Betrayed: Book Two - The Road to Redemption

by Nicky Charles

  He shook his head. “No. They’re all things I have to do myself. If they could have been delegated, John would have taken care of them.”

  “All right.” She shrugged and rearranged the pen holder on his desk. “I just thought I’d offer.”

  There was a hint of hurt in her voice and he closed his eyes, exhaling slowly before opening them again. “I’m sorry. It’s—” The phone rang and he reached out to pick it up while casting an apologetic look at Elise.

  “I know. You have a lot to get caught up on. I should have waited. It was just that we had such a good time and I thought we could spend the rest of the day together.” She turned to walk towards the door but he stretched out his arm and grabbed her hand.

  “We’ll talk about it after supper, I promise.”

  She gave him a half smile and pulled her hand free, shutting the door firmly, both on the office and on the mental connection they had through their blood bond. He clenched his jaw knowing he was definitely in the ‘dog house’. The phone continued to ring and with a sigh he turned to answer it. After dinner, he’d make amends.

  As Elise left Kane’s office, Jacob came barrelling down the stairs. The little boy did nothing quietly and was yelling for his father at the top of his lungs. “Daddy! Daaaadddy!”

  Elise scooped him up and pressed his face against her shoulder. “Hush! Haven’t I told you not to yell in the house?”

  “Yep.” He squirmed to get free. “Need Daddy.”

  “Daddy’s busy right now with pack business. What do you need?”

  “Gamma Helen go park!”

  “She’s going to take you to the park?”

  He nodded. “I need ’mission.”

  “Permission. Not ’mission.”

  “Yep! I go swing?” He grabbed her cheeks and turned her face so he looked her directly in the eye. So young and yet already exercising his innate Alpha instincts. Heaven help them all when he reached his teens!

  The stairs creaked softly and Elise looked up to see Helen descending, her pace much slower than Jacob’s had been. Helen was honorary grandmother to the children, the ‘housekeeper’ for the pack house and a general font of wisdom for anyone who needed a dose of common sense.

  “Jacob said you were going to take him to the park?” Elise let the boy down and he began sliding along the polished wooden floors making some vague engine type noise. Obviously the long plane ride home hadn’t tired him in the least.

  “If it’s all right with Kane and you. He’s wound up and I thought maybe it would help wear him out.”

  “Good idea. He napped on the plane and probably won’t want to sleep tonight.” She reached down and grabbed hold of him just before he crashed into the wall. “I don’t know where he gets all his energy.”

  Jacob pulled free and raced towards Helen. “Swings! Swings! Swings!”

  Helen took Jacob’s hand and headed for the door. “Leah is napping and I’ll keep Jacob at the park for about an hour, in case you and Kane—”

  “He’s working.” Elise made a face. “But thanks for the offer.”

  “Oh.” Helen glanced at the closed office door. “Well, maybe a soak in the tub? I remember when my girls were little. Time to myself was precious.”

  “Thanks. I might do that.”

  She helped Helen buckle Jacob into his car seat and then waved as they drove off. It was a beautiful fall day. Warm sunshine streamed through leaves tipped with autumn colours while the sweet smell of drying grass drifted on the breeze. A perfect day for a walk or a run with your mate…if he wasn’t working.

  A sigh escaped her. They’d arrived home mid-morning and she’d thought she and Kane could spend the rest of the day together unpacking, reminiscing about their week away. She hadn’t rushed off to check her emails, despite the fact that she’d only recently become co-owner of the Grey Goose. There was a lot to be done to revamp the aging establishment, but she knew planning new menus and redecorating the rooms could wait. Too bad Kane wasn’t of the same mind.

  Her inner wolf nudged her. Pack comes first. Our mate is Alpha for a large number of wolves who depend on him. His duties are numerous and his time isn’t his own.

  “I know that,” she argued back. “All my life I’ve bowed to the needs of the pack. Father was Alpha, remember? He dictated everything I did, right down to who my mate would be.”

  And his choice was a good one.

  “Yes, but…” She stopped unable to explain even to her own wolf. She loved Kane. He was a good man, one who’d been born to be a great Alpha. He took his duties seriously and had important responsibilities. And as a mate, he provided for her and the pups. That should be enough, shouldn’t it? Surely, she was being selfish or unrealistic to expect more? Yet, there was no denying the feeling in her heart that something was missing lately.

  This was the life we were born into, the way it has been for our people for centuries. The Alpha works for the good of the pack so that the members have all they need.

  “But just because this is how it’s always been doesn’t mean it’s right, that it can’t change. And Ryne and Mel seem to have time for a family life.”

  Her wolf frowned and fell silent.

  “See?” She felt a small thrill at winning the argument. However, that was short lived as she walked back inside. The low murmur of Kane’s voice could be heard coming from the office. He was still on the phone.

  She gave in to a childish impulse and stuck her tongue out at the door. Some might think being an Alpha’s mate was an amazing opportunity, but at times it just sucked. The word ‘Chicago’ drifted out through the door and she crossed her fingers. The takeover couldn’t happen fast enough.

  ~~~

  “Yo! Damien!”

  Damien glanced up from where he was hunkered down on the ground beside his motorcycle. Standing near him was a young Lycan by the name of Chris. He’d seen the boy at supper last night, but beyond hearing his name knew nothing else. The boy’s appearance was revealing though. Cocky expression, slouched posture, ripped jeans, sleeveless t-shirt. Yeah. Damien knew his type.

  He stood up and held his laughter in check as the kid automatically fell back a step losing some of his bravado. Being a good head taller than the young teen was going to make it easy to keep him in line.

  “What can I do for you…Chris, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. That’s me.” The boy recovered some of his attitude and gestured towards the motorcycle. “Whatcha doin’?”

  “After a cross country ride, it needs an oil change and a good cleaning.” Damien glanced between his ride and the boy. “You want to help?”

  Chris shrugged. ‘If you need some. I mean, there’s nothing else going on around here.”

  “Nothing to do? In a place as big as Chicago?” He tossed a polishing rag the boy’s way and pointed at the chrome.

  “I’m grounded right now, so yeah, it’s boring.”

  “What are you in for?” He crouched down beside the machine again.

  “Broke curfew. My mom got worried and Sam had to come looking for me. Man, was she mad at me.” The boy rubbed his ear. Damien held back a smile. He could well imagine Sam grabbing the appendage and using it to drag the boy home.

  “Not a good idea, pissing her off.”

  “You said it.” The boy polished the chrome for a while before speaking again. “Will you teach me to ride this?”

  “Why not ask Sam? She has one.”

  Chris made a face. “She said no. Said I’m too young.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I just turned fourteen.”

  Damien raised his eyebrows. “Then my answer is the same as hers. But I can show you a few things about it, if you’d like.”

  “Really? That’d be awesome. Wait until I tell the guys at school—” He stopped mid-sentence and shook his head. “No. I guess I can’t.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “’Cuz we’re Lycans. And you’re only our Beta for a while. And everyone says I have to
keep a low profile.” He spat over his shoulder. “Sometimes being a werewolf sucks.”

  Damien made a noncommittal noise. Something was bugging the kid. From personal experience he knew that sometimes you just needed the other person to wait while you got your thoughts in order.

  They worked in silence, the sun beating down on them, and then reflecting back up off the cement driveway. Damien wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow; the shade had inched its way into the neighbour’s yard and the breeze from earlier in the day had died down. He sat back on his heels and took a drink of water from the bottle he’d brought out with him.

  In the distance the sound of traffic could be heard—cars, buses, a siren—the noises Damien had come to associate with the neighbourhood. Being a Lycan in a big city took on added challenges he’d never considered; sorting through the cacophony of noises and scents, learning to filter out the mundane from those that had meaning.

  “Did you grow up in a big pack, Damien?” From the other side of the machine, Chris finally spoke.

  “Me? No. There were about fifty members or so.” He capped his bottle and got back to work.

  “That’s way bigger than ours.” Chris made a face. “Were there any kids your age?”

  “A few. And there was a pack not too far away that we’d meet up with sometimes.”

  “Jeez, you were lucky. There’s no one my age around here.” The boy rubbed harder at the bit of chrome he was working on. “Our pack’s dying out, you know. Pretty soon there’ll be no one left.”

  Last night, Damien had noted that there was only one pup at the table. Sam hadn’t been kidding when she said fertility was a problem. The pack would be hard pressed to stay in existence for even one more generation at this rate.

  “I’ve got human friends,” Chris continued. “But you always have to watch what you say. Just once I’d like to be myself.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “You don’t mind if I hang out with you while you’re here, do you?” Chris flicked him a quick glance and then concentrated on his polishing. The too cool attitude of a few minutes ago had disappeared leaving a hopeful kid in its place.

  Damien hesitated. He knew nothing about children except that he’d been one himself once. And the kind he’d been had always been in trouble, never really fitting in. He was about to refuse on the grounds that he wasn’t going to be staying long, but something about the look on the boy’s face had him agreeing despite doubting the wisdom of the move.

  “Sure. Sam will likely keep me busy, but we can hang when I’m off duty…and when you’ve got your homework done.” He added that last bit, recalling how Sam had reminded the youngster about school work when the meal had finished. Mentally, he rolled his eyes. God, he couldn’t believe he’d said that.

  Chris had no reservations about it though, quickly agreeing and then launching into a long string of questions about how the motorcycle worked and what maintenance it required.

  Damien did his best to answer, surprised at how easily he interacted with the kid. Was this what it would have been like if his child had lived? He and his son working on a motorcycle together, maybe going to a ballgame…

  “Damn!”

  “What’s wrong, Damien?” Chris peered at him from the far side of the motorcycle.

  “Nothing. Bashed my knuckle.” Damien sucked on his injured finger and cursed his lack of concentration. The wrench had slipped as he tried to remove the spark plug.

  “Christopher, are you bothering Damien?” A woman’s voice called out from behind and Damien turned to see one of the pack walking up the driveway. From her appearance—a suit and briefcase—he assumed she was coming home from work.

  “No, Ma. I’m not bothering him.” Chris gave an over exaggerated eye-roll.

  “That’s your story.” His mother—Damien recalled her name was Alyssa—frowned at him. “Besides, you’re grounded for sneaking out last week and I bet your homework isn’t done yet. I told you—”

  “He’s not bothering me.” Damien got to his feet. “I asked him to help. Seemed to me that a little physical labour was a good way to pay his dues for the trouble he caused the pack. Better than sitting inside playing video games, at least.”

  Alyssa paused and then nodded. “I agree. If you have any other jobs for him, feel free to put him to work. Maybe if he’s tired enough he’ll stay out of trouble.” She shot a look at her son. “I want you inside doing your homework as soon as you’ve completed whatever job Damien’s given you.”

  “Actually, we’re about done for the day.” Damien wiped the blood off his hand with the edge of his shirt. “I’ll be sending him in soon.”

  Alyssa stared at the blood and then back at Damien. A worried frown marred her brow and Damien wondered if the fact that he was a rogue concerned her. Might as well deal with her now, he decided. “I’m a rogue, but that doesn’t mean I hurt children.”

  She stiffened and lifted her chin. “I never thought that for a minute. I was merely concerned about your hand.”

  He studied her for a moment finding no hint of a lie in her steady gaze. “My apologies. I’ve met with some prejudice in my life, but I shouldn’t assume—”

  “No need. I understand.” She patted his shoulder as she walked past him towards the house. “Know that we’re all glad you’re here trying to help us save our pack.”

  Thankfully she didn’t seem to be expecting a reply and went inside after giving Chris another warning.

  As the door shut, Chris gave him a high five. “Thanks, Damien. That was smooth.”

  “Hmm?” He looked at the boy, still distracted by what Alyssa had said.

  “The way you made Ma think me being out here was all your idea and part of a punishment. And she’ll be okay now with us hanging out together. I wish I could think that fast.”

  “Comes with practice.” The hero worship in the boy’s eyes, along with the mother’s words, made him feel guilty. “Listen, it’s getting late. Let’s call it a day and maybe tomorrow you can help me lube the chain.”

  “Great! Thanks, Damien!” The boy gathered up the polishing rags. “I’m glad you’re here to help us fight that bastard Sinclair.”

  “Er…I don’t think your mom would approve of you swearing.”

  Chris laughed. “No, but Sam does it all the time so what can Ma do?”

  “True.” He watched as the boy raced up the steps to the house. Strange, he’d always wondered what it would be like to have a pack welcome his presence. Only now that it was happening, he felt like shit.

  Chapter 9

  Damien tried to shrug off the feeling he was being watched. Millions of people lived in Chicago. At least a hundred were walking down this particular street. Somebody was bound to be looking at him from time to time. But it wasn’t the feeling a casual glance would garner. It was more intense, as if someone were studying him, an itch between his shoulder blades that had both him and his wolf on alert.

  A mugger? A crazed killer? Dante? None felt quite right.

  Some might scoff that the gaze of a person had a feel, but over the years he’d honed his senses in ways that most other Lycans could never imagine. Of course, most other Lycans hadn’t lived their life on the edge of society. Rubbing elbows with the dregs of the earth, expecting to kill or be killed at any moment. You didn’t live long if you let your guard down. And he had lived, if it could be called living.

  Dante had said there was no longer a price on his head, at least not one being paid out by Lycan Link. It allowed him to relax, maybe dropping to a nine from a ten on his personal alertness scale. It wasn’t much, but he took what he could get. Lycan Link’s trackers had been a bitch to outsmart, but he’d done it, much to the head office’s chagrin. As for his most recent employer, Deirdre and her crew, who knew what was going on in that arena.

  According to Dante, the woman had scaled back, but why? Something to do with the mysterious Elijah Stone? Or had business turned bad? Not likely the latter. Lack of clients
had never seemed to be a problem. It was staggering, the number of people in the world wanting to hire assassins and bodyguards that asked no questions.

  He’d avoided those jobs as much as possible, preferring to focus on his own personal vendetta. The Purists, the anti-Fae, those had been his favoured targets; scum that didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as the innocents of the world.

  Deirdre hadn’t appreciated how selective he’d been in the jobs he’d taken on. Pissing her off hadn’t bothered him though; their encounters usually had ended with her infuriated by him. Maybe it was one of her remaining men who was watching him tonight, either with orders to kill him, or bring him back so she could do the job herself. Good luck with that, he thought to himself.

  A change in Sam’s pace drew his attention, though he gave no outward sign. She’d been walking beside him most of the night but had suddenly dropped back for some reason. He gave a mental shrug. This was her territory, her patrol. He was just along for the ride.

  The feeling of being watched faded; the sense of danger lessening. Had the ‘watcher’ grown bored? Or maybe he was getting paranoid. Things were too quiet and he was jumping at shadows. Yeah, right. And Sam wasn’t giving him a once over right now either.

  Sam slowed her pace as they walked down the street, letting Damien take the lead. There was no strategic reason for her decision beyond pure aesthetics; the man was gorgeous and she wanted to ogle him. There was something about the way he moved that oozed confidence and strength. It wasn’t a swagger—that would have been a complete turn off—no, just an innate… She struggled to find the right word.

  Sexiness?

  Yeah, that worked.

  Damien was sex on legs and she could spend hours watching him move; fluid, graceful, effortless. Muscle, bone and flesh perfectly formed and finely tuned, working in unison. Just looking at him made her aware she was a female.

  Good thing their patrol was almost over for the night or she might’ve had to shove him into a dark alley and jump him. She chuckled at the idea, and then picked up her pace so she drew even with him again. Enough with the eye candy, she told herself. Get back into Alpha mode.