The Road to Redemption (43 page)

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.

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.

“I’m sorry to
bother you Sam, but… Do you have a moment?”

“Sure.” She
set down the pen she’d been using to sign the monthly reports. That
was one change, she thought idly. Now that she was officially
listed as Alpha there was no need to get her grandfather to initial
the paperwork. “Is there something wrong with my grandfather?”

She’d avoided
her grandfather as much as possible since the challenge, a short
weekly visit was all she could handle right now. The knowledge that
he’d once supported The Cause still didn’t sit well with her.

Florence
settled down on the edge of the chair and folded her hands neatly
in her lap. “Your grandfather’s well. He wishes you’d stop in and
visit more often, though.”

“Has he said
that?”

“No, not in so
many words.”

“I didn’t
think so.” Sam gave a bitter smile. “You know, I used to wonder why
he never hugged me. I assumed he was just reserved. I never
imagined it was because I didn’t meet his standards of purity.”

“Now, Sam,
don’t be like that.” Florence shook her head. “He’s the same man he
was before you found out about him being part of The Cause. He
really does miss you.”

“Right.” Sam
got to her feet and made a show of filing some papers. “I’m quite
sure he doesn’t miss having my impure self around.”

“That was
years ago. He was young—”

“Did you know
him back then?” Sam interrupted, partly to change the topic and
partly out of curiosity. She’d never asked much about Flo’s past,
the woman had just always been there in the background, quietly
doing her duty.

“I did. I’ve
known him all my life. I even had a crush on him as a young teen
but he chose your grandmother. She was a much more suitable
candidate for an Alpha’s mate than I was.”

“That must
have been hard, watching the two of them together.”

Florence
shrugged. “It was for the good of the pack, as your
great-grandfather pointed out.”

“My
great-grandfather?”

She nodded.
“He made sure the two of them met. For your grandmother, it was
love at first sight; your grandfather was a handsome devil in his
day.” She smiled at the memory.

“And how did
my grandfather feel about the match?”

“If he had his
doubts he kept them to himself. Being Alpha was his calling and he
did what he had to do.”

“Duty. It’s
one of his favourite words.” Sam thought of her tattoo; was she
going to be like him as she grew older?

“It is.”
Florence picked at the material of her sweater before sliding a
look up at her. “But duty doesn’t keep you warm at night or hold
your hand when you grow old.”

“Come
again?”

“Learn from
his mistakes, Sam.”

“You’d better
not be hinting that he has a ‘suitable’ mate lined up for me!”

“No. He cares
too much for you to do that.”

“He cares
whether or not I’m a good Alpha. He wouldn’t want the family name
to be tarnished.”

“He paid to
keep you safe from The Cause all these years.”

“Safe? Or was
it that I’m his only heir and he had to keep me alive so the family
name didn’t die out?” She shut the filing cabinet drawer with more
force than necessary.

“Believe what
you will.” Flo got to her feet, likely realizing she was arguing a
lost cause. “I can see you’re as stubborn as he is.”

“Flo?”

“Yes?”

“Has he ever
told you he loves you?”

“No. He’s not
one to use the word; it’s the way he was raised, I suppose.” A
shadow passed over the woman’s face before she continued. “But I
love him, and I’ve waited for him while he’s done what he’s had to
do. He’s never said the words, but words aren’t always needed, Sam.
Someday, when you find your mate, you’ll understand.” She paused in
the doorway. “Try to visit him. Please. I…I don’t ask for much, but
this… It would mean a lot. Don’t make him pay for his sins
forever.”

Sam winced as
her own thoughts from a moment ago were unknowingly thrown back at
her. She nodded not knowing what to say and struck by the sadness
in the woman’s eyes, the tired lines on her face. Apparently her
grandfather’s happiness meant a lot to Florence.