Free Mack (King #4) by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

dissolving.
    “I’ll fucking kill them,” I growled. “I will rip out their goddamned hearts and make them watch.”
    I mentally stumbled back. None of this was me, yet…it was. The rage, the hate, the power I felt blooming inside with the knowledge that I came equipped to beat down anything or anyone who got in my way.
    I rose to my feet, fists clenched, every muscle tensed with raw, potent will. The will to topple, overcome, hit, and kill. No one will take me down this time. Not fucking King. No one.
    None of this was rational, but it all felt saner than the world I saw in front of me with my own eyes.
    I turned and headed to my office, where I grabbed my purse and keys—both had been left there on Monday when I’d fallen ill. I would drive home, park a few blocks away, sneak back inside my house, pack my things, and set out to find Mack.
    Wherever he’d gone, I would find him.
    How? I just knew I would. Like a magnet pulling itself toward metal. It was just like Mia said. Except for the part about wanting to hurt Mack. To the contrary, I wanted to protect him.
    On the way out, I passed by the guard station and informed them that our John Doe had apparently checked himself out. I told them he wasn’t a risk to himself so to simply file the paperwork. I didn’t want anyone looking for Mack but me.
    Five minutes after pulling out of the parking lot, I sat at a lonely red light, thinking about where I’d start my search, when I heard that dark, familiar voice from the backseat of my car. “Head east. I know a place we can go.”
    “Shit!” I yelped, simultaneously jumping in my seat and swiveling my body to see who the hell was in the back of my car. Mack? “ What are you doing?” I yelled, clutching the fabric of my sweater over my heart. “And how the fuck did you get in here?”
    He was just sitting there looking completely casual about it—arm resting over the top of the backseat, one leg stretched out. He also wore a leather jacket, and though I couldn’t quite make out the style, I imagined he probably looked sexy as hell in it.
    “You left your keys on your desk,” he said. “I used the remote to unlock the door.”
    It dawned on me that the question I’d asked was pretty tame compared to all the other monstrosities waiting in line.
    “Mack, what the fuck is going on?” I barked.
    “You mean my brother?”
    “Yes! How’d you know?”
    “It was only a question of time before he located you—or me—he’s very talented at finding things.”
    What the hell, then? I spat inside my head. “And it didn’t cross your mind to warn me? He came to my house to kill me, Mack! Because he said I am going to kill you.”
    I stared at the large shadow in my backseat, waiting for a reply. It didn’t come.
    “Well?” I prodded.
    “Mia was with him, and I’m sure she made my brother behave. The light is green. Drive east.”
    “Hell no. Not until you tell me why those crazy assholes broke into my house and said all those things.” And made me soup.
    “It’s like you said. They’re crazy. And they’re looking for me because I took something from them. That’s all.”
    I didn’t buy it, but had to ask anyway. “What did you take?”
    “The Incan Chalice of Life. I traded it with someone who helped me find you.”
    Okay. Wasn’t expecting that answer.
    “May we drive now?” he said.
    “Yes. But we’re going back to the center.” There we could talk under the watchful eye of the security staff.
    “You and I both know it won’t be safe there. Drive east.”
    “Why?” I asked.
    “Drive east,” he insisted.
    “Why?” I asked again.
    “Because you said you wanted to help me. This is helping me.”
    I thought it over for a moment. Strangely, that rage-filled voice inside my head from earlier had disappeared. I felt like me again. And good ol’ me was saying it wasn’t a good idea to just “drive east” with this guy.
    “Fine.” He reached for the car door and started to