King Maker (King Maker 3)

She disappeared.

“Fancy,” I said.

“If you like that sort of thing,” Turner said.

“It’s not something I need, but you have to admit, it’s pretty cool.”

Tuner shrugged as I sighed.

“You don’t have to come on my account,” I said.

“You need me.”

“I need you to be happy. I’ll be fine on my own. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with all this.”

He glanced away. “I’m not uncomfortable. I just wish I knew where we stood.”

I sat back, not having an answer. “I need some time.”

He nodded and took the beer the flight attendant brought him. I took my glass and began to drink.

When I finished, I set it down and closed my eyes. I only realized I’d nodded off when I felt a nudge on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and found Turner.

“You’re tired. Why don’t you go lie down on the bed? We’ve been cleared to use it.”

It was a long flight and sounded like a good idea. I unbuckled and got to my feet. I followed Turner to the back door. Opening it, I was amazed that it felt like I’d stepped into a bedroom in a house or fancy hotel. Two night tables flanked the bed with stark white linens. It was almost too pretty to sleep in.

I climbed on top and rested my head on the pillow. Turner came up to spoon behind me. It was probably not the smartest move with Kalen so close, but I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept well in days. Sleep claimed me almost immediately as thoughts of what Kalen was thinking floated away.

Twelve

Gabe held a car in one hand and a plane in the other. It was uncanny how Bailey had nailed a gift to my son. He had a small but growing collection of model cars and planes, the things he loved most in the world.

He made zoom zoom noises as he had both flying in the air.

“Can cars fly?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

“I’m going to make cars fly, then we wouldn’t need to get on a plane to go places,” he said like it was inevitable.

“You do that.”

“I will,” he said and gave me that smile that put everything right. “Are we going to see Granny?”

“Yes. And she’s so excited.”

“I miss her. I don’t want her to be lonely.”

‘She misses you too.”

I wasn’t sure about the lonely thing. I was pretty sure she was seeing someone, though she hadn’t yet admitted it.

“Ainsley is homesick.”

I knew that too. Though she’d been excited to come to the States, it was far different on this side of the pond. I feared she would tell me I should find someone else. And there were very few people I trusted with the care of my son.

“We all are,” I said.

I too missed home. The concrete world of New York was interesting, but only for a visit. Living without the rolling hills of home and fresh air had taken some getting used to.

“Aye,” said Griffin. “It will be nice to be home.”

I was surprised. Out of all of us, Griffin had every reason not to want to go back to Scotland. Growing up there hadn’t been kind to either of us, but at least I had Ma.

My eyes kept drifting back to Bailey who had fallen asleep almost immediately. She looked like an angel, innocent of all deeds. When I felt Griffin watching me, I glanced away and urged my son to eat the food they’d brought.

Sleep had been non-existent for what felt like days. And it eluded me until after the dinner I forced myself to eat. I’d closed my eyes, only to wake and find Bailey gone.

Griffin, who seemed to never sleep, read my mind.

“She’s in the back.”

It only took a second glance to realize Turner was also missing.

“Down, boy. It may not be anything. I’ve heard nothing,” he said as if he had superhuman hearing.

I glanced to my right to see Gabe curled up in the seat. I adjusted it to lie flat and covered him with a blanket. I tapped Ainsley.

“You should sleep,” I said and indicated the next cabin. “The sofa is probably more comfortable.”

“Thanks,” she said.

I sat across from Griffin so we could talk.

“What do we know?”

I’d hoped he’d used our Wi-Fi connection to keep up with the latest developments.

“He’s not talking even though they’ve offered him a deal. Though it’s likely he doesn’t know much. Jobs like this could be handled through the dark web.”

A part of me wished I’d killed the bastard and said as much.

“Bu chòir dhomh a bhith air a mharbhadh.”

“Aye, but at what cost?” Griffin said.

I blew out a breath. “We’re no closer to finding out who’s doing this. His life should be forfeited and not just for what he’s done to Bailey. He sells women—”

“And he’ll get his due.”

“Sùil airson sùil.”

“An eye for an eye.” I nodded. “Do you still believe that—”