The Promised One (The Turning Stone Chronicles)

by C. D. Hersh

  “No funny stuff.” Johnny slowly stuck his hand into his shirt breast pocket and took out a slip of paper. “I got yer number right here.”

  She wiggled her fingers at him, and he handed over the paper. She recognized her handwriting. Could she believe him? Or was it just coincidence he carried the number? Gotta take the chance, Jordan. She nodded at Eli, and he released Johnny, but kept his hand tight against the barkeeper’s back. Johnny massaged his neck.

  “So what have you got for me?” she asked.

  “That fella you were searching for came in asking for a fence.”

  “What was he trying to fence?” Eli asked.

  “Diamond necklaces.”

  That fit. Shaw would have that kind of loot from the Pawling heist. “Did you make the arrangements?”

  “Yeah. I told him to come back here on the 31st at midnight, and he could make the exchange then.”

  Midnight? She had to get the ring back before then and this wasn’t a private enough place to take him down. Too many unfriendlies around. She released her hold on Johnny and motioned for Eli to do the same. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Johnny, you’re going to call our guy back and tell him the meeting has been moved.”

  “That’s going to be a bit hard. He didn’t leave me a number. He’s not as trusting as you.”

  “Find him, because if it doesn’t go down just like I say, I’m going to come back with my people and we’ll tear you to bits.”

  “Courtesy of Falhman,” Eli interjected.

  Johnny blanched two shades whiter. “G-got it,” he stammered.

  Who the heck was Falhman? She supposed it didn’t matter because Eli’s comment had the desired effect. “Understand?” she asked.

  “Whatever you want. I’m not crossing that SOB. What do you want me to tell him?”

  Alexi thought for a minute. Where should she set the meeting? Some place secluded. She thought about the alley where Baron had been murdered. Taking Shaw down there would be poetic justice. “There’s an alley about two doors down from the Dew Drop Inn. We’ll meet him there at after dark, nine p.m., on the 30th.”

  “That won’t fly. The fence already tried to set it for the 30 and he wouldn’t go for it.”

  “Pretty picky of him,” Eli said.

  “Yeah, well, he’s the one holding the goods, so there wasn’t much we could do about it. He said the 31 or there was no sale.”

  “Then make it the 31 at nine.”

  Johnny shook his head. “Nothing before eleven. Those were his exact words.”

  Eleven? That only left one hour before his connection with the ring would require killing him to take it away. She didn’t like those odds at all.

  “We’ll make it work,” Eli said.

  With a sigh, Alexi agreed. “Eleven, and not a minute later. If he doesn’t show we’ll hold you personally responsible. Got it?”

  Johnny nodded.

  Eli jabbed him in the back. “Walk us to the door, lad.” Several shifters rose as they came around the bar. “Tell yer goons tae stay put while we’re leaving.”

  “Falhman sent them,” Johnny said to the approaching men. They slinked back to their tables as Johnny accompanied Eli and Alexi to the door.

  She jammed the paper with her number onto Johnny’s chest. “Call me when it’s set.”

  Using his peripheral vision, Shaw watched Johnny escort the two burly men to the front door. Who the hell were they and what did they want with him? Were they Rocco’s men? Cops? He swung around in the chair as Johnny approached.

  “What kind of things are ya mixed up in, Danny?” Johnny asked. “Do ya know who those men were?”

  Damn. They had to be cops. “I was about to ask you the same thing. Cops?” No way was he going to tell Johnny anything.

  “You’d be better off if they were.” Johnny sat down in the chair opposite Shaw. “They’re Falhman’s men.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Johnny sighed and scrubbed at his face. “Ya had to go and get mixed up with a rube, didn’t ya?”

  Rube? He might be a lot of things but there was no way someone was going to call him a rube. Shaw slapped his hands on the table and rose out of his seat. “Are you talking to me?”

  “No!” The words exploded from Johnny. “I’m talking to myself.” He waved Shaw down. “I’ve got kids, Danny. Do you know what that means?”

  He dropped back into his seat, satisfied that Johnny wasn’t insulting him. “You screwed someone?”

  “Dammit, man, quit being a smart ass. Do you have any idea the kind of trouble yer in?”

  He did, but something told him carrying around a beard, the limp, and losing Lulu if he didn’t get rid of them, wasn’t what Johnny meant. “Guess not. You gonna tell me?”

  “The men who were in here are Falhman’s men.”

  “So?”

  “You don’t cross Falhman and live to talk about it.”

  A chill skated over him. How had he crossed this Falhman? “I don’t get it. I don’t know the guy.”

  “Apparently he knows ya and he wants to meet with ya.”

  “Why?”

  “Beats me.”

  Shaw nervously twisted his bloodstone ring. What could this Falhman want with him? Had he accidentally shifted into the man and caused him some trouble?

  “What does Falhman look like?”

  “No one knows for sure. He keeps his real form hidden away. Some say he resembles the devil himself.” Johnny studied Shaw. His gaze roamed over him, stopping on the ring. “Where’d ya get yer ring, man?”

  Was the man he killed in cahoots with this Falhman? Had he offed someone important? Shaw shoved his hand under the table. “That’s none of your business.”

  “It is now.” Johnny wiggled his fingers at him. “Give it to me.”

  “No way. I’ve got to give it back so I can get rid of that damn limp and beard. This isn’t leaving my hand until I have my meeting.”

  “I’d not be so sure of that if I were ya. If they’re both after yer ring, yer going to be caught between the devil and his mate.”

  The devil and his mate? He didn’t like the sound of that. “You promised me a meeting with the woman who could take this stuff away from me. I paid you to make it happen.” He rose from his chair and closed in on Johnny’s personal space, sneering at him. “I’m desperate, man, and I’ll do whatever I have to get that meeting.” He dug his fingers into Johnny’s arm. “I’m no choir boy, if you get my drift.”

  Johnny shook his grasp off as if he was no bigger than a fly. He peered down the length of his nose at Shaw. “Ya don’t know the meaning of desperate here, Danny. Not when it comes to Falhman’s demands.” He shoved away from the table. “I’ve got to figure out how to fix these meetings so I don’t get caught in the melee with ya. Falhman’ll kill me for sure if I screw him, and she’s not gonna treat me any better.”

  Shaw moved to follow him and caught his pants pocket on the edge of the table. He hooked his fingers in his pocket to free himself and touched the diamond necklaces. “What about my fence? I need some cash.”

  “I’ll get yer fence, but ya need more than that. Trapped between the two of them, like I think ya are, ya need a miracle.”

  After all the robbing and killing he’d done, he was pretty sure God wasn’t going to shoot any miracles his way. Shaw sank down onto the chair. I’m screwed.

  “Falhman?” Alexi asked when they were well away from Rogueman’s Bar. “Who’s that?”

  “He’s a man with as many names as the snipe, but Falhman is the one that strikes the fear in the heart o’ others. In cop language, I guess ye’d call him the kingpin o’ the rogues.”

  That would explain the barkeeper’s reaction. Nobody crosses a kingpin. “You know him?”

  “Aye. We’ve had a run-in or two.”

  Something in Eli’s voice told her there was more to his statement than he let on. “That’s a risky card to play, isn’t it? Won’t he check out our story?”


  “Would the peasant demand an audience with the king?”

  More riddles, but she got his meaning. “What if Sylvia finds out Falhman has arranged a meeting with her suspect?”

  “Not even the she-devil would dare to cross him.”

  “But you will?”

  “I’m not crossing him so much as I’m using his name. ‘Tis a big difference there, lassie.”

  “I’m not so sure he’d agree with you.”

  “Then we’ll just have tae hope that his rogues are too scared o’ him tae even mention it.”

  “And what if Sylvia and this Falhman are working together to get Baron’s ring? You could have opened a hornet’s nest by invoking his name.”

  “I dinna think so, lassie. If Falhman was after the ring he’d have it by now.”

  “He’s that powerful?”

  “Aye. His ring is one o’ the original rings, made from stone near the heart o’ the gem, and he has a family line as strong as the Jordan’s. He has no need for any other, and he has a legion o’ his own shifters tae do his bidding. I’m thinking he’s not even aware a Jordan ring has gone missing. Nay, ‘tis Sylvia who’s after the ring for some reason o’ her own.”

  “What reason?”

  “I have an idea, but I dinna ken for certain, and until I do, t’would be best not tae speculate.”

  “Well, that’s clear as mud.”

  Eli laughed. “Sorry, lassie, but ‘tis the best I can do for the time being.”

  Alexi’s pay cell phone rang and she thumbed it on. “This is Johnny,” the voice on the other end said. “I’ve made yer call. He’ll be there like ya wanted.”

  “Good. If he doesn’t show, we’re coming after you.”

  “He’ll show, if I have to deliver him myself. Anything else?”

  “I’ll let you know.” She hung up. “All set,” she said to Eli. “Now we wait.” And pray we don’t get double-crossed.

  Chapter 39

  Rhys dropped his Stetson onto his desk and plopped into his chair. He hoped Alexi and Eli had better luck than he had. Chasing Rocco netted him a big fat zero, just like he’d expected.

  He picked an envelope from forensics out of his inbox and scanned the coroner’s report. The DNA samples on the blond hair found in the alley came back as Baron’s DNA. No surprise there, now that he knew Baron was a shape shifter. The results would raise questions on the captain’s radar. How were they going to answer that? Blond among the silver? Would the captain buy that? Rhys raked his hands through his hair then propped his elbows on the desktop and cupped his forehead in his palms.

  “Got a headache, sugar?” Gladys’ voice cut through his thoughts. “I’ve got some ibuprofen in my desk.”

  He raised his head. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

  She tipped her head and smiled at him. “You might want to reconsider my offer.” She nodded toward Captain Williams’ office. “Homeland Security is in with the boss. Seems like your case is of interest to them.”

  “The Pauling heist?”

  “No. Baron Jordan’s murder.”

  Rhys snapped to attention. Why would Homeland Security be interested in Baron? He waved Gladys to the seat next to his desk. “Tell me what you know.”

  Sitting on the edge of the chair, she whispered the news like a washwoman gossiping over the backyard fence. “Seems like they’ve honed in on our area because we’ve had an upsurge in murders lately—something to do with being a marker for increased terrorist activity.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Terrorists would want to keep a low profile.” He frowned.

  “I don’t make the news.” She shrugged. “Just pass it on. The scuttlebutt is that they’re going to assign a fed to you and Alexi. She’s in there right now fixing it with the captain.”

  Rhys glanced into the captain’s office. A black-haired woman, about the same height and build as Alexi, stood in front of the captain’s desk talking animatedly. She faced the glass wall, her gaze stopping on him.

  He’d seen her before, in the alley where Baron had been murdered. She was the fed he’d mistaken for Alexi. Something else scratched at the back of his memory but he couldn’t recall it. He stood and put on his Stetson. “Thanks, Gladys.”

  “Where you going?” she asked.

  “Gotta find Alexi and tell her.” He pulled his cell phone from the holder and punched Alexi’s number.

  “Got any news on Rocco?” Alexi asked when she answered the phone.

  “Dead end there. Shaw’s prints were all over the paper the address was written on. We’re definitely after the right man.” Rhys paused, then continued. “We’ve got another problem. Where are you?”

  “Just outside Rogueman’s Bar.”

  “How fast can you get to the precinct?”

  “About thirty minutes.”

  “Meet me at the coffee shop around the corner and I’ll fill you in.”

  Rhys had her favorite latte waiting when Alexi and Eli arrived at the coffee shop. He shoved it toward her when she sat down. “Sorry, old man. I didn’t know you’d be coming.”

  “Alexi said you sounded urgent, so we came straightaway,” Eli said.

  After taking the lid off the latte, she swirled the liquid inside. A wisp of steam rose from the cup. “What’s the problem?” She took a sip then set the cup down.

  “Couple of things. First, the DNA came back on a blond hair sample found at Baron’s murder site. It was Baron’s. We need an explanation Williams will buy. Second, Gladys told me Homeland Security is coming in on Baron’s case. Some bull about terrorist activity and increased crime.”

  “Sylvia said she worked for Homeland Security,” Alexi said. “Maybe she’s trying to get additional information on Baron.”

  “If that’s the case, then mayhap she suspects yer not giving her all that ye know.”

  “Or she just wants to keep an eye on Rhys.” Alexi tried to keep the jealousy out of her voice, but the look the two men gave her told her she hadn’t succeeded.

  A disgusted sound exploded from Rhys. “If I’m not going to hook up with you, I’m sure as hell not going to make it with another shifter.”

  That satisfied her on some level. He hadn’t professed love for her, but definitely professed disdain for Sylvia. Those feelings should keep him safe if she came on to him in either form.

  “What yer going tae do or not do in bed is o’ little consequence now. We’ve got tae figure out why she’s making this move. If she suspects Alexi has been double crossing her that puts her in more danger.”

  “Any suggestions?” Rhys asked.

  “Are ye putting the cart before the horse?” Eli asked.

  A baffled expression crossed Rhys’ face. “What does that mean, old man?”

  “Do ye even know if she’s the one who’s coming on tae yer case?”

  “I don’t even know what Sylvia looks like,” Rhys said.

  “Then I suggest ye both go back tae yer office and find out what’s really going on.” Eli rose, leaning heavily on the table. “I’ll meet the both o’ ye back at the house tonight.”

  Alexi watched Eli leave. He appeared tired. All this couldn’t be easy on an old man. Despite his insistence that he could hold his own, she was beginning to worry about him. If something happened to Eli, she would need Rhys more than ever.

  She faced Rhys. His tawny green-gold eyes revealed nothing, except concern. It wasn’t what she hoped for but she’d take whatever she could get. She snapped the cap back on her latte. “Might as well get this over with.”

  As soon as they entered the precinct, Captain Williams called them over to his office where a woman sat in front of his desk, her back toward them.

  “Is it her?” Rhys asked, as they approached the office.

  “Looks like her, from the back.” Alexi scanned the woman’s aura. Red, green, and black. Definitely a shifter. The woman turned. “Yep. It’s Sylvia.”

  Captain Williams closed the door behind them after they entered and motioned to a cou
ple of chairs next to his desk. “Temple, Jordan, this is Sylvia Riley from Homeland Security.”

  Angling toward Alexi, Rhys raised his left brow in a questioning fashion. She lifted her shoulders in a tiny shrug.

  “Ms. Riley,” she said in greeting, following Sylvia’s lead. She had no idea why Sylvia had introduced herself by another name, but since it kept her distanced from the Jordan family, she wasn’t going to argue with her choice of moniker.

  Rhys nodded to Sylvia. “What’s Homeland Security doing here?”

  Captain Williams laughed. “I told you he’d get right to the point.” He moved behind his desk and sat down. “Ms. Riley—”

  “Call me Sylvia, please.”

  “Sylvia,” the captain continued, “is here on a matter of national security. Her sources believe there is some kind of terrorist activity going on in the city. Something tied to the cases you two have been working on.”

  Alexi had to swallow the guffaw threatening to leap from her throat. The only rise in criminal activity she’d heard about probably came straight from Rogueman’s Bar. Maybe even straight from Sylvia’s orders.

  “Is that so?” She faced Sylvia. “How could Homeland Security possibly think a mugging gone wrong and a jewelry heist have anything to do with terrorism?”

  “Even terrorists need cash to operate,” Sylvia said casually. “Past experience has shown a rise in criminal activity—theft of goods, increased black market activity—often precedes our identifying a sleeper cell that has been awakened.”

  “Sylvia will be joining you and Temple on your cases from now on,” Captain Williams said. “I expect your full cooperation with her.”

  A scowl creased Rhys’ face, mirrored, she suspected, by one as dark on her own. There was no way she wanted to work with Sylvia.

  Their dismay did not escape the captain. His brows drew together in a hairy vee. “Temple. Jordan. That’s an order. Understand?”

  She understood more than the captain ever could, but resisting would only cause problems. “Got it, Captain.”

  “We don’t need the feds running our investigation,” Rhys mumbled. His response prompted the captain to repeat his order. “Yeah, yeah. I got it. Full cooperation.”