Deceit can be Deadly (Law of the Lycans Book 8)

by Nicky Charles

  “You mentioned rumours of witchcraft and black magic being involved in the girl’s death. He’s hanging around Gwyn. Could he believe she’s somehow involved?”

  “It’s a possibility.” Damn, he’d been so caught up in Damien’s relationship to the man that he hadn’t considered that angle.

  “An incident between a Lycan and a witch could negatively impact the alliance negotiations Brandi’s working on, couldn’t it?”

  He nodded. “It could. But I have a feeling Lycan Link wants him there.”

  “To what purpose?”

  “Damned if I know. That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

  “Hmm… Well, if I think of something, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks.” He sensed she was ready to end the call. He could let that happen, but that was the coward’s way out. “Er…Sam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I called for another reason. Did Damien mention he asked me for another favour?”

  “Looking into his background? Yes, he did. Did you find something?” Her voice was filled with eager curiosity. “He’ll be so excited.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t sound so sure.”

  He sat down at his desk again. “It’s not good news.”

  “Well, we’ve always assumed his parents were dead, there’s not much worse news than that.”

  “Actually, there is.” He took a deep breath. “There’s a possibility that Damien’s father is…Dante.”

  “Son of a bitch! You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”

  He explained his reasoning and when he was done, Sam was silent. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Sam. I know this wasn’t what he was hoping to discover.”

  “That’s an understatement. Telling him isn’t going to be fun.” The background sounds gave him the impression that she was pacing the room, those kickass heels she favoured clicking on the wooden floor.

  “Sam? I…I feel responsible. Even though he asked me to go digging, I’m the one that uncovered the rats’ nest. Can you hold off telling him? Brandi and I are flying to Chicago in two days. You and I could tell him together.”

  “Okay.”

  He gave a bark of laughter. “You agreed awfully fast.”

  “If I’m going to face the firing squad, I might as well have company.”

  “Yeah. Damien’s going to go ballistic.” He shook his head. Hadn’t the kid gone through enough already? Growing up without a real family, his mate and baby murdered, living with a price on his head. And just when his life seemed to be turning around, there was another hit.

  After finalizing his plans with Sam, saying he’d call from the airport when he and Brandi landed, he hung up and studied the file he had on Dante once more. Sam’s idea about there being a connection to Carlotta’s death had some merit. If there had been witchcraft involved, then Dante…

  He frowned, something suddenly striking him. There was an odd parallel between Damien and Dante. Both men had loved women who were killed. Damien had set out on a path of revenge and Dante might very well being doing the same thing. Like father, like son? Was history repeating itself?

  “Nothing to do, Smith?”

  He looked up to see a man standing in the doorway and slowly rose to his feet. “Director Higgins, what can I do for you?”

  Higgins entered the room and took a seat. “Sit down, Smith. No need for formality.”

  He eased down into his seat wondering what was going on. Higgins enjoyed the perks of his position as the director of Lycan Link, demanding deference from those who worked beneath him, but hardly ever ventured out of his ivory tower. When he did, his disposition was decidedly sour.

  “You’re doing a fine job, Smith.”

  “Thank you, sir.” His radar went on alert. Higgins didn’t dole out praise unless he wanted something.

  “We appreciate being able to avail ourselves of your services. I know it must be hard dividing your time between here and Kolding’s Pass.”

  “I manage to make it work.”

  “Good. Good.” The man rubbed his hands together. “I hear Fielding has you babysitting one of our unofficial members.”

  “Sir?”

  “No need to be coy, Smith. As the director of Lycan Link, I know everything that goes on around here. I’m talking about Dante Salazar or Esparza, or whatever he’s calling himself these days. You’re to keep an eye on him, aren’t you?”

  Reno hesitated before giving a short nod. He wasn’t going to commit himself to anything. Higgins might be the director but Reno had never gotten a good vibe from the man who always seemed more concerned with keeping up appearances than what was actually happening.

  “Make sure you don’t get in his way.” Higgins winked. “I know you’re dedicated to your job and he’s more than a bit of a loose cannon but don’t worry. He knows what he’s supposed to do and is being paid well for it.”

  “Exactly what is he supposed to be doing, sir?”

  “Nothing that concerns you. Just tidying up a situation. Sit back and let him do his job.”

  He cocked his head. “If I’m basically twiddling my thumbs and watching him, is there really any point to assigning me to him?”

  Higgins gave a patently false laugh. “You’re a sharp one. I told Fielding this was almost too easy of an assignment for you, but he insisted you were the man for the job.” He leaned forward and spoke in a sotto whisper. “If Dante’s activities in any way become linked to us, you’re there to apprehend him, see? Can’t have our hands getting muddied, right?”

  “Right.” He tried to keep his face bland. “Basically, Dante is working for Lycan Link but if anything goes wrong we hang him out to dry.”

  “Exactly.” Higgins smiled and rose to his feet. “I wanted to make sure you understood your position in this. Fielding had his doubts you’d be on board, but I knew you’d understand.”

  “Oh, I understand, sir. I understand all too well.”

  “Good. I knew we could count on you, Smith. You’re a team player.” Higgins reached over and gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder before leaving.

  Reno scowled. Dante might be a fucking bastard but throwing him under the bus didn’t sit well, especially now that he knew the man was probably Damien’s father.

  Dante sat in his room watching the surveillance footage from Gwyneth’s office for a second time. It revealed nothing. Not that he’d expected it to—planting the device had been a long shot—but he hadn’t wanted to pass on the opportunity just in case. For the most part, her office remained empty. At one point, she entered the room and flipped through a pile of papers on her desk, took one and then left again. Nothing that gave any indication of where the Universal Coven would be meeting.

  He paused the clip, then scrolled back and stopped it at an image of Gwyneth. She was occupying his mind more than she should, and not because of the mission he was on. It was the woman herself that held his attention despite the fact he knew it was dangerous to lose focus, to see a mark as anything beyond a mark.

  Their unexpected encounter had affected him more than he liked to admit, rendering the supposed interview over breakfast pointless. By the time he’d gotten his game on again she’d been leaving and he’d not gained any new information on the Coven. Not a tragedy—it only made the timeline tighter—but it wasn’t like him.

  Something drew him to Gwyneth O’Donohue. Her quick wit, the way she challenged him, that was an obvious appeal, but there was more to her than met the eye. They were alike in that respect. And he’d seen hints of a softer, more vulnerable side which she tried to keep hidden. He wondered why she’d closed that side of herself off.

  His phone rang. It was Higgins.

  “Yes?”

  “I told Smith to back off, like you asked.”

  “Good. I don’t need him breathing down my neck.”

  “Get the job done soon. He’s not going to turn a blind eye for too long. Man’s got too much damned integrity.”

 
“Mmm. Integrity can be annoying, can’t it?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You’d never let it get in your way, would you?”

  A derisive laugh. “We both know it gets you nowhere in life.”

  Yeah. Right. Having risen in the ranks, Higgins was now content to sit on his laurels as long as everything looked good on the surface and didn’t jeopardize his position. It made a person wonder who was the bigger bastard.

  This particular case, the issue with the witches, was causing a stir on High Council, so Higgins was scuttling about to fix it as fast as possible. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have given a rat’s ass what was going on. And once things were settled he’d go back to feathering his nest by whatever means possible.

  Soon it would be time to turn the thumbscrews on the man, but not yet. The ace up his sleeve would be played at the proper moment. For now, he’d let Higgins bask in his supposedly safe ivory tower.

  Chapter 20

  Matt woke, every muscle in his body aching. He felt like he’d been on a three-day bender or hit by a truck. Or maybe both. He latched on to that cheery thought, preferring it to the current situation he was in. Unfortunately, he needed to empty his bladder and he was forced to open his eyes.

  Reality came crashing down as he stared at the steel bars across from him, then the concrete floor he was huddled on. Yeah, it wasn’t a dream. He was still captive in a jail-like cell in some sort of industrial building. Dim light fought to penetrate the filth-covered skylight, letting him know it was morning again.

  He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and scratched a line in the flaking paint that covered the floor. It was the start of day three of his captivity.

  Slowly, he rose to his feet, working the kinks from his body. Sleeping on the floor left a lot to be desired. He rubbed his chin, noting the growth of beard and wishing he had a razor as he lumbered over to the slop bucket in the corner that served as a toilet. Funny the stuff you missed. Simple things like flushing and washing your hands were a luxury right now.

  His stomach grumbled and he stared at the empty tin tray near the door. His captor was hit and miss when it came to food and had no idea how much a werebear could eat. Not that it probably mattered. Seems he was going to be used in a sacrificial ceremony in another few days.

  He paced the cell, trying the door, attempting to bend the various bars with his animal strength. Why he continued to test them, he had no idea but it had become a ritual of sorts. Get up, pace the cell, test the bars then hunker down by the wall again. He did the latter and began to use his keys to scrape away at the wall where the steel bars were embedded. Progress was slow but it was the only means of escape he’d been able to come up with and it kept him sane in this insane situation.

  A distant sound caught his attention. His captor was coming for a visit, hopefully with food. Footsteps approached, a door squeaked opened. He put his keys in his pocket and stepped away from where he’d been working on the wall. Not that his captor ever appeared to care.

  There was a rustling of material as the witch approached wearing long robes. His inner animal raised its head, sniffing the air, a low grumble sounding from deep within. The overhead lights flared and he squinted in the sudden brightness…

  Gwyn looked up from her computer screen and cocked her heard. The front door of the club was opening. That was strange. She knew the door was locked. It was over two hours before Mystique opened for business. A smile brightened her face, thinking maybe it was Matt. He’d been missing for the past few days now and she’d been getting worried despite Rudy’s suggestion that Matt was in solitary mourning over their break up. If so, it was a good thing she’d ended the relationship. She had nothing to give him beyond friendship and sex, and even that wouldn’t last for much longer.

  After ten years of running the bar, her time here was coming to a close. It was one of the drawbacks of living for so long. She aged so slowly that after a while people began to notice. Another few years and she’d have to close up shop and move on.

  She pushed back her chair and stood, planning to talk to Matt before the rest of the staff started to arrive. Surprisingly, Sherman jumped off the filing cabinet, gave a pleased meow and hurried from the office into the main part of the club. It struck her as unusual since the cat had never shown a particular attachment to Matt before. Sherman treated everyone with an equal amount of disdain. Perhaps, absence really did make the heart grow fonder.

  As she traversed the few feet that separated her office from the main part of the club, the sound of a soft, husky laugh drifted towards her and she paused. Not Matt, but Dante. The dog must have picked the lock as payback for her breaking into his room the other day.

  Pausing in the doorway, she folded her arms. “You know. It would serve you right if I sent a chair crashing down on your head. That’s what I would usually do with an intruder.”

  He looked up from petting Sherman, the cat perched on top of the bar. “If you did that, you might injure your cat.”

  A scowl settled on her face. “Do you have a comeback for everything?”

  “Pretty much.”

  She walked over to where he stood. “Are you bribing my cat with tuna?”

  “Crab.” Dante showed her the tiny container he held.

  “Any particular reason?”

  “I like cats.” He set the remaining food on the ground.

  “Unusual preference for a dog.”

  “Dog? Are we back to that again after all we’ve shared?”

  Her mouth turned downward. She’d been hoping he wouldn’t mention that. “Nothing has changed. We kissed. It was a mistake.”

  “Is that really how you feel?” There was no mocking in his voice. It seemed to be a genuine question.

  “I…” She wasn’t sure what to say. The sincerity in his gaze tugged at something inside her.

  He stepped closer and she could feel the energy between them. When he reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, she struggled not to lean in to his touch. “There’s something between us, Gwyneth.”

  “I don’t like—”

  “Lycans. I know. There are some I don’t like either. I can say the same about humans, the Fae and even witches.” He shrugged. “Blaming a whole race for the actions of one is pretty narrow-minded for someone as intelligent as you.”

  She looked away. It wasn’t a new argument.

  He waited a beat and then continued. “You’re a stubborn woman, Gwyneth, but well worth the effort. In the meantime…” With one finger on her chin, he urged her to look his way. A small gift-wrapped package rested in his hand. “Happy birthday.”

  “What?”

  “It’s your birthday.”

  “How did you know? Oh wait. You said you did a background check.”

  “Correct and I still find it curiously bland.”

  “That’s your problem, not mine.”

  “I will learn your secrets, Gwyneth.”

  Something about his tone made her nervous which was ridiculous. She could protect herself from a snoopy Lycan. It was well within her powers and yet the idea of hexing him put a knot in her stomach.

  He touched her shoulder gently. “Please, take this.” He extended the gift to her. “It would be remiss of me to forget to acknowledge your special day.”

  “I…er…thank you.” She took the package he’d pressed on her and stared at it.

  “Go ahead. Open it.”

  She placed the small box on the bar and then flicked him a glance out of the corner of her eye.

  He chuckled. “I assure you it isn’t a bomb or a snake or a poisonous spider.”

  With care, she pulled the tail of the bow and then gently lifted the ribbon.

  “I’d have taken you for the kind that rips off the wrapping paper.”

  “I used to be.”

  “And?”

  “Now I’m not. It’s a new me. More restrained.” She lifted the lid and pushed the soft layer of cotton away, only to gasp. It was the opal neckla
ce.

  “Why?” She looked at him, not trying to hide her confusion.

  “The minute I saw it, I knew it had to belong to you. I bought it so no one else could have it.”

  “Oh.” She struggled for words and he gave a crooked smile.

  “Turn around.” He took the necklace from the box and placed it around her neck. “I knew exactly how it would look on you.” Taking her by the shoulders he led her over to the mirror behind the bar and moved a few bottles of liquor out of the way. “See?”

  She stared at her reflection. The opal stood out in dark contrast to the pale skin of her upper chest, the jewel showing flashes of dark red with every breath she took. Raising her eyes, she observed Dante as he stood behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. His gaze caught and held hers as he bent his head and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

  “Beautiful.” He breathed the word near her ear and it sent a shiver of awareness down her spine.

  “Yes, it is.” She touched the gem and then shook her head. “But I can’t accept it.” When she would have raised her hands to the clasp he caught them and moved them away.

  “Yes, you can. You wanted it but it’s bad luck to buy an opal for yourself. I’m saving you from yourself.”

  “A few days ago, I went back to the store to buy it.”

  “And cussed a blue streak when you saw it wasn’t there.”

  She laughed. “You know me too well.” The fact that he found her temper a source of amusement rather than annoying was a point in his favour. However… “I’m sorry but I can’t accept this.”

  “Please? It’s not often I have a chance to bestow a gift on someone.”

  “And why is that?” She admired the opal again.

  He shrugged. “My line of work doesn’t lend itself to building close friendships.”

  She studied him in the mirror. There was a loneliness lurking in his eyes and it tugged at her, reminding her of her own life. He’d been pleased to offer her the gift but…

  Perhaps he read her thoughts for his expression brightened. “What about an exchange?”