The Mercenary and the Shifters (The Turning Stone Chronicles) Read online

  “We won’t all fit in the helicopter,” Rhys said.

  “Ye were in such an all fired hurry tae get here I’m a mind tae let ye get back in the same way. Ye can fly. We’ll take yer luggage and meet ye at the airport.”

  “Are you punishing me, old man, for wanting to make sure my wife was okay?”

  “Just suggesting ye might have heeded my protests o’er your haste. Ye canna go off half-cocked any mair. We havetae work together if we’re going tae make the rescue a success. Ye may be one o’ The Promised Ones, but in this case, ye are also the faither. Because o’ yer relationship in the matter, ye are nae the leader in this operation. I am. Nothing ’twill happen without me saying sae. Understood?”

  Eli’s gaze swept around the group. They all nodded. When Rhys didn’t comply, he bore a hole in the air with a sharp stare. “Laddie?”

  The word was a question, but Rhys heard the command in it. “Fine,” he replied. Eli was right, but it chafed him. Every fiber in his being screamed for revenge on the kidnappers, and right now. Following Eli’s methods would probably drive him to the brink of insanity.

  “Ms. Kayler, this is Bob Jones, from the insurance company. I just received a copy of the investigation into the KayFion.”

  Fiona gripped the handset of her office telephone with both hands to keep it from shaking. She couldn’t take any more bad news today. A rock, the size of her sunken ship, settled in her stomach. This conversation was not going to be good news.

  “Mr. Jones, how nice to hear from you,” she said brightly, hoping her fear did not show through the tone.

  “Yes, well, perhaps not once you hear what I have to say.”

  Crap, crap, crap! Not what she wanted to hear. She steeled herself for the news. Were they going to drop her? Raise her rates? Please, don’t let it be drop me. If they did she’d have a horrible time finding another insurance firm.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “As you know, the Port Authority did absolve you of maintenance blame in the sinking of the KayFion, but you lost a lot of cargo. Because the recommendation to reimburse for the cargo instead of recover it—”

  “Which was the insurance company’s orders,” she hastened to add.

  “Yes, it was,” he admitted. “However, between that and the insurance on the ship itself, we are having to underwrite a huge expense. As you know, times are lean for everyone, and well . . .”

  Unable to breathe, Fiona sucked in a gulp of air and exhaled so loudly she feared Mr. Jones heard. “You’re dropping me,” she blurted out.

  “Actually, no. But I’m afraid we are going to have to raise your rates.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She breathed the words in nearly one syllable.

  Mr. Jones coughed. “I must say I’ve never received such a grateful response before to a rate raise.”

  “How much?”

  A long pause came over the line. “Triple.”

  “Triple?” She shouted the word and immediately envisioned Mr. Jones yanking the phone from his ear as the sound reverberated against her office walls.

  “That,” Mr. Jones said, “is the response I expected.”

  “I can’t afford triple. I’ll be forced out of business. Can we negotiate on this? I haven’t used my insurance before. Surely there’s a lower rate you can give me.”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands. I’m merely the bearer of bad news, not the constructor of it.”

  “How long before it goes into effect?”

  She heard papers shuffling on the other end of the line. “Three months.”

  Resisting the urge to bang her head on the desk, she replied with as much calm as possible, “Thank you for the bad news.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Kayler. Our company has had a long standing relationship with yours and we hate to do this, but business is business.”

  “Yes it is.” And she was definitely getting the business.

  She hung up the phone, screamed, and swept everything off her desk. The noise brought her secretary racing into the room.

  “What happened, Ms. Kayler? Are you all right?” the secretary asked as she started collecting the things on the floor.

  “No. It’s been a horrible, rotten day.” She stooped and helped her employee. “I’m leaving early.”

  “Um, you have a visitor. He’s not on your schedule. If you leave now, he’ll probably see you go. Let me get rid of him before you take off.”

  She rubbed the hollow at the base of her skull where a tension headache formed. “Who is it?”

  “A Mr. Falhman.”

  She stopped her cleaning mid-move, then scooped the rest of the things on the floor into her arms and dumped them on the desktop. “Give me ten minutes to straighten this, then show him in.”

  As the door opened she squared the last pile of papers on the desk and laid them in the center of the blotter. “Mr. Falhman, this is a surprise.”

  “I hope you don’t mind my coming, my dear, but I heard from Swindell about your meeting this morning, and I wanted to offer my services.”

  As she motioned him to a chair, she moved behind the desk and sat, trying not to fidget from the shifter sensations flooding over her. “Unless you have a friend in Homeland Security who will stop the investigation of the KayFion, there isn’t much you can do.”

  “Alas, I don’t anymore, and those I know who might help are not yet able to assist in these sort of matters.” He paused and studied her. “Did the investigation precipitate your screams?”

  “No. It’s another problem, which, if I can’t solve, will make the investigation seem as big as a mustard seed in comparison.”

  Falhman leaned forward in his seat, compassion written on his face. “Tell me, my dear. Perhaps I can help.”

  She doubted that. The only thing that would help was a lottery win. Since she didn’t play the lottery, a jackpot wasn’t going to happen.

  When she chose not to share, he said, “A mentee must trust her mentor, Fiona. If you aren’t willing to share with me, how can I help you grow as a shifter?”

  “I don’t see how sharing my secrets and company troubles is going to help you teach me how to shift.”

  “Have you ever been to a team-building seminar?”

  The comment came out of nowhere. Where was the man heading? “Where they play those weird games meant to make us trust one another?”

  She and her father had attended one together when she first started working for him. She hated it. He had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the games and guilted her into participating. But he had been right about the team building aspect. They were closer than ever after the event.

  “Trust, my dear, is exactly why you need to do this. You need to learn to trust me. If you don’t trust me, you will not be able to progress to the maximum heights in your shifter skills. Let’s start that trust by telling me why you were screaming.”

  He relaxed in the chair, making it obvious he wasn’t going anywhere until she shared. The gesture reminded her of her dad, and she softened toward Falhman.

  “The insurance company called. They’re tripling my rates. It will put me out of business. OmniWorld will get my company for a song, and I’ll be out on the street on my keester.”

  “Not if you marry Kyle Morrison.”

  “Are we back to that? I told you I don’t want to get the man killed.”

  “I’m not suggesting you marry him to get him killed, but to keep yourself afloat.”

  Fiona stared at him. “Just whose side are you on?”

  “Yours, my dear. What if I could get OmniWorld to lend you the money?”

  “Why would they lend me money to keep possession of something they want? And at what cost? I’m covered to my eyeballs with them. I’ve promised to spy on Kyl
e to help them underbid him and take over his company. If I go under, they’ll have both our companies. Lending me money to keep my business makes no fiscal sense for them.”

  Falhman smiled at her, a tender expression coming over his face. “You are so much like her, you know. I see her passion in you. Passion and exquisite beauty are such fine qualities in a woman.”

  “Who? My mother?”

  “Yes. She was a wonderful woman. Like you. Always wanting to do the right thing.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I want to help you keep your company, Fiona. I will talk to OmniWorld for you.”

  “Don’t,” she pleaded.

  “It’s the only way your company will be able to survive, my dear. Your father and mother built WK Shipping, did they not?”

  She nodded, a lump rising in her throat at the thought of losing the last link she had to them.

  “Then we must save it. For her sake. For your sake.”

  His impassioned plea broke the last vestige of resistance she had left and she nodded.

  “Good,” Falhman said as he rose. “I’ll have the answer for you tomorrow when we meet for your first training session.”

  Fiona closed the door behind Falhman and leaned against the carved wooden panel. No matter what she did, she was so screwed.

  Chapter 14

  Kyle arrived at Fiona’s house at seven sharp. George answered the door, insisting she wait in the upstairs hallway until he checked Kyle. She watched from her perch leaning against the balustrade, covering her mouth to keep from giggling out loud as George wanded Kyle, searching for weapons. When George finished his inspection, he waved her down from the hallway.

  “Do all your dates get this treatment?” Kyle asked as she descended the staircase.

  “Only the important ones.” She flashed him a disarming smile. “You won’t mind if George trails us tonight, will you?”

  “Depends on how close. I had hoped for some alone time.”

  “You could bring him home after the date,” George said. “I can make myself scarce once I know you’re safe.”

  She thought about Mike’s arrival. Explaining a date to him didn’t set well with her. “It’s okay, George. We’ll probably make an early night of it.”

  George’s grin clearly said he understood, and her face heated. His comment about Mike and the women, and her, had not been far from her thoughts today. At least when she wasn’t being threatened and terrified by Homeland Security, the Coast Guard, and the insurance company. She looped her arm in Kyle’s, determined for a few hours to forget the problems she faced and enjoy herself.

  “Where are we going tonight?”

  “Dinner and dancing.”

  “You didn’t dance enough last night?” Fiona asked.

  “Nope.” Kyle leaned in close and whispered, “It’s the only way I know I’ll get to hold you in my arms.” Straightening, he continued in a normal voice, “I know a great club with Big Band music. Do you like Big Band?”

  “I grew up on it. Dad loved Big Band. Big Band Christmas music. Big Band love songs. Big Band everything.”

  George handed Kyle her coat, and he helped her put it on. Then he wrapped his arm around her and tucked her against his side as he steered her toward the door. “I knew I liked you.”

  When they reached the drive, Kyle started to help her into his car, but George stopped him.

  “You and Ms. Kayler need to let me drive,” he said, opening the rear door to her vehicle.

  Kyle raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “You wanded me when I entered the house and now I can’t drive you? What’s going on?”

  “Bodyguard rules,” she said with a shrug. “Don’t you have one?”

  “No, and I’m wondering why you do. Are you in trouble, Fiona?”

  “Someone shot at me the other day. I thought it prudent to get some protection.” She studied him to see how he took the news.

  “You must be terrified,” he said, hugging her tighter.

  “I am. But George is doing a fine job.” She rotated to face Kyle. “Can we not talk about it? I don’t want to spoil our date.”

  “Absolutely,” Kyle replied. He helped her into the car then skirted around the rear bumper to the other door. When he slipped onto the seat, he raised his fisted hands in front of his face in a boxer’s position. “I was not only on the Harvard rowing team, but I fence and box.”

  She giggled at his attempt to make her feel secure. “I feel so much safer. If someone comes at us shouting ‘en-guarde’ you can jump in front of me.”

  George started the engine and the interior lights dimmed. Kyle reached for her hand and entwined his fingers in hers, his grip warm and strong.

  For an instant Fiona thought of Mike, and the first time he held her hand. Then she shoved him from her mind. She had no future with Mike, in spite of what she might feel for him.

  Kyle, however, could be her salvation. She could marry him for his money and use it to keep her company viable. She could marry him to gain his company and give it to OmniWorld. Or she could use him to double-cross OmniWorld. Every option had its risks. She only had to decide how to go about acquiring the deliverance he offered and how to live with herself once she made her decision.

  Mike and Mary Kate rolled up in front of Falhman’s apartment on Mike’s motorcycle and dismounted. A man leaning against a light post hailed him, and Mike slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and strode to the man’s side.

  “George said you were coming.” He held out his hand.

  Mike shook it and introduced Mary Kate. “Any action?”

  “Nothing. No one answering to the description you gave, or children, have entered or left this apartment building.”

  “How long have ye been here?” Mary Kate asked.

  “About thirty minutes after George got your instructions. Nearly all day.”

  “Do you think they might have left before we got our tail set?” Mike asked.

  “There’s one way to tell,” Mary Kate said. “I’ll go check.”

  “We’ll go in,” Mike said. “No telling what you might find in there. You’ll need backup.”

  “Give me your phone,” Mike said to the guard. “I’ll put my number in. If you see anything suspicious while we’re in there, call.” Mike tapped his cell number into the man’s phone and handed it to him.

  As he and Mary Kate crossed the street, Mike asked, “Just how are you going to figure out if there are shifters in there?”

  “With the special magic I mentioned. We can sense each other. If there’s a shifter within thirty feet of us, I’ll know.”

  “Handy skill.”

  “Aye, and it’s why ye need me.” She opened the door to the building and stopped.

  “Got anything?”

  “Nothing yet.” She moved to the front desk. “I’m looking for Mr. Falhman,” she said. “Can ye tell me what apartment he’s in?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss, but we respect the privacy of our tenants,” said the young man at the desk.

  Mike elbowed his way in front of Mary Kate and spun the textbook on the desk around. “Med school? What year are you in?”

  “Sophomore,” the clerk said.

  “I started out in med school, but ran out of money and had to quit. Damn shame, because I’d have made a great doc. You going for a specialty?”

  Mary Kate made sputtering noises behind him. Mike motioned behind his back for her to hush.

  “Surgeon.”

  Mike whistled. “Expensive. Loans out the wahzoo, I’ll bet.”

  The clerk’s face fell. “I’ll be paying for this until I’m forty, if I even make the grade.”

  Mike reached in his pocket and withdrew a roll of bills. “I’d like to help a fellow med student.” He peeled off a hundred-do
llar bill and laid it on top of the textbook. “Do you know which apartment is Falhman’s?”

  The young man’s eyes sparkled at the sight of the cash. Then his mouth drew into a straight line. “I can’t,” he said with a shake of his head.

  Mike laid another bill on the pages. “Two Benjamins will go a long way for a starving med student.”

  Greed shone in the student’s eyes, but he shook his head.

  “Last chance,” Mike said as he laid two more bills on the counter.

  The clerk licked his lips, indecision all over his face.

  “Well, if you don’t want it.” Mike reached for the four hundred dollars, and the clerk snatched them.

  “Penthouse,” he said, as he crammed the bills in his pocket. “But it’s a locked floor. You can’t get in.”

  “Thanks, kid.” Mike stuffed the wad of money into his pants.

  “Locked? What a waste of yer money,” Mary Kate said as they walked away from the desk.

  Mike pulled a small case from his pocket and flipped it open to reveal a lockset. “There’s not a lock I can’t open.”

  “You’re a burglar?”

  “Security specialist. Breaking into places to check their security is part of my job.” He punched the elevator button. “You coming, or are you going to stand there insulting me, Red?”

  Mary Kate double-timed her stride, slipping in behind him as the elevator doors closed.

  Mike surveyed the interior of the elevator for a surveillance camera. In the upper left corner he saw what he looked for. He punched the seventh floor.

  “We’re not going to the penthouse?” Mary Kate asked.

  “Cameras,” Mike replied. “They’ll catch me picking the lock. Do you have any chewing gum?”