The Mercenary and the Shifters (The Turning Stone Chronicles) (28 page)

Chapter 42

Rhys led the way, sending out feelers for approaching shifters. A few registered. Except for one in what he believed to be the nursery, the rest were on the periphery of his sensing abilities. Too far away to be concerned with at the moment. When they reached the spot where he’d seen the nanny and the children exit, he knocked softly, then slowly opened the door.

The nanny, sitting in a rocker, sprang to her feet when she spotted him. “Mr. Falhman, sir. We weren’t expecting you,” she whispered. “I’ve already put the boys down for their nap.”

Behind him, Rhys sensed Alexi moving forward, and he blocked her. He waved a slender hand at the nanny. “Why don’t you take a break? I’ll stay here with the boys until you return.”

The woman stared at the small entourage gathered behind him. “Don’t mind them. They’re all vetted by me. Nothing to worry about.”

The nanny peered at him. “Sir, are you all right?”

“Fine, fine. Although I am a bit annoyed at your slowness.” Rhys twisted his face into a scowl. “Now go,” he commanded.

Her eyes rounded, and she scuttled from the room.

Rhys jerked his head at Mary Kate. “Stand watch.” As she slipped from the room, Rhys went to the first crib. Baron lay asleep, his knuckles tucked into his tiny mouth. “He’s here,” Rhys whispered. Alexi flew to the crib. “Don’t touch him until we’ve secured the room,” Rhys commanded. “Falhman would not let a mere rogue touch these boys.”

Alexi withdrew her outstretched hand. She wheeled away and checked the room.

When she’d left the crib, Rhys gently stroked Baron’s head. Then he went to the other crib. “Is this Hugh Jr.?

Alexi moved to the crib. “I only saw him once, but I think it’s the same baby. He and Baron look a lot alike.” She continued her survey of the room.

“Camera in the crib mobile,” she said. “And one over the doorframe.”

“Can you disable them, Mike?” he asked.

Mike blocked the door camera, then spun the spy mobile with his finger. “Probably, but security would notice right away.”

“What about the window?” Rhys asked.

“Wired to the hilt,” Mike said. “The lightest touch will make them wail. By now, the security hub thinks you’re Falhman.” He gave the spinning mobile another whirl. “I suggest you introduce the boys to Fiona. Then the five of us walk out of here to the pier as if we’re going for a picnic, jump in the boat when Eli brings it, and run like Hell’s hounds are after us.”

Eli’s voice came on line. “We’re on our way, laddie.”

“Make it quick, old man,” Rhys said.

“Except for the part about Fiona, I agree,” Alexi said. “She needs to stay so Falhman doesn’t suspect her.”

“Agreed.” Rhys lifted Baron and handed him to Alexi, then he retrieved Hugh Jr. Rhys stopped the revolving mobile, facing the camera toward him. “Want to go for a walk with Papa?” he asked when the sleepy child’s eyes opened. Baby Hugh yawned and stretched. “Let’s go,” Rhys commanded.

Baron awoke and started jumping in Alexi’s arms. “Da! Da!” he exclaimed.

His son’s words both exalted him and stabbed his heart. Did Baron recognize him, even shifted—as he’d suspected the child did when he saw his hawk ego? Or had Falhman managed to brainwash Baron and make him believe the rogue kingpin was his real father? It took every ounce of Rhys’ strength not to wrench his son from Alexi, reveal his true identity, and kiss the child’s sweet face.

Then the sensations hit him.

“Shifters. Coming in quick.”

Mike drew his gun from his hidden shoulder holster and flung the door open. When Mary Kate saw the weapon, she drew hers. All sense of propriety gone, the team raced along the hall to the corridor.

As they burst from the side hall, Rhys spotted the real Falhman and a group of his rogues moving toward them. For a split second, no one moved. Then Rhys shoved Hugh Jr. into Alexi’s arms and pushed her and the babies out the glass door. Unholstering his gun, he whirled to face Falhman. Mary Kate and Mike took places on either side of Rhys, ready to fight.

“Get the boys!” Falhman yelled to his cohorts as he squared off with Rhys and his team. “And don’t shoot them.”

The rogues ran around the curve in the hall out of Rhys’ sight. A minute later, he heard a shot, the sound of glass shattering, and the wail of the alarm system.

Rhys spotted the rogues on the lawn chasing Alexi. “We’re done here,” Rhys said. He fired at Falhman, who ducked behind his men. Then they dashed out the door after Alexi.

“Hold your fire,” Falhman bellowed. “I don’t want to hit the boys.”

Mike glanced at Rhys. “Do you believe him?”

“Not for a minute.”

Rhys fired off a shot at the rogues in hot pursuit. When he reached the edge of the patio, someone jumped him, crashing him to the lawn. His gun flew from his hand, sliding across the grass. Rhys rolled on top of the attacker.

“Who the hell are you?” Falhman asked as Rhys pinned him to the ground.

“Your worst enemy,” Rhys replied.

A powerful yank pulled Rhys to his feet. Falhman scuttled across the grass like a crab toward the safety of the house as a dozen more rogues streamed out. Rhys swung his fist, connecting with the rogue who’d interfered, sending him crashing into the bushes.

Rhys retrieved his weapon and shot at the rogues.

“Hold your fire,” Falhman yelled to his men. “Don’t endanger the boys!”

As Rhys and Mike aimed at the shifters, they crashed the patio tables to the ground, taking cover. Only Falhman stood in the open, moving slowly toward Rhys, his hand raised.

Mike sidled to Rhys. “What the hell is he doing?”

“Go. Get the kids to safety. I’ll cover you.” Rhys aimed his gun at Falhman. “One move from you idiots,” he yelled, “and your boss is a dead man.”

Falhman stopped his advance. His gaze shot over Rhys’ shoulder, his eyes widening.

A Highland banshee bellow made Rhys turn. Eli’s speedboat roared toward the seawall, sideswiping the dock. Donaline and LJ grappled with the pier as Eli leapt from the boat, brandishing his broadsword. In his other hand he wielded Mike’s talwar as he raced across the expanse of lawn toward Alexi.

“The Keeper,” Falhman yelled as he lunged toward Eli. “Get him!” Pandemonium broke out at the rogue kingpin’s commandment, and his men swarmed from their hiding places like red ants on the attack.

The alarms sent Fiona running from the bedroom, her long gown trailing behind her. As she dashed along the glass corridors, she fisted the skirt, yanking it above her knees so she could run faster. When she reached the door across from the nursery hallway, she skidded to a stop.

A few feet from the patio, Falhman fought against himself, locked in hand-to-hand combat. She knew one Falhman was Rhys, but she couldn’t tell the difference.

Near Rhys and Falhman, Mike fought a clutch of rogues, brandishing his talwar sword, the blade cutting them down with a single swipe. Her back to Mike, Mary Kate fought her own set of shifters, her mimic disguise now gone. Her red hair whipped side to side as she destroyed the enemy.

Bodies lay strewn across the lawn. Eli stood in front of someone holding two children, slashing at guards who dropped in front of him with each movement. As the pile of dead bodies grew, Eli and the person holding the boys, whom she suspected was Alexi, backed toward the boat, where Donaline had LJ pinned in her arms.

The vessel rocked violently as the two women struggled. Suddenly, LJ broke free. She leapt from the craft, the motion pitching Donaline overboard. Racing to Alexi, LJ grabbed one of the boys, and fell to the ground hugging him. Alexi tried to haul her to her feet, but before she could, Eli backed over the crouching woman, losing his balance.

In a flash, one of the attackers yanked LJ to her feet. He jerked the baby from her arms and retreated behind another shifter. LJ charged after him, suddenly stopping.

She backed away from the rogues, clutching her abdomen. A red stain spread over LJ’s shirt.

“No!” Fiona screamed. She rushed outside running toward the baby and LJ. As she passed Mike, he slashed the last man attacking him. Then he grabbed her, lifting her into the air.

“Let me go,” she screamed as she tried to kick free.

A loud bellow roared above the battle sounds, as Falhman ordered his men to retreat.

Mike spun around, Fiona still in his grip. The rogues left standing backed away from Rhys and his team. Falhman and his Rhys mimic stood several feet apart, panting and warily circling each other.

The rogue who’d captured LJ’s son ran toward the two Falhmans. “I got him, sir,” he said proudly.

Both men held out their hands for the child.

“Sir?” the shifter asked, swinging the child from side to side.

She held her breath, praying the rogue would chose the fake Falhman, whichever one he was, because she couldn’t tell. One of the Falhmans grabbed the child.

“Crap,” Mike whispered into Fiona’s ear. “He’s the real one.”

“LJ’s dead and Falhman’s got one of the boys,” she whispered, trying to keep the sob out of her voice. “Got any bright ideas about how to get out now?”

“Working on it.” He moved sideways giving her a glimpse of the lake. Eli, Donaline, Alexi, and Baron were in the boat, ready to flee.

“Let Fiona go,” Falhman ordered.

Mike released her, silently urging her to remain close to him. She backed up until she touched his chest. She didn’t need persuasion.

Falhman shifted Hugh Jr. to his hip and held out his hand toward Fiona. “Come, my dear. I do believe it’s time we left now. It appears this battle is at a stalemate, and my son has not won . . . again.” He paused and directed a glare at his mimic counterpart. “No need to hide it anymore, Rhys. I guessed the moment I saw Eli that you were behind this attack.”

Rhys’ mimic melted into his own form, returning Falhman’s glare with one of his own that could have started a fire, had Falhman been flammable and not immune to the brimstone of Hell. “I will never be your son.”

Falhman motioned for Fiona.

Mike grabbed her and held the tip of his gun to her temple. “The lady stays with us. Unless you want to make an exchange for the kid.”

Fiona stiffened. What kind of game was he playing, anyway? Was he desperate enough to keep his promise to Hugh that he’d sacrifice her? Rage boiled in her throat. “You son of a—”

“Tsk, tsk. Such language,” Mike said. He pressed the gun tighter to her head. “What’s your answer, Falhman? The kid or the lady?”

Several seconds passed as Falhman studied her and the child. Finally he spoke. “While I’ve been thinking of the pleasures we might share, my darling, in the big scheme of things, you will not be as useful to me as my son, Drystan.” He backed toward the house, his hand around the child’s neck. “Don’t try to stop us. My son may be important to me, but, as you well know—” He grinned wickedly at Rhys. “—like all my sons, he is expendable.” When he reached the door, he released the child’s neck and waved, shouting, “Check. Your king is in jeopardy. Let the games begin.”

As soon as Falhman had cleared the door, Mike released her. Fiona whirled and slugged him. He grabbed her fist before she could swing again.

“Hey! I was just protecting you.”

“What if he’d wanted a trade?”

“He wouldn’t,” Rhys said. “Falhman only deals in what profits Falhman. Compared to a son with the bloodline of two powerful shifter families, you are merely a diversion.”

The sound of a helicopter caused them to turn toward the house. “Are you going after them as your hawk?” Fiona asked.

Rhys shook his head. “They’d shoot me the second they saw me. Can you get the front gates open so you can bring the car around the back?” he asked Mike.

“I think so. Why?”

“We need tae take LJ’s body tae Robbie O’Connor,” Eli said.

“Who’s he?” Mike asked.

“The mortician for the shifters. He’ll make sure LJ ’twill be taken care ’o. Mary Kate will show ye the way.”

“What about Falhman’s men?” Mike asked, indicating the dead bodies scattered around the lawn.

“’Tis the devil’s chore tae clean up his own mess. Now ye, Mary Kate, and Fiona hurry, afore they get here.”

Fiona stopped her brother as he started for the boat. “What did he mean by ‘Let the games begin’?”

“War,” Rhys said. “A war he will draw our children into.”

The minute Falhman entered the helicopter he dialed his second-in-command.

“Plans have changed,” he yelled into the phone over the noise of the chopper. “Tell my presidential candidate mimics I want them to hold off until the election. They need to replace the newly elected president as well as the vice-president.”

“Will do, sir,” his underling said.

“I’m sending you a new recruit from Scotland. Ewan. Use him to continue the takeover of the Cleveland Mafia. Then eliminate him. He failed me. I took care of the Mafia’s man Benny. Replace him with a good mimic and keep me informed.”

“Will do, sir. When will you return?”

“Don’t know. It’s become a bit hot in Cleveland. I need to get away until things cool down. If anything goes wrong while I’m gone, I’m holding you responsible. You know what that means.”

Even over the noise of the chopper, Falhman heard the man gulp.

“Yes, sir. You have my word.”