”
    The Mack I knew certainly didn’t have a goofy smile. Nevertheless, “Don’t know him,” I lied. “Why are you in my house?” I repeated.
    “Because if we don’t find him before you do, he’ll die. For good this time—we know he took off his necklace.”
    What the ever-fucking-hell did that mean?
    “Please, Theodora. Tell me if you’ve seen him.”
    I didn’t know how to respond and that meant keeping my mouth shut. Perhaps these were the “they” Mack had referred to when he’d said someone was looking for him. In any case, this wasn’t making sense. They also didn’t seem to know that he was at my facility. So how the hell had they connected the two of us?
    “Why do you think I know this man?” I asked. “And why would I want to kill anyone?”
    “According to my husband, you’ve known Mack for over three thousand years. And you always find him. And then you try to kill him. Oh, and you’re in love with him, too.”
    I must be hallucinating again. Or was I?
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    TEDDI
    The obscenely gorgeous preppy blonde named Mia—possible double for Scarlett Johansson?—heated up some canned chicken soup and made two slices of dry toast, politely commenting on the lack of “anything human to eat in my kitchen,” before swearing my illness would pass just as soon as I started accepting the truth.
    Truth. Pfft. Clearly, she was on something. And if she wasn’t, she needed to be. Something hardcore with an antipsychotic chaser. And if those weren’t effective, there was always tequila. For me, of course.
    “The same thing happened to me, Theodora. But I promise, it gets better,” she’d said.
    “What does?” I’d asked.
    “Being a Seer. And you have no idea how happy I am to have found you—I think we’re the only two left in the world.” Then she’d added, “Can’t wait to see what gifts you have. Oh—and when you start to see the colors, don’t panic. Just let it in.” She’d sounded almost giddy about it.
    Yes, I’d seen colors on the walls after my session with Mack, like the entire world had been Warholized, but that had been a function of my synapses misfiring due to my nervous system being overloaded.
    Seeing no point in arguing with this delusional person, I simply nodded. She then left shortly after, promising to return soon to check on me, also mentioning that I

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