Betrayed—Book Two:
The Road to Redemption
Nicky Charles
PUBLISHED BY:
Nicky Charles on Smashwords
Betrayed – Book Two: The Road to Redemption
Copyright © 2014 Nicky Charles
All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author, except for brief quotations embodied in reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
This book contains mature content and is intended for mature readers.
Edited by Jan Gordon
Line edits by Jennifer Moody, MoodyEdits.com
Cover Design by Nicky Charles
Cover Photos Copyright © nemke/Shutterstock; Artem and Victoria Popovy/Shutterstock
Pawprint logo Copyright © Doron Goldstein, Designer
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Message from Nicky
This book is dedicated to
DEBORAH DAVIDSON
She is a courageous fan who is battling ovarian cancer. She reached out to me through a fan letter stating she’d likely not be here to read this, the next book in the series, to which I replied, “Excuse me? Not be here for my next book! That is totally unacceptable.” I promised her this would be ‘her’ book provided she kept fighting and she did!
I’d like to tell you a little bit about her. First, she’s a wonderful person. She has a great sense of humour, a creative spirit (as shown through the beautiful bracelets she makes) and a love for animals that matches my own. Thanks to a suggestion from Jan Gordon, she’s also a member of my ‘street team’. Plus, she’s Canadian and you can’t ask for more than that, can you?
Deborah is still bravely undergoing treatment and fighting each day to beat the disease that is attacking her. Please, may I ask that everyone who reads this book pray for her or send healing thoughts her way.
“We love you Deborah. Never give up!”
Love and hugs from,
Nicky, Jan and all the ladies of TLS
Betrayed – Book Two: The Road to Redemption
Prologue
Excerpt from The Finding:
Sam Harper drummed the table with her fingers, eyes narrowed, mouth clamped shut in a straight line. Six months ago a meeting with Kane Sinclair had raised her hackles and the memory still rankled. The arrogant son of a bitch had dared to claim the Chicago pack was inefficient and mismanaged. Ha! As if he knew anything about what went on in this city. The man had no idea; absolutely none!
And then there was the brother. Ryne Taylor had stolen from the Chicago pack; Cassandra Greyson had been a potential pack mate. Both her land and money would have gone far to assist their beleaguered resources.
But instead of being grateful that the Chicago pack wasn’t pressing charges against them, Kane, Ryne, and the Beta, Bryan—another pain in the ass—had pulled out the Book of the Law, using it to claim what wasn’t theirs. And then Sinclair had the gall to leave mumbling about a takeover!
Well, it wasn’t going to happen. The pack had met and agreed on a course of action. It wasn’t ideal—they all knew it—but sometimes necessity drove you to take actions you never thought you would. For example, hiring ‘Sylvia,’ or whoever she was, to kill Leon Aldrich. It had gone against the grain to go to outsiders for help, but that damned Sinclair wouldn’t leave them alone; constantly demanding reports and updates.
Sam snorted. Well, Aldrich was gone and at least they hadn’t had to pay Sylvia. It was a small thing, but some days you took what you could get in the way of good news.
With the money saved, they could afford to buy some more help for the next problem looming on the horizon. Rumour had it Sinclair was sending someone in to check the pack out, but the intruder would have a surprise waiting for him. Sam took a swig of beer and leaned back against the wall, one lip curled.
There was a small faction of werewolves that were true loners or rogues. They were usually tough, mean and as deadly as they came, but they were also for hire. A meeting had been set up with one of them for tonight. On the off chance Sinclair’s ‘spy’ came around, the Chicago pack would have the rogue in their back pocket and whip the intruder’s butt, sending him back to Oregon with his tail between his legs.
A glance at the clock let Sam know it was almost time. A final swig of beer; a glance around the smoky, crowded bar… Yep, the usual crowd looking to start something. Well, good luck with that you losers, Sam thought. I don’t take crap from anyone.
Shoulders back, chin up; look each person straight in the eye until they’re compelled to look away. Sam smirked. I’m an Alpha, buddy. You don’t stand a chance.
Almost to the door and… There it was, a hand on the shoulder. Some jerk always had to try his luck.
“Hey, baby. You got a cute ass.” The man’s liquor soaked breath was offensive as was the stench coming off his sweaty body. He tried to pull her backwards. “Wanna share—”
The man never stood a chance. Sam jerked her arm back, elbowing the idiot in the stomach. As he bent forward, clutching his mid-section, she ground her stiletto heel into his foot, then pivoted around to deliver an uppercut to his chin. In a matter of seconds, the man was an unconscious heap on the ground.
“Anyone else?” With disdain, Sam surveyed the men who were gathering around her. The assault was nothing new. She frequented quite a few bars and the human males always thought she’d be an easy target, not knowing what she lacked in size, she made up for with skill and speed.
When no one answered, she sniffed and turned, walking slowly towards the door at a leisurely pace. No hurried exit for her. She could see her reflection in the glass doors as she approached. Short, black hair spiked on top with a longer fringe almost hiding her eyes. She’d used black kohl liner to take further attention away from her eye colour. They were violet, a rare shade in humans and even rarer in wolves. Sam despised the colour; it was too girly for the image she tried to portray. Now, her black jeans and T-shirt, complete with leather jacket—that gave off the right vibes. Her heels were her only outward concession to femininity since they gave her some much needed height.
She was at the exit now. No one had made a move to follow her, not that s
he expected them to. As the door started to swing shut behind her, she could hear the murmur of voices and allowed herself a tight smile.
“Did you see that?”
“She flattened Phil in two seconds!”
“Just a might of a thing, too.”
“Hey, Phil! You okay, buddy?”
The sound of the voices faded as she walked down the street, carefully assessing the shadowed doorways. Pools of light from the street lamps brightened select areas giving a false sense that the street was safe, but Sam knew better.
Someone was following her. Not someone from the bar. This person had been waiting outside. Her rogue, perhaps? She wouldn’t put it past the unpredictable beasts. Well, if he thought to get the better of her, he had another think coming.
The man was good, she’d give him that. His pace matched hers perfectly, but a prickling on the back of her neck, and the faintest shuffling sound gave him away. He had a slight limp and she wondered why. Wolves usually healed completely. Well, she’d ask him once she was done taking him down a peg or two for tailing her.
It wasn’t that she needed help against Sinclair’s spy, she was sure she could take whoever the bastard sent, but a male always seemed to impress other wolves more than a female, and creating an illusion was what this was all about. Smoke and mirrors. She’d been using it successfully for the past three years, it would work again—a faint frown passed over her features and she bit her lip—it had to.
Sam reached the corner and walked around it, then ducked into the first doorway she came to. This was the corner she was supposed to meet the rogue at. She chuckled thinking that this meeting wouldn’t go quite as the man had planned.
The sound of his footsteps grew closer, but the tempo had changed. The man suspected something. Sam twisted her lips, impressed, but not ready to let him off. Muscles tensed, senses alert, adrenaline rushed through her as she prepared for a fight.
Chapter 1
Damien leaned against the brick wall, its rough surface lightly digging into his shoulder through a rip in his shirt. He was breathing hard, sweat trickling down his face, the still, heavy air doing nothing to help cool him off. With each inhalation, he took in the scents of the city; exhaust fumes, garbage, humanity. The back alley of one city smelled very much like that of another though this one had one significant difference. Lycans.
The she-wolf across the alley from him had her butt propped against the edge of a dumpster, her hands braced on her knees as she stood, half hunched, trying to catch her breath. The fight they’d just completed had been exhilarating as she’d matched him move for move. He’d barely needed to hold back; her speed and agility making up for what she lacked in size and muscle. Already, faint aches and pains were letting themselves be known, and no doubt in brighter surroundings he’d find a fine array of bruises decorating his body.
Grabbing the edge of his shirt, he gave his face a quick wipe, careful to keep one eye on his opponent. When Kane had described the petite female who acted as Samuel Harper’s spokesperson, he’d made her sound ineffectual. Damien had pictured her as demure, perhaps carrying a clipboard and peering over her glasses. While it was true she might not look like much of a threat, the last few minutes had shown it wasn’t wise to underestimate her. He wondered if Kane had set him up; purposely leaving out the information that the woman packed a lethal punch. Thanks, buddy.
Pushing off from the wall, he swallowed, wincing slightly at the pull of his dry throat and wishing he had a stiff drink. But there’d be time enough for that later. Instead, he focused on her.
“We done?”
There was a pause in her breathing and then he saw her nod.
“Yeah. I think we’re done.”
Had he really heard a hint of laughter in her voice? Damien eyed her speculatively as she straightened from her braced position. At some point their battle had moved from the street to the alley where they now stood. The faint light from a single bulb over the backdoor of a restaurant was the only illumination. It wasn’t much, but he was still able to make out her features. Short, dark hair, a petite yet muscular build. An alley fighter—a damned good alley fighter—and a female. Who’d have thought?
“You put up a pretty good fight, Dante. I guess you’ll do.” She brushed some dirt from the legs of her pants and it gave him a much needed moment to consider what she’d said.
She’d called him Dante. The name had his mental warning bells ringing and not only because she obviously was mistaking him for someone else. He stalled for time as he tried to improvise a plan.
“Do what?” Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he noted the streak of blood from a cut on his lip. The woman had a wicked right hook.
“Act as our rogue.” She looked up from where she’d been examining a scuff mark on her leather jacket and narrowed her eyes. In the dim light it was hard to determine the colour, but he could almost swear they were violet. “That’s what we agreed on. You become a temporary part of the pack—a Beta, almost a co-Alpha—until we manage to convince Sinclair that there’s no bloody way he can take us over.”
“Right.” Damien thought quickly, assimilating the new information. Sinclair. So she knew about Kane’s planned takeover. “Just checking. I don’t like having the rules changed once I start something.”
“Once the job is done, we pay you the agreed amount and you head on your way.”
“What does the rest of the pack think of this? Your current Beta? Won’t he want to slit my throat for taking over his job?” Damien tried to fill in the missing pieces of the deal without revealing his hand.
She pursed her lips and he could tell she was weighing her words. “The Beta position is currently...vacant. We’re a small pack…but strong.” Her chin lifted as if she was expecting him to contradict her. “The problem is that Lycan society is too damned chauvinistic. Everyone takes one look at me and only sees a female.” She spat out the last word. “I’m perfectly capable of running this pack, but Sinclair will use my gender against me. That’s where you come in.”
She was capable of running the pack? Damien held back a frown. This teeny weeny she-wolf wasn’t the Alpha. He knew for a fact that Samuel, not Samantha, Harper was listed as Alpha in Lycan Link’s books. Kane had said she was Harper’s spokesperson and he’d somehow gotten the impression of her being more of a secretary or office manager than anything else. Perhaps she was a wannabe Beta and resented being overlooked? Damien filed that question in the back of his mind for later examination and focused on what she was saying.
“So, you still want the position?” She spoke as if she didn’t care, but he could tell otherwise. This was important to her. A twinge of regret over deceiving her passed through him. He pushed it aside. Kane had sent him to do a job, to scout out the Chicago pack, find their weaknesses and report back on the best way to proceed with a takeover. What better way to gather information than to actually join the pack? It hadn’t been part of his plan, but experience had taught him to grab whatever opportunity presented itself.
“Yeah, I’ll take it.”
“Good.” She hid her relief well, only the barest change of inflection letting him know she’d been concerned. “Do you have your own transportation or do you need a ride to the pack house?”
“I’m good. I’ll follow you. Give me half an hour and I’ll meet you in front of that bar you just left.” That would give him time to call Kane and tell him he’d made contact, as well as attend to one other pressing matter.
“Half an hour.” She flicked a glance up and down the length of him and then walked away, her head held high, her stride confident. Usually people backed away from him. He raised one brow, impressed with her gutsiness.
As the sound of her heels clicking on the pavement faded, a voice spoke behind him. “She’s a fine looking woman.”
Damien didn’t flinch. He’d known the man was there; the faint scent of lilacs—so out of place in a Chicago alley—had let him know a Lycan using a scent mask was in the area.
“That she is, Dante.” He waited a moment before slowly turning. He had no fear of the man behind him though that had likely been Dante’s hope. The Lycan stood just feet away. Grey hair showed at his temples and the lines on his face gave evidence to the hard life he’d led.
“Ah, Damien, my old friend. You’re not surprised to see me?” Dante reached out to shake hands.
Damien flicked a look at the extended palm and chose to ignore it.
“The proverbial bad penny always turns up. Isn’t that what they say?” Damien coolly assessed the man. Dante was an acquaintance from a life he’d thought he’d left behind and he wasn’t sure what the man’s appearance might mean. Coincidence or something more? “She planned on hiring you.” He stated the fact and watched for a reaction.
Dante let his hand drop to his side and shrugged. “We were supposed to meet tonight to finalize the deal, to see if I met the requirements.”
“And?” He cocked his head. “No cry of foul that I stole the job from you?”
“You were here before me.” Dante shrugged again. “Our time working for Deirdre taught both of us to grab whatever opportunities came our way and, if we missed one, to move on. Anything else is a waste of time.”
Something didn’t add up. The man was too cool for someone who’d just lost a well-paying job. Damien nodded however. “Glad there are no hard feelings.”
Dante extended his hand again. “Shake?”
Damien took half a step forward, reached his hand out and then smashed his knuckles into the other man’s nose, following the move up with a strategic kick guaranteed to blow out an opponent’s knee.
Dante hit the ground hard, blood spurting from his nostrils, a cry of pain escaping his lips.
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