The Road to Redemption (33 page)

“My Beta
killed Sam’s father and I killed my Beta. That’s the crux of
it.”

Damien froze
and turned his head to look at Harper. At least the abruptness of
the old man’s statement helped him to give the appearance of being
shocked. It wouldn’t do to let on that Marcello had basically told
him the whole tale earlier on in the day.

Harper nodded,
studying his reaction. “I don’t believe in beating around the bush.
Those are the facts.”

“I’m sure you
had your reasons.” The heat from the fireplace was searing his skin
and he concentrated on the papers he was gathering, eager to move
away from the crackling flames.

“Damned right.
Gary was my Beta for almost ten years. I knew he was ambitious, but
I trusted him. When my son came home from out West with his family
in tow, I expected Gary to be pleased that the heir to the Chicago
dynasty had finally seen the light and was ready to take his
rightful place.”

“But he
wasn’t.”

“Hell no,
though Gary was careful not to show it. Thing is, my son never
wanted to be Alpha; too much like his mother, rest her soul. We had
words over it more than once.” Samuel grew silent for a moment then
cleared his throat. “Apparently Gary had it in his head to take
over once I stepped down. But with my son home, he saw me urging
the boy to fill the position. He must have felt his chance was
slipping away so he took matters into his own hands. Pushed the boy
into the path of a train.”

“Clumsy of the
Beta to let you see this happen.” Damien was curious as to Harper’s
take on what had occurred.

“I didn’t
realize at first. In fact, it was a few years before I discovered
the truth. Once I did, I dealt with it the only way I could.”

Damien rose to
his feet, the papers in his hand. “It’s a tragic story, but not one
that would shock Sam.” There had to be more, Damien reasoned.
Something else happened that Harper wanted to keep from Sam,
something he didn’t want found in his private papers.

Harper pressed
his lips together and shook his head. “That’s the gist of it; all
you need to know anyway.”

Damien didn’t
contradict him, but in his gut he knew the man was lying.

“Did you find
what you’re looking for?” Harper held out his hand expectantly and
Damien handed over the pages that he’d flipped through. Thankfully,
during the initial confusion, the old man hadn’t noticed the files
they were returning.

“No. Perhaps
the pile over there?” He gestured towards a stack on the table near
the window.

Harper shook
his head “I’ll check those myself in the morning. And before you
start whining that Sam wants that report now, you can tell her
she’ll just have to wait. I’m still the Alpha here, and it won’t
make a hill of beans worth of a difference if Sinclair has to cool
his heels for a day or two.”

Whining?
Damien bit back the smile on his lips. He couldn’t ever remember
being accused of that. “I’ll pass the message along to Sam.”

“You do that.”
Harper began feeding pages into the fire again. “And send Flo back.
That dinner will be cold by now.”

Damien
hesitated. There was definitely something significant in the papers
that the old man wanted to keep buried. It wasn’t any of his
business, but Dante was and somehow Dante knew about the whole
debacle. “The room’s warm with the fireplace burning. Why don’t I
let some of the evening air in to help cool things down?” He moved
to the window and fiddled with the latch. Harper didn’t turn,
seeming to be lost in thought as he stared at the crackling
flames.

The files were
less than a foot away.

“I’m surprised
the house doesn’t have central air.” The distant sounds of traffic
spilled into the room as he pushed the window open. Damien used the
noise to cover his movements, quickly sliding random pages out of
various files, hoping they’d give him a general idea of what was
inside of each. If anything proved to be of interest, he’d find a
way to sneak back in and get the rest of them.

“Air
conditioning? Don’t need it. Bunch of wimps who can’t stand a bit
of hot weather, that’s what people are nowadays. Too damned
expensive to run, too.” The old man grumbled.

“True.” Damien
quietly folded the pages, and tucked them into his waistband before
pulling the edge of his shirt over top. He walked to the door.
“I’ll give Sam your message.”

“And send for
Florence.”

“Of course.”
Damien pulled the door shut, wondering at the relationship between
the two. Not mates, but more than patient and caregiver. Flo had a
look about her when she was with the old man.

Intent on
heading to his room to read over the papers he’d purloined, a sound
from below had him pausing on the landing. From his vantage point
he could see the front door. Sam was holding her leather jacket,
seeming to test the weight in her hand, her face a study of
indecision.

“Not sure if
it’s yours?” He couldn’t resist the teasing comment.

“Hmm?” She
looked up at him. “No. I was going to go for a ride, but I’m having
second thoughts. My head’s pounding.” She shrugged. I think I’ll
sit on the porch instead.”

“Good idea.”
He paused. The weary set of her shoulders tugged at him. “I’ll join
you in a minute, if you don’t mind. I just need to send Florence to
see your grandfather.”

She gave a
barely perceptible nod and opened the front door, disappearing into
the darkness.

Damien headed
to his room and tossed the papers on his bed. Why he’d said he’d
join her, he had no idea. He should be reading through these
papers, not sitting on a porch wasting his time. Yet, even as he
pointed out the folly of his choice, his feet were taking him
downstairs. A quick stop to deliver the message to Florence and
then he made his way outside.

The porch was
in darkness, the sun having set some time ago. Damien’s eyesight
quickly adjusted to the change in lighting, locating Sam sitting on
the porch swing. Her head was propped up by her hand, purplish
smudges showing under her closed eyes. He hadn’t taken much notice
of how she looked earlier, but with her guard down, it was easy to
see her weariness. Was it the strain of being Alpha, or worrying
about the takeover that was taking its toll on her?

Or
, his
wolf whispered,
our relationship
?

We don’t have
a relationship, he silently countered.

His wolf
sniffed and raised a brow.
Liar. There’s something between us.
We just haven’t figured out what it is.

Damien
scowled, not wanting to be reminded of the conflict that raged
inside him.

He walked
across the porch, his steps sounding on the wooden planks. “Mind if
I sit down?”

“Would it
matter if I did?” She opened one eye and peered at him.

A smile tugged
at the corner of his mouth. She always had a comeback.

“Maybe.” He
sat down anyway, the swing creaking a bit under his added
weight.

She didn’t
reply.

Using his
foot, he set the swing into a gentle rhythm, the newly repaired
chains and moorings silently doing their job. It was peaceful, just
sitting there, the occasional passing vehicle or the sound of
distant voices punctuating the chirring of night insects. Damien
inhaled deeply and sighed, relaxing into the seat.

The scents of
the city intermingled with hints of the approaching autumn; drying
grass, the mustiness of leaves beginning to decay, the sweet smell
of ripe fruit from the apple tree out back. He chuckled softly
thinking of how their apple picking had gone the other day.

“What?” Sam
turned her head to look at him.

“Nothing. Just
thinking about apples.” He slid his eyes sideways to look at
her.

A grin slowly
spreading across her face. “You looked damn funny with that apple
on your head.”

“Glad I could
amuse you.”

They shared a
brief smile, neither spoiling the moment by bringing up the fight
they’d had afterwards.

Sam let out a
gentle sigh. In contrast to the heat of the day, the night air was
cooler and damp. A cold front was predicted to be moving in,
bringing a storm that would finally break the unseasonably hot
spell. Already the beginnings of a breeze were stirring the leaves
and causing goose bumps to rise on her skin. The heat generating
off Damien’s body made the chill of her own that much more
noticeable. She shivered and rubbed her arms wishing she’d worn her
coat rather than leaving it on the newel post.

Much to her
surprise, Damien shifted closer and moved his arm so it rested
across the back of the swing near her shoulders. Despite his
behaviour in the cellar, he must have at least one chivalrous bone
in his body. His warmth wrapped around her, comforting and secure.
Briefly she thought of moving away, denying what might be seen as a
weakness, but then went with the moment. She relaxed her muscles,
surprised that she’d been holding herself that tense.

Neither spoke.
He continued to rock the swing gently. Eventually, his fingers
began to play with the hair at her nape, occasionally brushing over
her skin. The fleeting contact sent frissons of awareness through
her and she twitched her shoulders.

“Still
cold?”

“No.
My…er…shoulder muscles are tight.”

Damien gave a
grunt and pushed on her shoulder, turning her so her back was to
him. “I’m pretty good at this.” He dug his thumbs into her muscles,
probing and pressing on the knots.

“Hmm…” Sam
gave a moan of relief as the tight muscles began to relax. “You
are
good.”

“Thanks. I
used to do this all the time for my—”

“Don’t say
it.” She reached back and laid her hand on his thigh. He was going
to mention his mate again and she really didn’t want to spoil the
harmony between them.

Damien paused
his ministrations. In the window, she could just make out his
reflection. His mouth had tightened. Sam was sure she could see him
swallow hard as he closed his eyes briefly before giving a sigh and
continuing to work the kinks out of her muscles.

“Sorry.” She
whispered the apology, feeling mean-spirited and selfish. The man
had obviously adored his mate. What right did she have to want to
intrude, to force him to abandon his cherished memories? Love and
devotion should be celebrated, even encouraged. And yet, she was
drawn to him, wanted him to choose her.

“Sam…” He
stilled the movement of his hands. They rested on her shoulders,
the heat generating from them soaking into her flesh.

“Yes?” She
kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, ignoring his reflection in
favour of studying the peeling paint on the window frame.

“I… I like
you.” The words seemed to be forced from his throat, harsh, as if
spoken against his will.

“Thanks.” She
wet her lips and then dared to ask. “Is that you or your wolf
talking?”

“The wolf…and
me.” He gave a rueful laugh. “We both find you…interesting.”

She nodded.
“My wolf…and I…feel the same way about you.”

He squeezed
her shoulders gently and then she felt the faintest brush of warm
moisture on the back of her neck as if he’d run his lips over her
nape. Her heart started to pound faster, warmth washing over her as
she recalled his kisses from the previous day and where they had
led.

“Duty…strength…” She felt him trace over the words and her stomach
fluttered as she wondered where this would lead. Should she push
for more? Last time she had they’d ended up having sex, yet it
hadn’t brought them any closer together. “Your grandfather was a
wise man when he said these were important qualities for an
Alpha.”

Sam forced
herself not to twist her fingers into fists. Don’t give anything
away she told herself. Keep it light. Clearing her throat, she
asked, “Did you find the missing report in grandfather’s
papers?”

“No.” His
breath teased her ear and she could feel him inhaling deeply,
taking in her scent. “He had a few more files that he said he’d go
through.”

“It’s okay. I
was getting worked up over nothing. Even without that one report, I
have enough evidence to convince Lycan Link that Sinclair is
talking out of his ass.”

“Probably.”

He’d been
brushing his thumbs over her shoulders, but he abruptly stopped and
removed his hands. She could sense him pulling back, both
emotionally and physically. What had caused the sudden change? She
quickly reviewed her last statement yet found nothing about it to
warrant his retreat.

The cool night
air filled the space between their bodies, emphasizing the distance
between them. Hell and damnation, how had she let herself fall
under his spell again? Damien liked her, but he’d spoken of nothing
deeper. It was wishful thinking on her part that he was hinting at
anything more.

Suck it up,
she told herself. You don’t always get what you want in life. She’d
learned that at a young age.

Sam stood up
and rolled her shoulders, forcing her tone to be light and
detached. “Thanks. That feels better.”

“Headache
gone?”

“Pretty
much.”

“Good.” Damien
stood as well, the movement bringing him into close proximity
again. She took half a step back denying the awareness that sparked
between them.

“I’d…er…better
get inside. There are a few things I need to finish in the
office.”

“Yeah. I have
some things I need to do, too.” He flicked a glance at her, then
looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets.

To keep from
touching her? The idea was intriguing, but she didn’t allow herself
to explore it. She was trying to be noble, after all. “See you in
the morning.”

“Night,
Sam.”

“Night.” She
went inside and pulled the door shut behind her. Through the
window, she could see him standing on the steps staring up at the
sky. Was he looking for inspiration? Talking to his dead mate? Or
simply admiring the constellations? It didn’t matter. Damien was
her Beta and, unless he did an about face, that was likely all he’d
ever be.