Blood Brothers (Turning Stone Chronicles Book 2)

by C. D. Hersh

  He eased Roc’s hands off his arms. “I wouldn’t lie about this. I’m sorry, but she’s in the police morgue, Roc.”

  He hesitated, debating whether he should say more. Delaney suspected him of Lila’s death, and his gut suspected Roc. Reactions to shocking news were the best way to find out what a suspect did and did not know.

  Rhys took a deep breath and let it out slowly before speaking. “Someone killed her, stuffed her body in an already occupied coffin, and shipped her to Alaska. They found her when the casket got damaged and the decomposition gases expanding caused the coffin to open.”

  Roc slumped in his seat, emotions running rampant over his face. Shock. Anger. Realization. And finally despair.

  No doubt about it, he knew Lila, and probably not casually. “There’s more.”

  Roc held out his hands to ward off further revelations. “Don’t want to know,” he said in an emotion-choked voice.

  “She was pregnant,” Rhys whispered. “They are going to test the baby’s DNA against mine, or what they think is mine.”

  Roc leaned on the tabletop, his hand covering his mouth, eyes closed. “You’re screwed,” he mumbled from behind his fingers. “Because the DNA is going to match.”

  “Did you kill her?”

  “I loved her, and she was carrying my child. What do you think?” He stood, glaring down at Rhys. “We’re done here.”

  Rhys rose and stepped around the table, blocking Roc’s path. “The police will get this all sorted out, eventually. If you know what happened it would be better if you tell it sooner rather than later.”

  Anger and hate and sorrow and misery radiated from Roc. All perfectly normal for a man who just lost the woman he loved. If Roc had any guilt, he managed to hide it beneath his other raging emotions.

  “What I know is the one woman who truly loved me is dead, and I can’t do a damn thing to bring her back.” He sidestepped Rhys and stormed out.

  Rhys left the bar with an ominous feeling. All hell was going to break out, and he was standing right in the middle of the brimstone fire.

  Alexi was in bed waiting for him when Rhys got home, a book propped on her knees. “How did it go?”

  He removed the earrings, pitching them onto the bed. She collected them as he rubbed his tender lobes where the clip had pinched the skin. “How do woman wear these damned things?” he asked, avoiding her question.

  “You get used to it.”

  As he removed the bra and the turquoise boots, he let his shifted form melt into his normal persona, watching in amazement as his boobs flattened into hard muscles. Pounding his chest, he said, “Guess I’ll get used to that. Don’t know how, though.”

  Alexi scooted to the edge of the bed and repeated her question, adding, “Did you find out about him and Lila?”

  “He admitted to being the father, but, from his reactions, I don’t think he knew about the baby. Don’t think he killed her, either. He was too torn up about her death and horrified about the coffin.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “But it’s not going to get Delaney off my tail.”

  “Unless you tell her it wasn’t you in her apartment.”

  Rhys stripped down to his skivvies and sat on the bed beside Alexi. “I can’t do that without exposing Roc.” He put his arm around her and hugged her close. “He’s my brother. My twin brother. I’m sure now. How can I give him up to someone who might kill him in a fit of revenge?”

  “Well, you’re going to have to do something soon. I followed you to Rogueman’s Bar tonight.”

  “I know,” he said. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  She shrugged. “There’s no way you could have stopped me. Did you know Delaney followed me?”

  “I sensed her with you. What was she doing there?”

  “She saw your alter ego coming out of the house. Then, at the bar, she saw Roc’s alter ego. She thinks I’m, or maybe we are, consorting with the enemy. She saw Roc’s blackened aura before one of his henchmen came at us.”

  “I’m supposed to be spying on the enemy, but you aren’t. You have to stop following me and stepping out on your own. It’s putting you in danger.” He nudged her over to her side of the bed and climbed in next to her. “We’ll have a couple of days before the baby’s DNA results come in. We’ll figure it out by then.” He drew up the covers and switched off the bedside lamp.

  Alexi snuggled in next to him and asked, “What secret about Sylvia did Roc tell you?”

  “Nothing. We got sidetracked on Lila.”

  He hated lying to her, but she’d only worry more. He’d felt Roc’s pain over losing Lila, and it had made him fear even more for Alexi. They were no closer to finding her would-be killer. Every day the focus got directed more and more off the search onto him and his brother. Alexi couldn’t stay in hiding forever.

  Chapter 37

  Two days later, Sylvia sidled next to Rhys at the office. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” she said. “Can you get a long lunch?”

  Here it comes. The father angle. “Sure,” he answered. “How long?”

  “A couple of hours should do.”

  “I’ll tell the captain I’ve got some leads to follow. Ought to buy as much time as I need.”

  She cocked her head sideways. “You’re being way too cooperative. What gives?”

  He decided to play the grief card. Women were always suckers for a grieving man. “I guess finding Lila dead is getting to me. My friend, Baron, is gone. Alexi is gone. I’m tired of all this loss. I want to get on with whatever life has that’s good.”

  “I think my surprise will give you a big lift then.” She glanced at her watch. “Meet me in two hours at this address.” She handed him a slip of paper.

  A hint to the captain that he was going to follow a lead on Alexi’s killer gave him all the time he needed. He left the office, walked down the street to the coffee shop, and dialed Roc.

  “What do you want?” Roc said as he answered the phone. He didn’t sound a lot better than he had after Rhys had given him the news about Lila.

  “To know how you were doing.”

  “Like it matters to you?”

  “Believe or not, it does. The other night I felt everything you were feeling. I’ve lost some people I loved, too. I know how it hurts. Besides, we are family. Right?”

  “You’re admitting it now?” Roc asked, his voice a bit brighter.

  “Can’t deny it after those tests, bro.” Rhys used the name Roc had been calling him all along in an attempt to cheer him.

  “Thanks, bro. I appreciate that.”

  “I think Sylvia might be ready to tell us who Dad is. She wants me to meet her in two hours at a downtown apartment.” He gave the address to Roc. “Do you know the place?”

  “Yeah. She asked me to meet her there.” Roc got quiet. Too quiet.

  Rhys’ stomach jumped into his throat. Never a good sign. “Do you think it’s about him, or am I being set up?”

  “If it’s a set up, I don’t know anything about it. No matter what, I’ll have your back. Family sticks together.” He hesitated, and Rhys could almost feel his anxiety through the phone. “There’s something you should know, in case she’s acting on her own. Falhman lives at this address.”

  “The Falhman? Of rogue legend?”

  “The very same.”

  “Why would she want us to meet her there?”

  “Not sure. Maybe our father wants to meet us there. If he’s a rogue he might be intimidated by meeting two Promised Ones and needs the backup of a strong rogue to make him feel safe.”

  “Then wouldn’t he have chosen Rogueman’s Bar?”

  “A place where you wouldn’t feel safe? Doesn’t make sense.”

  He was right. He wouldn’t
follow Sylvia into Rogueman’s Bar without an army for backup.

  “Are you coming?” Roc asked.

  Walk right into the lion’s open mouth? If he did he could be eaten alive. If he didn’t his cover could be blown. I told Lexi I was close. I can’t afford to miss any opportunity. “Yes, I’m coming.”

  “I got your back then. See you there. And Rhys, let’s not let her know we talked.”

  More secrets, but this time Roc was keeping them from Sylvia. He liked that. “Sure thing. See ya.”

  He dialed Alexi’s cell. She didn’t answer so he left a message and the address on her voicemail, in case something went wrong.

  Sylvia met Rhys outside the glass-fronted building and opened the door.

  “Want to tell me what this is all about?” he asked.

  She smiled her cat-got-the-bird-smile that always set him on edge. “You’ll see.” He hesitated as she strode into the elevator. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” she exclaimed, grabbing his arm and yanking him in. “I’m not going to do anything to you.”

  They got out on the penthouse level, and she knocked on a huge wooden door. Within seconds a butler opened it, waving them in, intoning, “Your guests have arrived, sir. Ms. Ramsey and Mr. Decker.”

  “Temple,” Rhys told him. “Rhys Temple.”

  The butler tilted his head up and stared at him over his long nose. “Mr. Temple, sir,” he announced, then motioned them toward the great room at the end of the entry.

  The doorbell rang before they had taken three steps, and the butler announced Roc’s arrival.

  Roc came up behind Rhys and clapped him on the shoulder. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said with a grin.

  A tall, silver-haired man rose from the white couch facing the windows and waved the trio forward. “I’m glad everyone could make this little meeting.” He came around the couch and offered Rhys his hand. “I’m Falhman. Nice to meet you, Mr. Temple.”

  Rhys automatically reached for the outstretched hand, regretting it the second they touched. Falhman’s grip sizzled in his, buzzing with power. Rhys hastily ended the handshake. Falhman gave him a full-on stare. Determined to show strength, Rhys returned the stare, unblinking. After what seemed an eternity, Falhman ended their contest.

  Indicating they should follow him, he led them down the hall to a mahogany paneled office. Sylvia breezed in the door ahead of Roc and Rhys as if she knew where she was going.

  Rhys hesitated. No others waited in the office and prickles of warning crawled over him at the thought of being in the closed room with The Daughter of the Moonless Night and Evil Incarnate, as Eli had nicknamed the waiting pair. Rhys took in his surroundings, in case he needed a quick getaway.

  Seeing his hesitation, Roc stepped even with him and whispered, “Don’t worry, bro. I gotcha.”

  “Please come in, Mr. Temple,” Falhman said. “I mean you no harm.”

  Rhys scanned his aura. There was more black in it than red or green, but he could see no untruthfulness in his statement, so Rhys entered. The door slammed closed behind him. He jumped and spun around in a protective stance, eyeing the carved barrier.

  “My apologies,” Falhman said with a sheepish smile. “My butler creeps around on silent paws. If it would make you more comfortable I can open the door.”

  Rhys moved away, taking a stand against an open spot of wall. “No problem. Just startled me. After all, I am the lone good guy in this group of shifters.”

  Falhman laid his hand on his chest, fingers splayed out. “You wound me, Rhys. May I use your Christian name?”

  “Detective Temple,” he said. “Only my friends and coworkers have that privilege. You’re not either.”

  Sylvia caught his eye and hissed under her breath, “Show some respect.”

  Falhman heard her and laughed. “Nonsense, Sylvia. He’s showing the spunk I would hope a Promised One has, even if he’s not one of ours.” He moved to the liquor cabinet, poured four drinks, then handed them out.

  Rhys declined his glass, stating, “I’m on duty.”

  Setting his drink on the ink blotter, Falhman indicated they should sit. As he reclined in the big leather chair behind his desk, Sylvia sank onto a plush side chair. Roc started toward a seat, but when Rhys stood stock still, Roc leaned on the wall beside him.

  Some of the tension drained out of his body. Roc was being true to his word. He has my back.

  “Considering you seem to be pressed for time, Detective Temple, I’ll get right to the point.” Falhman opened a folder and laid two papers out, sliding them across the desk. “These are DNA results.” He crooked a finger at Sylvia, who scurried to her feet and handed the reports to Rhys and Roc.

  Rhys dared a sideways glance at Roc, who was staring openly at him. Rhys took the proffered paper from Sylvia and read it. His name and Roc’s name were typed clearly on the paper. The third name had been marked out.

  “So?” Rhys asked. “You have a test that shows three people are related. For all I know you could have forged these papers.”

  “Not very trusting, are you, Detective Temple?”

  “In my line of work I run across a lot of untrustworthy people. After a while you get a pretty good gut.” He folded the report and sailed it across the room to Falhman. It slid across his desk with the precision of a Boeing 747 landing. “Besides, the third party apparently wants to remain anonymous.”

  “Not necessarily. It could be he merely wanted to gauge your reaction. Yours and your brother’s.” His gaze swiveled between Roc and Rhys. “Or are you going to deny that, also?”

  “Not anymore,” Rhys said. “I believe Roc is my brother. I did my own DNA test.”

  Falhman and Sylvia exchanged satisfied expressions. “Good,” he said. “Very good.”

  Rhys grabbed the other DNA report and waved it in front of his chest. “But this doesn’t prove anything.”

  “What do you say, Roc?” Falhman asked.

  Roc took the paper from Rhys and crumpled it. “I have to agree with my brother.”

  “United,” Falhman said. “How delightful.” He stared at them for a moment. “Do you want to know who the third person on this report is?”

  “Did you bring us here to play twenty questions?” Roc asked.

  “No.”

  “Then tell us something we don’t already know,” Rhys said, “or I’m walking.”

  “I’m the third person on the report, boys. I’m your father.”

  Shock reverberated through Rhys. Evil Incarnate is my father? Roc’s expression mirrored the way he was feeling. Apparently, his brother had no clue about this announcement.

  They turned in unison and said, “Prove it.”

  Falhman’s face split into a huge grin. He withdrew two vials from the side drawer, spit into them, and shoved them across the desktop.

  Leaning toward Rhys, Roc whispered, “Why is he so happy?”

  “Beats me,” Rhys replied. If he was in Falhman’s place and his sons were challenging him, he’d be pissed, not grinning as if he’d won the lottery.

  Rhys stepped to the desk, retrieved the capped vials, gave one to Roc, and pocketed the other. “Guess we’re done here.”

  “Not so fast, son,” Falhman said. “I’ve got a proposition for you to think about.”

  “First off, I’m not your son,” Rhys said as he backed into his former spot. “Second, I’m not interested in any proposition you’d make.”

  Roc laid his hand on Rhys’ arm. “Let’s hear him out while we’re here. No harm in listening, is there?”

  “Thank you, Roc,” Falhman said. “It’s nice to see one of you is rational.”

  Rhys leaned against the wall. “Okay. I’m listening.”

  “Once you get your tests done and have proof I’m your father,
I want you to consider coming to work for me.”

  The emphasis Falhman put on the word work set alarm bells ringing in Rhys. Does he want me to be his dirty cop? “I already have a job. I’m a cop. A cop with integrity.”