Easier said than done, Damien mused. Rafe wasn’t a trained Enforcer, but he’d done his time at the Academy and kept himself in peak condition. It was possible to best the man, just not as simple as those pen-pushers would like to believe.
A distant sound, unnatural to the woods, reached his ears, and he paused, cocking his head to the side in order to hear better. The drone of a vehicle on the road. He slipped behind a tree and crouched down low so he was hidden from view.
The woods grew on gently rolling land, and he was presently on a slight swell, the road dipping down below, giving him a vantage point from which to watch. Soon a grey car came around the bend, three men inside. A slight breeze was blowing his way, and he was able to pick up on their scents. Lycans. But not ones he knew. They weren’t likely to be friends of Rafe’s; from what he’d gathered, the man wasn’t advertising his location. Enforcers? No, he knew most of them. Perhaps Rogue Retrieval?
While not unexpected, their arrival still brought a curse of his lips. So it had finally come to this. Clenching his fists, he growled and bared his teeth; they didn’t know what they were about to face.
As the car disappeared from view, he got to his feet. If Rogue Retrieval was here, there was no time to waste. He’d have to find Eve quickly. He picked up his pace, putting less emphasis on silence and more on speed.
What would he do if they approached him? Simply fall in with their plans or go down fighting? It was a point he’d considered on sleepless nights. Intellectually, he knew cooperating with them would be more fruitful, but his gut protested the very idea; hadn’t Reno always told him to go with his gut?
Reno. Did the man know what a screwed up mess his former partner was now in? Life and death; revenge and honour and duty. They all twisted around in his soul, and he’d yet to decide which path to take. It had been so simple at first…
Ten months after Beth’s death, he’d finally been tracked down. Stinking drunk, he’d barely been able to hold his own in the alley brawl he’d landed himself in. Six gang members had him cornered, planning on having fun with the apparently intoxicated man they’d found weaving down the street. He should have been able to take them, but given the fact he was seeing double his blows weren’t as effective as they should have been.
A direct hit to his gut had left him doubled over and gasping for air when a shadowy shape had unexpectedly appeared. It had begun to toss his assailants about like the bags of garbage they were. Surprised shouts, followed by the sounds of flesh hitting flesh and grunts of pain, had filled the small alley. Before he’d managed to catch his breath, it was all over. Gang members had littered the pavement, whimpering like a bunch of pups, while he’d found himself being dragged into a van that was parked nearby. The first words his unknown saviour had spoken had been laced with comforting profanity.
“Shit! Those punks almost kicked your ass. How fucked up are you?”
There was only one person who’d greet him with a string of curses after a prolonged absence. With his vision going in and out of focus, he’d hardly been able to believe Reno was actually there. It had brought back memories of times they’d fought back to back, and come out victorious yet battle scarred. Afterwards, they’d nurse their wounds and drink a few beers while reliving the events of the day. He’d begun to grin until his split lip protested. That stab of pain had brought him to his senses.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He’d snarled the words at Reno. Hiding behind an attitude, that’s what Beth would have called it.
“Keeping you from getting killed it would seem.” Reno had started the engine and pulled away from the curb. They were in a seedy downtown area, though exactly what town, Damien couldn’t recall; the past months were almost a blur. It must have been after two in the morning. Businesses were closed and traffic was light. A fine mist had made the road look shiny, and Reno had flicked on the wipers to clear the windshield.
How had Reno found him? The answer hadn’t really mattered, of course. What did matter was escaping before this family reunion went any farther.
“Maybe being killed is what I want.” He’d grabbed the door handle prepared to leave the vehicle, regardless of the fact that it was already moving.
Reno had cast a deadly look at him. “You jump out of this van and I’ll turn it right around and run you over. At least with a couple of broken legs you’ll be easier to track down.”
Damien had studied the man, wondering if he’d really meant what he’d said. Yeah, Reno would probably do it. With a sigh, he’d let go of the handle and slumped in the corner.
The rest of the drive had been completed mostly in silence, partly because he’d been trying to think how to get away and partly because he’d kept losing consciousness. When they’d finally arrived at their destination—a small farmhouse on the edge of nowhere—Reno had almost carried him inside.
“Got him.” Satisfaction had laced Reno’s voice as he’d kicked the door shut and then dropped him on a sofa.
The jarring sensation of landing on the old leather cushions had momentarily returned him to his senses. He’d noticed faded wallpaper and sparse furnishings before darkness had, once again, begun to encroach upon his vision. Captain Fielding’s familiar grumble had filled the room, and he’d inhaled Brandi’s scent as her hand had touched his brow. Allowing their care and concern to wrap around him, he’d given a sigh and passed out.
As it turned out he’d had a concussion, which explained the double vision that had been plaguing him. He’d known where it had come from. His last victim had put up more of fight than usual; the bastard’s dying blow had been to slam a rock into his head. Of course, he hadn’t told Reno or Brandi that. It would have required explanations he couldn’t give. So he’d let them think he’d fallen while drunk. The drunk part had been real. Alcohol was his solace, numbing his conscience.
Brandi had fussed, Reno had sworn, and the captain had sat in the corner eyeing him thoughtfully. Yeah, the days during which he’d been healing had been great. They’d ended all too soon, of course, and once he was deemed fit, Reno’s version of an intervention had begun.
“What the hell were you thinking, taking off like that?”
“You know the consequences of going AWOL, Masterson?”
Reno and Captain Fielding had circled around the chair he’d sat in, making him feel like a naughty schoolboy in the principal’s office. They’d threatened him with everything, up to and including a trip before High Council, if he didn’t get his act together. In between their verbal assaults, Brandi had tried to worm her way under his defences with cool logic and tender pleas. He’d finally fallen in with their plan just to get them to stop.
Almost a week passed before they’d trusted him enough to leave him alone in the farmhouse. He’d seized the opportunity and used his phone.
“Checking in.” He’d actually winced in anticipation of the response he’d get.
“Where the hell have you been? Three days without contact and a price goes on your head. You know the rule.” The acerbic voice had rung in his ears.
“Friends found me. I had a concussion. This is the first time I’ve been alone.”
“Friends?”
“Lycan Link friends, and before you ask, I didn’t tell them anything.”
His statement had been met with silence, but he’d been used to the tactic by then and had waited patiently. Finally a response had come.
“You’re damned lucky I’m feeling lenient and still need your skills. Give me your coordinates, and I’ll arrange a pickup.”
“I travel alone, you know that. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He’d hesitated, knowing his next bit of news wouldn’t be well received. “There’s one complication.”
“Complication? Explain.”
“They want me to work for them, off the record.”
A snort had been the response. “What did you tell them?”
“I agreed. It got them off my back.”
“Fantastic.” Sarcasm had drip
ped from the word. “And when you disappear, they’ll try to find you again. You should have told them to go fuck themselves.”
He’d growled at the crude words; the ties of friendship had already begun to reform. “This can work.”
“How?”
“They want me to investigate a series of murders involving the Fae.”
“I’d say that’s a definite ‘conflict of interest,’ wouldn’t you?”
It had taken a lot fast talking, but eventually the plan had been approved. The fact that he’d felt like he was betraying the trust of his best friends had been hard to swallow, but at the time it had seemed the only option.
To this day he still wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice.
Chapter 36
Following Damien’s trail, Rafe found himself back at his own place with no sign of the man save his footprints. A quick look around revealed he wasn’t anywhere on the property, and Rafe rubbed his chin wondering what Damien was up to. As far as he knew, except for trips to the lumberyard, the man had stayed within the territory. Of course, that was his belief before he’d talked to Constable Duffy. Was Damien aware that the local police were on the lookout for him? Rafe shook his head. Why had he ever thought he had any skills when it came to understanding the mind of a rogue?
The sound of a car approaching drew his attention. It was a grey four-door, nondescript, with three passengers. When they exited the car, two stayed beside the vehicle with hands clasped behind their backs and eyes fixed straight ahead. The driver showed only slightly more animation, his arms swinging at his side as he almost marched over.
“Dr. McRae?”
“Yes?” Rafe kept his tone and face neutral, despite the fact that he was sure he knew who the men were even before he checked the insignia on their t-shirts. Trackers.
“Douglas Clement, Enforcer second class, assigned to Rogue Retrieval.” The man reached out his hand, and Rafe shook it, resisting the urge to wipe his hand on his pant leg afterwards.
“We’ve had a report of a rogue in the area.” The Tracker snapped his fingers at his cohorts, in response one of them approached and handed over a file. After opening it, he extended it so Rafe could see. “Do you know this man?”
Rafe took it, not at all surprised to see the image of a much younger Damien staring back at him from a black and white photo. It must have been taken several years ago. There were no lines bracketing Damien’s mouth, no tired, hard edge to his eyes. Life had definitely not been easy on the man over the intervening years.
Handing the photo back, Rafe nodded. “Damien Masterson. I’m familiar with his case.”
The Tracker looked him up and down. “I figured you would be, given you run that clinic.”
That clinic. Rafe wanted to snarl at the man for his condescending tone, but forced himself to maintain a mild manner. “Yes, I’m the head of the Rogue Rehabilitation Clinic.”
“We’ve had reports that Masterson’s causing trouble. Savaging livestock, the locals are terrified.”
“Really?” Rafe arched a brow.
“This is news to you?” The man gave him a disbelieving look.
“Only slightly. The local police informed me of the situation only a short while ago. I’m surprised you made it here so quickly. Lycan Link is some distance from Grassy Hills.”
“We were in the neighbourhood.”
“Indeed.” Rafe was quite sure there were no other dangerous rogues in the vicinity, but decided against calling the man on it. “So you’re looking for Damien. How can I be of assistance?”
“Talk around town is that he’s been working for you.”
Talk around town. It was doubtful that these men had been interviewing the populace of Grassy Hills, and equally doubtful that the locals were talking about Damien. The residents were friendly but not prone to gossip with outsiders. It was more likely that someone had tipped them off. But who? Someone at Lycan Link…such as Reno? That idea still didn’t sit well. He stared over at the meadow where he’d found the scentless tracks. Perhaps they weren’t Damien’s. Maybe another wolf was in the area, and had called in Rogue Retrieval for some purpose of its own.
“Doctor?” Clement prodded him, still waiting for an answer.
“What? Oh, yes.” He looked back at the man. “Damien’s been here helping me do some repairs.”
“Sir, you realize it’s an offense not to report a rogue.”
“An out of control rogue,” he qualified. “And I’m well aware of the rules surrounding them. I helped form some of the policies.”
Clearing his throat, the man had the grace to look uncomfortable.
Rafe smiled inwardly but merely continued on. “My professional assessment is that Damien Masterson is not out of control. He’s been a model assistant to me and in fact we’ve been getting along quite well together.” While that wasn’t strictly true it wasn’t any of the buffoon’s business.
Rafe wasn’t sure, but the man holding the file seemed to have mumbled something along the lines of ‘bleeding hearted pacifist’ but beyond giving the man a hard stare, he chose to ignore it.
“You’re welcome to your opinion, sir. However, the fact remains that we’ve been charged with locating him. Do you know where he is right now?”
“At this moment…no.”
“It’s also an offence to withhold information.”
A rumble rose from his chest. “I don’t need you to remind me of protocol.” His patience spent, Rafe spoke in clipped tones, and the Tracker actually retreated a step obviously surprised that the supposedly mild-mannered doctor had developed a ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude.
Taking a deep breath, Rafe tried to curb his temper. “Last time I checked, Damien was working on replacing the porch of the cabin I gave him to stay in. Head through the woods until you get to the creek, follow it downstream for about three miles and you’ll reach the edge of a small lake. His place is on the edge of the lake, about a mile and half to the north.” It was the long way around, and should buy precious minutes during which he could hopefully find Damien, sedate him and get him to safety.
“We’ve also had a report that there’s a woman staying here with you?”
Already on guard, Rafe’s senses prickled even more. Who had made the report and why did this man want to know about Eve? He couldn’t lie, not if someone had had the place under surveillance, but he would definitely let them know he was offended. In fact, he could even turn it to his own advantage.
Stepping forward, he intruded into the man’s personal space making no effort to quell his displeasure. Narrowing his eyes, he curled his lip and answered in a low, deep voice. “My personal life is none of your business.”
Clement swallowed hard as he and his fellow Tracker stepped further away. There was a definite change in the air of confidence that had surrounded them mere minutes earlier.
Rafe continued. “However, in the spirit of cooperation, I’ll answer your question. Yes, she does stay here from time to time. I believe she’s working at her own cabin today. It’s about two miles beyond Damien’s. Just follow the edge of the lake.” Inwardly, he chuckled thinking of how long and difficult a path they’d be traversing.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Doctor. If we need any more information, we’ll be back.” With a quick nod, the man turned to go, jerking his head for his companion to follow.
Rafe shot out his arm and grabbed his shoulder. “You realize that an investigation has been launched into the tactics that you’re using to bring in rogues. There’ve been too many deaths recently.”
A shuttered look came over the man. “Unfortunate. However, you must realize, sir, that each of the rogues we’ve killed was a known murderer and attacked us first. We have a right to protect ourselves.” The man pulled away and walked to his car. After a brief conversation with his compatriots they all shifted into wolf form and took off.
A right to protect themselves. Three against one. How Adrian Somerset could condone such idiocy was har
d to imagine.
Exhaling loudly, Rafe rubbed his neck. What the hell was going on here? Well, at least Eve was safely out of the way. Double checking that his vials of tranquillizer were still firmly attached, he began to follow Damien’s scent trail again. It was, of course, in the opposite direction he’d sent the Trackers.
Chapter 37
Damien looked around and realized he’d travelled some distance while reminiscing. He’d been keeping parallel to the road in case Eve’s car passed by. So far, no luck.
Pausing, he considered what to do. Should he stay with the road or cut across country to Eve’s cabin? It would save time… Just as he was about to strike off on a new path, a glint of something metallic caught his attention. Narrowing his eyes, he crouched low and crept closer. There, on the other side of a group of trees, was Eve’s car and she was in it!
Cautiously, he studied the scene before him. Eve was reading a book, her seat slightly reclined. The car was pulled off to the side and sat at a strange angle. A quick glance at the tires revealed that the front right one was flat. It would seem she was stuck and not up to changing the tire on her own. And, strangely enough, Rafe was nowhere to be seen. Now that was unusual; the man stuck to Eve like gum to a shoe.
Damien knew Rafe was worried about Eve being around a dangerous rogue. In fact, it still surprised him that he hadn’t been kicked out of Rafe’s territory. Perhaps Rafe had made a complaint call to Lycan Link, and the captain had somehow intercepted it before Rogue Retrieval got it. He chuckled thinking of Rafe calling Captain Fielding, expecting to easily get rid of the rogue that had wandered into his life, while the other man made excuse after excuse to keep him there. Yeah, that’s likely what had happened. Fielding needed him in Grassy Hills.
Eight months ago, Reno and the captain had charged him with doing some off the record research dealing with the connection between a string of Fae killings and rogues. As they’d explained it to him, there were an increasing number of rogues turning into killers, and the victims were all Fae. Brad Owen had discovered the connection, when doing a series of security checks on the computer systems, and shared the information with them. Since it appeared several persons within Lycan Link were responsible for coordinating the murders, who to trust became an issue, and they’d decided to launch their own private investigation.
Betrayed: Days of the Rogue Page 27
