The Mercenary and the Shifters (The Turning Stone Chronicles) (8 page)

Chapter 12

Fiona’s cell rang as she headed out the door to the garage with George in tow.

“I’m sending a man to your office to fetch you,” said Falhman.

Fiona glanced at George. “I’m a bit busy this morning. I have a meeting with the authorities over the ship that sunk six months ago. They want to question me about it.”

“Do you need a lawyer?” Falhman asked.

“I have the company’s attorney meeting me.”

“I meant of the shifter variety. OmniWorld does have a vested interest in the company. Perhaps they should be there.”

Fiona stopped, causing George to bump into her. “Why? Am I going to need extra representation?”

“One can never have too many attorneys, my dear.”

She waved George ahead, indicating he should get in the car. When he was out of earshot, she whispered into the phone, “OmniWorld has no claim on my company. It was part of our agreement.”

“Did I say claim? I was merely pointing out what happens to you and your company greatly affects your agreement with OmniWorld, and ultimately with me. A second lawyer is merely a precaution. One can never be too cautious, don’t you think?”

What she thought was something didn’t fit right. Were her earlier fears about OmniWorld’s possible involvement in the sinking of the
KayFion
true? Why else would they want to insert themselves into the investigation?

“At least let me contact OmniWorld and see if Mr. Swindell is available for your meeting. I’d feel better knowing you had representation of our sort there to protect you.”

“Our sort? You make it sound as if they will know I’m a shape shifter and somehow use that against me.”

“My dear, Fiona, as your mentor you must learn to trust me. There are many things you do not yet understand about our world and its dealings with humanity. What time is the meeting?”

Was he right? Did she need the protection of rogues because she was now aligned with them? She tucked her chin against her chest, stretching her tense neck muscles. She was the one who got in bed with the devil. She had to follow through.

“Ten a.m., I’ll text you the location.” She removed the phone from her ear, but heard Falhman speak.

“One more thing, my dear. How did things go with Kyle Morrison last night? Have you news I can report to OmniWorld?”

“We hit it off. I have a date tonight. I didn’t even have to give him a donation.”

“Excellent.”

She wasn’t certain the night had been excellent, except for the donation part. She needed the money.

“When do I get my training session?” she asked.

“Since you are busy today, how does tomorrow sound?”

Finally! Some progress.
“Great. Where shall we meet?”

“I’ll be in touch.”

The line went dead. Fiona checked the number Falhman had used. Blocked. It figured he’d be all undercover and spyish. She hung up and climbed in the car.

“Problems?” George asked.

“No more than usual.”

“I heard from Mike this morning,” George said. “He’ll be home tonight.”

“Good,” she said as she pulled out of the garage. George hummphed and she added, “Not that you haven’t been a stellar employee.”

“Thank you,” he said.

She glanced over at the bodyguard. “Do you know Mike well?”

“Been working with him for about three years now.”

“Something you said the other night intrigued me. ‘They all like him better.’ What did you mean?”

“The women,” George said. “I guess it’s because he plays hard-to-get.”

“He gets involved with his clients?”

“More like they get involved with him. Or they want to.”

She understood. Mike’s macho masculinity tinged with the hint of caring she’d seen him display would make any woman feel safe. When he was around, she felt very secure.

“Even the married ones. He’s got some kind of charm. But he’s a stand-up guy. You won’t find a better man anywhere.”

She needed a good man. Knowing he would be here soon lifted her spirits. Then she remembered she wouldn’t be able to see him until the morning.

“Darn,” she said, hitting the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. “I won’t be here tonight.”

George gave her a questioning look.

“I’ve got a date with Kyle Morrison, and I can’t break it.”

George laughed.

“I didn’t mean I wanted to,” she hastened to add. “I just thought I should be here to get the news about LJ.”

“Like I said, they all like him better.”

Unfortunately, George had read her right. She did have feelings for Mike. Those emotions would be a problem while she
courted
Kyle for less than romantic purposes.

Oh, what tangled webs we weave when first we practice to deceive.

If she wasn’t careful she’d become the fly caught in the web instead of the spider hunting prey. The thought gave her no comfort.

Her company lawyer protested when she told him she’d added another attorney to the meeting, but she overruled him, using the lie that the federal agent who’d helped her with the smuggling incident recommended she add additional counsel. Promising to put the company’s counsel first smoothed her lawyer’s bruised ego somewhat. The promise was not hard since she barely trusted Swindell. But Dad had always used the old adage
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

When Swindell entered Fiona rose to meet him, greeting him at the doorway. “I thought OmniWorld was sending a lawyer,” she whispered.

“My dear, you offend me. What makes you think I’m not a lawyer?”

“I thought you were a corporate representative, not a lawyer.”

“I am many things. Like an onion, I have layers which peel back to reveal facets you never dreamed of.”

Fiona rolled her eyes at his obtuse explanation. “A non-answer. Spoken like a true lawyer.”

She introduced him to her counsel, who rose to greet him. The two men shook hands, dancing around each other like peacocks fighting over a mate as Swindell attempted to pass and take a seat closer to where Fiona sat.

When everyone was situated, the Port Authority council opened the meeting.

“We’ve determined the cause of the ship’s sinking and have cleared your company of negligence on the part of ship maintenance. The flotation equipment appeared to be in working order, and the quick thinking on the part of your crew most likely saved their lives.”

The banging in Fiona’s heart lessened. At least she wouldn’t be facing fines for carelessness.

“However, the explosion that broke the ship in half appears to have been the result of a bomb.”

“A bomb? I didn’t—”

Her attorney grabbed her arm and squeezed, cutting off her protest. “Let them finish before you start objecting,” he whispered.

“But I didn’t do anything wrong,” she insisted.

He scowled at her. She clamped her jaw shut, giving her full attention to the authorities. Were they going to accuse her of setting the bomb off on her own ship? What possible reason would she have for sabotage?

“Additionally, when our divers checked the sunken ship’s cargo hold they saw a hole had been cut in one of the containers. Did you send divers to retrieve cargo?”

“No. My insurance company advised against it. The cost of cargo retrieval, at the depth the ship sank, would be more than the total to replace the shipment.”

“Upon checking the manifest against the cargo in the aforementioned section, we discovered there were some missing items.”

“What?” she asked.

He flipped through a sheaf of papers and slid one across the table to her. “A medical container of supposedly dead anthrax.”

“Supposedly?”

“When it was shipped the lab sent it as dead. The anthrax was to be used to calibrate medical equipment instrumental in checking for the virus. After shipping, the lab discovered some of the anthrax shipments were not dead. The one in your ship’s hold was reported to be the live anthrax virus.

“We tried to trace the container’s destination, but all we’ve found are dead ends and shell companies.” He paused and looked over the top of his glasses at her. “Considering your recent involvement in a smuggling operation, naturally, we must explore all the possibilities.”

“My client was cleared of those charges,” her lawyer said.

“Yes, she was,” the counsel for the Port Authority replied, “and, at the moment, we have no evidence Ms. Kayler was involved in the sinking of her own ship. For now, we are going to declare her innocent of wrongdoing in the sinking of the
KayFion
. However, the investigation into what happened will not be closed yet.” He squared his papers and rose. “I’d advise you not to plan any out-of-country trips, Ms. Kayler, until this matter is resolved.”

“What does that mean?” Fiona asked.

“It means, my dear,” Swindell said, “they will be watching you and your shipping company.”

Trembling, Fiona sank against her chair. She had an illegal shipment of cigarettes leaving soon. Were they going to check her cargo? Watch her every move? How would she explain smuggled cigarettes? How would she manage a merger with Kyle or destroy OmniWorld when Homeland Security and the Coast Guard were watching her every move?

She rose and leaned over the table toward the Port Authority council. “I didn’t have anything to do with the sinking of the
KayFion
. I swear. I’ll take a polygraph test or whatever you want for proof.”

Both Swindell and her company lawyer rose, protesting together at her outburst. “I’m innocent,” she insisted when they tried to stop her remonstration.

Swindell laid his hand on her arm, the buzz from his touch breaking through her panic.

“Our client is distressed,” he told the authorities. “She will not be submitting to a lie detector test, because she has not been accused of anything.” He turned to her and locked his gaze on her. “We know you are innocent and will see you through this,” he promised.

A choked sound came from the other side of her. Swindell let go of her arm and leaned forward, addressing her company lawyer. “Do you agree with my assessment?”

The man nodded. Retrieving his briefcase, he said to Fiona, “Call me this afternoon and set an appointment. We’ll talk more about this then.” He glared at Swindell. “Privately.” Then he exited the room.

Fiona sank onto the chair as the room emptied. It was happening again, and this time she had no Federal agent to help her. She had no brother who knew the Cleveland police or other connections who could steer her through these dangerous waters. She had no one.

The buzzing in her body intensified as Swindell scooted his chair closer. No one except Swindell.

“You may be in big trouble, my dear,” Swindell said.

“No joke, and your company helped put me there.”

“Are you suggesting OmniWorld is responsible for the sinking of your ship? Because if you are, I can assure you we are not in the business of sabotage.”

“I should believe you because . . . you’re a real upstanding kind of guy? Because you represent a corporation that wouldn’t stoop to blackmail, murder, or say bombing?”

“I assure you—”

She bolted from her seat. “Assure all you want, but don’t forget I know who—what—you are. What OmniWorld is, and I wouldn’t believe a word you said any more than I’d believe a troll who told me I could cross his bridge for free.”

“There’s no need to be insulting,” Swindell said as he rose. “I can see you’re upset, so I’ll let your comments slide. But you are going to need us—need me—and when you’ve come to your senses, I will be there.” He lifted his briefcase. “You know where to reach me, when you’re ready to talk.”

When he’d exited, Fiona screamed and pounded the table. She did not need him and would never call.

The door burst open and several people raced through. “Are you okay?” they asked, their gazes searching the room frantically.

“Cockroach,” Fiona said as she stomped the floor. “Big, giant cockroaches.” That’s what Swindell was. And OmniWorld. And what the stinking investigation by the Coast Guard and Homeland Security was. “You should get an exterminator in here and kill the lot of them.”

Her frustrations partly relieved, she grabbed her things and stormed out past the confused Coast Guard employees.

Chapter 13

The minute Eli’s plane hit the ground Rhys bolted for the exit door, shifting into his hawk ego as he ran. Eli’s cries for him to stop fell on deaf ears as he swooped out of the jet into the darkened, overcast Scotland sky. Flapping his strong wings with all his might, he made for Eli’s safe house.

The sea breezes lifted him high, but he didn’t pause to coast on the currents, instead rising higher with every wing stroke. When he reached what he knew to be about one hundred feet in the air, he dove. The wind rushed over him as he raced closer to ground, angling until he reached his maximum dive velocity of about one hundred miles per hour. Then he climbed the sky once more and repeated the process. A million thoughts raced through his mind as he rushed toward his injured wife.

Was she really okay or had she downplayed her injury so he wouldn’t worry? Would the rogues harm Baron? He should have been there.

But he wasn’t. Instead of protecting his family, he had been off with Eli meeting Scottish shifters. Going about the business of the shifter world instead of caring for his own.

He screamed his frustration into the wind. The harsh cawing of his hawk ego barely registered his anger. He cawed over and over as he dived to increase his speed. Below him, the small creatures of the Scottish Isles scattered for cover when he screamed. They were luckier today than the kidnappers of his son would be when he caught them. He would kill the rogues. Tear them from limb to limb with his bare hands for daring to put his child in danger.

The stone manse came into view, and he dove for it as if it was prey. As soon as he lighted on the ground, he willed his animal into human form. Bone and sinew stretched and reformed as he urged each cell to mutate faster. The transformation completed, he dashed for the back door of the house, yelling Alexi’s name.

She appeared on the porch, her arm in a sling. Rhys skidded to a stop in front of her and gathered her in his embrace. Careful not to squeeze her injured limb, he cautiously crushed her to him as if he could absorb her into himself, kissing her head and face and lips.

“My God, Alexi. You scared me to death.” He pulled back and stared at her. Red rimmed her eyelids. She’d been crying.

“I’m sorry, Rhys,” she said. “I lost our son.”

“Sweetheart, you didn’t lose him. He was ripped from you. I know you fought valiantly to protect him.”

“We all did. Donaline, me, Mary Kate, and LJ. Hugh’s friend Mike came back and tipped the balance in our favor.”

Rhys urged her into the house. “Do we have more news about Mike and Mary Kate?”

“Nothing yet. They promised to let us know when they got to Cleveland.”

“If Falhman’s rogues get there before Mary Kate and Mike, and they will because of the head start they got, I don’t expect Falhman to be in Cleveland. He has to know we’ll follow the rogues back to him.”

“Mike’s getting someone to watch the penthouse. He’ll tail Falhman when he leaves and lead us right to the babies.” Alexi paused and gazed hopefully at him. “Maybe he doesn’t know he’s got Baron. Maybe he really was after LJ and Hugh’s son.”

Rhys hated to contradict her, but deep in his heart he knew Baron was in trouble. “Then why take Baron?”

“I don’t know.”

“Because they didn’t know which child was Hugh,” LJ said. “The boys are about the same age. Even if they had a photo it might be hard to tell them apart. Same size, same dark hair.”

Same heritage.
LJ’s comment didn’t improve Rhys’ angst. If Falhman suspected the children were related, his first action would be a DNA test. Then he would know he had his grandson. The rogue kingpin pulled the same trick on him and his brother Roc. Why would this be different?

The sound of a helicopter beat the air above the house.

“Eli’s here,” Rhys said. “Are you ready to go?”

Alexi pointed to a row of suitcases by the front door. “I took the liberty of packing for you and Eli.”

Rhys counted the bags. “Five? We should travel lighter.”

“There not all ours. One belongs to LJ and the other to Donaline.”

Rhys shook his head, but Alexi stepped in closer and whispered, “LJ has to come. It’s her baby.”

“Donaline’s too old for this trip. We’ll be fighting.”

“She can hold her own, Rhys. Trust me.”

“Besides, laddie, ye’ll be needing a nanny when we’ve got the wee ones.” Donaline stepped within inches of Rhys, her arms akimbo, eyes daring him to forbid her to go.

“Ye might as well give in, laddie,” Eli said from the doorway. “When Donaline makes up her mind, there’s nae changing it.”

“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 Kyle 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.