The Road to Redemption (12 page)

“If it’s all
right with Kane and you. He’s wound up and I thought maybe it would
help wear him out.”

“Good idea. He
napped on the plane and probably won’t want to sleep tonight.” She
reached down and grabbed hold of him just before he crashed into
the wall. “I don’t know where he gets all his energy.”

Jacob pulled
free and raced towards Helen. “Swings! Swings! Swings!”

Helen took
Jacob’s hand and headed for the door. “Leah is napping and I’ll
keep Jacob at the park for about an hour, in case you and
Kane—”

“He’s
working.” Elise made a face. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Oh.” Helen
glanced at the closed office door. “Well, maybe a soak in the tub?
I remember when my girls were little. Time to myself was
precious.”

“Thanks. I
might do that.”

She helped
Helen buckle Jacob into his car seat and then waved as they drove
off. It was a beautiful fall day. Warm sunshine streamed through
leaves tipped with autumn colours while the sweet smell of drying
grass drifted on the breeze. A perfect day for a walk or a run with
your mate…if he wasn’t working.

A sigh escaped
her. They’d arrived home mid-morning and she’d thought she and Kane
could spend the rest of the day together unpacking, reminiscing
about their week away.
She
hadn’t rushed off to check her
emails, despite the fact that she’d only recently become co-owner
of the Grey Goose. There was a lot to be done to revamp the aging
establishment, but
she
knew planning new menus and
redecorating the rooms could wait. Too bad Kane wasn’t of the same
mind.

Her inner wolf
nudged her.
Pack comes first. Our mate is Alpha for a large
number of wolves who depend on him. His duties are numerous and his
time isn’t his own
.

“I know that,”
she argued back. “All my life I’ve bowed to the needs of the pack.
Father was Alpha, remember? He dictated everything I did, right
down to who my mate would be.”

And his choice
was a good one.

“Yes, but…”
She stopped unable to explain even to her own wolf. She loved Kane.
He was a good man, one who’d been born to be a great Alpha. He took
his duties seriously and had important responsibilities. And as a
mate, he provided for her and the pups. That should be enough,
shouldn’t it? Surely, she was being selfish or unrealistic to
expect more? Yet, there was no denying the feeling in her heart
that something was missing lately.

This was the
life we were born into, the way it has been for our people for
centuries. The Alpha works for the good of the pack so that the
members have all they need.

“But just
because this is how it’s always been doesn’t mean it’s right, that
it can’t change. And Ryne and Mel seem to have time for a family
life.”

Her wolf
frowned and fell silent.

“See?” She
felt a small thrill at winning the argument. However, that was
short lived as she walked back inside. The low murmur of Kane’s
voice could be heard coming from the office. He was still on the
phone.

She gave in to
a childish impulse and stuck her tongue out at the door. Some might
think being an Alpha’s mate was an amazing opportunity, but at
times it just sucked. The word ‘Chicago’ drifted out through the
door and she crossed her fingers. The takeover couldn’t happen fast
enough.

~~~

“Yo!
Damien!”

Damien glanced
up from where he was hunkered down on the ground beside his
motorcycle. Standing near him was a young Lycan by the name of
Chris. He’d seen the boy at supper last night, but beyond hearing
his name knew nothing else. The boy’s appearance was revealing
though. Cocky expression, slouched posture, ripped jeans,
sleeveless t-shirt. Yeah. Damien knew his type.

He stood up
and held his laughter in check as the kid automatically fell back a
step losing some of his bravado. Being a good head taller than the
young teen was going to make it easy to keep him in line.

“What can I do
for you…Chris, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. That’s
me.” The boy recovered some of his attitude and gestured towards
the motorcycle. “Whatcha doin’?”

“After a cross
country ride, it needs an oil change and a good cleaning.” Damien
glanced between his ride and the boy. “You want to help?”

Chris
shrugged. ‘If you need some. I mean, there’s nothing else going on
around here.”

“Nothing to
do? In a place as big as Chicago?” He tossed a polishing rag the
boy’s way and pointed at the chrome.

“I’m grounded
right now, so yeah, it’s boring.”

“What are you
in for?” He crouched down beside the machine again.

“Broke curfew.
My mom got worried and Sam had to come looking for me. Man, was she
mad at me.” The boy rubbed his ear. Damien held back a smile. He
could well imagine Sam grabbing the appendage and using it to drag
the boy home.

“Not a good
idea, pissing her off.”

“You said it.”
The boy polished the chrome for a while before speaking again.
“Will you teach me to ride this?”

“Why not ask
Sam? She has one.”

Chris made a
face. “She said no. Said I’m too young.”

“How old are
you?”

“I just turned
fourteen.”

Damien raised
his eyebrows. “Then my answer is the same as hers. But I can show
you a few things about it, if you’d like.”

“Really?
That’d be awesome. Wait until I tell the guys at school—” He
stopped mid-sentence and shook his head. “No. I guess I can’t.”

“Why’s
that?”

“’Cuz we’re
Lycans. And you’re only our Beta for a while. And everyone says I
have to keep a low profile.” He spat over his shoulder. “Sometimes
being a werewolf sucks.”

Damien made a
noncommittal noise. Something was bugging the kid. From personal
experience he knew that sometimes you just needed the other person
to wait while you got your thoughts in order.

They worked in
silence, the sun beating down on them, and then reflecting back up
off the cement driveway. Damien wiped a trickle of sweat from his
brow; the shade had inched its way into the neighbour’s yard and
the breeze from earlier in the day had died down. He sat back on
his heels and took a drink of water from the bottle he’d brought
out with him.

In the
distance the sound of traffic could be heard—cars, buses, a
siren—the noises Damien had come to associate with the
neighbourhood. Being a Lycan in a big city took on added challenges
he’d never considered; sorting through the cacophony of noises and
scents, learning to filter out the mundane from those that had
meaning.

“Did you grow
up in a big pack, Damien?” From the other side of the machine,
Chris finally spoke.

“Me? No. There
were about fifty members or so.” He capped his bottle and got back
to work.

“That’s way
bigger than ours.” Chris made a face. “Were there any kids your
age?”

“A few. And
there was a pack not too far away that we’d meet up with
sometimes.”

“Jeez, you
were lucky. There’s no one my age around here.” The boy rubbed
harder at the bit of chrome he was working on. “Our pack’s dying
out, you know. Pretty soon there’ll be no one left.”

Last night,
Damien had noted that there was only one pup at the table. Sam
hadn’t been kidding when she said fertility was a problem. The pack
would be hard pressed to stay in existence for even one more
generation at this rate.

“I’ve got
human friends,” Chris continued. “But you always have to watch what
you say. Just once I’d like to be myself.”

“That’s
understandable.”

“You don’t
mind if I hang out with you while you’re here, do you?” Chris
flicked him a quick glance and then concentrated on his polishing.
The too cool attitude of a few minutes ago had disappeared leaving
a hopeful kid in its place.

Damien
hesitated. He knew nothing about children except that he’d been one
himself once. And the kind he’d been had always been in trouble,
never really fitting in. He was about to refuse on the grounds that
he wasn’t going to be staying long, but something about the look on
the boy’s face had him agreeing despite doubting the wisdom of the
move.

“Sure. Sam
will likely keep me busy, but we can hang when I’m off duty…and
when you’ve got your homework done.” He added that last bit,
recalling how Sam had reminded the youngster about school work when
the meal had finished. Mentally, he rolled his eyes. God, he
couldn’t believe he’d said that.

Chris had no
reservations about it though, quickly agreeing and then launching
into a long string of questions about how the motorcycle worked and
what maintenance it required.

Damien did his
best to answer, surprised at how easily he interacted with the kid.
Was this what it would have been like if his child had lived? He
and his son working on a motorcycle together, maybe going to a
ballgame…

“Damn!”

“What’s wrong,
Damien?” Chris peered at him from the far side of the
motorcycle.

“Nothing.
Bashed my knuckle.” Damien sucked on his injured finger and cursed
his lack of concentration. The wrench had slipped as he tried to
remove the spark plug.

“Christopher,
are you bothering Damien?” A woman’s voice called out from behind
and Damien turned to see one of the pack walking up the driveway.
From her appearance—a suit and briefcase—he assumed she was coming
home from work.

“No, Ma. I’m
not bothering him.” Chris gave an over exaggerated eye-roll.

“That’s your
story.” His mother—Damien recalled her name was Alyssa—frowned at
him. “Besides, you’re grounded for sneaking out last week and I bet
your homework isn’t done yet. I told you—”

“He’s not
bothering me.” Damien got to his feet. “I asked him to help. Seemed
to me that a little physical labour was a good way to pay his dues
for the trouble he caused the pack. Better than sitting inside
playing video games, at least.”

Alyssa paused
and then nodded. “I agree. If you have any other jobs for him, feel
free to put him to work. Maybe if he’s tired enough he’ll stay out
of trouble.” She shot a look at her son. “I want you inside doing
your homework as soon as you’ve completed whatever job Damien’s
given you.”

“Actually,
we’re about done for the day.” Damien wiped the blood off his hand
with the edge of his shirt. “I’ll be sending him in soon.”

Alyssa stared
at the blood and then back at Damien. A worried frown marred her
brow and Damien wondered if the fact that he was a rogue concerned
her. Might as well deal with her now, he decided. “I’m a rogue, but
that doesn’t mean I hurt children.”

She stiffened
and lifted her chin. “I never thought that for a minute. I was
merely concerned about your hand.”

He studied her
for a moment finding no hint of a lie in her steady gaze. “My
apologies. I’ve met with some prejudice in my life, but I shouldn’t
assume—”

“No need. I
understand.” She patted his shoulder as she walked past him towards
the house. “Know that we’re all glad you’re here trying to help us
save our pack.”

Thankfully she
didn’t seem to be expecting a reply and went inside after giving
Chris another warning.

As the door
shut, Chris gave him a high five. “Thanks, Damien. That was
smooth.”

“Hmm?” He
looked at the boy, still distracted by what Alyssa had said.

“The way you
made Ma think me being out here was all your idea and part of a
punishment.
And
she’ll be okay now with us hanging out
together. I wish I could think that fast.”

“Comes with
practice.” The hero worship in the boy’s eyes, along with the
mother’s words, made him feel guilty. “Listen, it’s getting late.
Let’s call it a day and maybe tomorrow you can help me lube the
chain.”

“Great!
Thanks, Damien!” The boy gathered up the polishing rags. “I’m glad
you’re here to help us fight that bastard Sinclair.”

“Er…I don’t
think your mom would approve of you swearing.”

Chris laughed.
“No, but Sam does it all the time so what can Ma do?”

“True.” He
watched as the boy raced up the steps to the house. Strange, he’d
always wondered what it would be like to have a pack welcome his
presence. Only now that it was happening, he felt like shit.

Damien tried to shrug off the feeling he was being
watched. Millions of people lived in Chicago. At least a hundred
were walking down this particular street. Somebody was bound to be
looking at him from time to time. But it wasn’t the feeling a
casual glance would garner. It was more intense, as if someone were
studying him, an itch between his shoulder blades that had both him
and his wolf on alert.

A mugger? A
crazed killer? Dante? None felt quite right.

Some might
scoff that the gaze of a person had a feel, but over the years he’d
honed his senses in ways that most other Lycans could never
imagine. Of course, most other Lycans hadn’t lived their life on
the edge of society. Rubbing elbows with the dregs of the earth,
expecting to kill or be killed at any moment. You didn’t live long
if you let your guard down. And he
had
lived, if it could be
called living.

Dante had said
there was no longer a price on his head, at least not one being
paid out by Lycan Link. It allowed him to relax, maybe dropping to
a nine from a ten on his personal alertness scale. It wasn’t much,
but he took what he could get. Lycan Link’s trackers had been a
bitch to outsmart, but he’d done it, much to the head office’s
chagrin. As for his most recent employer, Deirdre and her crew, who
knew what was going on in that arena.

According to
Dante, the woman had scaled back, but why? Something to do with the
mysterious Elijah Stone? Or had business turned bad? Not likely the
latter. Lack of clients had never seemed to be a problem. It was
staggering, the number of people in the world wanting to hire
assassins and bodyguards that asked no questions.