Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The same guard from Kate’s house is at the guard shack when the cab drops me off.
He backs up. A look of disbelief and fear on his face. “You again—”
“I’m here to see the King.”
Nervously, he asks, “Is he expecting you?”
“Do I look like the kind of guy who’d make an appointment before I call on someone?”
He glances down my body. I’m dressed in black from head to toe. My t-shirt, tactical cargo trousers, sturdy boots. “No, you don’t.”
“Either open the gate, or I’ll find another way in.”
He looks like he’d rather eat nails than have this conversation. “Just wait.”
I cross my arms and glare at his retreating profile. A second later, the gate opens. “I’m only doing this because you gave me an out on the broken door thing.”
“Thanks. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you. Or I could knock you out and say that I broke into the guard shack too.”
He leaps back. “Nope. All good here. I’d rather get fired than take another chance at rendezvousing with your fist.”
As I walk up the driveway, another guard steps out from behind a bush. His eyes go wide, then he turns and hustles away without a word. I suppress my grin, guess our rescue had a lasting affect. Fine by me. I like having a reputation, it can head off trouble before it even rears it’s ugly head.
A gigantic carved wooden door is front and center on the palance. It would be impressive, if you care about such thing.
A woman in her sixties answers when I use the equally huge brass door knocker. A wide smile spreads across her face. “You must be Wolf Black. I’ve heard about you. The town is quite abuzz with gossip.”
“I’m here to see the King.”
“I can’t say he’s expecting you because I think you’re the last person he’d expect to see this morning.”
Her eyes hold mine for a few seconds, making me curious about how she ticks. “I could turn you away, but I won’t. For two reasons… I suspect you’d just somehow mysteriously end up inside anyway…”
I raise a brow. “And what’s the second reasons?”
“I’ve heard you’re good to Katalina. And I want more than anything for her to be happy.”
Not sure what I expected her to say, but this surprises me. “That’s why I’m here.”
She smiles again, this time almost slyly. “That’s what I figured. Come on in. The King’s office—”
“I know where it is.”
She laughs. “That’s right. You do. I missed the excitement that day. I was out having a beach day with my grandkids. I’m sorry that I didn’t get to see those three in a pickle.”
“I’ll try to keep this a little more low key.”
She glances back at me as she walks away toward some other part of the palace, “I think the fact that you’re not low key is just what this place needs.”
“You could be right.” The hallway to the office is long. The door’s standing open a few inches. I don’t bother knocking.
Wilton stutters over his words and nearly drops the cup in his hand when he sees me step through the doorway.
The King raises his bushy caterpillar eye brows. “We need to seriously rethink security around here.”
“Yes, you do.” I say as I drop into the leather chair across from his desk.
I glance at the King’s assistant who’s gaping at me. “Get lost.”
“What? No!”
I tilt my head as I give him an ‘I’m not fucking around look.’
Wilton roughly swallows. “Right, King?”
“Actually, why don’t you take these files to Penelope, and give me a moment with my new son-in-law.”
There’s ten seconds of sputtering then the angry man storms from the room.
“Ignore him. He’s emotional,” the King says as he props his feet on the desk.
“Why do you keep him around?”
“He’s actually done a lot of good for this island. He’s very creative in rethinking our old fashioned ways.”
“Is he valuable enough to outweigh his having your daughter kidnapped and dragged here under physical duress?”
His dark green eyes shift and come back to mine. “I think you’re over dramatizing it.”
I can tell that this conversation is going to end with someone in a fistfight.
Namely me and him. “ Your man had Kate bound, gagged, and dragged in here? Your guard, Roberto, nearly lost his life when I saw how he was roughing up your daughter. Men have died for less. And let me make this clear, if either touch her again, I won’t hold back. ”
Shifting in his seat, the man says, “She didn’t tell me any of this when we talked on the phone.”
“You were too busy yelling on the phone. And I don’t care if you’re in cardiac arrest. Raise your voice again to your daughter and you’ll be sorry.”
Snapping his mouth shut, he scowls. “You’re threatening the King.”
With great satisfaction, I say through gritted teeth, “You’re not my King.”