Redeemed (8 page)

Evan cringed. He couldn’t stand the thought of a fellow wolf shifter making and distributing drugs, especially experimental drugs used to keep people malleable. How many others were being drugged?

Evan had spent countless hours, days, and weeks tracking other missing shifters. He’d interviewed numerous parents of recently mated couples to see if other young girls were unaccounted for. He wanted to know if there was anyone else out there under the influence of these drugs. It was grueling work because of the nature of their species. It wasn’t uncommon for newly mated wolves to take off together. There could be any number of families out there who didn’t realize their sister, daughter, or cousin was actually being drugged and held against her will rather than having been claimed voluntarily.

So far only one family seemed to believe with certainty that their daughter may also have been a victim. It was promising, but had led to nothing but dead ends. Allison Watkins. Her parents, Geoff and Holly, had only heard from her a few times since The Gathering nine months ago. They were worried and informed The Council at Evan’s urging.

Where the hell was Allison? And why did her story sound eerily familiar?

Evan didn’t believe Damon had snatched Allison because nine months ago he’d still been with Ashley. The chances he’d been involved were slim. The idea made Evan shake until he lay back against the mattress in attempt to relieve his muscles. Who took Allison then? And how widespread was this drug problem?

He closed his eyes and pictured the sweet face of Ashley behind his lids. He swallowed around the lump that formed in his throat every time he thought about her. He needed her. Perhaps more than he had before he’d confronted her. Did she suffer as much as him?

He was beginning to doubt the adage that time and distance would ease the pain. Each day his chest hurt worse and he lost more of his ability to concentrate on anything but her memory. If she’d been dead, that would have been another story. But his mate was alive and well, hiding out in her parents’ home from a boogeyman Evan intended to catch.

•●•

Damon stuffed his duffle bag hastily for the umpteenth time in months. Years, really. Why couldn’t he shake these bastards off his trail? He was careful. He always fled with nothing but what he could carry. He never left a trace as far as he was concerned. He took a bus most of the time to avoid using any identification.

Hell, he even used throw-away cell phones he smashed repeatedly and left behind with each move, ditching them in a public trash can.

“Motherfucking assholes,” he muttered to himself.
If Ashley’s damn family hadn’t intervened, this never would have happened
. Why couldn’t those fools have left well enough alone? If the bitch had ever gotten pregnant and produced some cubs for him, she’d have been much more inclined to stay by his side.

But no, Ashley had been stronger willed than he’d ever suspected when he’d first laid eyes on her. She’d fought him every step of the way and had never been the docile pleasant wench he’d been guaranteed the injections he’d given her would produce.

Now he was growing weary of all the moving around the country. It didn’t matter a fuck that he received a regular allowance in exchange for keeping his fucking mouth shut. He was bone tired from being on alert, and now he didn’t even have a woman in his life to take his aggravation out on.

If the fucking Romulus, his mysterious benefactor, didn’t come up with a new, more-agreeable mate for him soon, he had every intention of breaking any deal they thought they had with him and going it alone. They had stolen almost five years of his life with their fucking promises and demands.

When they had first shown up at his doorstep five years ago with a grandiose plan to make his life a field in paradise, he’d jumped at the idea. With no living relatives and no mate, their proposition seemed sound enough. He’d been separated from all other wolf shifters for over a decade. Not that he’d been hiding. Just that he hadn’t cared to attend the biennial Gathering and he’d lived quite far from any other shifters.

Damon zipped up the duffle with a jerk and stared at the second bag he carried everywhere he went. Maybe he should leave that motherfucking shit behind this time and make his own way in life. This particular existence wasn’t panning out well.

Surely he could go it alone and drop the fucking Romulus and their damn secrets and sleep better at night.

He plopped onto the bed and leaned his elbows on his knees, burring his head in his hands. That plan wouldn’t get him another mate, or return the one he had. Nope. He was fucking doomed to wait this out a little longer before he went rogue…more rogue than he already was.

After five years of working with these people, he still knew very little about them except they were very powerful with serious financial backing. Damon didn’t live well, for fuck’s sake, but he did live almost exclusively off the constant supply of money the Romulus sent him. Any odd jobs he managed to get in each location provided icing on the cake so he could enjoy life a bit.

Why they referred to themselves as the Romulus, he had no idea. He knew there were brothers, Romulus and Remus, in Roman mythology who were nursed by a wolf in infancy. It was a common story shifters learned as children. Many shifters believed Romulus and Remus were the predecessors of today’s wolf-shifting community. Eventually Romulus killed his brother. If this group was called the Romulus, was there a Remus also? He cackled to himself. Except for the first time two men had come to his door years ago, he’d never met personally with any of them. He wouldn’t be able to describe the individuals he’d initially met with if he tried. It had been so long.

One thing he did know, if he had it to do over again, he would never choose this path. It hadn’t been worth it. He’d been promised a fucking mate and offspring to start his own pack of which he would be the Alpha. King. He was hanging on by a thread now with more promises the Romulus were going to make everything right, providing him with a new mate and guaranteeing him things would go better with her.

He sighed. At this point he couldn’t decide if he was more pissed with the fucking Romulus for getting him into this nomad lifestyle, or that damn bitch Ashley for not complying with the game plan. No matter what involvement the Romulus had in his initial claiming of the bitch, she never respected him the way a mate should. His blood still boiled thinking about her fleeing him that day last year. Who the fuck did she think she was? She was his, damnit, and if he ever got the opportunity, he would remind her of this in no uncertain terms.

She would pay. The Romulus didn’t need to know his thoughts on Ashley. Hell, lately any ideas he had concerning his wayward mate were about the only thing he still held sacred. The Romulus seemed to have eyes everywhere. They fucking called him so often with relocation instructions he could barely lie down in one bed for more than a week at a time.

Motherfucker
.

It was time to go.

Backing through the small apartment, Damon glanced around in the usual manner, covering his bases as he had dozens of times in the past. He glanced out the window at the dead of night, verified no one was currently watching, and then slipped into the darkness and moved stealthily away from this latest existence in bum-fuck Indiana.

•●•

Ashley sat at her easel in the art studio her father had relegated to one half of the basement. It dawned on her she’d been holding her brush in the air for ages when her arm began to shake. A clean canvas rested in front of her but there was no paint on the brush. In fact, there was no paint on her pallet.

She relaxed her arm, shaking her head against her complete distraction. She couldn’t think or concentrate anymore. It grew worse every day. Her thoughts were filled with one thing—Evan Harmon. She’d only seen him that one weekend, but his features were burned into the back of her eyelids. She knew his scent as though he were in the room with her. She could conjure it at will and would spin her head in every direction looking for him.

He was never there.

It was her own fault. She’d told him to leave. She’d asked him not to come back. She’d sent him away all by herself.

She knew he’d left town, buried himself in work. It was for the best.

Right?

Ugh.

Ashley set the paintbrush down and wandered to the window. It was gorgeous outside. Her parents had a walkout basement, so one side opened to the backyard. It had snowed all night and the ground was white, unadulterated by footprints this early in the day.

The world looked pristine and pure. Giant flakes drifted casually from the sky as though in no hurry to reach their destination.

She closed her eyes. Nothing about her life was as calm, relaxed, simple, or unpolluted as the backyard was. She felt as though she muddied the ground just by looking.

It was ridiculous of course, but the idea still seeped into her mind.

Footsteps on the stairs made her spin around. She almost tripped over her own feet, heart pounding as she waited for the owner of the stomping feet to emerge.

“Hey, squirt,” Josh announced as his legs came into view.

She set her hand on her chest and glared in his direction.

“Sorry,” he said when he noticed her stance. “I forgot to announce myself.” He strolled across the room and briefly pecked her cheek.

She couldn’t ask for better family. Even her own brother took care of her.

“Why are you off today?”

“It’s Monday. I’m always off on Mondays.” He stepped toward her easel and furrowed his brow as he stared at the blank canvas. And then he chuckled and grinned at her. “I get it now. You’re working on a rendition of the yard. Cute. You’ve nailed it.”

“Ha ha.” She tried to be miffed with his not-so-subtle jibe, but she couldn’t hold the emotion. A smile crept across her face. “I’m good. What can I say?” She shrugged.

“You okay?” He wandered toward her.

“Yep.”
No
.

“I spoke to Evan last night.”

And you found it necessary to tell me this why?
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying anything. Who cared if Josh spoke to Evan?