by C. D. Hersh
“I . . . we . . .”
“Didn’t want the news to get out too soon,” Kyle said.
Mike grunted, tipping his head a fraction of an inch. What would Mr. Wonderful think if he knew his secret fiancée had screwed the security help? For a second Mike considered leaking the fact. Fiona’s panic-stricken face made him decide against it.
His gaze raked over Morrison. His mouth moved, but Mike had no idea what the man said. What the hell did she see in him, anyway? Was it the money? He had money. She just didn’t know it.
The fancy clothes? Mike ran his hand across his worn, comfortable jeans. He could dress up. If he wanted to.
Was Morrison a better kisser? Did he satisfy her more? Mike thought back to their one night of passion. She’d seemed pretty well pleasured, and she’d had no complaints.
“Corritore?”
Morrison’s voice broke into Mike’s mental rant. He shook out the thoughts. It wasn’t his business what his client did. They had a night. A one-time thing. He didn’t need to get riled over a cheat. Apparently she wasn’t.
He pigeonholed his anger and frustration. “Sorry. I was thinking about the security for your party. When did you say it was?”
“Next week,” Kyle said.
Fiona’s head jerked toward Kyle. “We can’t plan anything that fast,” she protested.
Mike heard more panic in her voice. What was she scared of? He studied her, trying to figure out what was wrong. Her blouse fluttered against her chest, the rapid heartbeat beneath the fabric clear to him.
“Not to worry. I’ve got it all arranged. I’ve been planning my wedding for years, waiting for the perfect woman to come along.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.
A creepy chill crawled over Mike at Kyle’s declaration.
Fiona stiffened. Then she pasted a smile on her face as she glanced at Kyle. “Of course you have.”
“And here she is.” Kyle drew Fiona closer, holding her tight. She did not relax in his embrace.
Mike’s heart thundered in his chest. She was afraid. Of Morrison? Of marriage? That he would rat on her?
Until he found out, either he or George would hang so close to the woman she’d think they were second skins.
“How many guests are you inviting?” Mike asked.
“A few hundred.”
Mike mentally calculated the crew he’d need, factoring Mary Kate into the equation. Would he need more than one shifter to protect and tail Fiona? The risk of detection might be too great with their sensing abilities. On call at a reasonable distance might be a better option. He wondered how well the old man Eli could fight.
“The party will be at my home,” Kyle added. “I’ll want at least two security guards just for Fi.”
Mike cringed at the use of Fi, reminded again that Kyle’s relationship with the woman he loved was obviously closer than his own. “That would be me and George,” Mike said, trying to keep his voice on an even keel. Forcing his emotions back into and relocking the box was the only way he could deal with this situation. “I need a list of guests in time to check them out before the party. Any high-profile people?”
“Lots. Mother knows everyone who’s anyone.”
That could make security even harder. “And your friends?” Mike asked.
“Are few and far between.”
The answer deepened Mike’s distrust of the man. Psychos were usually loners.
“They’re mostly business associates. I can get a list to you in a day or two.”
“Great.” Mike rose to leave.
“We haven’t talked pay,” Kyle said.
“I’ll let you know when I’ve figured out the manpower.” He faced Fiona. “I’m calling George. Don’t leave until he gets here.”
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, a stubborn expression flooding her face.
“Now you’re engaged to such a high-profile man, you will not be dumping us anymore until we discover who this killer is after and why. Maybe the first shot at you wasn’t meant to hurt, but to warn Morrison. Threatening someone who means a lot to a man is the quickest way to get him to do what you want.”
“But we just got engaged,” Fiona protested.
“Just like that, huh?” Mike said. “No foreplay. No dates? No hanky-panky? Nothing leading to the momentous moment?” If that were the case, he’d need to keep two eyes on Morrison.
“Of course there was,” Kyle said. “We just kept it quiet.”
“Then someone must have found out about it.” Mike’s head jerked toward Kyle. “Then again, maybe Morrison is the one in mortal danger.” He let the idea sink in, watching the couple’s faces as they absorbed the notion. Morrison looked shocked. Fiona unconvinced. “Or, they could be after you, Fiona.”
“We’ll wait for George,” Kyle said. He extended his hand and Mike shook it. “Keep her safe, Corritore, and I’ll double whatever price you quote.”
A rush of emotions ran over Fiona’s face, so fast Mike couldn’t read them. The last one—shock—remained in place as her gaze swung between him and Kyle. If only he had Mary Kate’s special sensing abilities. Then he could see what was going on in Fiona’s head.
After George took his place, Mike and Mary Kate headed for Rhys’ hotel suite to let him know about his sister.
“How much black?” Rhys asked when Mary Kate told him about Fiona’s aura.
“Not a lot, but if ye cannot get through to her she’s probably headed down the wrong pathway.”
“Black? Auras?” Mike asked. “What’s that mean?”
“We all have electrical fields around us,” Rhys explained, “and they give off colors. Humans have a variety of colors in their auras. Each color indicates various emotions and basic traits. In addition to human auras, shifters have more red and green in their auras. Part of the magic ring auras. Certain high-level shifters can see the colors. We can tell a lot about people by looking at their auras. A mostly red and black aura is usually a rogue. The blacker the aura the more evil the shifter. A mostly green aura, with only a bit of red, is a good shifter.”
“You mean you . . . she.” He pointed at Mary Kate. “Can read my aura and tell what I’m thinking?”
The redhead gave him a saucy smile. “Aye, I can.”
Shit. He’d have to be more careful around the woman.
“Were you watching Fiona?”
“Aye.”
“What did you see?”
“She was frightened and ashamed and worried.”
All reasonable emotions considering what he knew about her.
“But I don’t know about what,” Mary Kate added.
“Did you read me to know what I was going to ask?”
“No. I know ye, Butch, and what ye feel for her.”
“Are you messing with my sister?” Rhys asked, his voice a growl.
“Nope.” And that was the truth. Now. He didn’t screw engaged or married women.
“What about the other fellow?” Rhys asked.
“We’ve checked him out and he seems to be clean, but since the last incident and now finding a link to Falhman on her computer, I’m not sure.”
“Incident?” Rhys asked.
“Someone shot at her and Morrison.”
“Shot?” Alexi and Rhys said at the same time. A meaningful glance passed between the two.
“If she’s in danger, we have to bring her in,” Rhys said.
“If the lassie ’tis in league with the devil, then what?” Eli asked. “We’d be bringing a snake intae the hoose. ’Tis better tae keep a close eye on her.”
“I’m providing security for the engagement party,” Mike said. “Since we know Fiona’s a shifter it might be helpful to have one or two of you at the party. She’s been giving me and Ge
orge the slip all the time. With your sensing abilities you might be able to keep an eye on her from a distance.”
“I’ll go,” Mary Kate said. “I’m not known in Falhman’s Cleveland Society.”
“You’ll need someone who can sense farther than she can,” said Rhys. “I should go.”
“And me,” Alexi added.
“Yer arm has barely healed, lassie,” Eli said. “Ye’ll need protection if yer going, sae I’ll go along.”
“Yer not leaving me outta the fun,” Donaline said, her hands perched on her ample hips.
“If Falhman might be there, I’ll be there,” LJ said.
Mike’s gaze cut around the room. “I’ll take Mary Kate in with me. The rest of you can wait on the outskirts of the property. Close enough to get there in seconds if Mary Kate senses anyone, but far enough away to keep from alerting other shifters who might appear.”
“Mary Kate dinna hafta alert us,” Eli said. “If there’s a shifter within sixty feet Rhys can pinpoint the devils.”
“Then persuade them to do his bidding,” Alexi added.
“Only him?” Mike asked, eyeing the tall shifter and Mary Kate.
She caught his look, winked at him, and laughed. “Ye don’t have to worry, Butch.” She shot him an alluring smile. “My only persuasion is my charm.”
And she had plenty of it.
“Lassie,” Eli said in a warning tone.
Mary Kate dialed back the breadth of the smile she’d aimed at Mike. But seduction remained in her eyes.
Mike glanced at Eli. The old man’s eyes burned. Mike didn’t like what he saw. Eli was definitely unhappy with Mary Kate’s attraction to him. Apparently, the Scottish shifter disliked humans as much as he disliked shifters.
For a second Mike let the glow of Mary Kate’s emotions wash over him, easing the sting of rejection Fiona had dealt him. Maybe a dalliance with someone who liked him, really liked him, wouldn’t hurt.
But she’s a shifter. The objection sprang to mind unbidden. So did the rebuttal. You’ve already had one. What’s one more?
Nothing would come of the relationship anyway. Either Eli, or he, would break it off before it got too serious.
He returned Mary Kate’s smile. As her eyes widened, he knew she got his message.
A growl rolled from Eli’s throat. So had the Keeper of the Stone. Mike ignored the warning. He needed Mary Kate right now. If for no other reason than to make Fiona realize what she’d relinquished.
Chapter 30
True to his promise, Kyle had the engagement party ready to go in a week. As Fiona stood beside him and Mother Morrison greeting the lines of guests—most of whom neither she nor Kyle knew—she wondered for the hundredth time if their scheme would work. Kyle’s arm around her waist held her tight as if he knew she was ready to skip out on the whole thing, and her cheeks ached from smiling. She glanced at Mother Morrison. Was her smile as fake as Kyle’s mother’s?
Fiona wiggled in her high heels, drawing Kyle’s attention to her.
“Something wrong, darling?” he asked as he dropped a kiss on top of her head.
“My feet are killing me.”
Stepping back, Kyle moved them off the hard pavement onto the grass. “Take off your shoes, Fi.”
She slipped out of her heels and dug her toes into the soft, green carpet. As a sigh escaped from her, Kyle laughed. “She’s low maintenance,” he told the guest in front of them. “A bit of grass for her toes and she’s happy.” He squeezed her. “Gotta love a woman like that. Right?”
The guest hastened to agree with him. Kyle’s mother made the next introduction and the line moved forward. Fiona’s brain glazed over as person after person she didn’t know passed in front of them.
Then the shifter tingles started.
She shot erect, her gaze cutting down the length of the line where she spotted a tall, busty, matronly blonde. Fiona’s gaze locked with the woman’s, who raised her hand, flaying it in the air. “Yoo-hoo, Fiona,” she called.
Falhman! The bimbette version. What in heaven’s name was he doing here? How was she going to explain him?
The bimbette’s salutation drew Kyle’s attention. “Who’s she?”
“A friend.”
“Was she on the guest list?”
“No. She couldn’t come. Guess she changed her mind and decided to crash the party.” Should she mention her friend was connected to OmniWorld? No. Better to keep Kyle in the dark about Falhman.
“No problem,” Kyle said. “There’s always room for one more.”
The buzzing intensified as Falhman neared. More than it should have for just one shifter. With a jolt, Fiona realized Falhman had brought an entourage. When Falhman reached them he air-kissed her cheeks and dove into his own introductions, his voice a fluttering octave above his normal pitch.
“I’m Della, Fiona’s friend.” He grabbed Fiona’s hand and admired the engagement ring. “I always knew she would make herself a good match. A love match, too. How wonderful. You don’t find many Prince Charmings these days.”
“I’m glad to meet you, Della.” A warm smile, unlike the one he’d been giving to his mother’s guests, lit Kyle’s face.
Oh, you really aren’t. Not if you knew who she was. Fiona removed her hand from Falhman’s grip. “How nice you could make it, Della,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Leaning past Kyle, she made the introduction to Mother Morrison. “I’ll see you later,” she promised Falhman.
“Oh, I’m counting on it, dear,” he replied. Then he waved his manicured hand in the air and sashayed off into the crowd.
“Congressmen.” Mother Morrison’s voice cut through the babble of party noise as she stepped out of the receiving line and bypassed several of the waiting guests. “How nice of you to make it.”
Mother Morrison dragged two smartly dressed men to her place in line. Two women trailed them. A buzz of shifter tingles flooded Fiona as the men passed. She did a double-take, as did the men when they passed her. She followed the sensation as it ebbed and flowed with the men’s movements.
The congressmen were shifters? Moving to where the men stood, she held out her hand. “I’m Fiona, Kyle’s fiancée. I want to say how honored I am you’ve come.” The men shook her hand in turn. The buzzing went off the scale, and their eyes widened as their hands touched, but they gave no other indicator they recognized what she was. If they were with Falhman, he hadn’t told them about her. Fiona shook the women’s hands. No shifter tingles whatsoever.
Kyle joined her and she made introductions. Mother Morrison frowned at her and whisked the men off toward Kyle’s father.
“She doesn’t care much for me,” Fiona said.
“She will when she gets to know you.” Kyle pulled her into line and the endless greeting continued.
Somehow, she doubted Mother Morrison would find anything she did acceptable. She couldn’t blame the woman. Fiona glanced to where Kyle’s parents stood, deep in discussion with the congressmen, the remainder of their guests left to her and Kyle.
Fiona scanned the milling people for Falhman. What did he know about the congressmen?
Finally, the long line ended and Kyle and Fiona joined their guests at the party. When a group of his business associates cornered Kyle, Fiona made her escape and went in search of Falhman, aka Della, whom she found holding court with a bevy of old men clustered about her.
Hooking her arm in Falhman’s, Fiona said, “Sorry, fellows, but I want some girl time with my friend.” Amid a hue of protests, she dragged Falhman off to a secluded corner of the garden. “Do you think it’s funny to fool those poor guys?” she asked.
“Actually, my dear, it’s quite a lot of fun.”
“You’re disgusting.”
He frowned. “I’
d be more discerning in what you say to me, my dear, if I were you.”
She stuffed down a smart-aleck retort. “What are you doing here?”
“Congratulating you.”
“Which you’ve already done as Heda. Are you spying? Don’t you trust me?”
“I learned a long time ago you can trust no one. You should heed the advice.”
“You may have a point. You and I aren’t the only shifters here. Did you know?”
“Of course. Roaming shifters do not escape my radar.”
“Then you know them?”
He paused for a moment studying her. “There are some things, my dear Fiona, to which even you cannot be privy. Suffice it to say they are not a threat to you.”
“Or the Morrisons? Because I saw Kyle’s parents cozying up to them. Is some underhanded thing going on with them I need to know about? You promised his family would be safe.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Morrison, or rather I should say Mrs. Morrison, is a ladder climber. The only person getting her into trouble is her.”
From some of the woman’s haughty actions, Fiona could believe that. “I think you should leave, now. You’ve congratulated me. Go, and please take your friends with you.”
He placed his hand over his heart and twisted his makeup-laden face into a hurt expression. “You wound me, my dear.”
Fiona chose to ignore the sarcastic action and words. “I can’t do my fiancée duties with you and your spies roaming around. I need to concentrate without my whole body buzzing from shifter sensations. Please leave,” she said politely.
“You need to learn to deal with shifter sensations. Since you asked nicely, I will oblige this time.” He air-kissed her and headed toward the Morrisons who were engrossed in conversation with the two congressmen. As Falhman passed the men they turned, watching his departure. Then a few minutes later they left, with their wives in tow.
