“No problem.” Smith moved his gaze between her and Damien, a slight frown marring his brow. “Being an Enforcer has a pretty broad job description.”
“An Enforcer? I thought…?” She let her voice trail off making no effort to hide her confusion.
“The storm delayed the official observer. I was asked to take over in his place.”
She nodded in understanding then shifted her feet, feeling at a loss. After the intensity of the past few hours it was hard to suddenly return to ‘normal’.
Smith seemed to understand. He jerked his chin towards her pack. “There are some Lycans over there who are likely wondering what the hell is going on. You should probably go tell them.”
“What? Oh, yeah.” Glancing towards her pack, she saw that they were all on their feet, worried expressions on everyone’s faces. She started to walk towards them, stopped and turned towards Damien. It felt wrong to walk away from him. Her gaze took in his bleeding arm, the way he held his leg putting minimal weight on it. His face was expressionless. No hint of anger. No teasing. No…anything. “Damien, I…”
He raised one brow but she didn’t continue. What did you say to someone who you’d thought had been a friend, a lover even, only to find they’d been deceiving you all along?
“Was it all a lie, Damien?” She surprised herself by voicing her thoughts.
A muscle twitched in his cheek and for a moment it looked as if he’d speak. Instead, he turned his head away.
So she had her answer. She gave a nod and walked towards her pack. It hurt. It hurt more than she’d ever thought possible, but an Alpha didn’t cry, at least not in front of her pack. Calling on all her inner strength, she pinned a smile on her face. “Hey guys, guess what?”
Damien listened to the fading sound of her footsteps, willing himself not to watch her walk away.
Reno cleared his throat. “Want to tell me what that was about?”
“No.”
“Fair enough. So…” Reno shoved his hands in his pockets. “What are you going to do now? I take it you’ve been spending some time with Sinclair. Are you going back there?”
He shook his head, sneaking a peek out the corner of his eye to where Sam was being hugged by her family. His throat felt tight and he had the oddest desire to join in the celebrations. They wouldn’t want him there, though. Rogues were seldom welcome. Even if he hadn’t betrayed their trust, the job had been temporary, only until the threat of the takeover had passed.
“Brandi would love it if you came to stay with us for a while.”
He shifted his attention back to Reno. “Maybe later. I need some time to myself. I’ve been living with that pack for too long. We rogues need our space, you know.” He forced his lips to curve in a mocking smile.
“At least that’s what we’ve always thought.”
“Come again?”
“I thought I needed my space, too. But now I find I kind of like being settled, being part of a pack.” Reno slid a look his way. “You might want to try it someday.”
The fake smile left Damien’s face. “I’ve tried settling down. It didn’t work.”
“It worked. The problem was that it was taken from you.” Reno actually looked him in the eye this time. “That doesn’t mean it couldn’t work again.” He glanced over at Sam. “I’ve no idea what’s going on here, but I’d hazard a guess that there’s some unfinished business between the two of you.”
Damien looked at Sam as well, but shook his head. “No. Beth is my mate. Her last words to me were to never forget.”
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t try and mess with me, Reno.” He scowled. “I was there. I felt her pain. I heard her dying words to me.” Anger started to rise in him. He didn’t like talking about that day. It hurt too much to remember. He started to walk away only Reno grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
“I was there, too, Damien.” His voice was low. Intense. “And I was there in the hospital when you were in and out of consciousness, so doped up on pain killers you didn’t know what was going on. I heard you calling out for Beth, I heard you replaying your final conversation with her. You even told me over and over. She said ‘never forget to love’. That one word makes a hell of a lot of difference.”
Damien felt the blood drain from his face. “No. I don’t believe you.”
“Why would I make it up?” Reno folded his arms.
“I…” He ran his hand through his hair, not sure what to think. “I was doped up. You said it yourself. I was probably babbling.”
“Maybe you were. Maybe you weren’t. But you said it more than once.”
Damien jutted his jaw not wanting to believe that what he’d held on to, what had kept him going these past three years, had all been a figment of his imagination.
“That doc you met when you were in Canada last year, Rafe McRae, he said sometimes our minds twist things around. That we remember what we want rather than what actually happened.”
Damien remembered McRae all too well. They’d ended up working together out of necessity but… He shook his head. “No. It’s so clear. I can still hear her voice.”
Reno seemed about to speak then shrugged. “The ball’s in your court.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, my flight doesn’t leave for a few more hours. You and Brandi and I could have dinner.”
It sounded appealing yet at the same time he felt the need to get out of Chicago, to hit the open road with only the wind and the roar of the engine to keep him company. “Maybe another time.” He checked his arm. The bleeding had almost stopped. “It was good to see you again, Reno.”
Reno nodded. “Same here.” He extended his hand and they shook. At the last minute he pulled closer for a quick one-armed hug. “I’ve missed you, bro.”
Damien blinked, choked up by the unexpected show of emotion from his normally stoic friend. “I’ve missed you, too.”
A muscle worked in Reno’s jaw. “Whenever you’re ready, you always have a place with me and Brandi.”
“Thanks. I’ll be in touch. I promise.”
Reno’s phone rang and while he answered it, Damien used the opportunity to get away. His leg throbbed as he walked to his bike but he kept his stride even. Never show that you’re hurting, inside or out.
Damien got on his bike and started it up. He took one last look across the clearing. Sam was watching him, her face expressionless. There was a connection between them, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in ages. Almost…almost, he was tempted to go to her, to try to explain. But there was too much between them, too many betrayals.
He gave her a nod, revved the engine and drove away. The road to redemption had been a dead end.
Sam’s throat felt tight and she tried to deny the ache in her chest as she watched Damien. She loved him, even if she was only willing to admit it after the fact. He’d lied, betrayed her trust, spurned her, but she still loved him.
Spurned? Hell, how fucked up was she? She didn’t talk like that. It must be those stupid romances Tina kept giving her to read. The damned things were nothing but a pack of lies.
She sniffed and wiped away the stray tear that was slowly dripping down her cheek. Well, Tina’s prophecy had been right. A battle had been fought. Her heart felt like it was dying. She’d won but she’d lost, and the masks…well, Damien had certainly been wearing one. Her grandfather, too, for that matter.
Purists. They fucked up everyone’s lives.
Her mouth twisted as she thought of Dante and his blackmail scheme. Hmm… Smith was an Enforcer. He probably knew something about dealing with dickwads like Dante.
“Hey, Smith? You got a minute? I think I have a job for you.”
Damien pulled into a truck stop a few miles from the nature preserve and turned off the engine After the roar of the machine, the relative silence seemed to echo in his ears, the quiet allowing thoughts and feelings he’d been suppressing to push to the foreground. He’d seen Reno again, fought Sam, lost to Sam and then walked away from her. He c
losed his eyes and swallowed hard. It had been quite a day; the kind of day that made you want to give up. After all, what was the point of continuing? Once again he’d lost everything.
He sighed and opened his eyes, bleakly surveying the rows of transports and cars that filled the lot. They all had destinations, places they had to be, people expecting them to arrive. He had none. If he disappeared right now, no one would notice or even care.
A car horn sounded somewhere behind him, the noise reminding him that he should move. Ever so slowly he dismounted, clenching his jaw against the pain in his leg as it protested the movement. He’d messed it up bad, not that he’d let on to Sam or Reno but truth was he felt like being sick.
He eyed the distance from where he was parked to the doorway of the truck stop. It wasn’t that far; he could make it. He’d handled worse. Yep, easy as slipping in shit.
Thankfully no one seemed to notice his slow, deliberate walk. The clerk at the desk barely even looked up from his magazine when he said he wanted a shower, merely giving him a pass and nodding his head in the direction of the shower stalls.
Once inside, he leaned against the wall and let out a shuddering breath. Keeping the proverbial stiff upper lip had drained his strength; now all he wanted to do was crash somewhere and sleep around the clock. He rolled his head to the side and looked in the mirror that was mounted over the sink. His face was pale and drawn, a sheen of sweat covering his brow. Dirt and dried blood were caked on his shirt. Yeah, he looked as bad as he felt.
He didn’t really care how he looked but someone might question his appearance. Pushing off from the wall, he dropped his backpack on the floor and then shucked his clothes before stepping into the shower. The hot water stung on his various bruises and abrasions; Sam had done him proud with her fighting technique today. He gave a wry smile; it wasn’t often you were proud of someone for beating the crap out of you.
There was a soap dispenser mounted on the wall and he squirted some into his hands and lathered up. What was Sam doing right now? Celebrating her win, of course, but was she okay? Despite his anger over her Purist connections, something inside him had forced him to use restraint during the fight.
We care for her, his wolf murmured.
Yeah, that we do, he admitted. In the end, he’d realized it wasn’t fair to punish her for the sins of others. She’d suffered, too; he’d just been too caught up in his own grief to realize it at first.
Closing his eyes, he began to rinse. He could still see the look on her face when she’d asked him if it had all been a lie. He hadn’t known how to answer. Where did the lies stop and the truth begin? It was all so tangled together he’d never be able to explain. From the look on her face, she’d assumed the worst from his silence.
It hadn’t been his intention to hurt her, but in the end it was likely for the best that she wrote him off. He had no place in her life. And if he stayed, he’d only bring about her destruction. That was what always happened whenever he dared to get close to someone. For her own good he had to let her go.
Stepping out of the shower, he dried off and dug through his pack for clean clothing, stuffing the ruined shirt in the garbage. He’d get dressed, call Kane and see what was up with cancelling the challenge, and then crash in the lounge for a few hours. It was a simple plan but it gave him some direction. Once he woke up…well, he’d deal with that when the time came.
The truck stop was still relatively empty when he left the showers. A few truckers were seated in the cafeteria eating. One was in the lounge area reading a newspaper while another was watching the news on the TV. Damien was eyeing the couch in the corner when movement near the door caught his attention and caused him to go on alert.
Dante was just leaving the building.
Instinctively, Damien took a step to follow him but a jab of pain brought him to his senses. His leg wasn’t strong enough to go after the scumbag right now. Tomorrow, once he was rested and healed he could try to track Dante down. He latched onto the idea. It gave him some small sense of purpose and that’s what he needed right now.
Narrowing his eyes, he watched the man hurry across the pavement towards a small, grey car. Completely out of character, Dante was moving like he had the devil nipping at his heels. An arrogant swagger was more typical of the man. Frowning, Damien studied the area, looking for what had spooked the man. It was strange that he’d never followed through on his blackmail threat; Dante wasn’t one to easily give up on a source of income.
There. On the far side of the parking lot. A man was standing near a pickup truck, his gaze intently fixed on Dante. Tall, muscular, perhaps with a scar on his cheek, though it could be the way the shadows fell across his face. Whoever he was, he climbed in his vehicle and drove after Dante. Curious but not completely surprising since Dante had a habit of pissing off everyone he met.
Damien gave the unknown man a mock salute. Why he was pursuing Dante didn’t matter. Anyone who was against the bastard had his blessing.
From the looks of it, Dante was headed out of town. Damien gave a nod approval as he made his way to a couch and sank down onto the soft, leather surface. Sam didn’t need the hassle of dealing with Dante; she had enough to do taking care of the pack. A shadow of regret passed over him that he was leaving her short-handed. Not that she’d want him around anymore, of course.
He wondered if they’d have a celebratory dinner tonight. Jonah would likely pull out all the stops in the kitchen and Hiram would entertain the pack with tall tales. Chris would try to get out of his homework and his mother, Andrea, would scold. A smile crossed his face as he imagined the warm, family atmosphere.
He leaned his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes. No one would care if he caught a few hours’ rest in the lounge. It wasn’t as comfortable as his bed at the pack house but he’d slept on worse.
Yeah, a few hours’ sleep and then he’d move on. Just him and his Harley and miles of highway to explore. He tried to whip up some enthusiasm for the idea but failed. That’s what happened when you stuck around one place too long. You grew attached and that wasn’t a good thing especially if you were a rogue. Nope, not a good thing at all.
A rogue wasn’t meant to settle down and rogue was all he was.
Chapter 35
After three months of officially being Alpha, her life hadn’t changed much, Sam decided. She still had the same workload. More, in fact, with Damien gone.
Damien.
She shut the door firmly on that thought, just as she had every other time it had come into her head since the challenge. Thinking about Damien wasn’t allowed. His betrayal still hurt and she still cursed herself for being duped. She’d trusted him, opened her heart to him, and that wasn’t something she did easily. It was stupid of her to still think about him, to still care…and yet she did.
Some research into his background had given her a better understanding of where he’d been coming from. His life hadn’t been easy. He’d lost everything to the Purists, and she could easily imagine how she would have reacted in a similar situation. It made sense that he’d work against a pack he thought had Purist leanings. Almost...almost...she could forgive him.
She wondered what he was doing now. Was he alone, aimlessly crisscrossing the country on his Harley? It hurt to think of him by himself like that with only the memory of his dead mate to keep him company. Sometimes, late at night, she had an overwhelming urge to hop on her bike and go searching for him. To ask him to return, to stay with her. It was a foolish idea, of course. Her life was here, caring for her pack and he was rogue with a rogue’s restlessness.
No. Thoughts of Damien were counterproductive to getting her work done. Too bad memories of him seemed to pop up everywhere; on patrol, while working out, at the pool hall. Hell, even in the backyard by the damned apple tree!
There was no escape in sleep, either. How many times had she relived the challenge, seen the blood dripping down his arm, watched him limping away… And how often had she dreamed of
his touch, recalled the ecstasy of being in his arms only to awaken aching for him? She even missed his sense of humour, annoying as it had been. On patrol she kept turning to look for him, hoping to see that glint in his eye, to hear him calling her ‘Sugar’ while a smirk twisted his mouth.
Sometimes she wondered if he’d return on his own; if he’d realize he missed her, needed her. He wouldn’t, of course. Even if he hadn’t been a rogue, her pack had a Purist background and that was something he’d never be able to forgive or forget.
The unfairness of the situation had her tightening her lips. Even though she’d personally done nothing wrong, she was paying for the sins of the past. Would the shame follow her and her pack forever? How long did you have to pay for the past before forgiveness was granted?
She didn’t know the answer, but it was probably longer than she had.
It was a good thing she had her Alpha duties to deal with, otherwise she’d spend her time pining away for the impossible. Work kept her sane. If you were busy enough you didn’t have time to think. Go on patrols, fill in reports, pay the bills, make some repairs around the house, help the pack members solve their problems.
In half an hour she had a conference call scheduled with Kane Sinclair and a negotiator from OPATA. This time, she’d been the one to make contact with the Smythston pack. Something Damien—make that someone—had once said about joining forces with Sinclair had given her an idea. She wasn’t about to give up an inch of her land, but there were mutually beneficial alternatives.
A knock on the door interrupted her reverie. “Yes, Flo? What can I do for you?”
The older woman seldom stopped by the office and entered slowly, looking around with interest. Sam had made some changes since officially taking over, moving some shelves, hanging up a print of a biker riding into the sunset. The fact that it reminded her of Damien had been a mere coincidence.
Betrayed: Book Two - The Road to Redemption Page 32