Betrayed: Days of the Rogue

by Nicky Charles

  He’d done the research as requested, and what he’d discovered had been hard to swallow. Yet, sharing all of the information would only drive the Anti-Fae underground until the bastards developed a new scheme. And so he’d filtered the data, producing enough to keep Reno and Fielding from becoming suspicious while continuing on with his other agenda. He hated the double life he was leading, but what else could he do?

  “Stay alert and think on your feet, Masterson.” Those were Captain Fielding’s instructions to him. “There’s a pattern here in among all this random data. Look at this map.” He’d jabbed his finger at a map of the continent covered with an array of dots, some of which were connected with zigzagging lines. “We’re using this and the location of known Fae to try to project where the next killing will be.”

  “We’ll send you, and a few others we can trust, to guard the Fae we’re projecting might be next on the list.” Reno had explained. “Hopefully, we’ll strike it lucky and get it right the first time. If not,” he’d firmed his lips and rumbled in frustration, “we’ll reposition you and try again. It’s a crap shoot, but at the moment it’s all we’ve got.”

  “They’re using the rogues somehow so that’s why you’re our best bet. Someone might approach you. If they offer you money to act as an assassin, fall in with it and get a message to us.”

  The captain’s last instruction had been too close to the truth for comfort.

  “For you, Beth. I’m doing this for you.” Damien whispered the words as he stared down at his hands. Would they ever feel clean again, or would he always see them covered in red? The first few times, he hadn’t been thinking beyond the need for revenge. Fighting, killing; it had given vent to the rage inside. Only after the fact had he started to question, to wonder if the path he’d chosen was as right and just as he’d been led to believe.

  He could hear Beth’s voice in his head; see her looking at him, her eyes wide and reproachful. She’d been wiser than him, thinking deeply about issues. Beth had seen the shades of grey when he’d only seen black and white. Closing his eyes, he swallowed hard and shook his head. He’d failed Beth, once. When she’d needed him the most, he’d arrived too late. Just as he’d been too late so many other times since. Would he be too late now to change the course of events for Eve?

  He remained crouched for long minutes, waiting and watching. In her car, Eve turned a page and then another. Occasionally she checked her watch or glanced about and then rearranged how she was sitting, but for the most part her activities were unremarkable.

  From his screened position, Damien had a perfect view of her. He studied the curve of her cheek, the angle of her nose. Her pale blonde hair continually fell forward, and she tucked it absentmindedly behind her ear. To look at her, one would think she was the typical girl next door. Pretty, yet not extraordinarily so. It was her smile and her clear blue eyes that drew a person to her, giving her an other-worldly allure, as if she saw things and knew secrets that no one else did. And most likely that was the case, given the fact that she was Fae.

  His Beth had been part Fae, too, though her werewolf genes had been dominant. Still, Beth had always seemed to sense things that lay below the surface. Hadn’t she told him, long before the fact, that Reno and Brandi would end up together? And their baby, she’d known the very day she’d conceived.

  “Your seed is growing inside me.” She’d whispered the words in his ear, early one morning after a night of bone melting sex. He’d awakened to see her leaning over him, her long hair falling about them like a curtain.

  Snaking his arm around her waist, he’d pulled her on top of him, loving the feel of her slight weight. “Really? How do you know?” His brain had still been half asleep, and the part that was awake had other interests. He’d kissed her while arranging their bodies, and with a contented sigh had slid into her hot welcoming depths. Nothing was better than morning sex.

  “You’re a horn dog.” She’d blushed and giggled as she used the slang term. Always so prim and proper, she sometimes tried to match his use of language. It was adorable.

  “And you love it.” Encouraging her to brace herself by putting her hands on his shoulders, he’d set up a gentle rocking rhythm. “So what’s this about my seed?”

  Beth had traced her finger over his brow and beamed down at him. “We made a child last night.” Her statement had him freezing in place, and she’d laughed softly. “That got your attention.” She’d begun to raise and lower herself, picking up where he’d left off.

  “But… How can you know for sure? Doesn’t it take a few weeks…?” Her announcement had taken him completely by surprise.

  “I just know. I can sense it. Our child is going to be a strong empath.” A look of love and pride had glowed on her face.

  “An empath.” He’d murmured the words as he’d stared at her belly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d acknowledged that the fact would bring its own set of problems. If he’d only known how soon though…

  Few knew the full extent of Beth’s mixed heritage. She was half Lycan, one quarter human and one quarter Fae. Early in their relationship, he’d cautioned her about mentioning the Fae genes she carried. Being partly human already meant she would face some prejudices; he dealt with that every day in his battle against the Purists. But adding Fae genetics to the mixture would be even harder for some Lycans to accept.

  Beth had been so warm and trusting. He should have emphasized the danger to her even more. If he had, she might not have told the lab tech when she went for the baby’s first ultrasound. And if the lab tech hadn’t written the information down…

  His house had exploded the next day, killing their unborn child and his mate. Eventually, he’d learned why, and who, and that was what had sent him down the road he now travelled. He recalled his first meeting with his current employer…

  Deirdre had studied him from behind her desk, her gaze sliding up and down the length of him before she’d shifted her attention to the man beside her.

  “You’ve check him out thoroughly?”

  The man—Petrus—had recruited him. “Yes. He’s what he claims to be. And,” the man rubbed his jaw, faint bruising still showing from where it had been dislocated during a ‘misunderstanding’ the two of them had had, “he has the needed skills.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Deirdre had turned and considered him again. “So you like to fight?”

  He’d shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets, idly looking around the office that Petrus had brought him to. Gleaming wood floors, a plush area rug in front of a white fireplace. Through the windows he could see the row of trees that flanked the long winding drive. “I don’t go looking for trouble. If there’s a reason, I won’t back down.”

  “Ever kill anyone?” She’d leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers. Her eyes were almost as black as her hair, her face as calm as if she’d just asked if he’d ever picked a flower.

  He’d stiffened not liking the direction the conversation appeared to be taking. “Listen, I don’t have time to put up with bullshit. Your flunky here said you might have a job for me—”

  She’d interrupted him. “I’ll take that as a yes. All in the line of duty, of course.” Casting him a mocking glance, she’d picked up a file from her desk and opened it.

  “Damien Masterson. Academy graduate. Ex-Enforcer. Was a member of the ACS. Impressive.” She’d flicked a look at him before continuing. “Your mate’s name was Beth. She was pregnant with your first child when she was murdered.”

  “Murdered?” He’d felt the blood drain from his face. Beth had died in a house explosion, a natural gas leak. At least… He’d lowered his brows, his thoughts racing. Something had always seemed off about that scenario even though it was listed as the cause in the official police report. Vague snatches of conversations he’d heard while in and out of consciousness in the hospital drifted by and he felt his heart begin to pound.

  “Hmm…the child was going to be part Fae; at least that’s what
was reported by the lab tech…” Deirdre had barely cast a glance at him as she’d continued reading the report. “Confidential information, of course, but somehow Lycan Link, in all its efficiency, allowed it to be leaked to members of the Anti-Fae Coalition. Are you familiar with them?” She’d closed the file and looked up at him, her lips pursed in obviously feigned concern. “Oh dear, you look upset. Didn’t you know?”

  Violent rage had filled him, and he’d lunged at her, his only thought to give vent his feelings, to wipe the mocking look off her face. How dare she make jokes about the death of his family!

  “Petrus!” She hadn’t even flinched, merely arching a brow and the man beside her had grabbed him just before he’d launched himself over the top of the mahogany desk.

  With Petrus holding him back, he’d stared at her unable to believe what he’d heard yet somehow it was as if he’d always known. He just hadn’t wanted to admit…

  “Revenge, Damien.” Deirdre had stood up and circled around the desk, her calm voice a stark contrast to the turmoil within him. “Would you like to get revenge against those that killed your mate? To spill their blood and see them dead at your feet? To make them pay for all that they’ve taken from you?”

  He’d struggled to free himself from Petrus, and at Deirdre’s nod the man had let go and stepped back.

  “What are you talking about?” He’d eyed Deirdre suspiciously as she’d sat on the edge of the desk in front of him, her long legs casually crossed at the ankle. The woman was beautiful in a cold, deadly sort of way, but he’d barely noticed. His attention had been fixed on what she was saying.

  “I have it within my power to help you avenge Beth’s death.” She’d laughed when he’d snorted and didn’t seem at all put out by his disbelief. “You’ll be free of the fear of retribution from the authorities. And,” she held up a finger to stop him when he would have spoken, “You’ll even be paid for your work.”

  He’d rolled his eyes, and she’d slowly risen to her feet, stepping closer to him. Her voice became persuasive, husky and low. “Think of it Damien. You can kill the killers. Make them suffer as Beth suffered. Even save others who are like Beth from the same fate.”

  Her words had twined around him, appealing to the rage and guilt that filled his soul.

  “You’ve spent years capturing Purists and taking them before High Council, but it was a bandage solution, wasn’t it? How many of them were eventually set free to continue to spread their poison?”

  He’d clenched his jaw, thinking of the times a technicality had prevented a conviction.

  “And Lycan Link itself harbours some of the filth; a leak in the system was the only way that someone could have known about Beth and your baby.”

  A growl had escaped him then, but when Petrus would have stepped forward, Deirdre had waved him back.

  “Not all the answers can be found in the Book of the Law, Damien. Sometimes the solution exists outside the official structures of Lycan Link.”

  By the end of the day, he’d signed on with Deirdre, his only condition being that his sole focus was action against the Anti-Fae. His wolf had balked at the arrangement, but he’d pushed its protests aside and begun his new career fired by rage and revenge.

  Black ops, mercenaries, vigilantes; the name of the organization was irrelevant. What mattered was that the group, who now functioned as his handlers, were actually doing something about the wrongs in the world. They infiltrated the Anti-Fae and sent out information on their plans; they gave him the data, and he acted upon it, eliminating his enemies one at a time.

  It wasn’t perfect. While he was able to save some, other Fae still died, but at least their killers met with a suitable fate.

  Damien carefully rearranged how he was sitting. Fae still died… That was the part he had difficulty dealing with. By some perverse twist of fate Deirdre’s informants supplied him with the name of the target and the date of the attempt, but never the identities of the killers. He had to wait and watch until the attempt was made. How many times had he cursed himself for arriving too late or moving too slow to save the innocent…

  He glanced towards the car where Eve sat. She was bait, a target he was purposely leaving undefended in the hopes that a killer would appear. He’d established a reason to be around her, befriended her and gained her trust, all so he could be present when someone tried to kill her.

  He ran his hand through his hair recalling all the others he’d betrayed in a similar fashion. Each time, it became harder to deal with.

  “If the target dies, it’s collateral damage.” Deirdre had explained to him, yet again, after the last mission. She’d made no effort to hide her impatience. Softer emotions weren’t part of her make up. “You do your best, but in the end your job is to remove the assassins. Otherwise they’ll kill again and again. Losing one Fae could mean that dozens more are saved.”

  She was right, he knew it. But it had never sat well with him.

  “Come now, Damien.” She’d prowled around his chair, trailing one finger tip over his jaw and ear before teasing the nape of his neck. Her voice took on a cooing quality. “You wanted revenge against the Anti-Fae, and we’re providing you with that opportunity.” Pausing behind him, she leaned closer, her full figure brushing against him. She began to massage his shoulders, no doubt feeling the knotted muscles beneath his leather jacket.

  He tightened his jaw thinking of those early days, when wanting to die had been interspersed with moments of raging against the world. It was during one of those fits of anger that he’d been recruited; he’d attacked Petrus who had been an undercover operative at the time, nearly blowing a case wide open. The organization had taken him in, honed his skills, given him a means of avenging Beth.

  The pay was crappy, and you signed on for life, but at the time it hadn’t seemed important that a price was put on your head the moment you tried to leave. He’d begun to have second thoughts about that particular clause, however. He’d stood up and moved away from Deirdre, irritated with her constant attempts to lure him.

  She’d laughed, a deep husky sound, and shook her head. “Still faithful to the little mate, I see. So quaint.” Moving from where she’d stood behind him, she’d leaned against the edge of her desk and crossed her ankles. It was a favourite pose of hers, causing her short tailored skirt to pull up and reveal a substantial amount of shapely thighs before the lower half of her legs were hidden by high black boots. Leaning back, she’d snagged a piece of paper from the desk behind her and held it out to him. “This is your next assignment. It’s tailor made to work with what your friends have you doing.”

  He’d flicked his glance over the paper, seeing the words Grassy Hills highlighted in yellow. That had made him raise a brow. Not for the first time did he wonder exactly how the organization was aligned with Lycan Link. They were connected on some unofficial level, he was sure of it, carrying out duties that Lycan Link didn’t want to acknowledge. Black ops for a black rogue had seemed so fitting when he’d first began.

  He’d crushed the page in his hand, guilt eating away at his gut. Each assignment became more difficult to stomach now that he knew the whole story; how the Anti-Fae was using the rogues, how more innocent lives were being lost…

  “If this assignment is successful, perhaps I’ll let you take an extended vacation.” Deirdre dangled the proverbial carrot in front of him. She was an expert at that, handling her men, as she called them, with the skill of an orchestra conductor.

  “What if I want to be cut loose?” He’d thrown the question out there, not even sure where it had come from.

  “Cut loose?” The cajoling expression had left her eyes, leaving them hard and flinty. She’d stood up straight. “You signed on for life, Damien. There’s only one way out.”

  He’d nodded. “Just checking.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he’d strolled out of the room.

  Movement about a hundred yards beyond Eve’s car caught his attention, and drew him back to the present. The leaves
of a shrub were quivering. It could be the breeze, or it could be something else. Damien narrowed his eyes, occasionally sniffing the air but detecting no scent. Not that that was conclusive evidence. Subterfuge was the calling card of his opponents.

  With excruciating slowness, he eased into a crouch, ready to lunge forward and attack. Should he shift forms already? Eve was nearby, but she seemed intent on her book. What were the chances that her empathic abilities would pick up on the presence of his wolf? And, he grimaced, what where the chances that his wolf would behave? They weren’t exactly on speaking terms; the disconnect he felt with the creature made it harder to shift, and even harder to maintain control.

  Darting his gaze between Eve’s car and the shrubs, he waited and watched.

  Chapter 38

  Rafe slowed his steps and inhaled deeply. The faintest of breezes stirred the leaves, carrying Damien’s scent on it. He curled his lip, pleased that he’d found the man before the Trackers. There wasn’t much time though. While he’d prefer to try to make Damien see reason, he suspected that was easier said than done. No, as much as it went against his principles, sedating the man, and talking later was likely the best move.

  Reaching for the pouch at his waist, he removed one vial of tranquillizer and double checked the contents. It was a light dose, but would hopefully make Damien more cooperative. If need be, he could always administer more from the stock he had locked away in a cabinet at his place.