Betrayed: Book Two - The Road to Redemption

by Nicky Charles

  “And, of course, you couldn’t have done that later.” She resisted the urge to put her hands on her hips, but couldn’t keep her irritation from showing in her voice. “There is a celebration happening downstairs. Remember? Ryne and Mel had their bonding ceremony this morning? You officiated over it?”

  His mouth tightened. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Elise.”

  “And being abandoned at a party does?” She could feel the tension building inside her. This had happened so many times recently, Kane getting lost in pack business and forgetting his family obligations. “Kane, you promised me…”

  He opened his mouth then snapped it shut. Taking a deep breath, he visibly forced himself to relax. “I know. I know.” Keeping his eyes on her, he walked over to her and, placing his hands on her shoulders, he gave her a gentle shake then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “But I’m doing this for us. If you want us to have more time together—”

  “If I want. What about you? Don’t you want more time together?” She stepped back and tilted her head so she could see his face.

  He was frowning at her comment, his mouth flattened into a firm line. At first, he seemed about to say something cutting in return but stopped himself. His features smoothed into a conciliatory expression. “Of course, I do. I chose my words poorly.” Kane pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin. “If we want more time together, then a certain amount of preparatory work has to be done. We’ve discussed this.”

  His tone was calm and reasonable, almost overly patient as if he were talking to a recalcitrant child.

  She bit back the bubble of resentment that welled within her. A fight wasn’t what she was looking for today. There’d been too many of those recently. Maybe she was being unreasonable. After all, he hadn’t been gone that long. And he was the Alpha…

  “I know.” Elise whispered the words into his chest feeling like she was being a shrew. He’d explained, when the idea first came to him, that taking over the Chicago pack would be work, that he was doing it for her, for their family. And she believed him…mostly. When it was all over, he’d have more time. He’d promised, and Kane Sinclair was a man of his word. Slowly, she ran her hand over his broad chest, feeling his warmth and strength. Beneath her ear, she could hear the steady beat of his heart. Kane was a good man, a wise Alpha, a loving mate and great father to their pups…when he had the time...

  “Hey.” He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face up. Kissing her slowly, he whispered an apology against her lips. “I’m sorry. I should have left the call until later.”

  Elise stared into his amber eyes, seeing the contrition there, feeling it through their blood bond. “And I need to be more patient.” She pressed a kiss to his mouth. He opened to her and the kiss deepened. A groan escaped him and he gathered her closer, sliding his hands down her back to cup her rear.

  “Excuse me…”

  A knock at the door had them both sighing and reluctantly pulling apart.

  “Yes?” A faint growl could be heard in Kane’s voice as he addressed the intruder. Elise twisted in his arms and saw Daniel. The young man looked a bit sheepish at having interrupted.

  “Sorry to bother you, but Ryne wants everyone downstairs right now so he and Mel can cut the cake.”

  “We’ll just be a minute.” Elise tried to give the boy a reassuring look since he was eyeing Kane nervously. Little wonder given the fact that a low rumble was coming from the man. Daniel gave a nod and disappeared. She turned back to Kane and admonished him. “Quit growling. There was no need to scare him; he was only delivering a message.”

  “I know, but his timing was lousy.” Kane gave her a last quick kiss before stepping back. “Ryne probably sent him here on purpose just to interfere.”

  “I doubt…” Elise paused. Knowing Ryne, that might very well have been the case!

  Chapter 5

  Sam kept Damien occupied by pointing out features of the neighbourhood and introducing him to some of the human population. She told them he was a ‘friend’ from the West Coast and no one questioned her, though a few gave a knowing grin no doubt silently including the words ‘with benefits’. It didn’t really matter to her. They could think what they wanted. She knew some speculated about her apparent lack of male companionship and that was fine. Let them speculate all they wanted about her sex life; it kept them from thinking about more important matters like the unusual makeup of the ‘family’ she lived with.

  And speaking of family, Damien was going to start asking questions soon. Every wolf knew that the pack would want to greet a new member, learn its scent and determine its place in the hierarchy. She’d put him off this morning, but it was time to bring him up to speed before meeting the others.

  As they entered the rusted gateway that led to the pack house, Damien reached out and adjusted the house number. It held in place for a moment before falling back into its usual crooked position. He cast a look at her, one brow raised.

  Sam winced inwardly. Some might see that as a symbol of a poorly managed pack.

  “Your porch needs repairing, too.” He gestured towards the broken treads on the steps.

  “It’s on my list.” She replied tightly, not mentioning that her ‘to-do’ list was a mile long and she was doing her best, but there simply wasn’t enough time. It was her job and she took responsibility for any failings. An Alpha didn’t make excuses.

  “I’ll fix it.” There was no condescending tone to his words, just a gruff statement and steady look.

  It made her uneasy, as if he could read her mind and knew that she’d often wondered if she’d be able to hold things together. While there was no way he could know that, she still answered guardedly. “Thanks. It’ll help give you a presence around here, in case Sinclair’s spy happens to be watching.”

  A look passed over his face, so fleeting she couldn’t identify it, but then he nodded. “You have any tools?”

  “Yeah. I have tools.”

  “Good. I’ll get on it today.”

  “Interior design and home repair?” She relaxed enough to tease him as they rounded the corner of the house.

  “I’ve had some experience working as a handyman. I repaired cabins at a fishing lodge once.”

  “Repairing a fishing lodge?” She scrunched her face in disbelief. It seemed a strange occupation for a rogue. Somehow she pictured him doing something more dangerous than pounding nails. His dark features, brooding eyes and sullen expression made one think more of a thug who’d pull a knife on you at a moment’s notice. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  He shrugged but made no effort to elaborate on his statement so she let it drop. It wasn’t as if his background really mattered. Still, she couldn’t help cast one last speculative glance his way. Her rogue had hidden depths. Interesting.

  As they reached the back of the house, Damien turned towards the door no doubt assuming they were going inside.

  “Not yet. We need to talk in private first.” She went to the far side of the house and grabbed the handle of an old wooden hatch.

  “In the cellar?”

  “Yep. Scared of the dark?” She tossed the question over her shoulder as she slid the door aside. It moved easily since she’d added a sliding track a few years ago.

  “No.”

  Flicking the light switch, she nimbly descended the cement steps.

  “If I had been, were you going to leave the lights off?” He followed her down.

  “Perhaps.” She shrugged. “Confronting your fears is the only way to overcome them.”

  Damien didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure if that meant he agreed or not, not that it really mattered. She was in charge and he’d do as he was told.

  The temperature below ground was a pleasant contrast to the heat and humidity of the streets and Sam took a moment to enjoy the cooler air. The cellar had been excavated and extended over the years and now served as an exercise room though that hadn’t always been the case. It was h
istorical fact that, during the days of Prohibition, some members of the pack had originally made their money from the illegal liquor trade. Working as ‘rumrunners’ or ‘bootleggers’ as such miscreants had been called, the cellar had been used to hide the illegal beverage. As a child she’d often re-enacted the adventures, hiding from the authorities as she snuck her illegal cargo of penny-candy home from the corner store.

  It was during one of those games that she’d discovered the trap door to a secret passageway that led to various rooms in the house. She’d never shared her find with anyone; it was often useful to be able to enter and exit the building without the others knowing. She chuckled to herself as she recalled some of her escapades.

  Damien studied the bare light bulbs that hung overhead and the exposed floor joists from the house above. Nothing fancy, but it was clean with no cobwebs or mustiness. The walls had been whitewashed and several mirrored panels hung along the far wall, while the middle of the room was occupied by an array of workout equipment. Most of the floor was cement, though one area sported a set of mats for wrestling or sparring.

  “Nice.” He wandered over to a punching bag and gave it an experimental push.

  “What I’m about to tell you goes no further. Is that understood?”

  Damien turned to where Sam was leaning against a weight machine.

  “Depends what you tell me.” He propped himself against the wall and folded his arms. The expression that passed over her face made him smile inwardly. She wasn’t used to anyone talking back to her and hadn’t been expecting his response.

  “What the —”

  “I’m just being truthful. Would you really believe me if I agreed outright?” Damien gave her a level look.

  Sam snapped her mouth shut and appeared to consider the point. “Perhaps not.” She paused. “Are you always such a pain in the ass?”

  “Pretty much. I’m a rogue, not an Omega that toes the line every second of my life. If that were the case, I doubt you would have hired me, would you?”

  A reluctant grin spread over her face. “I think I like you. You’re honest.”

  “I do my best.” For some reason he was pleased to have made her smile again.

  A chuckle escaped her before her expression sobered. “Truthfully, this conversation can’t be shared. It might give Sinclair an advantage; being the weasel that he is, who knows how he could twist things around to his advantage?”

  “Sinclair’s a weasel? I thought he was a wolf?” The mental image that came to mind of Kane shifting into such a small animal had him struggling to keep from grinning. He’d definitely have to tell his friend about that next time they talked. Suddenly, it struck him that when he was around Sam the need to smile kept popping up. It had been years since he’d felt that sense of levity, three years to be exact. Ever since Beth… The memory of his dead mate wiped the joy from his heart. He had no right to be happy while she was dead. A cold empty feeling washed over him again and he focused an icy stare on Sam.

  “You know what I mean.” Sam scowled. “If I find out you’ve leaked the information, your employment will be terminated, you won’t get paid and I’ll beat the crap out of you.”

  “Seems reasonable.” He carefully evaded answering the question. Lies were all part of the job, however, he avoided them as much as possible. You never knew when one could turn into a ticking time bomb.

  Sam began to pace the room. “My pack is small, most members are getting on in age. The few of us that are still able-bodied find ourselves over-worked, our resources stretched to the limit. I have no one suitable to fill the Beta position. That’s why we need you…temporarily. With Sinclair nosing about, Lycan Link is sure to get involved and a strong outward appearance is crucial.” She paused by the punching bag. “We’ve gone through a few rough spots, but if the outside world would leave us alone, we can get back on our feet. All we need is time.” She punctuated the statement by slamming her fist into the bag. It swung wildly, creaking on the chain that suspended it.

  “Rough spots?” Damien straightened from his spot on the wall and caught the bag, holding it in place. He listened carefully hoping to pick up some information that would help Kane.

  “My grandfather wasn’t always wise when it came to finances. He made some bad investments and now we’re…temporarily financially embarrassed.”

  The quaint turn of phrase seemed odd coming out of Sam’s mouth and he raised a brow. “Bad investments…or was he a gambler?”

  Sam delivered an unexpected roundhouse kick to the bag and Damien grunted slightly as he absorbed the energy from the blow. He had a feeling she wasn’t pleased with his assumption and took it as a slur against her family. If she did, that was too bad. His job was to gather intelligence that would aid in a takeover bid and this bit of news just might do the trick.

  An established pack being hard up for cash was unheard of. Lycan Link helped most with investment strategies and pack members usually pooled resources, the result being that a substantial nest egg accumulated over time. Given that the Chicago pack had been in existence for over one hundred and fifty years, it was hard to fathom how such a loss could happen. But, apparently it had. If the Alpha had a gambling problem, Kane could use the information to gain the upper hand.

  “No. He didn’t gamble. At least not in the traditional sense of the word.” Sam compressed her mouth into a flat line then looked away, a heavy sigh escaping her. “Many members of my pack suffer from a genetic flaw. Infertility rates far exceed what might be expected in the average population.” She flicked a glance at Damien. “There’s less than a five percent chance that a mated couple will conceive and that the pregnancy will result in a live birth.”

  Damien blinked. To a species where family—pack—was everything, the inability to reproduce would be devastating. A memory flashed before him. Beth telling him she was pregnant, the glow of excitement in her eyes, the pride that had filled him. The fierce protectiveness he’d felt for her and their unborn pup. And the pain that still overwhelmed him when he thought of the child he’d never hold…

  He controlled his reaction, no clenched jaw, no tightening fist. Sam would pick up on it and this wasn’t the time to wallow in self-pity. The past was just that and he had a job to do. “And how does this relate to your finances?”

  “My grandfather spent a good deal of money on research, trying to discover the cause and a cure. Several of the supposed ‘experts’ were nothing more than charlatans in my view. Now, the money is mostly gone and we’re no better off than we were before. On top of that we’ve had some issues with other packs. A misunderstanding over the Finding clause got quite messy.” Sam sat down at the weight machine and began to pull the weights.

  Damien grunted, recognizing that she wasn’t about to elaborate on that final point. He moved to a set of free weights. Choosing one, he began to do some arm curls. “So what’s your plan now?”

  “We carry on as best as we can. There are a few minor investments left. In time, we’ll build up a reserve again. Then we’ll look at our options for expansion.”

  “Why not join forces with Sinclair? From what I’ve heard, he has money—”

  “No!” She let go of the handles and the weights fell down with a resounding clang. “I’m not giving up. I’m the Alpha here. The Chicago pack might be small, we might have our problems, but I’m not letting anyone take it from me.” She rose to her feet and stalked towards him.

  He’d definitely touched a nerve. Setting down the weight he’d been using, he warily watched her approach.

  Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes seemed to spark with fire. “This has been my pack’s territory for over one hundred and fifty years and it will continue to belong to us for the next hundred and fifty years.”

  Sam stopped directly in front of him. Damien flicked a glance at her clenched fists and then looked back at her. He could tell she was fighting to stay in control of her temper.

  “Careful, Sugar. I don’t take kindly to people takin
g a swing at me simply for making a suggestion.” He narrowed his eyes as he issued the warning.

  “Sugar?” As he’d planned, the name momentarily distracted her. “Why the hell would you call me that?”

  “I thought you could use a bit of sweetening up.” Damien struggled to keep the corner of his mouth from twitching up into a smile as he watched the expressions that flitted over her face. Outrage, bewilderment, anger. She finally settled on glaring at him.

  “I don’t need ‘sweetening up’. I need you to shut up and can the crap talk about allowing Sinclair to take over my pack.” She walked a short distance from him, exhaled loudly and combed her fingers through her hair. Eventually, she turned to face him, appearing calmer. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. But how would you feel if someone suggested taking your pack from you?”

  “I’ve no idea. I’ve never had a pack, not since I was a child.” Damien shrugged, but he could feel a wall settling around him, locking out all feeling.

  “Never?” She tilted her head and studied him. “What about with your mate? Surely, you must have belonged—”

  “No. Not even then.” He slowly clenched his fists as he recalled the plans he and Beth had made. Of how they’d strike out someday. Leave Lycan Link. Perhaps even join with Reno as his Beta.

  “Oh.” She appeared about to question him further and he lowered his brows, a slight growl appearing in his voice.

  “The topic is off-limits. You don’t want to discuss Sinclair taking you over, and I don’t want to discuss my mate or my past. Understood?”

  Sam straightened to her full height—what there was of it. Her chin lifted slightly, her shoulders went back. They stared at each other, a silent battle passing between them. He didn’t look away and neither did she. Their surroundings faded into the background until all that remained was the force of their wills colliding in the space separating them. How long they stood there, he wasn’t sure. Eventually, as one, they both nodded and the tension that had been crackling between them eased.