by C. D. Hersh
“Get into the air ASAP,” he instructed. “We may have a tail.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s our ETA?”
“About 10 hours. I’ve arranged for our landing at Benbecula airport, in the Hebrides. They’ll have a vehicle waiting for you. I can refuel and be ready to return whenever you’re finished.”
“Thanks.”
“Is everything okay out there?”
“I’ve got a hysterical woman to calm down. Otherwise, I think we’ll be fine.”
Mike exited the cockpit and stood gathering his nerves. He could face a squadron of armed men, but he was out of his league and comfort zone when it came to panic-stricken women and howling babies. He’d seen men blown to bits while fighting and learned to shove the visions and emotions into a closed box, never to be opened again, so he could function. Just thinking about Hugh threatened to shatter the control he’d managed to develop over the years.
LJ had no such experience. Had never learned how to deal with horrible deaths. Didn’t have his coping mechanism. What the heck did you say to a woman who’d just seen her husband blown to bits?
LJ spotted him standing at the end of the cabin, and she sprinted for him, nearly knocking him over.
“Take me back!” she demanded. “I want to be with him. We want to be with him.”
Mike wrapped his arms around her and led her to the long, leather couch running the length of the plane. The baby, who had scooted off the seat and sat wailing on the carpet, tried to climb his mother’s leg as Mike seated her. Absently, she hoisted the child to her lap and jiggled him, whispering, “Shush, shush, shush.”
“He’s catching your angst,” Mike said. “They’re sensitive to emotions . . . according to my sister.”
“Are you married, Mike?” LJ asked as she swiped at a tear running down her cheek.
He shook his head. “Not the marrying kind.”
“Then you have no idea how I feel right now, so don’t patronize me with your advice.”
“I might not be married, but I’ve seen buddies blown to bits.”
She cringed at the last three words, and he wished he’d been more careful with his speech.
“Point is, I’ve got some idea how you feel.” He studied her as he waited for her to calm down. She inhaled deeply and rocked the baby at her breast, smoothing his dark hair over and over. Mother and child slowly stopped weeping.
“I need to know what’s going on, LJ. Why are shifters after you?”
“You know about shifters?” Surprise flooded her voice.
“I do, and I don’t trust them. Who is this creep, and what does he want?”
“His name is Falhman, and he’s after my baby.”
“Because?”
“Because he’s really his child, not Hugh’s.”
Mike studied the baby in LJ’s arms. He didn’t favor Hugh, or his mother. Why would Hugh die for a child who wasn’t his?
“And he wants him because . . .?”
“It’s a complicated story.”
“We’ve got time before we land. If I’m going to protect you I need to know everything.” He scrubbed at his neck to relieve the tension. He’d been saying that line too much recently.
He settled against the leather seat, prepared to wait her out if necessary. The child stabbed his tiny fists into his reddened eyes and scrubbed at them. Then he snuggled into the curve of his mother’s arms. As his eyelids dropped closed, LJ began her story.
When she’d finished, Mike said, “Doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s what I thought. But apparently it has something to do with their war and making a rogue Promised One. I don’t understand it all. Eli promised to fix the birth records to show Hugh Jr. was Hugh’s child. Apparently, because he’s after us now, Falhman must have figured out the truth . . . and where we were.” She broke into soft sobs. “You know the rest.”
The baby’s chin trembled when his mother’s chest started heaving. Mike slid across the sofa to her and eased the sleeping child from her arms. “Don’t cry. You’ll upset him.”
As he settled the toddler on the opposite end of the sofa, LJ drew in a long, shaky breath. With what appeared to be a Herculean effort, she stilled the onslaught of tears.
“I can’t lose him,” she whispered. “I just can’t.”
“We’ll get you safely to Eli. If Hugh thought he could protect you, then he can.” Mike opened the overhead storage. He removed two blankets from the bin and laid one over the child and the other over LJ. “Get some rest.”
LJ nodded and stretched out on the sofa. Mike powered on his cell phone and searched for the Internet map of South Uist, UK. Before they reached the Hebrides he wanted to know the terrain, find out everything he could about the islands, and pinpoint Eli’s location. He needed to be ready for everything and anything. Even though he had the latitude and longitude of Eli McCraigen’s safe house, he expected it might not be easy to find. He just hoped he hadn’t booby-trapped it like Hugh had.
Chapter 7
Falhman paced in front of the huge window in the great room of his penthouse watching dusk approach. He’d received no word from his thugs. They weren’t answering their cells. The idiots had probably let their batteries die. When they did show, a dead battery would be the least of their worries.
The doorbell rang and Bently answered. “There are men here to see you, sir,” the butler intoned.
Falhman wheeled around. Only two of the ten men he’d sent to recover his son stood in the entryway. “Well, where is he?” Impatience turned his voice razor sharp.
“They got away, boss.” The man cringed as he relayed the news, his head shrinking into his shoulders.
“What do you mean they got away?” Falhman pinned his underling with a glare hot enough to light tinder.
“The whole freaking yard was riddled with land mines. Those who got past them and into the house were blown to bits. He blew up the damn house.”
“Yet you escaped to tell me. How, you idiot?”
“We was driving on the grass. I guess he didn’t booby-trap that. Anyway, when we got to the rear of the house, we saw a car driving away. We followed but lost it on the highway.”
“Who was in the car? Did you at least see that?”
“No. They was already in it when we came round back. But we did what you told us and checked the nearby airports. The closest one, a small private airport, had a passenger manifest with a woman and a kid on board. Headed to something-ecula airport. Sounded like Dracula airport to me.”
The underling’s companion slugged him in the arm. “Not Dracula, you jerk.” He turned to Falhman. “The clerk said Benbecula airport in Scotland. You want we should go follow him there?”
Falhman resisted the urge to jump over the sofa and strangle the two men. How in the world had his smartest thugs died, yet these two baboons escaped? The universe was laughing at him. Him, the kingpin of the rogue shifters.
“You’d never get there before the plane landed. I’ll send someone from Edinburgh to watch for the plane’s arrival. Who did the plane belong to?”
The men shrugged. “It was a private plane, boss. We don’t know no more.”
“I told you we shoulda checked,” the other man whispered to his companion.
“Get out of here before I kill you both!” The men scurried from his presence as the words he roared echoed in the great room. When they’d gone, he dialed his henchman in charge of his Scottish forces.
“Hullo, Mr. Falhman,” said the Scottish voice on the other end of the line. “What can I do fer ye this fine mairning?”
“I need some eyes at the Benbecula airport. Make a couple of them winged trackers. The rest should follow by ground.”
“And what would we be tracking?”
“My son and his mother. When you get the boy bring him to me in Cleveland.”
“And his mother?”
For a minute he thought about LJ and the night he’d had with her when, apparently, they’d conceived his son. His new hope for the rogue faction. She might be fun to have around—for a while. But she’d likely interfere with his plans. Especially if she’d been tainted by Eli McCraigen or Rhys Temple’s upstanding morality.
“Kill her. All I want is the child.”
“Will do, sir.”
The line went dead. Falhman stared out the window into the coming night. He had another son. Thanks to the tap he’d put on Fiona’s telephones he’d discovered where Hugh and LJ had been hiding. Victory was within his grasp. A child with two of the ancient bloodlines in his veins, and his training, might be enough to tip the scales in his favor.
This time he wouldn’t make the same mistakes he had with Rhys and Roc. This new child would grow up knowing his father. Loving his father. Fulfilling his long-awaited bid to rule the world.
As the city’s night-lights started twinkling, he drew himself from his reverie and to the newest challenge ahead—Fiona Kayler. Turning on his heel, he headed to his bedroom to change into his tuxedo. He’d set the lady a challenge tonight—seduce the new head of Morrison Shipping. He didn’t want to miss her debut into the world of espionage and rogue shifter deceit. He’d been unable to bring her mother to his side, but he would not fail with the daughter.
He rubbed his hands together in glee. Oh, how he loved a good trap.
Fiona smoothed the glittering evening gown over her hips as she exited the car. Secured in her handbag, the overdrawn check she planned to give to the CEO of Morrison Shipping for his charity event burned like a hot coal. Half a million she couldn’t spare. Add the fortune she’d just spent to fly Mike and Hugh’s family to Scotland, and her squeezed piggy bank squealed as if she had it on the butcher block.
It’s all for a good cause. Dad always said the good stuff we do comes back around to us.
The thought did little to comfort her. Apparently, she must be short on good. Most of what had happened to her recently was rotten.
A prick of her conscience warned her she was not on a proper path yet, with all this shifter business. She buried it under a list of justifications, ignoring the niggle that had haunted her ever since she read the Turning Stone ring inscription.
She was taking down the bad guys, for heaven’s sake. Sometimes you had to stop a forest fire by building a bigger fire. That’s all I’m doing.
The woman at the door to the country club ballroom took her invitation and waved her inside. Fiona snagged a drink as a waiter passed, then set out in search of the CEO of Morrison Shipping. If she was lucky, he would be widowed and she wouldn’t have to make him commit adultery. Better yet, OmniWorld might accept her plan, and she wouldn’t have to marry for convenience, or inconvenience.
A round of inquiries netted her no sighting of the man she hunted. She took her drink out on the patio and stood admiring the lights reflecting around the shoreline of the lake. A light tap on her shoulder caused her to turn.
“I understand you’re looking for me.”
A tall, blond, muscular man stood inches away, the white, toothy smile on his face as dazzling as a full sun. Attraction to the handsome man surged through her. She shut it down. She had to save all her charm for the old man of Morrison Shipping.
“What an unusual pickup line,” she said as she rotated away from him.
He sidestepped until he stood face to face with her. “Not a pickup line, but I wouldn’t mind picking you up.” He held out his hand. “I’m Kyle Morrison. CEO of Morrison Shipping. At least a dozen people said a beautiful redhead was looking for me.” When she didn’t take his hand he started to leave. “But, I guess you’re not her.”
“Wait.” She grabbed his tuxedo sleeve. “I was looking for you.” She continued to clutch his jacket until he gave her hand a pointed glance. “Sorry,” she said, smoothing the fabric. “I was expecting a much older man.”
“My father,” Kyle said, giving her another bedazzling smile. “I hope I’m not a disappointment. Dad can be a hard man to live up to.” He studied her. “Do I know you? Your face seems familiar.”
“Sorry. I’m Fiona Kayler.”
Another charm-filled smile broke out on his face. “Now I remember you. We went to school together.”
This time she studied him. “Don’t think so. I’d remember someone who looked like you.”
“You didn’t give me much attention then. Nerd. Black-rimmed glasses. Pocket protector lined with colored pens.”
“Oh, my gosh. I do remember you. Geeky Kyle.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was rude.”
Kyle shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me anymore.”
“I didn’t know your family owned Morrison Shipping.”
“You didn’t know much about me. You were too busy hanging out with the jocks.”
She openly ogled him. “You’ve changed.”
Kyle’s mouth turned up at the corners, and he returned the appreciation. “You haven’t. You’re still as breathtakingly beautiful as you were at sixteen, only sexier.”
A flush heated Fiona’s face. She was glad the lights on the patio were dim enough to hide her embarrassment. Her hand brushed over the precisely folded silk handkerchief in the pocket of his tux. “What happened to the pocket protector?”
“I traded it for condoms after I got refractive surgery and buffed up on the Harvard rowing team.”
And buffed up, he had. She let her gaze slide over him, enjoying the view. Seducing him into marrying her might not be a bad job. Then she remembered Mike’s strong arms around her and the emotions it elicited. Oh, God, she was acting like a tramp. Planning on seducing one man while she thought about another.
This is business. Strictly business. Pleasurable business, maybe, but just business.
The justification pep talk didn’t help.
“What have you been doing since graduation?” The smooth sound of his deep voice brought her back to the moment.
“Like you, I’m running the family business now. My folks are dead, and everything came to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” His sympathy surged sad memories over her, and she hastened to change the subject. “You’re the CEO now? How do you like it?”
“I don’t. I’m here because Dad is dying, and he wants me to keep the business running. I’d rather be on Wall Street, but it’s hard to say no to a dying man.”
Could it get any better? If she could hold out until his father died, Kyle might be willing to sell the business, since he didn’t want to be here anyway. Maybe she could avoid espionage, a fake marriage, and still take the credit for the sale of his business to OmniWorld. She mentally slapped herself. Wishing a dying man dead faster was horrible.
She remembered the wretched pain that gripped her when her parents died. Kyle had to be hurting. He needed to be comforted, not swindled.
She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “This must be an awful time for you. I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks. But now something good’s happened because I had to take over,” he said, his voice low and silky. “I’ve found you again.” The tone and the sultry expression he gave her sent shivers along her spine.
Suddenly, her body buzzed. Not from desire, but the buzzing she’d experienced when the man from OmniWorld had come to her office. She whirled around, searching the patio. A tall, slender man backed into the open doorway of the ballroom, and the buzzing disappeared.
A shifter had been watching them. Who and why?
She looped her arm in Kyle’s and moved toward the door, anxious to catch the observer. “We
should go in now.”
He tugged her to a stop. “Not until you promise to see me again.”
Easy answer. “I’d love to.”
Kyle drew her into his arms and lowered his head to hers. She backed away. He was already interested in her. A few well-placed encouragements and who knows what might happen.
“Too soon?” he asked, disappointment clouding his face.
Confusion knotted her stomach and she nodded. What have I gotten myself into?
As the knot grew tighter, she decided she might not be cut out to be a spy. But she had no other choice, unless she wanted to lose everything.
Chapter 8
“We’re landing soon,” Mike said as he shook LJ awake.
She yawned and stretched, then wrinkled her nose. “Smells like someone needs a change.”
“He has for a few hours. I hated to wake either of you. You were both sleeping soundly.”
LJ rose and retrieved the baby. Mike backed away, gagging. The kid stank. LJ flipped the fresh diaper on with practiced ease and rolled up the dirty one. “Where should I put this?”
Mike grabbed a trash can from the end of the sofa and walked the stinky cargo to the bathroom. “You hungry?” he called from the rear of the plane. “There are sandwiches in the fridge. No baby food though.”
LJ removed a bib and a tiny jar from the diaper bag. “I’ve got something for him. I’ll take whatever the fridge provides.”
He removed a soda and a pre-wrapped sandwich, snagged a couple of napkins and a plate, and headed to where she sat feeding the baby.
“How long will it take us to get to Eli?” she asked.
“About twenty to thirty minutes, provided we don’t hit problems. I’ve got the longitude and latitude put into my phone’s GPS, but when I looked at an aerial map I couldn’t see any roads leading to the spot.”
