The Road to Redemption (2 page)

“You put up a
pretty good fight, Dante. I guess you’ll do.” She brushed some dirt
from the legs of her pants and it gave him a much needed moment to
consider what she’d said.

She’d called
him Dante. The name had his mental warning bells ringing and not
only because she obviously was mistaking him for someone else. He
stalled for time as he tried to improvise a plan.

“Do what?”
Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he noted the streak of
blood from a cut on his lip. The woman had a wicked right hook.

“Act as our
rogue.” She looked up from where she’d been examining a scuff mark
on her leather jacket and narrowed her eyes. In the dim light it
was hard to determine the colour, but he could almost swear they
were violet. “That’s what we agreed on. You become a temporary part
of the pack—a Beta, almost a co-Alpha—until we manage to convince
Sinclair that there’s no bloody way he can take us over.”

“Right.”
Damien thought quickly, assimilating the new information. Sinclair.
So she knew about Kane’s planned takeover. “Just checking. I don’t
like having the rules changed once I start something.”

“Once the job
is done, we pay you the agreed amount and you head on your
way.”

“What does the
rest of the pack think of this? Your current Beta? Won’t he want to
slit my throat for taking over his job?” Damien tried to fill in
the missing pieces of the deal without revealing his hand.

She pursed her
lips and he could tell she was weighing her words. “The Beta
position is currently...vacant. We’re a small pack…but strong.” Her
chin lifted as if she was expecting him to contradict her. “The
problem is that Lycan society is too damned chauvinistic. Everyone
takes one look at me and only sees a
female
.” She spat out
the last word. “I’m perfectly capable of running this pack, but
Sinclair will use my gender against me. That’s where you come
in.”

She
was
capable of running the pack? Damien held back a frown. This teeny
weeny she-wolf wasn’t the Alpha. He knew for a fact that
Samuel
, not
Samantha
, Harper was listed as Alpha in
Lycan Link’s books. Kane had said she was Harper’s spokesperson and
he’d somehow gotten the impression of her being more of a secretary
or office manager than anything else. Perhaps she was a wannabe
Beta and resented being overlooked? Damien filed that question in
the back of his mind for later examination and focused on what she
was saying.

“So, you still
want the position?” She spoke as if she didn’t care, but he could
tell otherwise. This was important to her. A twinge of regret over
deceiving her passed through him. He pushed it aside. Kane had sent
him to do a job, to scout out the Chicago pack, find their
weaknesses and report back on the best way to proceed with a
takeover. What better way to gather information than to actually
join the pack? It hadn’t been part of his plan, but experience had
taught him to grab whatever opportunity presented itself.

“Yeah, I’ll
take it.”

“Good.” She
hid her relief well, only the barest change of inflection letting
him know she’d been concerned. “Do you have your own transportation
or do you need a ride to the pack house?”

“I’m good.
I’ll follow you. Give me half an hour and I’ll meet you in front of
that bar you just left.” That would give him time to call Kane and
tell him he’d made contact, as well as attend to one other pressing
matter.

“Half an
hour.” She flicked a glance up and down the length of him and then
walked away, her head held high, her stride confident. Usually
people backed away from him. He raised one brow, impressed with her
gutsiness.

As the sound
of her heels clicking on the pavement faded, a voice spoke behind
him. “She’s a fine looking woman.”

Damien didn’t
flinch. He’d known the man was there; the faint scent of lilacs—so
out of place in a Chicago alley—had let him know a Lycan using a
scent mask was in the area.

“That she is,
Dante.” He waited a moment before slowly turning. He had no fear of
the man behind him though that had likely been Dante’s hope. The
Lycan stood just feet away. Grey hair showed at his temples and the
lines on his face gave evidence to the hard life he’d led.

“Ah, Damien,
my old friend. You’re not surprised to see me?” Dante reached out
to shake hands.

Damien flicked
a look at the extended palm and chose to ignore it.

“The
proverbial bad penny always turns up. Isn’t that what they say?”
Damien coolly assessed the man. Dante was an acquaintance from a
life he’d thought he’d left behind and he wasn’t sure what the
man’s appearance might mean. Coincidence or something more? “She
planned on hiring you.” He stated the fact and watched for a
reaction.

Dante let his
hand drop to his side and shrugged. “We were supposed to meet
tonight to finalize the deal, to see if I met the
requirements.”

“And?” He
cocked his head. “No cry of foul that I stole the job from
you?”

“You were here
before me.” Dante shrugged again. “Our time working for Deirdre
taught both of us to grab whatever opportunities came our way and,
if we missed one, to move on. Anything else is a waste of
time.”

Something
didn’t add up. The man was too cool for someone who’d just lost a
well-paying job. Damien nodded however. “Glad there are no hard
feelings.”

Dante extended
his hand again. “Shake?”

Damien took
half a step forward, reached his hand out and then smashed his
knuckles into the other man’s nose, following the move up with a
strategic kick guaranteed to blow out an opponent’s knee.

Dante hit the
ground hard, blood spurting from his nostrils, a cry of pain
escaping his lips.

“As you said,
Deirdre taught us not to waste an opportunity.” Damien looked at
the man writhing on the ground, and casually taking a wad of bills
from his pocket, dropped them on the ground beside the injured
Lycan. “Sorry, but you wouldn’t have passed Harper’s test anyway.
That should be enough to cover your out of pocket expenses.”

“What the
hell…?” Dante struggled to get up, anger contorting his face.

Placing his
foot on the man’s throat, Damien pressed down just enough to cause
the man’s eyes to widen in distress. “Just a reminder, this is
my
job now.
My
territory. Stay the hell out of it.”
He eased off the pressure and gave the man one final warning. “And
stay away from the girl or I
will
kill you.”

Shoving his
hands in his pockets, Damien walked away whistling softly. Dante
would know better than to show his face in Chicago again. If there
was one thing Damien had learned over the years, it was to never
leave potential enemies in doubt as to your intentions.

Sam sat
astride her Harley, waiting for her new Beta to appear. She’d had
reservations about taking a rogue into the pack but, after
consulting with the others, it had seemed to be the best solution.
He was younger than she’d anticipated; the experience he’d outlined
in his emails seemed to belong to someone older. Most likely he’d
exaggerated hoping to impress. An inelegant snort escaped her. As
if.

The street was
almost empty. A few cars passed by, a group of teens roughhousing.
It was late enough that the majority of people had already headed
for home, only a few hard-core revellers remaining in the various
establishments that lined the streets. She tapped her fingers on
the handles of her motorcycle, impatient to be on her way. It had
been a long day and she was tired, not that she’d let anyone know.
An Alpha had no weaknesses.

Sitting up
straighter, she took a deep breath. Fall was almost upon them, but
the unseasonably warm weather belied the fact. Heat and humidity
made the air seem heavy to breathe and caused her clothing to stick
to her. A cold shower or a cold drink; she’d take either of them
right now if only she had the time.

A glance at
her watch revealed it was exactly twenty-nine minutes since she’d
left the rogue in the alley. Where the hell was…? The sound of an
engine approaching stopped her mid-curse. A motorcycle pulled up
beside her. Dante.

His bike
matched him perfectly. Big and black. Powerful. It was an older
model that had some signs of wear, but the engine purred like a
well maintained machine should. Light from the overhead street lamp
bathed them allowing her to see the dark stubble showing on his
firm chin. His silvery blue eyes were topped by strong brows. There
was a coldness about him, an ‘I don’t give a damn if I live or die’
look. Men with that attitude were dangerous and it had her once
again rethinking her decision to hire him. Was she bringing trouble
into her pack? She hoped not.

A whisper of a
breeze caused a lock of his black hair to fall over his forehead.
It added a contrasting hint of vulnerability, as did his slightly
fuller lower lip. Which was the real man, she wondered, an
unexpected thrill coursing through her as she studied him. She gave
no hint as to her interest, though, keeping her face impassive.

He flicked a
glance at her wrist and Sam realized she still had her sleeve
pulled back to reveal her watch. “Am I late?”

As she looked
down, the numbers changed. Exactly thirty minutes. She didn’t say
anything however, merely letting her sleeve drop back into place
and starting her engine. “Ready?”

He nodded and
they set off.

Sam led the
way, knowing the streets of Chicago like the back of her hand.
She’d been prowling the city ever since she’d been old enough to
leave the house on her own and knew every back alley and short cut.
Of course, she wasn’t going to reveal that to the rogue. He was an
unknown entity and her knowledge of the city was an ace up her
sleeve.

Instead, she
took more traditional routes, winding her way past businesses and
factories, abandoned lots and housing complexes. She could feel
Dante’s gaze on her, a distinctive twitch between her shoulder
blades letting her know he was assessing her, no doubt noting the
incongruity of a small woman manoeuvring a big Harley.

Too bad.

She loved the
big machine, the idea of controlling so much power.

They paused
for a traffic light and she glanced in her rearview mirror,
catching Dante’s gaze. He nodded, acknowledging the eye contact,
his face expressionless.

Sam watched
him, watching her. His gaze was intense, just bordering on being
challenging. Then, slowly, he shifted his focus, his lids lowering
as he slid his gaze down her body. Her muscles tightened. She could
almost feel him touching her, trailing his fingers down her spine,
lingering on her waist. What would it feel like to have him slide
his hands around her, to pull her back against his hard body? Their
earlier fight had brought them into close proximity and she was
well aware that he was a fine physical specimen. Exploring him more
intimately might be very rewarding.

The idea had
tension coiling inside her as heat pooled low down in her belly.
She swallowed hard, her hands inadvertently tightening on the
throttle. The engine roared, the big machine throbbing with
suppressed power between her legs. In the mirror, Dante locked eyes
with her again. Was there an added heat in his gaze?

Sam broke eye
contact and almost gave a sigh of relief when the traffic light
changed from red to green and she had to concentrate on the road
once again. Being attracted to Dante wasn’t a good idea. She’d have
to watch herself around him. Damn.

As they
approached the neighbourhood that she and her pack called home, Sam
lowered her speed and scanned the area. In its day, it had been a
prestigious area, but time and changing economic fortunes hadn’t
been kind. The once grand houses were tired and in need of repair,
many now converted into multiple family dwellings. In a way, it
served as a kind of camouflage for her pack. A snooty neighbourhood
might question the number of persons who came and went from her
home, but here, no one noticed or cared. Minding your own business
was the motto.

Sam swung her
bike into an opening in a rusty wrought iron fence. The brick
pillars that flanked the entrance were crumbling, the house number
hanging crookedly from a rusty screw. She kept meaning to fix it,
but there were always too many other jobs that took priority.

The driveway
wasn’t long. It curved around the front of the house and then along
the side to the back. Years ago, this would have been the servants’
entrance, but now it was the door they used most often given that
the boards on the front porch were partially rotted.

Thankfully, it
was dark, and Dante wouldn’t notice the outward appearance of the
pack house. That gave her time to establish herself with him before
he started to form any kind of judgement. Some might think that a
rundown house indicated a weak Alpha, but she’d prove him wrong.
Economic hard times had nothing to do with her abilities as a
leader. She wasn’t the one who had run the pack bank balance into
the red.

Compressing
her lips at that thought, she turned off the Harley’s engine and
swung her leg over the seat. Dante parked beside her.

“We’re here.”
Sam kept her voice gruff, her words clipped. Her momentary
attraction to him had left her out of sorts and she wasn’t about to
hide the fact. Being a bitch helped keep the pack members in line,
and they knew enough not to cross her when she was in a mood.
Someone else could do the social niceties.

Damien sat
astride his motorcycle, a dark cloud settling over him. Following
Samantha had given him a perfect opportunity to study her as she
controlled the massive machine she rode. The way she’d leaned into
the curves showed she was sure of her abilities, the way her ass
wiggled as she’d adjusted her seat at a traffic light revealed her
love of creature comforts. It had caught his attention and reminded
him of how her lithe body and toned muscles had felt against his
when they’d been locked in battle. It had been ages since he’d
experienced even a stir of interest in another woman and now guilt
over that interest ate away at him. He scowled, damning her and
himself.