by C. D. Hersh
Harry scowled at him. He’d never get women. Clawing at each other one minute then banding together the next. “Damn interfering females,” he muttered. Turning to greet the women, he plastered on a phony smile. “Since you were busy fighting over my office, I thought I’d do my job.”
Delaney had the grace to appear embarrassed. Riley, on the other hand, darkened like a winter storm sky. She cast a glance toward Rhys, who ducked behind him.
“Just remembered something I gotta do, Captain,” Rhys whispered. “Catch you later.”
“Get back here, Temple,” Harry called to his fleeing backside.
As Rhys left, Riley watched him with a puzzled expression. Delaney stared at the other woman, palpable concern radiating from her.
What the heck was going on between these two feds? And why was Rhys running every time he saw Riley? He had the distinct feeling something was being hidden from him. He didn’t like being kept in the dark.
Clearing his throat, he drew their attention to himself. “Ladies, the show is over here.”
They turned in tandem, but not before casting distrusting glares at one another. “Catch us up,” Riley demanded in a voice as sharp as broken glass. “Don’t leave anything out.”
“As I was telling the captain, these two men aren’t related. Brothers would have some DNA similarities and twins’ DNA would have a 99.9 percent match. There’s been no plastic surgery on either man.”
“It’s a coincidence they look alike,” Harry said, casting a warning at the coroner. “Nothing strange at all. Nothing that needs the attention of Homeland Security or the FBI. You ladies go back to whatever you were doing before.”
Riley snatched the file from Harry’s hand. “I’ll be the judge of that, Captain.”
Delaney snatched the file from Riley. “I’ll decide what we investigate and what we don’t.”
Poisoned darts passed between Riley and Delaney. He stepped in the middle of the two women. “If you two want to fight, take it to the Jell-O pit, for all I care. But in this office you’ll behave or I’ll have the both of you booted out. Understand?”
“Understood,” Delaney said, clutching the file folder to her chest.
Riley glared at Delaney. “I’ve got some things to take care of. We’ll discuss this when I return, Ramsey.”
“Not in my office,” Harry said.
Riley shot him an irritated glare then strode out of the morgue.
Harry held out his hand for the folder, but Delaney clutched the file tighter and shook her head, the motion sending waves of vanilla scent toward him. Struggling to keep his focus off her chest as the scent invaded him, he remembered the last time she’d made the same motion trying to hide the hard, pebbly tips of her breasts.
“If I’m going to help you, I need to know everything going on here.”
Harry dragged his gaze to hers. Wouldn’t do to have her catch him drooling at her cleavage. Might defuse his macho order for peace. “Sounds like a good idea, in theory, but it might work better if you weren’t hiding something yourself.”
For a second, she appeared startled then her composure returned. “I’m FBI, Captain Williams. I’m always hiding something and some of it is classified. Get used to it.” Drawing her shoulders back, she straightened to full height and left him standing next to the corpses.
“Find me something. Anything to solve these freak homicides,” Harry said to the coroner. “I want these feds out of my hair.”
“Don’t know if I can, Captain.”
“Then invent it.”
Chapter 5
Sylvia knocked on the door to Falhman’s penthouse apartment, pressing her knees together to keep them from trembling. The news she brought was not going to make him happy, and he’d been known to kill the messenger, literally. She unbuttoned her blouse a bit lower and tousled her hair. If she could keep his mind off the bad news maybe she could escape his wrath.
Falhman’s man Bentley opened the door, ushering her in when he recognized her. “Riley’s here,” he intoned.
A hand appeared over the top of the overstuffed couch and waved her forward. Falhman rose from his lounging position and stood, smoothing his silver hair into place. “What have you got for me?” His hard gaze swept over her, stopping at the cleavage peeking from beneath her blouse.
Stripping off her coat, she handed it to Bentley then readjusted her blouse to provide an unimpeded view. “Mind if we sit?”
Falhman gave her a slow smile. “If it’s bad news, Sylvia, just spit it out.” Indicating she should sit, he folded his lanky frame into a chair. “I’m not going to bite you, at least not this time. I still have a use for you.”
His declaration calmed her, for the moment, and her insides stopped shaking. She’d have to make sure her usefulness continued. “I tested Roc, as you requested, and although he’s advanced in his shifter skills, he can’t mind shift.”
“Too bad. I suppose you conducted a thorough test?”
“Oh, yeah.” The memory of the multiple tests heated her. She locked them away in another part of her brain. Too dangerous to think about.
“Why can Roc’s look-a-like do this and Roc can’t? Any thoughts on the subject?”
“Well, it might have happened with Rhys because he thought I was Alexi. There could be some emotional tie to the shift. Or maybe Roc has the ability and didn’t want to show it to me. After all, he doesn’t really know me.”
A tiny smile curled the edge of Falhman’s mouth. “Except in the Biblical sense.”
The man had a sense of humor. Interesting. “I could keep trying. Create a relationship with him and see what triggers the shift.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Falhman studied her, his intense gaze making her squirm. “Is having sex with him going to affect your ability to mentor him? If it does, you’ll have to stop. I’m sure I can find any number of willing test subjects to screw him for me.”
A flash of jealousy hit her. Where had that come from? Roc was a means to an end, like all men. “Don’t worry. I can handle it.”
Throwing back his head, Falhman laughed at her double entendre. “See that you do.” His joviality melted away as fast as it had come. “Anything more?”
Sylvia nodded. “I just came from Rhys’ precinct. There’s a fed sniffing around.”
“Name?”
“Delaney Ramsey.”
“Humm,” Falhman said, stroking his chin.
“You know her?”
“Of her. She’s a senior council member, not ours.”
Now, everything made sense. Delaney’s sudden appearance. The red and green auras she’d seen around Rhys. She should have figured Alexi would give Baron’s ring to Rhys. If she hadn’t been focused on getting Baron’s killer she’d have the ring to give to her son. Baron’s son. This complicated things.
She stifled the irritated sigh trying to escape. “Rhys has joined Alexi and the other shifters.”
Falhman went ramrod stiff. “What makes you sure?”
“The ring aura. He kept trying to hide it from me, running away every time he saw me, but I got a glimpse of it in the morgue.”
“Ramsey is there to protect him?”
“Probably. Although she gave me some crap about checking on the terrorist claims I’ve made. Made herself right at home, taking up residence in the captain’s office. He didn’t offer me a desk there.” She cut her ramblings short when Falhman frowned at her.
“I don’t care about your office snits with Ramsey. Focus on what’s important here. Is it too late to get Rhys?”
“He can’t have had the ring for more than a day. He’s not had enough time to learn much, and surely hasn’t reached the point where he has to make a choice between the dark and light. That comes with third-level shifting. If we can sep
arate him from Alexi, we might have a chance. Any commitment he’s made to the Turning Stone Society is probably because of Alexi. The only thing that will separate them, for good, is death.”
“Then we’ll kill her.” He crooked a finger at Bentley. “Get Lynch for me.”
“Wait,” Sylvia said. It was her fault Alexi hadn’t died twenty years ago with the rest of her family. “I’ll take care of this.”
Falhman cocked his head to the side, eyes glittering with interest. “You may prove to be more valuable than I first supposed.”
Valuable was good. Valuable people stayed alive. She planned to stay alive. A long time. If she was careful, she could stay at the top of the food chain.
Outside University Hospital Sylvia waited, watching for a nurse to mimic shift into so she could get into the building undetected. A blonde, about her height, wearing green scrubs-the same color as the ones she wore-crossed in front of her and headed for the parking lot. Sylvia slipped her coat hood over her head, turned toward the building wall, and shifted. As the last tingle of muscles and cells reforming subsided, she stepped sideways, dropped her hood, and moved to the building window. Strands of blond hair lifted off her shoulders in the breeze and a pair of blue eyes stared back at her. Her own mother wouldn’t know her. Satisfied with her disguise, she headed inside.
“Back already?” one of the nurses at the registration desk asked as she came in the door.
Smiling, Sylvia nodded. The phone rang and the nurse answered, her attention diverted. Sylvia slipped behind the desk and flipped through the patient list for Alexi’s name. Room 352. She dropped the list and headed for the elevator.
Alexi lay in the bed, nearest the window. Good. Easy to draw the curtain for privacy while I do her in. An older woman lay in the other bed napping. Sylvia popped out of the room and grabbed a wheelchair.
“Time for therapy,” she said brightly as she tugged the blankets off the elderly patient.
The woman’s eyes fluttered open, and she snatched at the covers. “I don’t take therapy.”
“New orders. They just came in.” Sylvia swung the wheelchair next to the bed and loaded the woman into it. “You want to get well and go home, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I don’t need therapy.”
“The doctor thinks so.” She tucked a blanket around the woman’s knees then wheeled her out, down the hallway, and into an empty bathroom.
The old lady stared at her with weak, watery eyes. “This isn’t therapy.”
“Nope.” Punching the woman on the side of the head, Sylvia knocked her out. She propped the slumped body against the wheelchair and tied her to it. Then she gagged the old lady, locked the door handle, and left.
When Sylvia returned to the room Alexi lay sleeping, curled on her side. Sylvia closed the door and wedged a chair under the handle. Then she flipped on the television nearest the door, gradually raising the volume. The increased noise caused Alexi to stir.
Sylvia grabbed a pillow from the other bed and carefully closed the curtain between the beds. The metal rings jingled on the overhead rail like a cell phone alarm. She paused as Alexi groaned and rolled to her back. When she didn’t awaken, Sylvia shifted into her natural form. Killing as a mimic held too many risks, and she had no desire to trade her exotic features for anyone else’s physical characteristics. She covered Alexi’s face with the pillow. The motion startled her awake. She struggled, kicking and punching. Muffled screams disappeared into the foam.
Pressing harder, Sylvia forced the pillow tighter against Alexi’s mouth and nose. Alexi’s hand twitched on the sheets searching for the call button. Reaching it first, Sylvia flipped it onto the floor.
“Come on, bitch, die,” she whispered.
Alexi’s punches grew weaker, and she stopped struggling. Placing her fingers on the carotid artery, Sylvia felt for a pulse. Nothing. Satisfied, she removed the pillow and fluffed the covers, erasing all traces of a struggle. Shifting into her disguise, she straightened her clothes and left the room.
Time to get Rhys. She’d never failed to get any man she wanted.
A feeling of dread flooded Rhys as he rounded the hospital corridor corner. The sensation he’d grown to recognize as shifter sensing hit him square in the chest. “There’s another shifter here,” he said to Eli and Delaney.
“Where?” Delaney asked.
Rhys scanned the hallway. “There, at the end, turning the corner.”
“Ye ken sense it from here?” Eli asked. “Incredible.”
“Something’s wrong with Alexi.” Rhys broke out into a run, skidding to a stop in front of her room.
Eli took off after the shifter, shouting to Rhys as he entered Alexi’s room. “Take care o’ the lassie. I’ll get the other one.”
Rhys shoved the bed curtain aside. An ashen Alexi lay on the bed. He jumped onto the mattress and straddled her. “Get the nurse,” he shouted as Delaney entered. “She’s not breathing. Come on, sweetheart, don’t die on me.”
He barely heard the Code Red as he administered CPR to Alexi. Willing her to breathe. Willing her to live. A flurry of motion caught his attention as the hospital staff rushed into the room. A nurse took the paddles from the crash cart, adjusted the dial, and ordered him down. He scrambled off, giving them the space they needed.
Laying the paddles against Alexi’s chest, the nurse called, “Clear.”
Alexi’s body shot upward. Nothing happened. The nurse gave her another jolt. Then another. Finally, Alexi coughed and started breathing, color seeping into her gray skin.
Rhys ran to the bedside and threw himself over her.
Wincing, she said, “Ribs. Sore.”
Easing away, he gently kissed her lips. “I thought I’d I lost you. What happened?”
“Someone tried to kill me,” she whispered. “A shifter.”
The words punched him in the chest as if he’d been the one receiving the voltage. Straightening, he addressed the nurses hovering around them. “Don’t touch anything else,” he commanded. He flashed his badge. “Clear the room.”
“Why?” one of the nurses asked.
“Because I said to.” They didn’t move. “Do I have to arrest you?” Rhys stepped toward them and they retreated.
“I think we should get security,” a nurse said.
“You do that,” Delaney answered. “Contact the floor doctor while you’re at it. I want to know why one of the city’s police officers, who was in stable condition when I left her earlier today, suddenly flat-lined.” She flipped open her FBI badge. “We might need to start an investigation on this hospital and the staff.”
The nurses scurried out, protesting they hadn’t done anything wrong. When they’d cleared the room, Delaney closed the door and said to Rhys, “You want to tell me why we bamboozled the hospital staff?”
“Alexi said someone tried to kill her.”
“You couldn’t say that because?”
“It was a shifter,” Alexi said.
“Did you see the assailant?” Delaney asked.
Alexi shook her head. “I was asleep. When I awoke she was smothering me.”
Rhys leaned forward and smoothed a stray lock of hair off her forehead. “You sure it was a she?”
“As sure as you can be with a shifter. I definitely felt a shifter’s presence. The sensations were not strong enough to be a mimic. She was in her natural persona.”
The door flew open, and Eli burst in. “I heard them announce a Code Red. What happened in here, lassie?” He came straight to Alexi’s side and anxiously read the monitors beside the bed. “Are ye all right?”
“Feels as if I got kicked in the chest by a horse, but that’s to be expected when someone shoots volts of electricity though you.” She leaned back against the pillows with a shaky sigh. “Don’t think I
’ll be dancing any time soon.”
“Did you catch the shifter?” Rhys asked.
“Nay, she got away. Mayhap we should have sent ye after her instead.”
“It’s okay, old man. The important thing is Lexi’s alive. Something our shifter friend doesn’t know yet. We need to use that to our advantage.”
“How, when we don’t even know who wants her dead?” Delaney asked.
Alexi snorted then winced. “I’m placing my bet on Sylvia. She’s wanted Rhys ever since she screwed him.”
