Blood Ties, Love Binds

by Alexa Whitewolf

“Zak, and this here’s Paco,” announced the bulkier of the two.

  “No last names?” Damon hid his smirk, knowing full well it was operational procedure to keep those away from senior agents. After all, he’d implemented the rule for protection of secondary assets in the event primary ones got captured.

  Zak threw him a look that implied he knew as much. “Just following instructions.”

  Damon followed them past the entrance into a corner of the warehouse where they had set up a table with multiple monitors. “Your work area, I take it?”

  Paco nodded, and Damon turned his gaze to the remaining space. Most of it was filled with crates, barrels, and tools lying on the ground. “Alright, so I have my muscle and brains, but where are my wheels?”

  Zak pointed to a corner behind him, and pulled out a pair of keys from his back pocket. “You’ll like this, boss.”

  Damon caught the keys mid-air and glanced at the logo. He turned and walked to a tarp-covered area that seemed to hide a monster underneath. With one tug of his hand, he pulled the cover off and let out a low whistle.

  The sleek beast of a car was beautiful, if ostentatious. Muscled front, barred well-enough to walk unscathed from an accident. All curves on the outside, leather on the inside, silver rims with dark red endings… “Damn.”

  “Boss, you look shocked,” Paco laughed at his expression.

  Damon could only shake his head, bemused. “Let’s just say I’m used to shitty wheels in my ops.” He’d let Amy arrange for his travel, but why would she pick such a noticeable transport? A question for another day.

  “Yeah, but I mean now that you’re the boss, isn’t that the point?”

  Zak glared at Paco to shut up, which the kid did promptly. Guess they weren’t supposed to reveal how much they knew about me.

  Damon caressed the car one last time, then turned his attention to his team. “All joking aside, what do you have for me?”

  Paco bounced away and came back carrying a folder – on Cass, no doubt. “All the info’s in there,” he said, confirming Damon’s suspicions. “Personal, professional, hangouts, etc.”

  He grabbed the file, flipping through it. Pictures of Cassandra at various locations were spread through, along with lengthier reports of her activities. He walked to the car and threw it inside the car, impatient once more. He’d had a high-level summary version on the plane and read most of the file on his tablet, but whatever remained he intended to devour at the earliest opportunity. For the time being, he had a girl to see.

  With a wave to the guys, Damon promised to stay in touch, and got in the car. It purred to life, and he couldn’t resist the temptation to rev the engine. Zak grinned on the sidelines, and Damon took off with a last salute.

  He had originally planned to meet Cassandra at her workplace, a neutral enough location. All plans of doing that got shot to hell by the lovely border officers doing their job. The clock on the dashboard indicated it was well into the afternoon, meaning he could still catch her at home.

  As Damon drove through Cassandra’s neighbourhood, his alert green eyes scanned the area – more out of habit than any real threat he perceived. The houses were the usual white-picket-fence type, secure enough apparently for kids to be walking their dogs alone. He passed Cassandra’s bungalow, stopping only long enough to realize she wasn’t there.

  Figuring it would be best to move than stay still, he took off again towards another street. Might as well get to know the surroundings while I can. After a few turns, he ended up a bit farther off into an area with townhouses.

  As he drove under speed limit, a woman jogging on the sidewalk caught his eye. Her dark brown ponytail swished from side to side, earphones in her ears. As an active military guy himself, he’d seen wacky jogging outfits, but hers was on the scale of more sporty than eye-catching. Despite the well-worn tank top and shorts, her tanned legs and curves held his attention.

  The woman came to an abrupt stop, her gaze narrowed onto a group of kids further down the street. And as his car pulled up closer, he realized what had caught his attention.

  On some level of his mind, Damon had known it would be hard, but he wasn't prepared for the reality of seeing Cassandra. From where he had stopped, across the street from her at an intersection, he had a perfect view of her face – heart-shaped, tanned, button nose and lips that were much more kissable than he remembered.

  The fire in her eyes had only sharpened with time. Long gone was the girl from before, the one he’d known in their youth. Here stood a woman – and his body warmed up in response.

  Damon shut the impulse down immediately, knowing it was too soon, and he had too many amends to make. Cassandra was more likely to kick his ass before he even had time to explain, at least if he went by what her file said.

  He opened the glove box and shoved said-document in, locking it up. For the time being, she didn't need to know everything. It was time to stake the land and see what her role was in the mess her father was involved in.

  Damon reached for the door of the car but before he could exit and grab her attention, Cassandra was on the move – and heading straight for the kids.

  More than interested to see how events would unfold, Damon ignored the part of his brain that advised against it and settled in for the show.

  He lasted for all of two seconds until one of the teenagers grabbed Cassandra. Before Damon’s brain caught up to curb the impulse, he was already flooring the gas and aiming for them. His body coiled at the sight of Cassandra’s puzzled expression, and he barely restrained the part of him that wanted to go full-on military.

  ♥∞♥

  The goose bumps at the back of her neck should have been a warning. Over the years, Cassandra had learned to trust the gut feeling predicting something was heading her way. Yet the anger unfurling in the pit of her stomach, fuelling her blood, overpowered her sixth sense.

  She heard an engine revving, then tires skidding as the car came to an abrupt stop nearby. Cassandra spared a glance over her shoulder, taking an extra second to admire the sleek beast of a car.

  An insistent pain snapped her back to her captive wrist, and the teenager about to get his ass kicked. Gritting her teeth, Cassandra met his confident gaze and opened her mouth to say something, but movement behind distracted her – again.

  Rather than respond to her glare, the teenager’s eyes shifted to the car. Something akin to fear flashed across his expression, nudging Cassandra’s attention back to the newcomer. The angle of her body increased the pressure on her wrist, but she paid it no attention, focusing on the license plate.

  NOMAD.

  Though lately there’d been more custom-made license plates in Montréal, English was not a language one saw often. Especially not in the pure francophone area she had settled in. It was akin to social suicide and attracted the French cops like moths to a flame.

  Of course, like any town, Montréal had its rebels. I even knew one of them – once. Cassandra pushed away the fleeting thought in favour of focusing on the teenager. Would she rise to the challenge and retaliate, or be an adult and let it go?

  The time for deciding passed in a flash, around the same time someone stepped out of the car. A male someone. She had been about to think boy, but that was definitely not the body of a teenager clad in a pair of dark blue jeans and a dark t-shirt that showed off nicely-defined muscles.

  It had been a while since she’d seen such a fine specimen, and her hormones weren’t unaffected – quite the opposite.

  “I do believe she asked you to let go,” the newcomer announced in a voice smooth as dark chocolate and whiskey combined. A faint accent lined his words. Australian? British? Distracted by the whole package he presented, Cassandra couldn’t place it.

  There was an underlying threat in the man’s voice, something that sent shivers up her back even as it piqued her interest. A gentleman, in this day and age? Kind of hard to believe.

  After delivering his threat, the man leaned against the car, foldin
g his arms across his chest. Her weakened female mind was quick to notice the way his arm muscles bulged. His predator-like stance struck her as familiar, quickly followed by the lingering sensation she had heard his voice before.

  Drawing in a shaky breath, Cassandra’s eyes roamed from his torso to his face, hoping that his eyes, much like for everyone else’s, would betray him. To her dismay, sunglasses covered them, and she only saw her reflection.

  Figures.

  Despite his nonchalance, the slight tilt of his head was a dead giveaway that he was watching her. That realization nagged at Cassandra, amplifying her anxiety. That sixth sense she’d ignored before pulled at her thoughts, trying to warn her once more.

  Annoyed at portraying the damsel in distress to this stranger, Cassandra yanked her wrist out of the teenager’s grip, hissing at the stab of pain. He’d held on too tightly, and already she could see a slight reddening of her skin.

  Under her breath – but loud enough so they’d all hear – she muttered, “Thanks, but I was making myself clear enough without your help.”

  Her tone came out a tad sharp, and years of good manners being drilled into her attempted to trigger a semblance of remorse. Yet all Cassandra felt was annoyance and a tell-tale flush spreading across her cheeks.

  Now free from restraints, she moved to walk away. Before she could take a second step, the same teenager wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into him.

  Shock rushed through Cassandra with all the subtlety of an icy shower, but instead of cooling her off, it incensed her further. This guy is either incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid!

  Her jaw clenched in reaction, even as she tried for one last bit of self-control. Then the kid snickered, and she noticed the stranger move forward, cold fury radiating in the tight line of his mouth.

  Enough is freaking enough!

  Cassandra didn’t stop to think about why the mystery man was so angry, or why he had so quickly stepped around the open door of his car to get to her. Or even why he wanted to help her in the first place.

  Her mind was a blank slate, fuelled by rage and acting through muscle memory alone. Aikido lessons from the past ran through her mind at flash speed, and her body moved into striking position.

  Cassandra elbowed the teenager in the gut, satisfied when he half-bent over and groaned in pain – releasing her with the movement. Before he could straighten up, she whirled around and delivered a knee between his legs. Mouth gaping, the teenager gurgled some semblance of a cry of pain and collapsed on the ground, his palms now cupping the rather sensitive area between his legs.

  “How about you think twice next time you want to put your hands on a girl without her consent?”

  His friends stepped up and Cassandra shifted her stance, keeping one foot slightly in front of the other even as she angled her hips to the ground. Whatever their move, the position ensured she had perfect reach and balance to react.

  Yet rather than the full-on confrontation she expected, the remaining teenagers helped their buddy up and walked – almost ran – away, glancing back several times as if not believing their eyes.

  At least someone learned their lesson.

  Movement to her side made Cassandra even more conscious of the stranger, who’d been observing the entire altercation. The goose bumps on her neck intensified, and she took a minute to compose herself.

  Once her breathing turned regular, she turned around to see the stranger biting back his laughter, trying – and failing – to keep a serious face. Her previous annoyance resurfaced. “If you’ll excuse me…” She walked past him with her head held high, refusing to meet his eyes.

  For the third time in less than ten minutes, she was stopped by a hand grabbing her wrist. She glanced up at him in slight shock – hadn’t he witnessed her pummel the other guy?

  Muscles reacted before her brain fully caught up and her free fist rose menacingly, aiming a punch straight for his jaw. Before she could make contact, the man’s hand came up and grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly.

  It took Cassandra a moment to realize he was smiling – sunglasses be damned! As though to press her buttons, he angled her wrist in a way that had her pressing closer to him to alleviate the pressure on her bone.

  “You–” Cassandra gritted her teeth, trying to hold back the string of obscenities she wanted to shout. Something must have shown in her expression, as his grip grew lax on her wrist.

  “Easy, gorgeous, I’m not hitting on you. I was trying to flag you before you dashed off.” A pause, then his tone changed. “You seemed rather eager to escape my presence.”

  Was that a hint of bitterness in his voice? Cassandra couldn’t be sure, but the explanation seemed plausible enough and she relaxed. She also concluded his accent was definitely British, since he’d spoken more than a few words at a time.

  The man let go of her wrist, and she yanked the unused headphones out of her ears, stuffing them in the pocket of her shorts. When she looked back up, his head was tilted to the side once more, watching her. Cassandra could feel his gaze through the sunglasses, and despite the sun a shiver ran up her spine. In an effort to hide her discomfort, she forced her chin up and returned his stare.

  The sunglasses hid enough of his face to make it hard to read his expression. However, she had no trouble noticing his clenched jaw and the roughness that seemed to permeate his entire presence. It was more than just the way he held himself, like a proud young lion. And it was definitely more than pure strength, though his build indicated he was not someone to mess around with.

  The quick second Cassandra’s body had been pressed up against his had confirmed he was all muscle, and a different shiver ran through her at the thought.

  Her gaze roamed over him, trying to figure out what it was about him that tugged at her attention. His hair was cropped on the sides, and a tattoo peeked on the side of his neck. That same side had a scar that ran down his cheek, but rather than break the symmetry of his face it enhanced his rough appeal. Though he was attractive, he was nowhere near her type.

  Yet when he shifted from his stance and moved a step closer, Cassandra didn’t back down.

  The stranger jerked his head towards the guys disappearing at the end of the street. “We ought to leave while we can.”

  She held back a scoff – barely. He was sorely mistaken if he thought she’d been in any serious danger, considering she could have gotten out of it without so much as a scratch.

  Once more, Cassandra felt her expression giving her away when he smirked knowingly. “I suppose you could have fought those wankers, if you so wished. But I reckoned you would prefer a quiet dinner instead of a night explaining to the police why you beat four teenagers up.”

  His soft-spoken words stopped her thoughts in their tracks. Quiet dinner? Hopefully not with him!

  “Yeah, I suppose so.” Ignoring the dinner comment, Cassandra tried for a semblance of politeness. “Thanks for standing up for me, by the way, though it was hardly necessary.”

  “Oh, I know,” the stranger’s smirk deepened. Something was amusing him, and by association annoyed the hell out of her. “You never needed my help, Cass, though I always offered it. That offer still stands, no matter how much time passed.”

  She froze at the mention of her name, suspicion creeping up her spine. “How do you know my name?”

  “It’s been a long time, Cassandra…” This time, his British accent completely disappeared, and instead his intonation turned more Canadian. A softer smile tugged at his lips, replacing the cool expression from seconds earlier. “Do you really not remember me?”

  As he spoke, the man took off his sunglasses, revealing eyes of the deepest emerald. Cassandra stumbled back a few steps, willing herself to look away even as she recognized the truth standing before her.

  She could put a name to that face, unbelievable as the thought was. The realization dried up her throat, and her defensive walls shook to their foundations as it echoed in her mind.

  A
name she had tried to forget with all her might in the last years, and never quite managed. A name that still sent shivers down her spine as he had. As he still did. The only guy she had loved, trusted with her heart, only to have it shattered.

  Damon Voight – a ghost from the past.

  ♥ Chapter 4 ♥

  Damon watched in slight satisfaction as realization dawned on Cass. Playing the dashing stranger had its appeal, but nothing compared to the recognition drifting in her eyes, even as her lips parted in surprise.

  His delight turned to growing frustration when it seemed like she would bolt any minute. He understood the knee-jerk reaction, especially considering their history, but before he could speak Cassandra drew her hand back and slapped him.

  Damon stood still for a moment, processing the hit. Her hazel eyes sparked outrage, and a delightful flush stained her cheeks. He forced himself to look past that. “What was that for?”

  It was the wrong question to ask, judging by the way she clenched her jaw. When she spoke, Cassandra’s voice was tight with reined-in emotion. “You dare ask me that, after ten years? Ten freaking years!”

  “Cass, I –” Damon tried to take a step closer, but Cassandra moved back, holding her palms up to ward him off and shaking her head.

  “No. Hell, no! I trusted you, and you broke my heart, pretending to feel the same. I was only fourteen, Damon.” Her voice broke on his name, but her eyes only reflected the anger within, their cold glare daring him to contradict her.

  Damon knew he had his faults, but pretending he had feelings for Cassandra had never been it. He’d been only seventeen, fresh out of a stint in juvie and interning at her adoptive father’s law firm. Their relationship was practically written in the stars, as innocent and forbidden as it had been, and heartbreaking to the end.

  “I didn’t pretend,” was all he could settle for, hoping the truth of his words would ring through.

  “Really? ‘Cause my father was quick to point out you’d left at the first smell of money, to follow some grand career overseas.”

  Shock coursed through Damon, rendering him speechless. That bastard!