The Mercenary and the Shifters (The Turning Stone Chronicles)

by C. D. Hersh

  But she didn’t feel like just a job.

  He turned his back on the smooching couple. How many times was he going to have to repeat this litany before it stuck?

  Kyle’s car had barely left the house when the doorbell rang. Fiona checked the video camera screen George had installed next to the door, and her heart leapt. Mike!

  Fumbling with the locks, she opened the door wide and waved him in. “You’re here.” She tried to keep the note of excitement out of her voice, but couldn’t.

  “That’s a pretty enthusiastic greeting for someone who just finished smooching another man,” Mike said.

  “You saw?” She peered out the door. “Where’s your bike?”

  “In the bushes. I heard someone coming and, at two in the morning, thought it might be burglars or assassins. Instead, I caught the command performance of lover boy.”

  “You sound jealous.”

  “Not jealous. Annoyed you’re not being more careful. Someone tried to kill you. You need to be more judicious in your choice of company. Where do you know this dude from?”

  “You are jealous.” She couldn’t help enjoying the thrill coursing through her at his protectiveness.

  “No,” he insisted. “I’m worried about you.”

  “George checked him out, I’m sure. You should have seen the look on Kyle’s face when George wanded him.”

  “Does this Kyle know about the other night?”

  “He was concerned about me having a bodyguard. I told him what had happened.”

  Mike spun on his heel away from her, then back again. “The fewer people who know, the safer you’ll be. What if he was in on the attempt?”

  “Kyle? He’s not a killer. Besides, there’s no reason he’d want me dead.” Yet. If she went ahead with any of her plans except the double-cross, she could be in Kyle’s crosshairs.

  “You’re frowning,” Mike said. “Is there a possibility he could be involved and you’re hiding it from me?”

  “No,” she lied. “I was thinking about something else.” She changed the subject off herself. “Did you get LJ safely to Scotland?”

  This time Mike frowned. “Yes and no.”

  “No? Are she and the baby dead?”

  “No, but there was a problem. Nothing I can go into at the moment. I might need some time while I’m working on your security to iron out the problem. Do you mind?”

  “Are you going to leave the country?” She thought about Homeland Security warning her not to travel. They’d be keeping an eye on her jet. She wouldn’t want to explain why Mike was using the company jet for worldwide excursions if they asked. How did you tell the highest level of the country’s security about shape shifters?

  “No. I might need to leave Cleveland, but I’m fairly certain all travel will be in the US.”

  “I think we can work it out. Maybe we should keep George on in case you need to leave.”

  “Good idea. Where is he?”

  “I put him out in the guest house.” She dug in the hall table beside the front door. “Here’s an extra key, if you want to stay out there. Or you can use one of the guest rooms in the house.”

  Mike hesitated when she held out the key, his face conflicted. Then he grabbed it and headed for the front door. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he called over his shoulder.

  Mike knocked rather than use his key. George had a quick trigger finger. He didn’t want to surprise his employee.

  “Got room for a buddy?” Mike asked as he pointed to his duffel.

  Opening the door wider, George motioned him inside. “She boot you out of the house?”

  “Gave me a choice. I thought it safer to bunk with you.” A smile quirked George’s cheek. Mike scowled at him. “It’s not what you think.”

  Raising his hands in the air, George said, “Hey, I don’t think. I just watch and interpret. I call a spark a spark when I see one. She’s got one for you.”

  Mike tried to keep the pleasure off his face. “What do you interpret about her date, Kyle?”

  George’s smile broadened. “You got one for her, too.”

  Mike pulled his mouth into a scowl. “Her date, George.”

  “He’s filthy rich. CEO of Morrison Shipping. Recently took over from his old man, who’s dying.”

  “Playboy?”

  “Nah, the old man’s happily married.”

  Mike dropped his duffel on the floor with a bang. “Don’t screw with me, George. It’s been a long, hard two days—or is it three? I’m jet lagged. I can’t think straight.” Maybe exhaustion was why he reacted so strongly to Fiona and Kyle’s kiss.

  “He’s no more playboy than other red-blooded American boys,” George said.

  Mike didn’t care for that answer much, either.

  “But he appears to be clean. I couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary on him. Not even a ticket or college tank time. Now you’re here, I’ll be going in the morning.”

  “Stay. There are some loose ends on the Scotland thing I have to finish. I might need you to keep an eye on Fiona.” He yawned, jet lag catching up to him. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” George pointed in the direction of a door. “You can take that room.” He poured a cup of coffee, sat at the table, and opened a computer.

  “You staying up?” Mike asked.

  “I got a perimeter sweep in a few minutes, and I want to check the surveillance tapes before I hit the sack. Everything’s been quiet since you left, but I want one more round.”

  “Good man, George,” Mike said as he headed for his room. He’d left Fiona in reliable hands.

  For a second, he considered turning the entire job over to George and making a run for it before he got in deeper. Then he remembered the jolt of electricity that shot through him the first time Fiona touched him.

  Weren’t feelings like that worth staying around for?

  Chapter 16

  Falhman paced the living room of his country compound. Ewan was late. He checked his cell for the tenth time. No messages. What the hell had happened to him?

  Pete, his head of security, entered the all-white room. “Someone’s at the front gate, sir. Should we let them in?”

  “I’m expecting a delivery. Let’s see who it is.”

  Falhman turned the TV on to view the front gate camera feed. “See if they can get a tighter shot of the backseat.”

  Pete relayed Falhman’s instructions on his walkie-talkie. Two children appeared on the screen.

  “Let them in.” Falhman watched the vehicle wind through the snaking road toward the semi-circle drive at the front of the main compound.

  As the car rounded a bend in the road, Falhman pointed at a screen. “You need to reposition that camera. The vehicle disappeared from view for a minute.”

  “Will do, sir,” Pete said.

  When the car arrived at the front door, two men, carrying children, got out.

  “The delivery?” Pete asked.

  “Yes. Fetch the new nanny,” he instructed, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice as he left the living room.

  Maintaining a sedate pace, to project composure as he passed his guards and household staff, nearly killed him as he headed toward the children. His son and his grandson—the future of his kingdom—were in his grasp. He put on what he hoped was his most compassionate face as he entered the foyer where the children lay sleepy-eyed in the Scottish rogues’ arms.

  “You’re late,” he whispered to his underlings so he wouldn’t startle the children.

  Ewan opened his mouth, but Falhman cut him off. “Pete will show you to my office.” He lifted one of the boys into his arms. “As soon as I’ve settled them, we’ll discuss it.”

  The nanny appeared, and
he indicated she should take the other child. As Pete led Ewan and his helper to the office, Falhman and the nanny carried the children to the nursery in the farthest pod building of the compound.

  The windows in the nursery looked out at the lake. Nanny had dimmed the light and the blue walls made it seem as if they were underwater. Brightly colored fish swam in the blue paint, and an aquatic mobile hung over one of the two cribs in the room. As soon as he’d found out LJ’s child was his, Falhman had meticulously planned his son’s bedroom in anticipation of getting him from the man who’d stolen him. Since he had both boys, he’d have to create a second room, but not until he knew they were safe from Eli, Rhys, and Alexi. Until then the boys would stay together where they could be more easily guarded.

  Nanny laid her child on the changing table and swiftly diapered him. “They need baths,” she said, “but not tonight. First thing in the morning I’ll get them freshened up for you, sir.” She stripped the tot and put clean pajamas on him.

  As she moved toward a crib, Falhman reached for the child. “I’ll hold him while you take care of this one.” They exchanged babies, and he hugged the boy to his chest.

  “I’m going to do right by you,” he whispered into the child’s hair. “We’ll be a team. You, me, and him.”

  He laid the toddler in his crib. “Bring them to me tomorrow morning at breakfast. Nine sharp. We’ll discuss a schedule for them.”

  He brushed the baby’s hair from his forehead. The child looked at him and smiled, and Falhman’s heart melted. He was not going to let these boys go. Ever.

  And the only way to keep them was to kill their parents.

  Ewan and his helper jumped from their chairs the second Falhman entered. “We had car trouble.” The words burst from Ewan. “I couldnae ring through tae yer mobile, so I rang the penthouse. Someone was there, sir, and it wasnae ye.”

  “Who?”

  “He identified himself as ye, but I weren’t fooled. I hung up on him.”

  “What message did you leave?”

  “We had car trouble, and we would be late bringing the lads to ye.”

  “Shit!” The expletive exploded from Falhman. The two men jumped as he slammed his hand on the wall, causing the priceless Picasso hanging nearby to shimmy dangerously.

  The men stared bug-eyed at him, their ruddy complexions paling. Falhman reigned in his anger, moving to the massive desk in his office. He indicated the men should sit in the two chairs lined across from the front of the desk. Taking a stance in front of them, he steepled his fingers together. Channeling his anger, he towered over his underlings while he got his rage under control. The silence in the room grew thick as a dark muddy gray aura of fear rolled from the two rogues.

  “Gentlemen,” Falhman finally said, “I’m not certain if I should commend you or kill you.”

  The two men gulped loudly.

  “On the one hand, you delivered my package safely. On the other hand, you left a message my enemies could find.”

  “We dinna leave an address they could follow,” Ewan’s cohort said. “I’d swear by my life ye’ll be safe.”

  “Funny you put it that way, because if I’m not, your life will be payment.”

  “Sir,” Ewan said, “how can we serve ye tae prove our loyalty?”

  “Did you kill the boy’s mother?”

  “As I said afore, I canna be certain,” Ewan said. “We dinna see who was left standing.”

  “Then find her and eliminate her. While you’re at it, take down Alexi and Rhys Temple.”

  “Where will we find them?”

  “If you didn’t kill them, they’re probably in Cleveland by now.” He retrieved a small notebook from his desk, thumbed through it, and scribbled on a piece of paper. “Here’s the last known address of the Temples. They’ll need a place to stay. I expect this is where they will land. LJ Allen will no doubt be with them, if she’s alive.

  “I’ll let my men in the Cleveland Police Department know you’re after them. All the department’s assets will be at your disposal.” He glared at the two men. “Do this without screwing up, and I’ll consider forgiving your sin. If not . . .”

  He let his threat settle in silence, the words pressing on the men until he could smell their fear in the air. Then he punched a button on his desk, and Pete entered the office.

  “In the meantime, follow Pete. He’ll take you to the guards’ quarters. You can start your mission in the morning.”

  As the door closed behind the men, Falhman sank onto the edge of the desk. When he had his plans in motion for the best use of the anthrax he’d obtained and started the training of his presidential look-a-like candidates, he and the boys needed to get out of the country to some place safer. But first he needed proof the boys were his blood. His and McCraigen’s. Then he’d be set to take over and finally end Eli McCraigen’s do-gooder rule of the shifter world.

  Nanny brought the boys to breakfast at nine sharp, freshly bathed, smelling sweet, and dressed like little men. She placed them in their high chairs. Both boys banged the flats of their hands on the trays and started kicking their feet.

  “Are they going to make noise the entire meal?” Falhman asked, frowning.

  “Probably,” Nanny said. “They are boys, you know. Be glad they’re only banging and not crying, sir.”

  “Did they cry last night?” His bedroom was on the other side of the complex, and he hadn’t heard a peep from them.

  “A bit,” she said. “But separation anxiety is normal at their age. They’ll calm down as they get used to the new surroundings . . . and you, sir.”

  He put down his coffee cup and looked directly at Nanny. “I don’t know much about children,” he confessed. “But I want to do right by these boys.”

  She smiled at him, her cheeks rounding in her plump face. “You’ll do fine, sir. All it takes to win a child’s heart is love.”

  Love. Is that so hard? Surely he could love.

  He had loved once, but she failed him. Ran away from the love he had to give her. Their children, Roc and Rhys, had also run away from him. But he had another chance with these boys.

  Fiona Kayler’s face flashed through his mind. He might have another chance with his one true love’s daughter. Maybe the four of them could be a family. Him, Fiona, and the boys. All that Falhman and McCraigen blood in one family. How strong would they be?

  A raspberry sound broke through his thoughts as a gob of oatmeal landed close to his hand on the white silk tablecloth. Nanny hastened to wipe up the mess.

  “Sorry, sir,” she said as she dragged the highchair farther away from the table.

  Falhman glanced at the floor, the expensive, pale blue wool carpet now spotted with lumps of white. “I suppose they will be messy as well as loud?”

  Anxiety creased Nanny’s face. “Shall I feed them in the nursery, sir?”

  For a split second he considered her suggestion. Then dismissed it as quickly as she had cleaned the tablecloth. Fathering these boys, so they would be bound to him, meant learning to live with the inconveniences that came with children. Something he hadn’t done with Roc and Rhys.

  “They will breakfast with me every morning. I’ll order a plastic covering placed beneath their highchairs. Here is the rest of the schedule to which they need to adhere.” He passed the sheet of paper to Nanny and waited to see if she had any questions.

  “When are they supposed to play, sir? You didn’t leave any playtime.”

  “They need to play? Training is more important than play.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but play is the most important thing children can do. Especially with their parents.”

  Searching his memory he found no recollection of his parents playing with him . . . and he hated his parents. He snatched the paper back and scribbled in pl
aytime with the boys.

  “Be sure this is added to my schedule.” No way would he have his boys hating him like he hated his parents.

  Rising, he handed the paper to Nanny and headed for his office. He would get a rush job to test the boys’ DNA at his lab. He couldn’t wait a minute longer to know if the tikes were his son and grandson. When he was certain, he’d reel Fiona in.

  Chapter 17

  The phone awakened Fiona. She fumbled around on the nightstand for her cell and mumbled a sleepy, “Hello?”

  “Are you asleep, Fiona?” Falhman said. “We’re supposed to have a training session today. I’m sending my helicopter to get you. How soon can you get to the Cuyahoga County airport?”

  “Helicopter? Why can’t I drive there?”

  “Too far. I’ll text instructions. Be there by seven a.m. I’ll have you home by midnight.”

  “Midnight?” she sputtered. The line went dead. Fiona stared at the screen. Who the heck did he think he was ordering her around?

  Then she remembered. Oh, yeah, he’s the kingpin of the rogues, and you’re his stooge.

  She threw off the covers and headed for the closet. What did one wear to a shape shifter training session? She settled on a pair of loose yoga pants and a knit shirt. Her experience experimenting with mimic shifting taught her tight jeans were not a good choice. More than once she’d morphed into three sizes larger than her normal self and nearly split her jeans. Briefly, she wondered about animal shifting and whether she’d have to be naked. If so, she’d skip that part of the training. No one was seeing her naked body but the man she planned to marry.

  Unbidden, an image of her and Mike cavorting naked in the bed, flashed through her mind. She shook her head to clear the picture. More than likely her groom would be Kyle. Not Mike. Mike did not have what she needed to survive the jam she’d put herself in with the rogues. Her only consolation was the fact that Kyle was a nice guy and life with him wouldn’t be bad. Once she’d settled in with Kyle she’d forget all about Mike anyway. At least she hoped so.