Betrayed: Days of the Rogue (27 page)

As the vehicle sped away, Rafe ran
his hand through his hair and exhaled noisily. Damien was right; he
felt like a bastard, too.

Damien drove with total disregard
for his own safety. In fact, if he managed to crash the truck and
kill himself, it would be all for the better. Who the hell did Rafe
think he was making a comment like that? Of course Eve wasn’t a
replacement for Beth. She was just…

He shook his head, unable to finish
the thought. How he felt about Eve was too difficult to explain.
She was like Beth, hauntingly so.

Our blood bond stirs in her
presence.
His inner wolf deigned to speak to him. It hummed in
approval as it recalled what it had been like to have a mate, to be
connected to another living creature in such a personal way. For a
moment the animosity between wolf and man was forgotten as they
shared a common memory.

He and Beth had gone for a drive
with no particular destination in mind. They’d travelled back
roads, explored antique shops and eventually ended up in a quiet
meadow with a pond. Pulling the picnic lunch they’d packed from the
backseat, he’d taken her by the hand and walked towards the shade
of a nearby tree. The late summer sun had made the afternoon warm
and bees had buzzed lazily about, the sweet smell of dried grass
drifting upward as they’d made to their destination.

He’d spread out a blanket to sit on
and Beth unpacked their simple meal; cheese and fresh rolls, fruit
and wine. Of course, the meal had been soon forgotten. Newly mated,
the need for her had been predominant in his mind.

“Damien,” she’d giggled as he’d
pushed her back on the blanket. “What about the food?”

“I’ve a different sort of hunger.”
He’d sat on his heels and grasped the hem of her sundress, easing
it up as he grinned down at her.

“But what if someone comes by?” She
pushed ineffectively at his hands as he stripped her bare.

“No one ever comes down this road.”
He’d leaned forward, brushing his nose over her stomach then up
between her breasts. She’d smelled of flowers and sunshine and him.
His mate, his bite mark on her neck, his scent mixed with hers.

His wolf had rumbled in approval
while urging him to claim her yet again. He’d listened to his inner
wolf, their minds of one accord. Beth was coming into heat and they
were eager to start a family…

A rabbit bolted across the road and
Damien swore, jerking the wheel as reality crashed down around him,
erasing the bittersweet memory. His wolf muttered its discontent
and faded into the background once again. It wanted nothing to do
with the scheme he was involved in.

Too bad, but he couldn’t allow Eve
to be anything more than a job. Something bigger was taking place
here, something that would help avenge Beth’s death. Yes, there
could be collateral damage; he’d always known that and tried to
accept it as a necessary evil. This wasn’t the time to start having
second thoughts.

A sharp turn required his attention
for a moment, but as soon as it was safely navigated, he was lost
in thought again. What was wrong with him? He was goading McRae
instead of lying low. And just now, he’d have shifted and gone for
the man’s jugular, if his wolf would have cooperated. Hell, even
his wolf was fucked up. It had wanted to fight McRae but wouldn’t
respond to a command unless it was in the mood to do so.

A state of cold war existed with
his wolf at the moment. It disapproved of him, his current path,
his past association with Lycan Link. The beast was of the opinion
that it should be in charge and making all the decisions, that the
loss of their mate was somehow his fault. His throat tightened at
the thought. Maybe the animal was right. And yet, hadn’t he’d tried
that route? For months he’d hidden, letting the creature have full
rein, but the cold, empty feeling had persisted. At least now he
was doing something, trying to make those responsible pay. However,
wresting control back from the wolf wasn’t easy. It balked and
pouted, contradicted and challenged…

Damien rubbed his eyes, keeping one
hand on the steering wheel. God, he was tired. He had no memory of
sleeping. But he must have, for morning had dawned and he’d found
himself sitting in a chair slumped over the kitchen table. Another
blackout; what was that a sign of? Were those the times his wolf
gained control? Or had exhaustion simply dulled his memory? Playing
both sides of the field was wearing.

The main road came into view, and
he slowed his speed, turning on to the highway towards town.
Traffic was light, but he drove carefully. No point in ruining
someone else’s life. He had enough on his conscience now, and would
likely have more before this was all over.

A small sign appeared on the side
of the road, happily welcoming him to Grassy Hills. A few neat
houses and several stores lined the street, citizens went about
their business. No one gave more than a passing glance to him as he
made his way through town. The two traffic lights barely slowed his
progress and the lumber yard soon came into view. He’d get the
supplies needed for the porch and then stop at the liquor store.
There was still some money in his pocket, and while human strength
whiskey wouldn’t get him drunk, it would help numb him to the mess
he was in.

And maybe, if there was any mercy
in the world, he’d get the signal he’d been waiting for and be
finished with this once and for all. Strange how revenge wasn’t as
sweet as he’d been promised it would be.

Chapter 24

Reno waited, hands behind his back,
as the head guard keyed in the numbers that would open the cell
door. There was a faint chime, announcing the correct sequence had
been entered, and then the steel panel slid open.

“Wait in the hallway.” Reno raised
an eyebrow when the guard would have protested. The man hesitated
and then nodded, taking a stance up directly across from the open
entrance way. Four other armed guards flanked him, each staring
straight ahead, expressionless yet ready to act if the prisoner
inside should somehow dare to use this opportunity to attempt an
escape.

“Company? Now who could be calling
at this hour?” The smooth tones of Victor Hadsund floated out of
the solitary confinement cell, and Reno took a deep, calming breath
before stepping into the small enclosure. He hadn’t set eyes on the
man in over a year, not since the final trial date when he’d been
sentenced to life in confinement for treason. Now he eyed the
dethroned Alpha lounging on the small cot with curiosity.

Confinement didn’t suit Victor. His
face was lined, his colouring poor. Strands of silver showed among
his blond hair, while his ill-fitting clothing revealed his
exercise regime wasn’t sufficient to maintain optimum muscle tone.
Despite that, the man still had the same arrogant tilt to his chin,
his thin lips formed into a slight sneer, and the light of
challenge gleamed in his pale blue eyes.

The reports had been accurate.
Despite having nearly died after being buried under the collapsed
conveyor, Victor’s spirit wasn’t broken, nor was he showing any
signs of remorse or change in conviction. Reno wouldn’t have
believed the reports even if they’d said otherwise.

The two men eyed each other before
finally Victor huffed in amusement. “A social call? Come to discuss
the good old days?”

Reno didn’t answer, merely snagging
the leg of a chair with his foot and pulling it closer. Turning the
seat around, he sat down, folded his arms on the backrest, and
stared at the man across the room.

Victor slowly sat up, swinging his
legs to the floor, and stretching them out in front of him. He
casually crossed his ankles. “So talkative,” he mocked. “I still
can’t imagine what Brandi saw in you. Mind you, she wasn’t that
clever, though definitely a looker.” Lowering his voice to a
conspiratorial tone, he continued. “Is she as good a fuck as I
imagined her to be?”

A snarl ripped from Reno’s throat
and he surged to his feet, the chair tipping over with a loud
clatter. Immediately, the guards were at the door.

“Everything all right, sir?”

Reno exhaled loudly and nodded. His
jaw was so tightly clenched he’d be surprised if he hadn’t cracked
a molar. “Everything is fine. Return to your post.”

The guard eyed how Reno was flexing
his fingers, and then looked at Victor who was laughing softly. “If
you say so, sir.”

When the man left the room, Victor
grinned. “I knew you couldn’t be as cool as you were trying to act.
The great Reno Smith was never known for his calm demeanour.”

“If you so much as speak Brandi’s
name again, I’ll rip your throat out.”

“Tsk, tsk, Reno. Is that any way to
gain my cooperation? I assume you must want something if you went
to all the trouble to arrange a meeting.”

Reno bent and righted the chair,
never taking his eyes off of Victor. Once he was seated again, he
began to explain his purpose. “You’re still involved with the
Purists.”

Victor held out his hands. “But
how? I’m confined within these four walls except for exercise
periods. I spend my days reading and contemplating repentance.”

“It wasn’t a question. I know you
have your sources, and at this moment I don’t really care who or
what they are. All I want is information.”

Dropping his innocent act, Victor
shrugged. “Which I may or may not choose to share.” He brushed at
his pants as if removing a speck of dust.

Reno simply stared.

Victor finally slid a sideways
glance towards his visitor. “Information about what?”

“The Fae. Some group is trying to
eliminate them. Sound familiar?”

“You believe the Purists are behind
this?”

“It would seem to match your
agenda.”

“Not really. I’m concerned with the
purity of Lycan blood. Annoying as the Fae are, I’ve never been
concerned with them unless they mated with a Lycan. And even then,
at least they’re from the gods.” He gave a sniff. “It’s a slight
step up from human filth contaminating the blood line.”

Reno considered what he’d just
heard. “
You’ve
never been concerned… But what about the
organization as a whole?”

“That’s hard to say. The Purist
organization circles the globe. Some branches might concern
themselves with the distinction between shifters and non-shifters.”
Victor stared down at his hand and checked his fingernails. His
tone struck Reno as being overly casual. The man knew
something.

“Are there members of such a
‘branch’ operating locally?”

Victor cocked his head to the side.
“How much is the information worth?”

“I’ll let you live.” Reno curled
his lips and showed his teeth.

“There’s nothing you can do to me
here.” Victor complacently folded his hands on his stomach. He was
developing a bit of a paunch. “High Council might have taken away
my freedom, but even the confined have basic rights. You can’t lay
a hand on me.”

A rumble rose in Reno’s chest. The
man was right, dammit. “What do you want?”

“A woman and a steak dinner every
day.”

Reno snorted.

Victor chuckled. “It was worth a
try. Let’s say… An extra twenty minutes of exercise each day.”

“Five.”

“Fifteen.”

“Ten.” Knowing that he was actually
bargaining with such scum made him want to puke.

The corners of Victor’s mouth
formed a self-satisfied smile and he nodded. “Ten it is. What do
you want to know?”

“Who’s directing the local group?
Who’s their next target? How are they carrying out the
assassinations?”

“So many questions.” Victor pursed
his lips, then shook his head. “I can’t tell you who’s directing
the group or who the members are. They don’t exchange names and
never meet face to face.”

“That’s not going to win you extra
exercise time.” Reno warned.

“Sorry, that’s the way they
operate. I can tell you that their next target depends on the
location of the assassin. When a Fae is located within an
assassin’s vicinity, they act. It’s all based on chance.”

“Chance? Not very efficient.”

“They like to believe that they are
guided by the ancient gods; that divine inspiration comes to them
during a full moon. If the gods choose to place a Fae within the
vicinity of an assassin then it’s the gods’ will that particular
Fae should die.” Victor casually reached over and took a sip of
water before continuing. When he did there was a certain mocking
tone to his voice. “It’s all very deep and spiritual.”

Reno barely kept himself from
rolling his eyes and focussed on the important point. “And who are
these assassins?”

Victor gave a faint smile. “The
rogues, naturally. Such unstable beasts; Lycan society really is
better off without them.” He took another sip of water and
carefully placed the plastic tumbler back on the small bedside
shelf.

“Rogues.” A sick feeling churned in
Reno’s stomach as Victor confirmed what he already knew. When Brad
had first noticed the correlation between the dates and locations
of murdered Fae and the deployment of Rogue Retrieval, it had
seemed a strange coincidence. But when it turned out that each
rogue had been involved in a murder, warning bells had immediately
sounded in his head. As a man who’d battled rogue tendencies all
his life, he had an affinity to those who lost the fight. There was
something off about the whole scenario, however. He just hadn’t
figured out what. “How do they convince the rogues to cooperate?
Are they paying them, or what?”

Victor rubbed his chin
thoughtfully. “Do rogues really need money? Now there’s a
question.”

“Hadsund, I don’t have time for
games.”

“No? How unfortunate. It’s rather
dull here and I do appreciate a good battle of wits.”

Reno growled a warning.

“Very well.” Victor sighed.
“Consider this; is it possible to make a rogue behave? To guarantee
it does as you wish? Or do you have to manipulate circumstances so
that it appears—”