by C. D. Hersh
“Keep trying her phone. If it turns on see if you can track the GPS location. I’ll check in later.”
Mary Kate waited for him outside the door to her motel room, leaning against the doorframe, tapping her foot. The scowl on her face told him she wasn’t keeping beat with music, but with an impatient soul.
“Did ye drive like an old man to get here?” she asked as she straddled the seat behind him. “I’d have thought with yer performance on the carriageway in Scotland ye’d have arrived sooner.”
“There’s not much open road between my client’s house and here,” he said. “Getting a speeding ticket would have delayed things even more.”
“Once ye’ve dropped me off, ye can leave or join me. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“I want to know the status. I’ll stay.”
Mary Kate leaned close to him as they drove off. “Eli was pleased with the information we found last night.”
“I screwed up. I should have done something different to get the information we needed.”
“Dinna fash yerself about it. Eli has a plan, I’m sure. The Keeper always knows what to do.”
“He should bottle his confidence and sell it. He’d be a rich man.”
“He doesn’t need to. He’s rich as Midas already.”
“He doesn’t act like it.”
“Do ye think all rich people act a certain way?”
“The ones I’ve met do. They act privileged and look down on others not as fortunate. They think they know better than the people they hire to help them.” Just like Fiona ignored his advice.
“Then yer hanging around with the wrong sort.”
He couldn’t argue there.
“Maybe ye need a different line of work.”
“And give up everything a mercenary soldier’s life offers?” He caught the sarcasm in his voice and hoped she wouldn’t.
Mary Kate’s arms tightened as they rounded a corner. “So that’s what ye are. Explains a lot. Yer duffel full of weapons. Yer strength. Yer bravery.”
Her voice got husky in his ear. He arched his spine, pushing her shoulders and soft breasts away from him. She was way too close for comfort.
“It’s a job, and I do it well. Nothing to get excited about, Red.”
She stiffened at the use of his nickname for her and pulled away. Mike breathed easier without her heat pressing into him. He shifted on the seat, easing his involuntary reaction to her closeness. Wishing it were Fiona hugging him.
Mary Kate made another comment, the words lost to him as they whisked away in the wind now that she’d retreated. Then her arm came over his shoulder, her long fingers pointing.
“There. On the corner.”
He eased the bike to the curb lane and pulled into the restaurant lot.
As he flipped the kickstand down, he said, “I’ve got to make a call. I’ll be right in.”
She leaned over his shoulder as she dismounted, whispering in his ear, “No problem, Butch. I’ll save ye a seat next to me.”
He dialed George. “Anything yet?”
“Her phone’s off. It might be better if you don’t check every five minutes, Mike. I’ll let you know when I hear something.”
“Thanks,” he growled and hung up. It wouldn’t be soon enough for him.
“Mary Kate says you have a plan,” Mike said to Eli after the server had taken their orders.
The old Scotsman took a long drink of water. “Aye,” he said, after slowly swallowing and setting his glass on the table with the precision of a robotic surgeon.
“Care to share it?”
“Nae.”
“Eli,” Alexi said, “don’t be rude. We should tell Mike our plans.”
“’Tis time for the laddie tae leave the rest o’ the business tae us.” Eli rotated to face Mike. “I appreciate all ye’ve done tae help, but we dinna need tae involve ye in the matter any mair. We’ll handle it from here.”
“How are you planning to find this compound? Do you know where he might be?” Mike asked.
“Nae, but we’ve resources tae tap. We’re nae without our own capabilities tae search.”
Mike leaned in closer and whispered, “Do you mean those sensing powers? Because I don’t see how they’ll ferret out one man among how many? One hundred? A thousand? Kind of like searching for a single black grain of sand in a sand pit. Or are you going to shift into wolves or bloodhounds and track him?”
When Eli didn’t answer, Mike turned to Rhys. “I feel responsible for this. I promised Hugh I would take care of his family, and until the baby is reunited with his mother, I have a duty to fulfill. Surely you understand.”
“I do,” Rhys said, “but Eli’s right. You don’t have the skills to hunt these shifters.”
“It can’t be all hocus pocus. I’m a security guy. A computer geek and a soldier. I can hack and hunt with the best of them. There must be something I can do.”
“You’re a hacker?” Alexi said, a spark of interest in her eyes.
“I’m not a hacker, but I know how to hack. Part of my security job is hacking systems to find their weaknesses.”
“Are you good at it?” she asked.
“I don’t want to brag, but yes. I’m damn good at it.”
Alexi faced Eli. “We could use him, Eli. Gladys said she was locked out of the force’s system. Maybe Mike can get in another way.”
“Who’s Gladys?” Mike asked.
“Our contact in the Cleveland Police Department,” Rhys said. “A dirty cop organization according to Gladys. Have you ever hacked a government system?”
“I did some work for Hugh with the FBI.”
Mary Kate leaned forward and spoke across Mike to Eli. “We can keep him out of the field. Let him do the brainwork while we do the legwork. Please,” she said. “If he feels as bad about losing the children as I do, we can’t just toss him out.”
Mary Kate laid her hand over Mike’s and squeezed, waiting for an answer. Eli stared pointedly at their hands, and she slipped hers onto her lap.
“I’ll agree tae a trial period,” he said. “But if anything goes awry, or ye step outta line, ye’ll be oot on yer fanny quicker than an egg pops oot o’ a hen. Understood?”
“Understood.” He didn’t care for being left out of the action, but on some level he understood where Eli was coming from. They were better equipped to find their own kind. But if anything he did helped find the kids, he was in.
“I have some shell companies we believe are connected to Falhman,” Rhys said. “You can start there. I made copies of the department’s records on the last bust Hugh did. The one Alexi’s cousin provided the information for.”
His wife looked askance at him. “That’s illegal.”
“I thought they might come in handy in our shifter war. After all, Falhman is the biggest enemy we’ve got. I couldn’t let all the information Owen fed us go to waste. They were in my briefcase the night we fled to Scotland.”
“I didn’t pack your briefcase,” Alexi wailed.
“It’s in my phone. I transferred it after we got to Scotland.”
Mike jotted his email address on a napkin. “Send it to me and I’ll get started tonight.” He wouldn’t stop searching until he found something. Anything to reunite the boys with their mothers. Then his debt to Hugh would truly be paid, and he would never indebt himself to anyone again.
Chapter 19
Her training session over, Falhman showed Fiona to a bedroom where an exquisite evening gown lay on a double bed. A pair of matching colored heels peeked from beneath the dust ruffle.
“I guessed at your size, my dear.”
“I can’t accept these,” Fiona protested.
“Nonsense. You’re having dinner with me tonight, and you
can’t show up in those sweaty yoga pants. I dress for dinner. The bathroom is through the door. You’ll find everything you need to freshen up for the evening meal.” When she didn’t move, he added, “I’ll have your own clothes laundered during dinner. You can wear them home, if you prefer.”
“Yes, thank you.” Dining with him was one thing. Having him dress her, quite another.
After she’d showered, she put on the clothes Falhman had provided. Then she turned on her phone, texted George to let him know she’d be home really late, and powered down the device. By now, Mike was probably seething, but it couldn’t be helped. She was building a future here. One she hoped would save her company. If she needed to spend all day with the rogue kingpin, then she would. Surprisingly, except for the times she’d been thrown to the mat, the day had gone well.
She opened the bedroom door to find a maid in mid-knock. “I’ve come for your exercise clothes,” the petite woman said.
Apologizing for their stink, Fiona handed them to her.
The maid smiled shyly at her. “Do you need directions to dinner?”
“Yes, please.”
“You’ll be dining with Mr. Falhman on the terrace tonight. It might be chilly. You should get a wrap from the closet.”
In the closet, Fiona found a collection of evening dresses and knitted wraps. She chose one the same blue of her gown and tossed it over her shoulders. The fabric draped softly against her skin. Cashmere, if she wasn’t mistaken.
“Does Mr. Falhman entertain many female guests?” she asked, curious about the stash of clothing in the closet.
“No, ma’am. You’re the only lady I’ve seen since I started working for him.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“About five years now. Most of his employees are long-timers, if we make it past the trial period.”
“And if you don’t?”
“I don’t know, Miss. Nobody talks about those who leave. It’s bad luck to speak of the departed.”
Something about the way she said the last word sent chills over Fiona. As in dearly departed. Funeral departed. In a coffin departed.
She shrugged off the notion and hugged the wrap closer to her body, warding off the goose bumps raising over her bare arms. How long was her trial period?
The maid led her through the main section of the house, into the living room, and out a floor-to-ceiling set of glass doors, which appeared to have no frame or locks, onto a curved, cobblestone path leading to an all-white gazebo. Beds of colorful daffodils and pansies, lighted by down-facing glass shades resembling drooping tulips, filled the oval flowerbeds edging the walk. Soft music played somewhere in the background. As she neared the gazebo, Falhman rose and moved toward her.
“You look beautiful, my dear,” he said, as he tucked her arm in his. “I thought the color might suit you. I remembered it as being your mother’s favorite.”
For someone who had been so many years removed from her mother, Falhman seemed to remember a lot about her. Fiona didn’t know if his memories were good or bad. At the moment, his enchantment with her mother was working in her favor.
“She did wear a lot of blue. Funny you should remember that about her.”
“I remember many things about your mother. Her beauty. The sweet nature she had. She had a laugh like fairy bells tinkling in the Highland mist.”
“That’s not really a thing, is it?”
“The Highland mist?”
“Fairy bells.”
He cocked his head and stared at her. “You’d be surprised at the things you find in the Highland mist, my dear. I found your mother there. She was gathering spring flowers, on a day much like today, and the mist parted on the hill. There she was, as beautiful as a young goddess. I fell madly in love with her the moment I saw her.”
“What happened?”
“We had a parting of the ways. Different life philosophies, I suppose, which we couldn’t compromise on. I let her go, except in my memories. She lives there.”
It took every ounce of willpower in her to keep her mouth closed. Her mother’s diary said different. She believed him a monster. A demanding, overbearing man. She slipped her arm from his and stepped back, studying him. He did not resemble anything her mother described.
“I’m very glad to have finally met her daughter. It’s like having a bit of Kayla right in front of me. Except you are your own person. Not her, I realize.”
“No, I am definitely not my mother. I have done many things she would probably roll over in her grave about.”
A light twinkled in Falhman’s eyes. Something she couldn’t identify, but he seemed pleased at her declaration.
He scooted her chair out for her. “Come, my dear. Let’s dine and talk ‘of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—of cabbages and kings—’”
“‘And why the sea is boiling hot—And whether pigs have wings.’”
“You know the poem?” He raised a silver brow at her.
“It’s The Walrus and the Carpenter from Through the Looking Glass. One of my favorite childhood books. I take it, from your comment, you are not planning serious conversations tonight.” She had hoped, since they had a successful day of training, to discuss OmniWorld, the insurance issue, and Kyle. Should she press for answers?
“Correct. I just want to get to know you better.”
She gave him her most beguiling smile in an effort to hide the ominous chill creeping through her. Odd he would quote that particular poem. The walrus had told the little oysters they were merely going for a walk. Then he had eaten them.
Mike rushed out the door the second Fiona’s car approached and planted himself in the path of her vehicle. She pulled to a stop, rolled her window down, and waved him aside.
“Stay right there,” he commanded as he came around to the driver’s side.
She shifted into park and leaned out the window. “Can it wait until I’m in the house?”
“No.” He reached into the car and released the lock. “Get out,” he said as he opened the door.
She cut the engine off and did as he asked. No need in further antagonizing him. She could see from the blaze in his eyes he was furious with her.
As soon as she cleared the door, Mike pressed into her personal space. The heat from his body rolled over her like a hot, humid summer day. She sidestepped to get away from him, but he followed.
“Where the hell have you been all day? I’ve—we’ve been worried sick about you.”
“I left a note, and I texted George.”
“Both very obtuse messages. Have you forgotten someone shot at you the other day?”
“Of course not, but I was safe today. I had scads of people around me, and not one of them had a gun.” Part of her statement was true. She hadn’t seen a single weapon on the shifters Falhman had sicced on her.
Mike slammed his palm on the rear quarter panel of the car, causing her to flinch. “What about the one who might not have been around you? The one with a high-powered, telescoped rifle shooting from across the street or the window of a building? You can’t keep running off, Fiona, until we know more about who tried to shoot you.”
“I can’t stop living just because someone might want me dead.”
“Might? There’s no might about it. The laser point was aimed straight at your heart. Whoever was targeting you did not mean to scare you. They meant to kill you. If I hadn’t knocked you off your chair you’d be dead. And what’s wrong with your cell? Do you have a dead battery? Were you out of cell range?”
“I turned it off.”
His faced turned maroon. “Why?”
“I didn’t want to be interrupted.”
“Was what you were doing today more important than staying alive?”
She lowered her eyes to hide
how important what she’d been doing was to her. Everything depended on getting close to Falhman. She needed to learn to become a shifter—a great shifter. She also needed Falhman to trust her so she could weasel information from him and get closer to OmniWorld and her ultimate takedown of the company.
Mike grasped her by the shoulders, his touch burning through her lightweight knit jacket.
“Nothing is worth getting killed over, Fiona. Trust me. You have to start being more careful. Please.”
Something in his voice made her look at him. The angry blaze in his eyes changed, becoming concerned.
“I’m sorry I worried you,” she said, acutely aware he gripped her. “I should have been more clear, more forthcoming, about how long I would be.”
He moved closer to her, and she placed her hand on his chest, blocking him. Beneath her fingertips his heart pounded wildly.
The emotionally charged air swirling around them changed. Concern became tenderness. He inched closer, the grip of his fingers on her arms loosened and his thumbs circled on her, sending waves of goose bumps over her.
“Yes, you should have.” His hands left her arms, moving to her waist, easing her forward until the length of their bodies touched.
Her heartbeat accelerated, matching his. She leaned against the car in an effort to keep upright, her legs as wobbly as a newborn pony. Mike followed, his hips pressing seductively against hers.
“Will you . . .?”
The pressure of his body against hers made her lose concentration. Her mind wandered as he drew closer and closer.
Will I kiss you? Let you make mad, passionate love to me? Let you into every part of my being?
Desire coursed through her, leading her thoughts astray as she imagined making love with him.
