by C. D. Hersh
Rising from the table, she seductively drew out her tip from her cleavage. She got a twinkle in her eye, the one he’d seen earlier which told him she would not let this go. Then she placed her palms on the table and leaned over, giving him a good view down her blouse. “You should know I’m the kind of girl who goes after what I want. Pick me up tomorrow, at six after my shift.”
He felt like the fly in the spider’s web. She wanted him. He knew that. Leaping up from the table, he threw enough cash down to cover his bill and tip.
The problem was, he wanted her, too.
Chapter 14
“Do you have the item I asked you to retrieve?” Falhman said when Owen entered the wood paneled office in Falhman’s penthouse the next morning.
“No.” He took the empty seat beside his mother, skirting the answer he knew Falhman wanted. Choosing to interpret the question to mean having it on his person, he used the method his mother taught him to escape Falhman’s auric reading and catch him in a boldfaced lie. He didn’t have the RFID key on him. That was the truth. “It may take some time to get it to you.” Another half-truth, because he had no intention of giving it to Falhman . . . yet.
“Hurry and get it,” Falhman commanded. “In the meantime, I have another job.”
His mother shot Owen a displeased expression. “You don’t have to do everything he asks, you know.”
“Really? Because I remember you doing just that only a year ago.”
“Your safety was at stake then. Besides, it’s a mother’s job to protect her children.”
“Thanks, Mom, but you’re a little late.” He turned his attention to Falhman. “What do you want now?”
“The police captain, Alexi Temple, has been a sore spot for some time now and has recently managed to escape one of my plans to take her down, so I’ve decided to take a more subtle approach.”
Owen stifled a grunt. Falhman might feign subtleness, but he knew the man was really a heavy-handed tyrant.
“Since Sylvia can’t return to the precinct, I need an inside man to take her place. Someone to be my eyes and ears, and I’ve chosen you, my dear boy.”
That didn’t sound safe at all. “Wait. Isn’t Alexi Temple a shifter? Not just a shifter, but a Promised One?”
“Yes.”
“Won’t she suspect me if I waltz into the precinct?” He held up his hand and waggled the finger where his Turning Stone ring rested. She had him on her radar yesterday. He didn’t want to take any more chances.
“I didn’t say the job is easy, my dear boy. In fact, it requires cleverness.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I want you to go into the precinct and play the double agent.”
“What?” Sylvia said in a near screech. “You’re going to get him killed, Falhman.”
“Nonsense. He’s perfectly capable and just the man the job requires.”
“He’s not a low-life mimic you can just use and throw away when you’re done with him. Owen is a Jordan. His Turning Stone blood line is important.”
“Exactly why this will work. Family is everything to Alexi Jordan Temple. She won’t turn her back on a cousin with a sob story regarding his coercion into the dark side of the Society. She’ll want to redeem him.”
“Small problem, here,” Owen said. “Someone who works at the precinct knows me as someone else. I don’t want to reveal my real identity to them.”
“You’re not playing with the help are you?” Falhman asked with a wicked grin.
“I wouldn’t say. A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”
Falhman actually laughed, which took Owen aback. Apparently hanky-panky with non-shifters wasn’t frowned on by the rogue kingpin. Who knew?
“I’ll go in shifted, instead, and see what I can find out.”
“Shifted you’d get yourself arrested,” Falhman said. “The cops have been picking up my men and questioning them. You can’t do much to help me from the slammer. I’m arranging an opening in the coroner’s office. You’ll apply to the position. With your background, and a little help from me, you’ll be the perfect candidate.”
Coroner’s office. The words hit his stomach like a prizefighter’s punch. He immediately thought about Kat. Did Falhman have plans to off her and have him take her place? “What position?” he asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.
“Assistant to the deputy coroner, Katrina Roman something or the other.”
Kat is the deputy coroner? Not a lab tech? More lies. Owen let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. She would be safe . . . for the moment.
“You’re playing a King’s Pawn Gambit opening which would expose me to our enemy. I think we should play a more defensive game. I should go in shifted,” Owen said. “Apply as a woman, my alter ego, and get close to this Katrina. Working in the morgue, I shouldn’t need to come in contact with Alexi, but I’d still have access to the office scuttlebutt. I could use my real persona later if we needed to get closer to her.”
A slow smile snaked across Falhman’s face. “See, my dear, I knew his chess playing ability to think several moves ahead would come in handy.” He leaned forward and steepled his fingers together. “I like the plan. I’ll have the necessary papers created today. Now, this is what I need you to do.”
When they entered Fiona Kayler’s outer office, Hugh noticed Rhys looking around the room, an anxious expression on his face. “Something wrong, buddy?”
“There’s a shifter somewhere near.”
Suddenly, Rhys plopped down on a leather club chair, grabbed a magazine from the glass-topped side table, and held it in front of his face.
Hugh dropped onto the seat next to him. “Where is he?”
“Getting closer. Coming from Fiona’s office.”
Hugh watched as the office door opened and a man exited. Picking up a magazine, Hugh held it casually in front of his face, pretending to read. Over the top edge of the pages, he noticed the man stop, his gaze sweeping round the room. When he reached him and Rhys, the man’s eyes rounded and he skirted to the other side of room and made a hasty exit.
“Should we follow him?” Hugh asked.
“No,” Rhys replied. “Let’s find out who he is first and why Fiona is dealing with a black aura shifter.”
“Ms. Kayler will see you now.” The long-legged secretary, wearing a tight, short skirt, led Rhys and Hugh into Fiona Kayler’s office.
A tall, slender woman, with a curly mass of the deepest mahogany colored hair he’d ever seen, rose when they entered and came around to the front of the massive desk, holding her right hand out.
Rhys gave him a shove forward.
“How nice to meet you, finally, Mr. Temple.”
Hugh took her pale hand and shook it, then noticing the ring on her third finger, turned her palm down so he could get a better view. “Nice ring,” he said, lifting her hand slightly toward Rhys.
Withdrawing her hand from his, she looked wistfully at the jewelry. “Thank you. It belonged to my mother.”
In his peripheral vision, he saw Rhys slip off his Turning Stone ring and deposit it in his pocket.
Suddenly, he realized they stood awkwardly silent, looking at one another. “I’m sorry. I’m Hugh Allen. Rhys’ associate. I’m helping him with your case. This is Mr. Temple.”
Fiona extended her hand to Rhys. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Temple.”
“Rhys, please. Call me Rhys.” He took her hand and held it a bit longer than Hugh thought necessary.
“Mr. Allen, Rhys,” she said, gesturing toward the two chairs in front of the desk. She turned and walked back to her seat.
“Call me Hugh,” he said as he took the nearest chair.
When she’d settled into her chair, she slid a folder across the des
k. “I don’t have one for you, Hugh. I wasn’t aware you’d be here.”
“No problem. We can share.”
“Have you found anything on my missing security staffer?”
“Only that he used a false identity,” Rhys said. “Which makes me think you’re right. Someone on your payroll could be involved in the dock problems. You hire union workers, so I don’t think it’s union related.”
“I’ve been digging on my own,” Fiona said, “and I’ve found a few shipments which seem off. Things appeared in order on the surface, but when I dug deeper I discovered they didn’t go through the proper company procedures. I’ve also found some diverted shipments, but, according to records, all shipments arrived.”
Hugh sat forward in his chair, his interest piqued. “Diverted? Could the cargo have been switched at some point?”
“I suppose. We don’t inspect every crate. That would require more manpower than profitable.”
“Any shipments from Atlanta recently?” he asked.
“Not directly. Most of our shipments move lake shore to lake shore. But we do get cargo from all over the states and Canada.” She turned to her computer and punched something in. “Something came in last week from Atlanta.” Frowning, she squinted closer at the monitor. “I don’t see where it left the warehouse. A lot of things go from here to a trucking company for cross country shipping.”
“Could it still be here?” he asked.
“Possibly.”
“Or, it could have left without being logged in the system,” Rhys suggested.
“You mean someone slipped up and forgot to notate the shipment?” Fiona asked.
“I’m thinking of something more devious than poor accounting.”
“Smuggling,” Hugh added with a grim expression.
Fiona’s eyes rounded. “Smuggling what?”
“That’s what we need to find out,” Rhys replied. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Who was the gentleman who just left your office?”
“Why? Do you think it’s related?”
“Don’t want to leave any stones unturned. You can never tell where you might find a connection.”
“He’s from OmniWorld, a company who buys and sells other businesses. They want me to sell the shipping company to them.”
“Mind if I check them out?”
“Okay with me.”
“Back to why we’re here,” Rhys said. “I want to insert a couple of men onto the night dock crew. Okay with you?”
“Anything you say. If there’s something illegal going on in my company, I want to know it and stop it.”
Rhys turned to him. “Can you lift fifty pounds, buddy? If so, you and I just got new careers as dock workers.”
“How soon would we start?” Hugh didn’t want to miss his date with LJ tonight.
“It will take a day to set things in place,” Fiona said. “Will that work?”
“Perfect,” Rhys replied. “I’ll email you aliases and backgrounds to set up the paperwork.”
The intercom buzzed. “Your ten o’clock is here, Miss Kayler.” Fiona stood, indicating the meeting’s end. “I’ll contact you when I’ve got things arranged.” She held her hand out to Hugh, who shook it, and then to Rhys.
As they left the office, he whispered to Rhys, “Is she a shifter?”
“Don’t think so. Even though she wore a ring, I saw no ring aura or felt any shifter tingles when we touched.”
“What connection could Fiona have to the shifter world if she doesn’t know about it?”
Back at the house, Eli answered the questions burning in Hugh’s mind.
“Aye, ’tis possible tae wear the ring and nae have the aura. ’Tis the reading o’ the inscription that triggers the magic, and the ring aura ’tis but a wee part o’ the magic.”
“So she might not be aware of the shifter world?” he asked.
“Did she see your ring, laddie?” Eli asked Rhys.
“Don’t think so. When I didn’t get any shifter sensations from her, I slipped my ring into my pocket. Figured having an identical ring would raise too many questions if she wasn’t a shifter.”
“Guid. Still that dinna tell us much aboot what she knows or dinna know.” Eli stroked his beard. “Ye say her name is Kayler?”
“Yep.”
“I dinna know a shifter family o’ that name.”
“She said the ring belonged to her mother,” Hugh added.
Eli strode to the hall closet and grabbed his great coat and sword. “’Tis time I paid Fiona Kayler a wee visit. What did ye say the lass looks like?”
“Legs up to here,” Hugh said, motioning to his chest. “And curves. Lots of curves.”
“Her face, laddie,” Eli said impatiently. “I’m nae planning tae bed the lassie, sae I dinna care what that part o’ her looks like.”
“You bed women still?” Rhys asked with an incredulous expression on his face.
“I’m auld, not dead.”
Hugh’s mouth dropped open.
Rhys chuckled. “Apparently, there’s a lot about you, old man, we don’t know. She’s tall and slender, with a head of dark mahogany, curly hair. You’ll know her when you see her.”
“I like a woman with deep red hair,” Eli said then he morphed into a younger man, his new form swallowing his greatcoat and sword.
Hugh took a step back. “Holy crap. I’m never going to get used to witnessing shifting.”
“How’d you do that?” Rhys asked, his voice filled with awe. “I can’t make my clothes disappear into a mimic.”
“I’ve a few mair tricks, fer I’ve been at it longer than any o’ ye.” Eli perused his new form in the hallway mirror and slicked back his flaming red, wavy hair. “Aye, this one will do nicely.”
“For what?” Rhys asked.
“Fer getting close tae the lassie.” He tucked his Turning Stone ring in the breast pocket of his shirt and buttoned it closed.
“I thought you weren’t planning on making a play for her,” Hugh said.
“’Tis nae a play I’m planning. ’Tis a fishing expedition. Tae catch a fish, ye need tae bait the hook.”
“Be careful, Eli,” Rhys said. “This could be an expensive fishing trip.”
“Rhys and I should come with you. The place is crawling with shifters.”
“The two o’ ye have other fish tae catch. Go find those terrorists afore it’s too late.”
Chapter 15
Owen took a peek at his image in the glass windows of the morgue door. His alter ego, a female with shoulder length, black curly hair, and blue eyes stared back at him. For a moment, he wondered if his alter ego looked too much like his male persona and whether Kat would connect the two. But since he couldn’t change it, he thrust the worry aside. If he should have to do something evil in his alter ego form he wouldn’t run the risk of keeping mimicked features as he would if mimicked shifted. He remembered some of the low-life mimic shifters he had killed whose real faces looked like a patchwork quilt. No way did he want to end up pieced together.
He rotated his shoulders and plucked at the bottom of the bra cutting his chest in half. How did women wear these things? Squaring his shoulders, he headed into the morgue on tottering feet. The heels would be gone, as soon as he could kick them off.
Kat looked up as the morgue doors swung open. “May I help you?”
“I’m Olivia,” he said, an octave higher than his normal voice. “The new assistant.” He held out his employment papers. Kat took the forms and examined them.
“Impressive creds, Olivia.” She handed the papers back. “Although I’m not sure why headquarters thinks I need an assistant.”
He shrugged. “I’m glad the position came open
. I’ve been unemployed.”
“With your background, I don’t know why. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”
“Thanks, Miss . . .”
“Kat. Kat Romanovski.”
He set his designer handbag on the morgue table. “Where should I put my stuff?”
She motioned to a bare topped desk. “You can park there. I’ll see you get whatever supplies you need.” Stepping across the room to the desk, she stripped off her surgical gloves and tossed them into a nearby trash can.
He followed, leaning forward to get closer to her. Suddenly, she stopped and he ran into her backside. Whirling around, she shot him an irritated scowl.
“Sorry, I’m trying to identify your perfume. I love it.”
“It’s ode de corpse.”
“What?”
“I’m not wearing perfume.” She planted her hands on her hips and stared at him. “Are you going to be one of those squirrelly girls?”
He blinked at her. Squirrelly? “What do you mean?”
“A suck up. Brown-noser. If so, you can stop right now. It won’t get you anywhere in my books. My boss hates suck ups, too.”
He took a step back and scrutinized her. “You’re a hard assed one, aren’t you?”
A tiny smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Yes, I am, and the sooner you realize it the better we’ll get along.”
Dropping his handbag on the desktop, he stuck his hand out and said, “Let’s start over. I’m Olivia. Your new, hardworking, non-brown nosing assistant.”
