The Ten Club

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  As I stared at the painful reminder of the life we no longer had together, King suddenly glanced at the crowd inside his house and then back at me, his eyes narrowing.

  Oh no. I knew that look. He was puzzling something out.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’m simply wondering something.”

  “Yes?”

  He scratched the black scruff on his jaw. “I’m wondering if this husband of yours is real. I find it odd that you are unwilling to go to Crete, where I might pick up his trail. And then there’s the image I saw in your head of us holding hands on a beach.”

  “He is real, and I don’t see your point.”

  “My point is that you’re not telling me something.” He stepped in closer. “What are you up to, Ms. Turner? I will find out one way or another.”

  Dammit. I had to earn his trust, but I knew trying to convince him with words would be fairly useless. Actions meant more to him.

  “Okay, then.” I sighed and walked past him, heading inside.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Call me when you get to Crete.” I left his house but felt his eyes on me until I got to my car. He definitely suspected me, but maybe Crete wasn’t such a horrible idea. Maybe it was just what he needed to remember.

  God, but Arch.

  I mentally shook my head at myself as I started the engine. I’d been so eager, so angry and upset by what King had done to me that I’d wanted revenge. And then for about ten seconds I’d wanted closure. But now, all I wanted was for those I loved to never, ever have to worry about 10 Club.

  Did I want King back, too? I couldn’t lie. I missed him so much that I couldn’t bear to think about it anymore. But I wouldn’t get back what we’d had because nothing under the sun could explain away his choices.

  Suddenly, part of me wondered if this was why he couldn’t remember me. Maybe he’d done it on purpose, choosing to let us go forever. He had to know there’d be no turning back if he left us like he had—unprotected, devastated, and feeling betrayed.

  Either way, I had to keep pushing forward. And at the moment, forward meant going to Crete.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I could hardly breathe on the long flight home to Greece. I felt far too nervous about seeing King again, and I missed Arch in a way that could only be described as a heartache. It wouldn’t go away until I held him again.

  Arriving at nine in the morning, I grabbed a cab home even though I could’ve called for our driver. I wasn’t a fan of servants and bodyguards. That was King’s world. Not mine. Same went for this home—a gleaming white modern mansion perched high on a hill overlooking the ocean, complete with tennis court, helicopter pad, fruit orchards and a private beach. King had spared no expense when he’d built it for us, using the excuse that this was the place we would live in the rest of our lives, so it had to be special.

  I burst through the front door and sprinted through the formal living room, dining room and kitchen, looking for Arch and Ypirétria, the seventy-year-old nanny who acted more like a fifty-year-old.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  A faint little coo caught my attention, and I followed the sound through the kitchen into the backyard, which was really a large walled-in terrace overlooking the beach below. I spotted Arch in his little baby swing on the lawn, Ypirétria sitting in a chair next to him.

  “Mommy’s home.”

  Arch looked at me with his big blue eyes and flashed a toothless smile. For the first time in days, my heart felt full again.

  “God, I missed you.” I ran and scooped him up, covering him in kisses.

  I spent the next day holding him as much as I could and trying to catch up on sleep. By the second day, I started to wonder what was taking King so long. I wanted this all to be over as quickly as possible. Worst of all, the time had finally given me a chance to digest the chaotic emotions I’d been bottling up. First, there was the grief of losing the love of my life. Then I’d found out that he’d volunteered to die so that Mack would live. I had cried so hard I threw up because I couldn’t stomach the pain. And then Mack called with the news about King being back, and I threw some clothes in a suitcase. I told Ypirétria I would be back in a few days, and I hopped on a plane to San Francisco. Between King dying and seeing him alive again, I hadn’t really had time to do much else other than react. Now I was beginning to see the pieces coming together and they told me that I needed to think through my next move carefully.

  One, I still wanted King to remember me. I wanted to know why he’d made his choice or if he had some plan that had gone horribly wrong. If by some small chance he could be saved, I felt I owed it to myself and Arch.

  Two, and a higher priority, 10 Club had to end. There were no ifs, ands, or buts. They were a constant threat to someone like me who had married a man with many 10 Club enemies, not to mention everyone wanted his arsenal in that warehouse back in San Francisco. He had everything from rare priceless art to the most frighteningly powerful objects. This was why King had made me a promise to dismantle the club. He knew it was a question of when, not if, they would come after me—a Seer who they believed had powers and access to King’s wealth.

  Three, Mack had to be dealt with somehow. No, I didn’t mean in a shady mob kind of way. I would never hurt him or his beautiful fiancée, Teddi. Those two had gone through their own kind of hell to be together, and I wanted them to be happy and safe. I just needed Mack to give me a little more time. He clearly wasn’t on board given that Teddi happened to be a Seer, too. The people in 10 Club would love to get their hands on someone like her, and with King not being himself, I’m guessing Mack knew his own brother might try to barter her away or use her in some manner like he’d used me.

  So yeah, I couldn’t blame Mack for wanting to take the 10 Club out ASAP.

  Still, I needed to push forward and do what I could to find out what happened to King. That meant getting closer to him and pushing for answers.

  On the third day, I had just put Arch down for a nap in the nursery—a beautiful room with a view of the ocean and murals of sea creatures—and went downstairs to start lunch. Ypirétria was doing her usual routine, which often involved yelling at me for trying to help fold clothes or clean up the kitchen. Housework was her domain and she was a very territorial creature. But her entire family had loyally served King for thousands of years, so that made her almost like a grandmother. I certainly couldn’t do without her.

  I opened the fridge, searching for something easy on my stomach, and my cell began to vibrate in my pocket.

  Unknown caller.

  I hit the green button on the tiny screen. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Turner, so nice to hear your voice.”

  Game time. My heart filled with an unpleasant weight. “King, nice of you to finally call.”

  “Is that a note of sarcasm I detect?”

  I blew out a breath. “Where are you?”

  “Right outside. I would have come to your front door, but it is the strangest thing,” his voice became pissy all of a sudden, “seems that someone has warded your property. Quite well, in fact.”

  Yeah. You did. And I felt nothing but relief that King could not enter because he’d made sure nothing “bad” could get inside.

  “A girl can never be too careful. I mean, there are all sorts of crazy people out there. Some of them even like to slice your wrists and steal your blood.”

  He laughed. “Are you always so amusing, Ms. Turner?”

  “Only for you, King.”

  “Excellent. Bring your amusing ass outside. I have some pleasing topics to discuss.”

  “What kind of pleasing?” Could he have remembered something? My pulse accelerated.

  “See you on the beach.”

  The call ended, and I rushed to find Ypirétria, who was folding Arch’s clothes in the laundry room. I told her to stay put.

  I changed into a pair of jeans and red sweater to shield me from the unusually cold January weather and hea
ded out to the yard and through our gate that led to the steps and beach below. Off in the distance, I spotted King’s impressive form—boxy shoulders, lean muscled frame, confident stance—in faded jeans and a dark sweater. My heart fluttered for a moment as I watched him standing there, gazing at something off on the horizon beyond the waves, just like I’d seen my King do a hundred times.

  He was still so beautiful. I miss you, King.

  I squared my shoulders and walked up beside him.

  “Another beautiful day here on the island of Crete, is it not, Ms. Turner?” He didn’t bother to look at me.

  The wind surged against the front of our bodies, pushing back King’s shiny black hair and making mine fly all over the place. I should’ve worn a ponytail, but there’d been no time for primping.

  “It’s wonderful,” I said dryly. I had zero desire to talk about the weather. “So tell me, King, did you pick up my husband’s trail?” Do you remember who you are?

  “You haven’t shown me the last place you saw him.”

  “We said goodbye at the front door.”

  He glanced sideways at me with an arched brow. “And where did he say he was going?”

  “To help his brother.”

  “What sort of trouble was his brother in?”

  Where is he going with this? “That I couldn’t say,” I lied, not wanting to give too much away.

  King turned to me and shook his head, tsking. “You are a terrible liar, Ms. Turner. Now I suggest you come clean and tell me what you’re up to, or today will be your last day on earth.”

  I would’ve shrugged him off—just another threat—but I knew this man. He wasn’t joking.

  “What happened to that pleasing news?” I asked.

  “I did not say who would be pleased.” He glanced at me and flashed a devilish smile.

  So he’d just said that to lure me outside. I could make a run for the house, but King would have me in two seconds.

  I sighed and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms. “I guess that means you don’t need any more of my blood,” I muttered.

  “You have all l require, and bagged Seer juice will do just fine.”

  I guessed he didn’t require a lot of “Seer juice” because I was about as powerful as a blank bullet. All pop, no power.

  I dropped my arms. “So you actually came here to kill me?”

  “That depends on you, Ms. Turner. Tell me the truth, and I might let you live. Lie to me, and I will end you right here, drain your blood, and dance in your memory at my dinner party tonight.”

  “You’re having another party? Here?”

  “Yes. I have a home not too far from here.”

  Wow. So King had another house I never even knew about.

  I always accepted that King was a man of many secrets. I knew what I was getting into when I fell in love with him, but that didn’t mean his secrets didn’t bother me.

  “It’s quite old—been in my family for centuries.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” I said flatly.

  “It is. And it is entirely your choice if you wish to live to see it.”

  So this was it. I could come clean, or he would kill me. Not even a hundred yards from Arch’s window and less than twenty feet from the spot where we first made love. King had built our luxurious fortress here for a reason. He always had one. Reasons, I mean.

  I cleared my throat and brushed my wild hair from my eyes. “Well, I’m sure that you think you want the truth, but you and I both know that sometimes we really want something entirely different.” I glanced toward the house. “For example, tell me what you see when you look at that house.”

  “I see a home that is built to look like a show palace when it is really a well-guarded stronghold. The walls are high enough to keep out people and prying eyes. The windows are tinted so no one can see in. There is a flat roof with a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the area around the home, which makes it ideal for defense. And if I were to guess, there are several tunnels running under the home that lead under the main road, where there are smaller homes with garages, and that at least one of those homes is owned by you and your husband and contains cash, cars, and weapons.”

  I blinked, but didn’t confirm. I mean, it was no shock to me that King would guess his own defense plan.

  He continued, “It is exactly the type of home I built for my wife.”

  My heart jolted against my rib cage. “What wife?” I grabbed his sleeve, my heart fluttering around in my stomach. “What wife, King?”

  He pinched his brow and winced, seeming disoriented.

  “King?” I should’ve been running, but I couldn’t. “Look at me. Fucking look at me. Who do you see when you look at me, King?”

  He finally looked, and all emotion drained from his face. “I see no one.”

  I snapped in that moment, and I knew I was snapping, but I’d kept so much bottled up that the thin scab just came right off.

  Goddammit. Godfuckingdammit! “No.” I slammed my fist into his chest. “Take another look. Look at that house. Look at my face.” I reached into my pocket and held up my phone. There was a picture of me and King, both cradling Arch. “Look and fucking tell me what you see.”

  King’s gray eyes stuck to the screen of my phone. The expression on his face—startle mixed with suspicion—made my hope bloom. He remembers us.

  “Why are you and my brother holding that child?” he asked.

  The bile nearly launched from my stomach. “Your…brother?” I spat. “King, look at me. Please, I’m begging you.”

  “I am looking, and I am still waiting for a reply.”

  I grabbed the sides of his face, pushed myself up on my toes and kissed him hard. The heat passed through our lips into my body, overtaking me immediately. His tongue, so soft and silky, skilled and enticing, delved into my mouth and made me burn for him. Without thinking, I slid my arms around his tight waist and pressed my body into him, aching for the intense spark only we had.

  He pushed me away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What the fuck, woman, are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to make you see.”

  “What?”

  “The truth.” I reached for his hand and held it up to my lips as the tears leaked from my eyes. “I am your wife. That picture with the baby is you, not Mack.” I looked up at him, hoping for a miracle. “I just want to know why you traded everything we had for death. You could’ve found another way to help Mack, but you just gave up so easily. Why, King? Tell me why you would do that to us.”

  A cleansing relief washed through me. My cards—raw, sad, and gritty—were out there on the table. So if there was a god, she would surely reward me with words of consolation from King—It was all some big mistake. The devil made me do it. I was entranced by a 10 Club member.

  King pulled his hand away. “I cannot.”

  Cannot. “Cannot what?”

  “I cannot allow you to continue with such treachery, Ms. Turner. I am afraid our journey ends here.” His hand lunged for my throat, and his long fingers wrapped around my neck, squeezing with such force that I felt the bones in my neck bending.

  I tried to push him away, but a man made of sheer will could not be deterred by anything physical in this world.

  “Please,” I croaked, “just let me go.”

  Vicious hatred simmered in his eyes. “You think you can mind-fuck me like that? You think you can stop me from taking 10 Club to the next level?”

  I clawed at his hands, but it had no impact. “No,” I croaked. “I just want to know why you swore to love me forever. But you welshed.”

  King’s grasp loosened, but he didn’t speak.

  “We were everything to you. Can’t you remember?” I whispered. “This house was built by you. Warded by you.”

  “Lies,” he growled, grabbing my shoulders.

  “No. Not lies, King.” I placed my hand over my stomach, dreading what I was about to reveal but seeing no other way to get through to
him. This little life inside me was so powerful that I could feel her from the moment she’d been conceived on the night King left. I’d been waiting to tell him when he came home. She was me and him and more powerful than I ever was. “Your daughter is here, and she needs you. But if you can’t find a way back,” I wiped away my tears, “then I have to protect her from you and those fucking evil people, King. She’s too special.”

  King’s nostrils flared and his gray eyes softened. “You are pregnant?”

  Arch was three months old, and it was supposed to be near impossible to conceive so quickly, but I had. Leave it to King to break every rule.

  I nodded. “She’s yours.”

  “And so is that little boy,” he stated.

  I nodded again, feeling every muscle in my body coil with desperation. Please, God. Please…

  “And someone has meddled with my mind to make me forget them.”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  King looked away, his jaw pulsing, his lips flat, his fists clenched.

  I waited with bated breath. Would he believe me or snap my neck?

  Come on, King. Come on.

  King swiveled toward me, snarling, and I shrank back.

  Fuck. Fuck. I pushed out my hands, wanting to protect us from his wrath.

  “I don’t remember you, Mia. And I don’t know who has fucked with my memory, but I promise that she,” he looked at my stomach, “you, and my son will never have anything to fear. Not from me.”

  I’m not going to lie. His words were exactly what I wanted to hear. And I easily could’ve taken them at face value, but I was no longer that naïve young woman he’d first met, so desperate for help that she would put her faith in anyone who showed up with a little shiny armor. I had lost so much, and Arch and this baby needed me to play it smart. And don’t think for a moment that I didn’t catch the subtle meaning of those last words: “Not from me.” That still left a whole hell of a lot of people to worry about.

  “How do I know I can trust you?” I asked simply to see what he’d say.