Betrayed: Book Two - The Road to Redemption

by Nicky Charles

  A small knothole proved to be a makeshift door handle and he soon found himself in a narrow room. Conveniently, a small flashlight hung on a nail near the entrance, giving evidence that someone used the space on a regular basis. He shone the light around the cramped space. Old, dusty crates were stacked at one end as well as a few empty liquor bottles, remnants of the illegal alcohol Hiram had spoken about. Childish scrawl on the wall, boldly signed with a flourished ‘S’, hinted at the fact that Sam likely had discovered the room years ago.

  He imagined her as a child, playing imaginative games in the small room, perhaps hiding from her grandfather when she was in trouble, or keeping a secret stash of candy for emergencies. A smile curved his lips at the mental image of wide violet eyes in a small face, perhaps her dark hair held back in pigtails. Would her pups share her unique eye colour? His heart gave a quiver at the idea and he frowned, forcing himself to recall his purpose. Now where was the entrance to the passageway?

  He tested the walls then studied the ceiling. Cobwebs festooned most of the area except one corner and closer examination showed a well-hidden hatch. Using one of the old crates as a step stool, he peered into the space. It was narrow, about eighteen inches across, barely wide enough for a grown man to squeeze through. From what he could see, the passage extended about ten feet and then a simple wooden ladder led upwards. Well, that explained the discrepancies he’d noticed in the rooms of the house on his first day. Some enterprising Alpha had constructed a series of false walls throughout the place. Damien nodded at the ingenuity before stepping back down and returning the hatch to its proper location. Sometime when he knew Sam would be gone for a few hours, he’d have to explore this further. Right now, he’d better get back to the kitchen. Somehow, he knew she wouldn’t be pleased that he’d discovered her secret.

  As he left the cellar and headed towards the kitchen, a bit of movement near his motorcycle attracted his attention. A scrap of string was dangling from the handles. Some garbage that was blowing in the wind or…?

  It was a piece of yarn with a piece of paper attached. He was sure he could hear Dante’s taunting tones as he read the message: Damien, I congratulate you. You’re doing an excellent job as Beta. I’m sure the remuneration is sufficient that you won’t mind sharing it with me, given that it was supposed to be my job to begin with. Unless you want me to have a chat with Sam Harper, that is. I’ll be expecting payment tonight.”

  Damien crushed the paper in his hand and did a slow turn, looking for any signs of the man. The bastard had been here, right under his nose, dammit, and he’d missed him. Was he still in the area, watching and even now laughing?

  Glancing at the paper once again, he noted the location and time. Crap. Sam would be expecting him to be on patrol with her. A frustrated growl escaped him. He’d have to think of an excuse and fast.

  Sam was approaching the pack house when she noticed someone exiting the driveway. Nothing unusual, really. People did stop by from time to time. However, something about how this individual was moving caught her attention. There was a furtiveness in the way they looked around and then quickly walked away. The size and build were correct for it to be Damien’s friend, Lilac Man.

  If it was, it would be like pulling teeth trying to get information out of Damien. Deciding she’d find out for herself, she began following him.

  After turning the corner, the man visibly relaxed. Sam sneered at his self-assurance. His pace was moderate, giving no indication he’d noticed she was following him. As they wove in and out of the other pedestrians, she sniffed the air, trying to pick up his scent, but it was indiscernible from that of the other humans around them. The lilac smell she’d come to associate with him was there, though it seemed to dissipate at a strangely fast rate.

  The pedestrian traffic thinned and she had to slow down, increasing the space between them in order to avoid being noticed. The neighbourhood changed from residential, to business and eventually to warehouses. It was an older area, a number of the buildings were empty and sprayed with graffiti. Most people would hesitate to walk by themselves through this part of town but Lilac Man didn’t slow his pace. She was trying to speculate where he might be heading, when he suddenly turned down a side street.

  Giving a curse, she hurried to catch up, anxious to keep him in sight. There were plenty of places for someone to disappear into if they didn’t want to be found. Rounding the corner, she looked for the man, but just as she’d feared he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Hell.” She cursed but wasn’t ready to admit defeat quite yet. Cocking her head to the side, she moved forward listening carefully, scanning the area for movement. Bits of garbage slowly scuttled down the street in the gentle breeze. Sun glinted off broken shards of glass. Behind her, she could hear the distant sounds of traffic, but this particular street was devoid of vehicles of any kind.

  A noise to her right had her turning sharply. It sounded like someone kicking a tin can. Had Lilac Man forgotten to watch his footing?

  Sam licked her lips and glanced around her. It could be a set up. Some gang luring her behind a building only to jump her once she left the supposed safety of the street. Or it could actually be her quarry.

  Well, faint hearts never won and all that other crap, she muttered to herself deciding to follow the source of the noise.

  Her wolf nodded in agreement, on its feet and ready to react if called upon.

  Step by step she approached the rear of the building. Another sound had her tensing her muscles prepared to react, then the scent of several humans began to tickle her nose. No hint of lilacs, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in the area. Voices became audible next and, as she rounded the corner, she shook her head and relaxed.

  “Hey, Wes.” She called out the name of a local thug. Small time, no threat to her or her family. She’d kicked his butt more than once for messing with people in the neighbourhood, though.

  “Sam.” He nodded, looking less than pleased to see her. The kid beside him—he was all of eighteen from the look of him—wasn’t someone she knew, but the tough guy stance he took made her want to laugh.

  “I haven’t seen you around for a while.” She hooked one thumb in a belt loop and casually rested her weight on one leg.

  “Guess we don’t move in the same social circles.” Wes replied mockingly.

  “True.” She didn’t rise to his bait. “I’m looking for a friend. I thought I saw him head this way.”

  “No one here but us.”

  “Hmm…okay.” She nodded then flicked a glance to the male who was slowly inching his way towards her. “Wes, tell your friend to back off, or he’ll be very sorry.” Her tone was conversational, matter of fact. She could handle the situation, she’d just prefer not to.

  “Back off, Mick.”

  “She yours?” Mick looked between the two of them.

  Sam gave an inelegant snort and Wes scowled at her.

  “Nah. She’s an ice queen, don’t bother. Your dick would freeze.”

  Mick shrugged and stepped away.

  Sam didn’t react to his comment. He wasn’t worth it. Instead, she gestured towards the purse Wes was holding. “Making a fashion statement or stealing from little old ladies again?”

  Wes shifted uneasily, likely recalling how she’d broken his nose last time she’d caught him picking on the seniors in the neighbourhood. What humans did to each other wasn’t her concern, but sometimes she felt the need to step in when the battle was decidedly unbalanced.

  “No. I…er…Mick found it. Somebody lost it and we were looking to see who owned it.”

  “Right.” She didn’t bother to hide her disbelief. “Hand it over and I’ll make sure it gets back to its owner.”

  Wes hesitated, rubbed his crooked nose and then tossed the purse on the ground at her feet.

  “Hey—” Mick started to protest, but a look from Wes had him closing his mouth.

  “Believe me, Mick, it ain’t worth it. Best leave before she goes psycho bitch on
you.”

  Mick gave her a disbelieving look, but another warning glare from Wes had him giving a shrug and walking away.

  “You’re protégé is a real tough guy.” Sam mocked.

  Wes’ face flushed. “Don’t mess with me, Sam. I’m moving up in the world. Been hired by some guy with international connections.”

  “I’m so impressed.” She rolled her eyes.

  Wes glared at her. “You should be. He’s got a big score going down tonight and I’m helping him.”

  “Is it as big as your mouth is?” What kind of idiot bragged about an illegal job? It was a miracle Wes wasn’t already in jail.

  “One of these days…”

  She raised a brow and he immediately shut up.

  Loser, she thought to herself as he walked away.

  Her hormones were out of whack, she decided. Wes had declared she was an ice queen and it irritated the hell out of her. Not that Wes would know; she’d never even considered his lame pickup lines. But following on the heels of Damien’s rejection at the pool hall, the comment had definitely soured her mood. It wasn’t often she made a blatantly sexual play for a male. Damien’s hesitation had stung.

  Hell, twice in one day males had made her question her femininity. Watch out men, she said to herself, the next guy to piss me off is going to regret it.

  She bent down and grabbed the purse and checked the ID inside. Yep, a little old lady. Wes was going to get it next time she saw him. Elders deserved respect.

  Stuffing the wallet back inside the bag, she headed towards the nearest mailbox trusting the post office to ensure it was returned. Trying to hand it over to the cops would result in too many questions.

  As she left the area, a distinctive twitch formed between her shoulder blades. Someone was watching her. Lilac Man? She resisted the urge to spin around and look. Let the bastard think she was unaware for the moment. It would make him bolder, less cautious and then, next time, she’d get him.

  Chapter 16

  Damien glanced around the table. Dinner was unusually silent. Perhaps it was his excellent chili or, his gaze strayed to where Sam sat, more likely it was the fact that she’d returned in a mood and everyone was picking up the vibes she was giving off. Whatever the case, Damien watched her surreptitiously as he went through a mental list of excuses to get out of going on patrol. If need be, he’d pull the rogue card and just disappear. It wasn’t ideal, however he couldn’t chance Dante showing up here and blowing his cover.

  Hiram spoke, breaking the silence. “Damien and I think Sinclair’s spy was in the area today.”

  Sam looked up from her meal and shot a look at him. “And you didn’t think to tell me until now?”

  “No chance.” Damien calmly took a bite of chili before elaborating. “You were late getting home. I was busy in the kitchen.”

  She set down her spoon with exaggerated care. “I have time now. Elaborate.”

  “I was heading home when I picked up the scent,” Hiram began.

  “We checked the area but couldn’t find him.” Damien continued, hoping to prevent Hiram from mentioning their discussion of the hidden passageway. “He was likely testing your defences, but since Hiram noticed him right away, I’d say he has nothing to report back to Sinclair.”

  “Good work, Hiram.” She gave the older man an approving smile.

  “And Damien, he helped too.” Hiram added seeming eager to share the praise.

  “Of course.” Sam nodded, but it was distinctly cool.

  The group fell quiet again. A few members shot sympathetic glances his way, apparently having decided he was the one who would end up taking the brunt of Sam’s temper. He gave a brief smile appreciating their support. It was a nice feeling, knowing they were on his side.

  Time ticked by, only the faint clinking of utensils against the dishes breaking the silence. Damien was about to broach missing patrol when Sam pushed back her chair and stood up.

  “I’ll go on patrol by myself tonight.”

  Damien opened his mouth to reply but she beat him to the punch. “You can’t go, you’re on kitchen duty, remember?”

  “Right. Perhaps Keith…?” Damien cast a look at the man in question.

  Sam didn’t give Keith time to answer. “He was on last night. I’ve done patrols by myself for years. I don’t need someone to hold my hand.”

  “I wasn’t implying that you did,” Damien countered.

  “Are you two going to have a fight?” Christopher glanced between the two of them, his eyes wide in anticipation of a show.

  “No. We’re not.” Sam answered sharply.

  Damien said nothing. While this worked in perfectly with his own plans, the idea of Sam heading out on her own seemed wrong. Why, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was the routine they’d fallen into, but being by her side during patrols seemed natural, like having a partner again.

  His wolf nodded its agreement. We should be there to watch her back.

  Nothing much ever happened on patrols, he countered. The vague worry that plagued him was uncalled for. Sam could handle herself in most situations. Besides, her welfare really wasn’t his concern. He had to deal with Dante. There was no way he was letting that scum blackmail him.

  The traffic light turned green and the sea of humanity surged across the street. Sam moved with the crowd, jostling to hold her own. Someone pushed her from behind and she bit back a curse. It wasn’t any more crowded than usual, but her patience was thin. She should have picked a less populated area to patrol tonight.

  She ducked into a doorway and let the crowd pass. The theatre district was bustling tonight, art patrons leaving the various shows, seeking out quaint bistros where they could have a late meal and discuss the entertainment they’d just viewed. Too bad she wasn’t in the mood for culture.

  Her hope had been that patrolling on her own would clear her mind. That’s how it used to work. Sure, she was a devoted Alpha and checking her territory was part of the job, but in the past it had also been a way for her to wind down, to mull things over without being interrupted.

  Now, she kept opening her mouth to make a comment to Damien. Except he wasn’t there. Illogical as it was, she was irritated that he hadn’t pushed harder to accompany her. She’d asked to be alone. He was just following orders. Stupid man.

  Something twinged in the region of her heart. Was it because he’d been relieved not to go with her?

  Don’t be ridiculous, her wolf chastised her. Of course, he wanted to go. He was even concerned that you’d be by yourself.

  Sam made a face. Yeah, right.

  Shoving her hands in her pockets, she stepped back into the crowd and continued her patrol, peering into the shadows, lightly testing the air for any hint of other shifters. She studied the people around her. Young couples, old couples, middle-aged couples; she was surrounded by them. Being an Alpha sucked sometimes. You had to be strong, resilient, self-sufficient. Sometimes, doing your duty made you seem hard and it could push people away. Sometimes, it was…lonely.

  She took a deep breath and shook off the self-pity. There was work to be done. She’d covered most of this district. Before heading home, she’d swing along part of the Kennedy Expressway area. It passed by the old warehouse district where she’d encountered Wes earlier. If he was there, she could vent some of her bad mood on him. After all, he was partly to blame.

  The rusted metal door screeched as Damien pulled it open, acting as an alarm and announcing his presence. That was likely one of the reasons Dante had chosen the abandoned warehouse for a meeting spot; he didn’t like being taken by surprise.

  Damien paused inside, head cocked to the side as he listened for any hint of the other Lycan’s whereabouts. Except for the occasional rustling of rodents, the building was quiet.

  “Dante?” His voice rang out, echoing off the walls.

  No one answered.

  Walking deeper into the building, his footsteps echoed hollowly in the cavernous space. High stacks of metal barrels ran d
own the middle of the building, and the perimeter was lined with piles of wooden pallets and boxes. A few streaks of moonlight managed to penetrate the filthy windows that edged the top of the walls near the roof, creating pools of weak light and deepening the shadows. Damien peered into the darkness, his senses on high alert.

  Our quarry is here. His wolf quivered in excitement.

  Damien tested the air. The animal was correct; the scent of lilacs was there, barely discernable over the chemical smells emanating from the barrels. A faint sound behind him had him spinning around. The glimmer of a light could be seen in an office on the far side of the building. It was just like Dante to make himself at home.

  Shaking his head, Damien strode across the room, intent on getting the meeting over as quickly as possible. If Dante had thought this setting would intimidate, he could fuck that idea. It was actually a perfect location. He could grab Dante’s scrawny neck and shake him like the rat he was.

  The barest of whistling noises was the only warning he had before he caught a glimpse of a two by four being swung at his head.

  “Hey!”

  He fell to his knees, his head throbbing, his vision blurred. Someone kicked him in the back and his face smashed into the concrete floor. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth and the world began to grow dark.

  “Not so tough, after all.” A voice, one he couldn’t place, came from somewhere above. A foot was pressed firmly between his shoulder blades.

  Damien managed to lift his head, blinking, trying to clear his vision. Stupid rookie mistake on his part. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “I’m the welcome wagon. Your friend, Dante, hired me to greet you.”

  A string of expletives escaped him. Typical. Dante always did like to get others to do his dirty work for him. When Damien would have risen to his feet, the man behind him pressed down harder on his back.