Betrayed: Book Two - The Road to Redemption Read online

  Now she stood in the clearing wishing for a distraction so she wouldn’t keep seeing the faces of her pack mates in her mind. The weight of responsibility weighed heavier on her than ever before. She rubbed the back of her neck, thinking of the words tattooed there. Duty and strength; she knew she had those; hopefully the elusive third quality was a part of her already and would carry her through even if she didn’t know what it was.

  Her cell phone rang and she thankfully answered.

  “Sam? It’s Tina.”

  “Hey, Tina.” She smiled, relaxing at the sound of her friend’s voice. Conversations with Tina were always good for a laugh and that’s what she needed right now.

  “The douchebag—your Beta—was in here a few minutes ago.”

  “Damien?” Sam stiffened as thoughts of his betrayal came flooding back once more.

  “Yeah. I doused him with a pitcher of ice water.”

  Sam snorted, enjoying the mental image that came to mind. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Next time he’d better treat you right.”

  “There won’t be a next time. He’s left the pack.”

  “Really? Oh. Well it’s likely for the best. Once a prick, always a prick.”

  “In more ways than you know.” She scowled thinking of how Damien had been spying on her pack all along.

  “So, what are you up to?”

  Sam looked around the clearing. “Nothing. Waiting for a fight.”

  “A fight?”

  “It’s a long story. The leadership of the pack is up for grabs and I’m hoping to hang on.”

  “Holy shit! Where are you? I’ll be there as soon as I can!”

  “No. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “I’ve been practising my hexes again and I can try them out on your opponent.”

  “Tina, I really don’t—”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve picked up your location with my cell phone’s tracking app. Hold off the fight until I get there.”

  Tina disconnected before Sam could issue another protest.

  Great, she thought as she put her phone back in her pocket. Just what she needed, another observer. And the few times Tina had tried a hex, they’d gone horribly wrong.

  The sound of an approaching vehicle caught her attention. Her pack or had Sinclair arrived? She widened her stance and squared her shoulders, watching as a jeep pulled into place at the edge of the clearing.

  A man got out, not someone she recognized though. The observer, perhaps? Lycan Link sent a neutral observer to challenges to ensure the rules of fair play were followed. Flaring her nostrils she caught his scent; strong, self-assured. He stood by his vehicle surveying the area slowly before finally looking at her and giving a nod.

  She returned it and they began to walk towards each other.

  “Samantha Harper?” His voice was deep, his face ruggedly handsome. In other circumstances she might have admired his impressive physique. Not today though.

  “I’m Sam Harper. And you are…?”

  “Reno Smith. Lycan Link has appointed me as the observer.”

  “Reno Smith?” She frowned. “I don’t recall your name from the OPATA website.” She’d spent considerable time going over every drop down menu and page the site had, learning all she could about the department.

  “The tropical storm has caused several flight delays and the official designate won’t be able to make it. Since I was in the area on personal business, they asked if I would mind stepping in. Provided that’s suitable to you, of course. Otherwise, we’ll have to reschedule.”

  “I’ve no complaints and I doubt Sinclair will either.”

  “Good.” He turned to scan the area again. “This appears to be an excellent location. Remote.” He quirked a brow her way. “No chance of humans wandering in?”

  “No. There are two entrances to this area,” she pointed them both out, “but neither are maintained or used anymore. This place is officially closed. Government funding cutbacks occasionally have their advantages.”

  Sam spent the next few minutes walking the circumference of the clearing with him, explaining their relative position with respect to the human population. It calmed her nerves considerably and she wondered if he’d done it on purpose or not.

  Reno checked his watch. Half an hour to spare before the fight. He slid a sideways look at the slip of a girl beside him and mentally rolled his eyes. What the hell she was thinking, taking on a challenge, he had no idea. From what little he’d been able to find out on such short notice, she was well-trained and tough, but that only went so far. He’d said as much to his mate, Brandi, last night and she’d hit him for what she termed his chauvinistic attitude.

  “I’m not being a chauvinist,” he’d protested. “Just realistic. At some point, size does matter, you know.” He’d given her a suggestive leer that had resulted in an actual demonstration of his point. Afterwards, she’d conceded that in some areas, size was an advantage.

  “If she was taking on some lumbering lout, I’d not be concerned,” he’d explained further. “Sinclair, however, isn’t.”

  “She deserves her chance,” Brandi had insisted.

  He’d looked at his mate lying on the bed beside him. Her face was still flushed from their recent activity, her lips plump and moist. Wrapping one of her red curls around his finger, he watched it unwind. Her hair was like bits of living flame against the white of the pillowcase, as fiery as her personality. Tucking her close to his side, he rested his chin on top of her head. “I know. And I’ll make sure she gets it. I just don’t want her permanently disabled.”

  “Always the over-protective Alpha,” Brandi had murmured, her hand straying over his chest and then sliding lower. He felt his body begin to harden again under her teasing touch. “If she’s been running a pack, she’s smart. She’ll stand down if she has to.”

  “I hope you’re right,” he’d groaned against her mouth as she’d shifted her position to lie on top of him.

  Their conversation had ended then, but it was haunting him now. Was Sam the type to back down? Some Alphas would rather die than concede.

  Reno sighed wondering why he’d accepted the assignment. He and Brandi had been returning to Kolding’s Pass, after doing a month-long stint of consulting for Lycan Link, when the plane had been rerouted due to the storm. Upon landing in Chicago, he’d checked in with Lycan Link hoping they’d be able to pull some strings and get him on a flight home. Instead, he’d been handed this job to ‘help fill his time’.

  Yeah, right. No other sucker in the area was likely stupid enough to agree, he muttered under his breath. Even his protest that he wasn’t impartial—his former partner had once been friends with Sinclair—had fallen on deaf ears. He didn’t know Sinclair personally so that was good enough for OPATA. More than likely the staff at OPATA were desperate. Challenges weren’t that common anymore, and they were probably running around like a bunch of headless chickens.

  Reno shook his head. He might still work for Lycan Link on a part time basis, but he hated all the bureaucracy involved. Too many rules, too much paperwork and all run by idiots who hadn’t left the confines of their offices since they’d been appointed to their jobs.

  Beside him, Sam made some comment and he responded automatically, keeping his face professionally neutral. He might have his issues with the organization he worked for, but it did serve a purpose for the Lycan population in general and he had to present himself as a trustworthy professional. At least that’s what Brandi always told him.

  “Do you have any questions or concerns about the challenge process?” He clasped his hands behind his back and looked down at her.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I’ve done my research.”

  “Good.” Silence fell between them and Reno searched his mind for something to say. He sucked at small talk and hated waiting. Apparently Sam Harper did, too.

  Thankfully the rumble of approaching vehicles broke the silence.

  “Sinclair is early
.” Reno checked his watch.

  “Or it could be members of my pack. My grandfather, the exiting Alpha, indicated he might come to watch. Some of the others might be with him.”

  “That could be viewed as intimidation by Sinclair, unless he has backup with him.”

  “If it bothers him, I can send them away.” Sam’s eyes were fixed on the direction of the approaching vehicles.

  The energy coming off her was palpable; an appropriate dose of anticipation and nerves. Reno gave a small nod of approval. Confident but cautious; that was the best way to approach a fight.

  He turned his gaze towards the roadway as well, idly wondering if Sinclair would have any news about Damien. Except for that brief phone call the other day, it had been well over a year since he’d last had contact with his former partner. As far as conversations went, it hadn’t been stellar, but at least it had served as an ice-breaker and that was something given that they hadn’t parted on the best of terms.

  Initially, anger and disappointment had kept him from searching for Damien, but time did heal all wounds. Well, that and several tongue lashings from your mate about being a sanctimonious prick. Reno grinned as he recalled some of Brandi’s choicer phrases.

  After some soul searching, he realized he might have made the same choices Damien had, given the same circumstances. Now, he’d just like to see him again. Hopefully Sinclair would—

  “Shit!”

  The curse escaped from the little female beside him and he looked at her in surprise. Two cars were pulling into the small clearing that served as a parking lot, but her attention was now focused towards the other entrance she’d pointed out. It sounded like a motorcycle was headed towards them.

  “Not a friend of yours, I take it?”

  “No.” She spat out the word. “One of Sinclair’s.”

  Reno nodded. “Well, that evens the odds. You have your friends,” he gestured towards the cars, “and he has his.”

  Sam’s face tightened and she clamped her mouth shut, quite likely holding back a contradictory comment. Smart girl, Reno thought. Don’t piss off the observer if you hope for a fair judgement.

  He watched as she walked over and greeted her pack members. An elderly man—the old Alpha, perhaps—a middle aged woman, another older man and a girl about Sam’s age with bright orange hair. Something about her gave him the idea she might be a witch. A strange collection to be sure, but certainly no one who appeared to be a threat to Sinclair.

  “Tina, you shouldn’t be here.” Sam clasped her friend close.

  “Remember my prophecy? A battle will be fought; the lovers’ hearts will be like a phoenix, dying as the masks are torn off. The winner will be the loser and the loser will win.”

  “Yeah. It still doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I think it means win or lose, you’re going to be unhappy.”

  “Gee, thanks, Tina. That’s exactly what I needed to hear right now.” Sam made a face.

  Tina took Sam’s hands in hers and gave them a gentle squeeze. “That’s why I came. I’m here to support you no matter what.” She leaned closer and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “Plus I have my book of hexes.”

  “Don’t you dare! There’s an observer, Reno Smith, here from Lycan Link. Any hint of foul play and he could rule in Sinclair’s favour.”

  A pout formed on Tina’s mouth and she scowled in the direction of Smith. “Fine. Spoil sport.”

  Sam rolled her eyes and turned to look at the others. The trip had already left her grandfather tired. Despite her ambivalent feelings towards him, she moved around to the trunk to get a folding chair out for him. As the trunk lid swung up, a noise from within drew her attention.

  “Christopher, what the hell do you think you are doing in there!” She reached in and hauled the pup out giving him a shake. “Riding in a trunk is dangerous. The exhaust fumes could kill you! And what if the car had been rear-ended?”

  He swayed on his feet, his skin a sickly green colour. “They said I couldn’t come.”

  “Damn right.” Sam spoke through clenched teeth trying to keep her temper in check. “Hiram, take care of him. He looks more motion sick than anything else…thankfully.” She handed the boy over and pulled out a chair for her grandfather. God, Chris was their last pup. If something happened to him… Her stomach clenched at the thought.

  “Is there a problem?” Reno approached and Sam forced herself to calm down. Turning, she began to make introductions before standing back to listen as he fielded the questions her grandfather peppered at him.

  Despite her back being turned, she could sense Damien coming closer, heard the crunch of his tires as he entered the clearing. Heard the silence as he shut off his engine. Schooling her face into a neutral expression and keeping her posture confident, she turned to face him.

  Damien sat on his bike automatically noting the terrain and escape routes. In other situations, he might have looked for makeshift weapons or sources of cover, but in a challenge those weren’t allowed. The Book of the Law stated it was hand to hand—or claw and tooth—combat. Any violations could result in a forfeit.

  Only when he was satisfied that he had a good grasp of his surroundings did he take the time to look at the small cluster of Lycans on the far side of the clearing. Immediately, his eyes locked with Sam’s. Across the distance, he could feel the pull between them, sense the heat—and the rage—that seemed to scorch the space separating them. She was as cocky as ever; her chin lifted slightly, a disdainful smirk twisting her lips. Her weight was resting on one leg, her thumbs hooked in her belt loops. The aura of a tough Alpha exuded from her. He doubted she realized what he could read in her eyes, though. A hint of fear and hurt, even betrayal. That cut him to the quick.

  He recalled what her friend, the waitress, had told him just a short time ago. He’d been Sam’s first. The idea caused a primitive possessiveness to rise within him as well as a fresh wave of guilt. If he’d known, he would have…

  His thinking stuttered to a halt.

  Hell, if he’d known, he never would have touched her. Correction. He never should have touched her, no matter what. Beth was his mate. Sam was a job. His mouth twisted. Job or not, he’d never wanted to hurt her. At least, he amended, not until he’d found out what she was. He looked behind her, identifying the members of Sam’s pack; Hiram, Florence and old man Harper. Damned Purists, he thought whipping up his anger. His eyes fell on young Christopher and he cursed, wishing the boy wasn’t there to see this.

  An incongruous splash of colour moved about the gathering. The waitress with the neon orange hair—Sam’s friend—was there as well. He frowned, wondering what a witch was doing at a Lycan challenge. For that matter what was a group of Purists doing hanging out with a witch?

  He darted his gaze between them. The witch gave Sam a shoulder bump, drawing her attention from him. Old man Harper was looking at the two young women, stiff but not outright rude, and the others seemed to accept the orange-haired spell-caster without a qualm. The relationship made no sense to him.

  Movement to the left of the group now caught his attention and he froze, instantly recognizing the man standing there. What the hell was Reno doing in Chicago?

  Reno stared in shock at the sight of Damien. Meeting up with him here had been the last thing he’d have expected. Sure, Damien and Sinclair were friends, but Damien didn’t do pack politics. It wasn’t his thing; or at least it never had been. Even when they’d half-jokingly discussed starting a pack together, Damien had always been hesitant…

  ~~~

  “Yeah, someday we’ll tell Fielding to stuff it and head out on our own. You and me starting our own pack.” Reno had lounged back in his chair sipping on a beer.

  “You the Alpha and me the Beta? You’d kick me out after the first week.” Damien had laughed and taken a swig of his own drink.

  “Nah. I’d whip your butt and put you on night patrols for a month.”

  “Story of my life. Me and packs don’t get along.
”

  “Ours would be different. You’d fit right in.”

  “It’d be nice but…” Damien had shook his head and taken another drink.

  ~~~

  Reno frowned at the memory. Yeah, they’d start a pack together… That had gone nowhere. So why was Damien here and why was there no sign of Sinclair? It was almost the appointed time. Checking over his shoulder, he saw Sam was still talking to her pack. Good. Meeting up with Damien after all this time, and in these circumstances, could be awkward.

  He covered the distance separating them. Damien had dismounted his Harley and was watching him approach.

  “Damien.”

  “Reno. Good to see you.” It was a casual greeting, as if they were mere acquaintances who often saw each other.

  “You, too.” Yep, same old Damien, keeping his feelings close to his chest, Reno thought. It was a game they both played, neither of them were good with the heart-to-heart stuff.

  They studied each other, neither speaking. Despite seldom spilling their guts to each other, they’d developed a close relationship over their years of working together.

  Shifting his weight, Damien looked away, glanced back then darted his eyes away once more. “Listen, Reno, about that last time…I….” His voice trailed off, a muscle working in his jaw.

  “What last time?” Reno cocked his head to the side, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops.

  Damien looked at him, his brows raised.

  One corner of Reno’s mouth curled upward.

  Damien shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, giving a brief huff of laughter. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  With all the messy emotional crap out of the way, Reno checked over his shoulder to see what Sam was doing and then looked back at Damien. “You here with Sinclair?”

  “Nope. I’m his proxy.”

  “His proxy?” Reno blinked. “How’d you get suckered into that?”

  “I volunteered.” Damien scowled in the direction of Sam’s pack. “The Alpha is old, there’s no Beta. The pack house is decrepit and they have no money. There are too few members to run the territory anymore. Kane needs the room to expand his pack. He can inject new life into the area and can run the place efficiently.”