The Mercenary and the Shifters (The Turning Stone Chronicles) (21 page)

Chapter 31

“You look worried,” Kyle said. “Is there a problem?” He drew Fiona closer when Mike didn’t answer right away.

“No.” Mike glanced away, pretending to survey the crowd. Another man’s arm around Fiona rattled him. “I wasn’t expecting to see the congressmen here. They weren’t on the list.”

“Mother probably added them. She’s enamored of the political scene. For the life of me I can’t figure out why they bothered to come.”

“They’ve already left,” Mike said. “Where were they while they were here?”

“With Mrs. Morrison. She grabbed them the moment they appeared and hustled them off to talk with her husband. They were deep in conversation when the reception line ended.” Fiona’s tone told him she wasn’t pleased with her future mother-in-law’s actions.

“Does your family support the congressmen?”

Kyle threw Mike a perplexed expression. “What’s my family’s political leaning got to do with anything?”

Plenty if they were consorting with shifters. That could put him in league with the people after Fiona. Hoping his thoughts didn’t show on his face, Mike replied as indifferently as he could. “Probably nothing. It just seemed odd they’d come and stay less than half an hour.” He waved his hand toward the massive buffet laid out on the edge of the lawn. “All that expensive food and not even a nibble from them.”

Fiona studied him, her gaze a bit unnerving, as if she was trying to see into his head. “Did they do something to set off your security gut?”

“No,” he said quickly. “Just wondering.”

The screech of a microphone interrupted them. Mr. Morrison stood on the makeshift stage, leaning heavily on his walker. Even from where he stood, Mike could see the white on the old man’s knuckles gripping the aluminum handles. Kyle’s father appeared ill. His wife raised a champagne glass and the elder Morrison clinked the side of it repeatedly with a spoon. As the crowd quieted a dozen servers wended among the guests, passing out champagne.

Kyle’s father leaned into the microphone. “Son, get up here and bring your pretty bride-to-be. Make it quick. I haven’t got time to waste.”

“Gotta go,” Kyle said, as a huge grin split his face. He grabbed Fiona around the waist, swinging her off the ground into his arms as he dashed toward the stage. George followed, positioning himself at the front of the milling throng. Mike made his way to the edge of the lawn, as did the remainder of his team. Unable, and unwilling, to watch as Kyle fawned over Fiona, Mike kept his gaze glued on the crowd, searching for anything that looked wrong.

“No shifters in the crowd,” said a soft, feminine voice at his shoulder. Mary Kate stood close enough her breath tickled his neck.

“Except you . . . and her. Did you find anything out?”

“They didn’t leave the elder Morrison’s sight. The missus grabbed them the second she spotted them and held them captive. One of the guests said she saw them leave right after a tall, busty woman passed by. A big blonde.”

“Did she speak to them?”

“The witness couldn’t see. I couldn’t interrogate the Morrisons being as I’m undercover, so to speak.”

“I asked Kyle about them, since I didn’t see the congressmen’s names on the guest list.”

“And?”

“He thinks his mother might have added them after he’d given me the list.”

“So we don’t know anything.”

“Other than the congressmen, if that’s who they really are, are shifters.” He faced her. “Does Rhys have an explanation?”

“Other than there are shifters, good and bad, in all kinds of high places? No.”

Mike grimaced and resumed searching the crowd. Just what he didn’t want to hear. “Guess we’ll have to deal with it another day. Right now, Fiona has to be our top priority. Have Rhys and his team sweep the perimeter for any stragglers.”

“And me?” Mary Kate asked.

“Stay here. I might need you.”

“I hope so, Butch.” She brushed his arm with her fingertips as she stepped back to give instructions to Rhys’ team. Her touch made it crystal clear she didn’t mean in a fighting sense.

Mike turned toward her, and, as he did, the crowd roared, clinking their glasses together. On the stage he glimpsed Kyle dipping Fiona backward. Fiona’s hands tangled in the hair at the nape of Kyle’s neck as he nearly swept her off her feet, their lips locked together.

The guests hooted and hollered at the passionate display. Memories of his and Fiona’s night together assaulted him, and he stumbled backward into Mary Kate.

“Butch, what’s wrong?” she asked as she righted him.

He closed his eyes, shaking the memories from his mind with a quick jerk of his head. She was gone. Not his. Never would be.

A cheer rose from the crowd. “To the happy couple!” Involuntarily, his gaze went to the stage. Kyle and Fiona were lip-locked. Clinging together.

He shoved past Mary Kate away from the crowd. “Nothing’s wrong. Not a damn thing.”

He’d barely taken three steps when she stopped him, yanking him around to face her. Then without warning, she dragged him behind the trunk of a large tree and plastered him against the bark.

“She’s not enough woman for ye, Mike, but I am.”

As Mary Kate’s body pressed against his, Mike decided to hell with Fiona Kayler.

“I’m not the marrying kind,” he told Mary Kate. The words sliced through his heart. He and Fiona had said the same thing just hours before they made love. Then he’d decided—too late—he just might be the marrying kind. But not with Mary Kate. Not with a woman other than Fiona.

“I don’t care,” Mary Kate said. “I want ye, Mike Corritore, like I’ve never wanted another man.”

Want was good. He could deal with that. Love. Never again. He wound his fingers in Mary Kate’s flaming hair, like Fiona had done to Kyle. Then he kissed the Scottish lass like he’d never kissed anyone before.

Mike’s kiss sent shocks to the depths of Mary Kate’s core, causing her knees to dip. As she slid along his body, Mike propped her up, his hands cupping her bottom. She wiggled closer, searching for the hard length that would tell her he wanted her. As she ground her hips against his, she was rewarded with a deep groan that sounded as if it came from his soul. A hot, throbbing pressure at her crotch told her she had reached him.

Sliding her hands down his back, she pried him away from the tree trunk and wrapped her leg around his hip. He stepped forward, giving her a boost, and she completed the maneuver, squeezing her legs around him tightly. He bounced her once. A groan escaped from her throat as he settled her on his pelvis. She gyrated against him, every part of her tingling, the rippling sensations cresting over and over her. Suddenly, she stiffened and shoved off him.

Mike stumbled against the tree. “What the—”

“Shifters,” she whispered as she reached under her blouse for her gun.

She spun around searching the landscape. A branch on a bush quivered. Mike stepped in front of her, yanking his shirttail out to cover the evidence of their lovemaking. Mary Kate shoved her hand through her tousled hair and pushed him behind her.

“Mary Kate?” A whisper drifted from the trembling bush. “Is that you?”

“By the saints, Alexi,” Mary Kate said. “What are ye doing sulking around in the bushes?”

“Since you weren’t answering your communications, I came looking for you.”

Mary Kate put her hand to her ear. Her earpiece was gone. Must have come out while they were kissing. She searched the ground around the tree. The earbud lay nestled in the grass.

“Dropped it,” she said, hoping Alexi wouldn’t notice their disheveled appearance. She placed the device into her ear.

Alexi studied her, then her gaze cut to Mike. Mary Kate’s hope dropped. She knew the look. Alexi was scanning them. With the raging emotions they both had just experienced, what they’d been doing would be as clear to the feminine half of The Promised One as if she’d seen them with her own eyes.

“I can explain.”

“No need,” Alexi said. “But next time, I’d choose a better place . . . and time. You’re supposed to be watching Rhys’ sister.” She retreated into the bush, her parting comment floating on the breeze. “You’re safe. That’s all anyone needs to know.”

Mike’s gaze swung between the bush and Mary Kate, his face full of confusion. “What just happened?”

“We got caught.” Mary Kate grinned at him. “No going back now, Butch. She knows what we were doing.” She gave him a coy smile. “Can we pick up later where we left off?”

Mike spiked his hair where Mary Kate’s amorous actions had plastered it to his head. Then he stuffed his shirt into his pants. Alexi’s interruption had thrown cold water on his passions, and not a minute too soon.

“I’m sorry about . . . you know,” he said, avoiding Mary Kate’s eyes. “I . . . we shouldn’t have . . . Alexi was right. Besides, you don’t want a man on the rebound.” He moved to leave but Mary Kate stopped him.

“Ye only met Fiona a week ago, Mike. Ye spent more time with me in Scotland than ye have with her. How could ye be on the rebound?”

He made a negative piffing sound. “Not her. Never her.”

“Yer lying, Butch. It’s written all over ye.”

“Then read this, Red. We. Can’t. Do. That. Again.”

Her expression clearly said she wasn’t convinced. “Yer mouth says one thing, but I can see what yer really feeling. Ye want me, like I want ye.”

“Lust,” he said, looking her straight in the eye, “is not what I want. What you felt was lust. Lust I should have controlled. If you can’t wrap your head around that, then we can’t work together.”

He watched the emotions roll across her face: unbelief, hurt, and finally resignation.

“We’ll work together,” she said, her eyes flashing with determination. “But I don’t believe you.”

He’d have to work harder to convince her. He didn’t want a repeat of what just happened. He might not be as lucky the next time.

The rest of the evening went smoothly. Mike kept his distance from the lovebirds, assigning a second man to trail them with George. No more shifters made an appearance. Mary Kate behaved as well. By eleven o’clock only a handful of guests remained.

Mike spotted Fiona sitting at a table, her heels off, massaging the bottoms of her feet. He approached and dropped onto a chair beside her.

“Ready to go home, Cinderella?” he asked.

She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got an hour before pumpkin time. But I’m ready to go now. We just need the rest of these people to leave. Kyle’s parents have gone to bed, with instructions to play nice until the last guest departs. His father’s not well. Too much excitement for an ill, old man.” She glanced at the remaining guests. “Humm. Odd. There are no more women here.”

Mike followed her gaze. About a dozen men converged on the lawn. The party lights strung across the space lit them up as they moved across the grass. A couple of them glanced toward the table where they sat. As they fanned out, Mike’s gut instinct flared like grease on a fire.

He touched his earpiece. “Incoming. Get to the rear of the house now.” To Fiona, he said, “Where’s Kyle?”

“He went inside to get my purse.”

“Find Morrison and secure him in the house,” he ordered the team.

Fiona’s face went white.

“When I give the signal, bend over slowly, as if you’re getting your shoes. Then hit the ground.”

“Okay.” Her voice trembled, fear turning the sound flat.

“Do as I say, Fiona, and it will be okay. Understand?”

He saw her nod as he reached under the table. Metal. Good. Hopefully it would stop bullets.

Scooting his chair, Mike situated himself with one eye on Fiona and the other on the men.

Who were they? Had more shifters slipped through?

“Keep your eyes on me, Fiona,” he instructed. “Smile, and laugh like I said something funny.”

She giggled, the sound as nervous and jangly as a wooden wind chime in a storm.

The men continued their approach. One of them flipped his suit coattails back and another reached across his chest.

“Now!” Mike ordered. As Fiona bent for her shoes, he shoved the table over on its side and they took cover behind it. A volley of shots rang out in front and behind him as his team and the attackers fired. Six of the attackers fell in a matter of seconds. The remainder fled before Mike’s men could take them out.

As soon as the shooting stopped, Mike gathered Fiona in his arms. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Thank goodness Kyle had the foresight to rent metal tables,” she whispered.

Mike agreed. He reached around the table and put his finger through a hole in the linen tablecloth. “Guess you won’t be getting your deposit back.”

A feral yell made them turn. Mike released Fiona and rose as Kyle rushed from the house, yelling Fiona’s name and throwing off the security guards as he barreled toward them.

Kyle dove for Fiona, gathering her into his embrace, running his hands over her face and arms. “My God, Fi! Are you all right?” Terror shone from his eyes and creased his face into a terrible mask.

“I’m okay, thanks to Mike.”

“Good choice on the metal tables,” Mike said.

“I’m a quick study.” Kyle didn’t take his eyes off Fiona. “You don’t have to shoot at me more than once to teach me a lesson.”

“Too bad she doesn’t learn as quickly,” Mike said, remembering the many times Fiona had given them the slip. “The danger’s real, Fiona, and it’s plain now who they’re after.”