Betrayed: Days of the Rogue (37 page)

Damien knew Rafe was worried about
Eve being around a
dangerous
rogue. In fact, it still
surprised him that he hadn’t been kicked out of Rafe’s territory.
Perhaps Rafe
had
made a complaint call to Lycan Link, and
the captain had somehow intercepted it before Rogue Retrieval got
it. He chuckled thinking of Rafe calling Captain Fielding,
expecting to easily get rid of the rogue that had wandered into his
life, while the other man made excuse after excuse to keep him
there. Yeah, that’s likely what had happened. Fielding needed him
in Grassy Hills.

Eight months ago, Reno and the
captain had charged him with doing some off the record research
dealing with the connection between a string of Fae killings and
rogues. As they’d explained it to him, there were an increasing
number of rogues turning into killers, and the victims were all
Fae. Brad Owen had discovered the connection, when doing a series
of security checks on the computer systems, and shared the
information with them. Since it appeared several persons within
Lycan Link were responsible for coordinating the murders, who to
trust became an issue, and they’d decided to launch their own
private investigation.

He’d done the research as
requested, and what he’d discovered had been hard to swallow. Yet,
sharing all of the information would only drive the Anti-Fae
underground until the bastards developed a new scheme. And so he’d
filtered the data, producing enough to keep Reno and Fielding from
becoming suspicious while continuing on with his other agenda. He
hated the double life he was leading, but what else could he
do?

“Stay alert and think on your feet,
Masterson.” Those were Captain Fielding’s instructions to him.
“There’s a pattern here in among all this random data. Look at this
map.” He’d jabbed his finger at a map of the continent covered with
an array of dots, some of which were connected with zigzagging
lines. “We’re using this and the location of known Fae to try to
project where the next killing will be.”

“We’ll send you, and a few others
we can trust, to guard the Fae we’re projecting might be next on
the list.” Reno had explained. “Hopefully, we’ll strike it lucky
and get it right the first time. If not,” he’d firmed his lips and
rumbled in frustration, “we’ll reposition you and try again. It’s a
crap shoot, but at the moment it’s all we’ve got.”

“They’re using the rogues somehow
so that’s why you’re our best bet. Someone might approach you. If
they offer you money to act as an assassin, fall in with it and get
a message to us.”

The captain’s last instruction had
been too close to the truth for comfort.

“For you, Beth. I’m doing this for
you.” Damien whispered the words as he stared down at his hands.
Would they ever feel clean again, or would he always see them
covered in red? The first few times, he hadn’t been thinking beyond
the need for revenge. Fighting, killing; it had given vent to the
rage inside. Only after the fact had he started to question, to
wonder if the path he’d chosen was as right and just as he’d been
led to believe.

He could hear Beth’s voice in his
head; see her looking at him, her eyes wide and reproachful. She’d
been wiser than him, thinking deeply about issues. Beth had seen
the shades of grey when he’d only seen black and white. Closing his
eyes, he swallowed hard and shook his head. He’d failed Beth, once.
When she’d needed him the most, he’d arrived too late. Just as he’d
been too late so many other times since. Would he be too late now
to change the course of events for Eve?

He remained crouched for long
minutes, waiting and watching. In her car, Eve turned a page and
then another. Occasionally she checked her watch or glanced about
and then rearranged how she was sitting, but for the most part her
activities were unremarkable.

From his screened position, Damien
had a perfect view of her. He studied the curve of her cheek, the
angle of her nose. Her pale blonde hair continually fell forward,
and she tucked it absentmindedly behind her ear. To look at her,
one would think she was the typical girl next door. Pretty, yet not
extraordinarily so. It was her smile and her clear blue eyes that
drew a person to her, giving her an other-worldly allure, as if she
saw things and knew secrets that no one else did. And most likely
that was the case, given the fact that she was Fae.

His Beth had been part Fae, too,
though her werewolf genes had been dominant. Still, Beth had always
seemed to sense things that lay below the surface. Hadn’t she told
him, long before the fact, that Reno and Brandi would end up
together? And their baby, she’d known the very day she’d
conceived.

“Your seed is growing inside me.”
She’d whispered the words in his ear, early one morning after a
night of bone melting sex. He’d awakened to see her leaning over
him, her long hair falling about them like a curtain.

Snaking his arm around her waist,
he’d pulled her on top of him, loving the feel of her slight
weight. “Really? How do you know?” His brain had still been half
asleep, and the part that was awake had other interests. He’d
kissed her while arranging their bodies, and with a contented sigh
had slid into her hot welcoming depths. Nothing was better than
morning sex.

“You’re a horn dog.” She’d blushed
and giggled as she used the slang term. Always so prim and proper,
she sometimes tried to match his use of language. It was
adorable.

“And you love it.” Encouraging her
to brace herself by putting her hands on his shoulders, he’d set up
a gentle rocking rhythm. “So what’s this about my seed?”

Beth had traced her finger over his
brow and beamed down at him. “We made a child last night.” Her
statement had him freezing in place, and she’d laughed softly.
“That got your attention.” She’d begun to raise and lower herself,
picking up where he’d left off.

“But… How can you know for sure?
Doesn’t it take a few weeks…?” Her announcement had taken him
completely by surprise.

“I just know. I can sense it. Our
child is going to be a strong empath.” A look of love and pride had
glowed on her face.

“An empath.” He’d murmured the
words as he’d stared at her belly. Somewhere in the back of his
mind, he’d acknowledged that the fact would bring its own set of
problems. If he’d only known how soon though…

Few knew the full extent of Beth’s
mixed heritage. She was half Lycan, one quarter human and one
quarter Fae. Early in their relationship, he’d cautioned her about
mentioning the Fae genes she carried. Being partly human already
meant she would face some prejudices; he dealt with that every day
in his battle against the Purists. But adding Fae genetics to the
mixture would be even harder for some Lycans to accept.

Beth had been so warm and trusting.
He should have emphasized the danger to her even more. If he had,
she might not have told the lab tech when she went for the baby’s
first ultrasound. And if the lab tech hadn’t written the
information down…

His house had exploded the next
day, killing their unborn child and his mate. Eventually, he’d
learned why, and who, and that was what had sent him down the road
he now travelled. He recalled his first meeting with his current
employer…

Deirdre had studied him from behind
her desk, her gaze sliding up and down the length of him before
she’d shifted her attention to the man beside her.

“You’ve check him out
thoroughly?”

The man—Petrus—had recruited him.
“Yes. He’s what he claims to be. And,” the man rubbed his jaw,
faint bruising still showing from where it had been dislocated
during a ‘misunderstanding’ the two of them had had, “he has the
needed skills.”

“So I’ve heard.” Deirdre had turned
and considered him again. “So you like to fight?”

He’d shrugged and shoved his hands
in his pockets, idly looking around the office that Petrus had
brought him to. Gleaming wood floors, a plush area rug in front of
a white fireplace. Through the windows he could see the row of
trees that flanked the long winding drive. “I don’t go looking for
trouble. If there’s a reason, I won’t back down.”

“Ever kill anyone?” She’d leaned
back in her chair and steepled her fingers. Her eyes were almost as
black as her hair, her face as calm as if she’d just asked if he’d
ever picked a flower.

He’d stiffened not liking the
direction the conversation appeared to be taking. “Listen, I don’t
have time to put up with bullshit. Your flunky here said you might
have a job for me—”

She’d interrupted him. “I’ll take
that as a yes. All in the line of duty, of course.” Casting him a
mocking glance, she’d picked up a file from her desk and opened
it.

“Damien Masterson. Academy
graduate. Ex-Enforcer. Was a member of the ACS. Impressive.” She’d
flicked a look at him before continuing. “Your mate’s name was
Beth. She was pregnant with your first child when she was
murdered.”

“Murdered?” He’d felt the blood
drain from his face. Beth had died in a house explosion, a natural
gas leak. At least… He’d lowered his brows, his thoughts racing.
Something had always seemed off about that scenario even though it
was listed as the cause in the official police report. Vague
snatches of conversations he’d heard while in and out of
consciousness in the hospital drifted by and he felt his heart
begin to pound.

“Hmm…the child was going to be part
Fae; at least that’s what was reported by the lab tech…” Deirdre
had barely cast a glance at him as she’d continued reading the
report. “Confidential information, of course, but somehow Lycan
Link, in all its efficiency, allowed it to be leaked to members of
the Anti-Fae Coalition. Are you familiar with them?” She’d closed
the file and looked up at him, her lips pursed in obviously feigned
concern. “Oh dear, you look upset. Didn’t you know?”

Violent rage had filled him, and
he’d lunged at her, his only thought to give vent his feelings, to
wipe the mocking look off her face. How dare she make jokes about
the death of his family!

“Petrus!” She hadn’t even flinched,
merely arching a brow and the man beside her had grabbed him just
before he’d launched himself over the top of the mahogany desk.

With Petrus holding him back, he’d
stared at her unable to believe what he’d heard yet somehow it was
as if he’d always known. He just hadn’t wanted to admit…

“Revenge, Damien.” Deirdre had
stood up and circled around the desk, her calm voice a stark
contrast to the turmoil within him. “Would you like to get revenge
against those that killed your mate? To spill their blood and see
them dead at your feet? To make them pay for all that they’ve taken
from you?”

He’d struggled to free himself from
Petrus, and at Deirdre’s nod the man had let go and stepped
back.

“What are you talking about?” He’d
eyed Deirdre suspiciously as she’d sat on the edge of the desk in
front of him, her long legs casually crossed at the ankle. The
woman was beautiful in a cold, deadly sort of way, but he’d barely
noticed. His attention had been fixed on what she was saying.

“I have it within my power to help
you avenge Beth’s death.” She’d laughed when he’d snorted and
didn’t seem at all put out by his disbelief. “You’ll be free of the
fear of retribution from the authorities. And,” she held up a
finger to stop him when he would have spoken, “You’ll even be paid
for your work.”

He’d rolled his eyes, and she’d
slowly risen to her feet, stepping closer to him. Her voice became
persuasive, husky and low. “Think of it Damien. You can kill the
killers. Make them suffer as Beth suffered. Even save others who
are like Beth from the same fate.”

Her words had twined around him,
appealing to the rage and guilt that filled his soul.

“You’ve spent years capturing
Purists and taking them before High Council, but it was a bandage
solution, wasn’t it? How many of them were eventually set free to
continue to spread their poison?”

He’d clenched his jaw, thinking of
the times a technicality had prevented a conviction.

“And Lycan Link itself harbours
some of the filth; a leak in the system was the only way that
someone could have known about Beth and your baby.”

A growl had escaped him then, but
when Petrus would have stepped forward, Deirdre had waved him
back.

“Not all the answers can be found
in the Book of the Law, Damien. Sometimes the solution exists
outside the official structures of Lycan Link.”

By the end of the day, he’d signed
on with Deirdre, his only condition being that his sole focus was
action against the Anti-Fae. His wolf had balked at the
arrangement, but he’d pushed its protests aside and begun his new
career fired by rage and revenge.

Black ops, mercenaries, vigilantes;
the name of the organization was irrelevant. What mattered was that
the group, who now functioned as his handlers, were actually doing
something about the wrongs in the world. They infiltrated the
Anti-Fae and sent out information on their plans; they gave him the
data, and he acted upon it, eliminating his enemies one at a
time.

It wasn’t perfect. While he was
able to save some, other Fae still died, but at least their killers
met with a suitable fate.

Damien carefully rearranged how he
was sitting. Fae still died… That was the part he had difficulty
dealing with. By some perverse twist of fate Deirdre’s informants
supplied him with the name of the target and the date of the
attempt, but never the identities of the killers. He had to wait
and watch until the attempt was made. How many times had he cursed
himself for arriving too late or moving too slow to save the
innocent…

He glanced towards the car where
Eve sat. She was bait, a target he was purposely leaving undefended
in the hopes that a killer would appear. He’d established a reason
to be around her, befriended her and gained her trust, all so he
could be present when someone tried to kill her.