The Mercenary and the Shifters (The Turning Stone Chronicles) Read Online Free PDF

upper hand. “But it doesn’t matter at the moment. I want something in exchange, and I’m not going to do anything more until I see my mentor.”
    There. She’d said it. As soon as the forceful words spilled from her, she shook so much she had to lean against the wall to steady herself.
    “My, my, my.” The three words Mr. Swindell spoke held volumes of smarminess and sarcasm. “Such big words from such a—”
    “If you call me a little lady, I will hang up on you.” She hated being called a little lady. The phrase stank of condescension. He’d already been condescending enough.
    Swindell laughed. “I like you, Fiona. You have the spitfire of your mother.”
    My mother? His words took the starch right out of her attitude. He knew her mother? She caught the question before she blurted it out. Who was Swindell, anyway?
    “You have an appointment this morning with your mentor at 8:00 a.m. at his penthouse in downtown Cleveland.”
    “I can’t make it by then.”
    “Falhman values punctuality. I’d advise you to be there on time.” He gave her the address, then hung up before she could protest further.
    She knew the name. Her mother had written about him in her diary. He was Rhys and Roc’s father. A curtain of dread and excitement dropped over her. The head of the rogue shifters wanted to see her? Wanted to mentor her?
    Scrambling for paper and pen, Fiona scribbled the address, then jotted a note to Mike and rushed upstairs to her bedroom for a quick shower and change.
    After last night’s attack, Mike would not approve of a command performance call from the king of the rogues, if she could even tell him. But she didn’t care what he thought. Not now. Swindell knew her mother, and the man her mother had spent her life hiding from would be her mentor. How better to take down the rogues, and avenge her mother’s broken life, than by destroying their kingpin, a shifter who once loved her mother?
    Fiona studied her reflection in the cheval mirror in her bedroom. Nervousness wafted from her so clearly it nearly made her reflection waver.
    Get a grip, Fi. You can do this. Just think like Dad. Hard. Tough. And willing to do whatever it takes.
    She channeled her father’s willpower, remembering what he always said to her when she faced an obstacle. If you think you can’t, you can’t.
    She could do this. Would do this. Even if she died trying.

Chapter 5
    A tall, lean butler with a ski-jump nose answered the door at the penthouse apartment. “Miss Fiona Kayler, to see you, sir,” he intoned after she introduced herself.
    From the depths of a cavernous great room, a slender, silver-haired man rose and waved her in. He moved toward her, his hand outstretched in greeting. Even from the hallway she could sense the buzz of shifter tingles race over her, growing stronger as he neared. When she didn’t reach for his hand he grasped hers and clasped it between his, curling his long fingers around her palm.
    The same sensation of buzzing bees crawling over her, that she’d experienced when Mr. Swindell had shaken her hand, shimmied across her flesh. She resisted the urge to draw away, afraid she might insult her host. He, like Swindell, held onto her hand a bit longer than felt comfortable.
    “I do see a resemblance,” he said gently.
    “Resemblance?” she echoed.
    “To your mother.” A sadness came over his face. “I’m sorry for your loss. I hope she went without suffering.”
    His concern for her mother’s last days touched her, and for a second she thought she saw something in his eyes. Pain, or maybe regret.
    He released her hand, motioning her to the long white sofa. “Can I get you some coffee or tea? Or perhaps a danish?”
    “Coffee would be nice.” She’d rushed out before her morning caffeine fix and now had the beginning of a headache.
    Within seconds the butler placed a silver tray, containing a plate of danish, doughnuts, two china cups and saucers, and a matching coffee serving set on the