The Road to Redemption (40 page)

Reno checked
his watch. Half an hour to spare before the fight. He slid a
sideways look at the slip of a girl beside him and mentally rolled
his eyes. What the hell she was thinking, taking on a challenge, he
had no idea. From what little he’d been able to find out on such
short notice, she was well-trained and tough, but that only went so
far. He’d said as much to his mate, Brandi, last night and she’d
hit him for what she termed his chauvinistic attitude.

“I’m not being
a chauvinist,” he’d protested. “Just realistic. At some point, size
does matter, you know.” He’d given her a suggestive leer that had
resulted in an actual demonstration of his point. Afterwards, she’d
conceded that in some areas, size was an advantage.

“If she was
taking on some lumbering lout, I’d not be concerned,” he’d
explained further. “Sinclair, however, isn’t.”

“She deserves
her chance,” Brandi had insisted.

He’d looked at
his mate lying on the bed beside him. Her face was still flushed
from their recent activity, her lips plump and moist. Wrapping one
of her red curls around his finger, he watched it unwind. Her hair
was like bits of living flame against the white of the pillowcase,
as fiery as her personality. Tucking her close to his side, he
rested his chin on top of her head. “I know. And I’ll make sure she
gets it. I just don’t want her permanently disabled.”

“Always the
over-protective Alpha,” Brandi had murmured, her hand straying over
his chest and then sliding lower. He felt his body begin to harden
again under her teasing touch. “If she’s been running a pack, she’s
smart. She’ll stand down if she has to.”

“I hope you’re
right,” he’d groaned against her mouth as she’d shifted her
position to lie on top of him.

Their
conversation had ended then, but it was haunting him now. Was Sam
the type to back down? Some Alphas would rather die than
concede.

Reno sighed
wondering why he’d accepted the assignment. He and Brandi had been
returning to Kolding’s Pass, after doing a month-long stint of
consulting for Lycan Link, when the plane had been rerouted due to
the storm. Upon landing in Chicago, he’d checked in with Lycan Link
hoping they’d be able to pull some strings and get him on a flight
home. Instead, he’d been handed this job to ‘help fill his
time’.

Yeah, right.
No other sucker in the area was likely stupid enough to agree, he
muttered under his breath. Even his protest that he wasn’t
impartial—his former partner had once been friends with
Sinclair—had fallen on deaf ears. He didn’t know Sinclair
personally so that was good enough for OPATA. More than likely the
staff at OPATA were desperate. Challenges weren’t that common
anymore, and they were probably running around like a bunch of
headless chickens.

Reno shook his
head. He might still work for Lycan Link on a part time basis, but
he hated all the bureaucracy involved. Too many rules, too much
paperwork and all run by idiots who hadn’t left the confines of
their offices since they’d been appointed to their jobs.

Beside him,
Sam made some comment and he responded automatically, keeping his
face professionally neutral. He might have his issues with the
organization he worked for, but it did serve a purpose for the
Lycan population in general and he had to present himself as a
trustworthy professional. At least that’s what Brandi always told
him.

“Do you have
any questions or concerns about the challenge process?” He clasped
his hands behind his back and looked down at her.

“No.” She
shook her head. “I’ve done my research.”

“Good.”
Silence fell between them and Reno searched his mind for something
to say. He sucked at small talk and hated waiting. Apparently Sam
Harper did, too.

Thankfully the
rumble of approaching vehicles broke the silence.

“Sinclair is
early.” Reno checked his watch.

“Or it could
be members of my pack. My grandfather, the exiting Alpha, indicated
he might come to watch. Some of the others might be with him.”

“That could be
viewed as intimidation by Sinclair, unless he has backup with
him.”

“If it bothers
him, I can send them away.” Sam’s eyes were fixed on the direction
of the approaching vehicles.

The energy
coming off her was palpable; an appropriate dose of anticipation
and nerves. Reno gave a small nod of approval. Confident but
cautious; that was the best way to approach a fight.

He turned his
gaze towards the roadway as well, idly wondering if Sinclair would
have any news about Damien. Except for that brief phone call the
other day, it had been well over a year since he’d last had contact
with his former partner. As far as conversations went, it hadn’t
been stellar, but at least it had served as an ice-breaker and that
was something given that they hadn’t parted on the best of
terms.

Initially,
anger and disappointment had kept him from searching for Damien,
but time did heal all wounds. Well, that and several tongue
lashings from your mate about being a sanctimonious prick. Reno
grinned as he recalled some of Brandi’s choicer phrases.

After some
soul searching, he realized he might have made the same choices
Damien had, given the same circumstances. Now, he’d just like to
see him again. Hopefully Sinclair would—

“Shit!”

The curse
escaped from the little female beside him and he looked at her in
surprise. Two cars were pulling into the small clearing that served
as a parking lot, but her attention was now focused towards the
other entrance she’d pointed out. It sounded like a motorcycle was
headed towards them.

“Not a friend
of yours, I take it?”

“No.” She spat
out the word. “One of Sinclair’s.”

Reno nodded.
“Well, that evens the odds. You have your friends,” he gestured
towards the cars, “and he has his.”

Sam’s face
tightened and she clamped her mouth shut, quite likely holding back
a contradictory comment. Smart girl, Reno thought. Don’t piss off
the observer if you hope for a fair judgement.

He watched as
she walked over and greeted her pack members. An elderly man—the
old Alpha, perhaps—a middle aged woman, another older man and a
girl about Sam’s age with bright orange hair. Something about her
gave him the idea she might be a witch. A strange collection to be
sure, but certainly no one who appeared to be a threat to
Sinclair.

“Tina, you
shouldn’t be here.” Sam clasped her friend close.

“Remember my
prophecy? A battle will be fought; the lovers’ hearts will be like
a phoenix, dying as the masks are torn off. The winner will be the
loser and the loser will win.”

“Yeah. It
still doesn’t make any sense.”

“I think it
means win or lose, you’re going to be unhappy.”

“Gee, thanks,
Tina. That’s exactly what I needed to hear right now.” Sam made a
face.

Tina took
Sam’s hands in hers and gave them a gentle squeeze. “That’s why I
came. I’m here to support you no matter what.” She leaned closer
and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “Plus I have my book of
hexes.”

“Don’t you
dare! There’s an observer, Reno Smith, here from Lycan Link. Any
hint of foul play and he could rule in Sinclair’s favour.”

A pout formed
on Tina’s mouth and she scowled in the direction of Smith. “Fine.
Spoil sport.”

Sam rolled her
eyes and turned to look at the others. The trip had already left
her grandfather tired. Despite her ambivalent feelings towards him,
she moved around to the trunk to get a folding chair out for him.
As the trunk lid swung up, a noise from within drew her
attention.

“Christopher,
what the hell do you think you are doing in there!” She reached in
and hauled the pup out giving him a shake. “Riding in a trunk is
dangerous. The exhaust fumes could kill you! And what if the car
had been rear-ended?”

He swayed on
his feet, his skin a sickly green colour. “They said I couldn’t
come.”

“Damn right.”
Sam spoke through clenched teeth trying to keep her temper in
check. “Hiram, take care of him. He looks more motion sick than
anything else…thankfully.” She handed the boy over and pulled out a
chair for her grandfather. God, Chris was their last pup. If
something happened to him… Her stomach clenched at the thought.

“Is there a
problem?” Reno approached and Sam forced herself to calm down.
Turning, she began to make introductions before standing back to
listen as he fielded the questions her grandfather peppered at
him.

Despite her
back being turned, she could sense Damien coming closer, heard the
crunch of his tires as he entered the clearing. Heard the silence
as he shut off his engine. Schooling her face into a neutral
expression and keeping her posture confident, she turned to face
him.

Damien sat on
his bike automatically noting the terrain and escape routes. In
other situations, he might have looked for makeshift weapons or
sources of cover, but in a challenge those weren’t allowed. The
Book of the Law stated it was hand to hand—or claw and
tooth—combat. Any violations could result in a forfeit.

Only when he
was satisfied that he had a good grasp of his surroundings did he
take the time to look at the small cluster of Lycans on the far
side of the clearing. Immediately, his eyes locked with Sam’s.
Across the distance, he could feel the pull between them, sense the
heat—and the rage—that seemed to scorch the space separating them.
She was as cocky as ever; her chin lifted slightly, a disdainful
smirk twisting her lips. Her weight was resting on one leg, her
thumbs hooked in her belt loops. The aura of a tough Alpha exuded
from her. He doubted she realized what he could read in her eyes,
though. A hint of fear and hurt, even betrayal. That cut him to the
quick.

He recalled
what her friend, the waitress, had told him just a short time ago.
He’d been Sam’s first. The idea caused a primitive possessiveness
to rise within him as well as a fresh wave of guilt. If he’d known,
he would have…

His thinking
stuttered to a halt.

Hell, if he’d
known, he never would have touched her. Correction. He never
should
have touched her, no matter what. Beth was his mate.
Sam was a job. His mouth twisted. Job or not, he’d never wanted to
hurt her. At least, he amended, not until he’d found out what she
was. He looked behind her, identifying the members of Sam’s pack;
Hiram, Florence and old man Harper. Damned Purists, he thought
whipping up his anger. His eyes fell on young Christopher and he
cursed, wishing the boy wasn’t there to see this.

An incongruous
splash of colour moved about the gathering. The waitress with the
neon orange hair—Sam’s friend—was there as well. He frowned,
wondering what a witch was doing at a Lycan challenge. For that
matter what was a group of Purists doing hanging out with a
witch?

He darted his
gaze between them. The witch gave Sam a shoulder bump, drawing her
attention from him. Old man Harper was looking at the two young
women, stiff but not outright rude, and the others seemed to accept
the orange-haired spell-caster without a qualm. The relationship
made no sense to him.

Movement to
the left of the group now caught his attention and he froze,
instantly recognizing the man standing there. What the hell was
Reno doing in Chicago?

Reno stared in
shock at the sight of Damien. Meeting up with him here had been the
last thing he’d have expected. Sure, Damien and Sinclair were
friends, but Damien didn’t do pack politics. It wasn’t his thing;
or at least it never had been. Even when they’d half-jokingly
discussed starting a pack together, Damien had always been
hesitant…

~~~

“Yeah, someday
we’ll tell Fielding to stuff it and head out on our own. You and me
starting our own pack.” Reno had lounged back in his chair sipping
on a beer.

“You the Alpha
and me the Beta? You’d kick me out after the first week.” Damien
had laughed and taken a swig of his own drink.

“Nah. I’d whip
your butt and put you on night patrols for a month.”

“Story of my
life. Me and packs don’t get along.”

“Ours would be
different. You’d fit right in.”

“It’d be nice
but…” Damien had shook his head and taken another drink.

~~~

Reno frowned
at the memory. Yeah, they’d start a pack together… That had gone
nowhere. So why was Damien here and why was there no sign of
Sinclair? It was almost the appointed time. Checking over his
shoulder, he saw Sam was still talking to her pack. Good. Meeting
up with Damien after all this time, and in these circumstances,
could be awkward.

He covered the
distance separating them. Damien had dismounted his Harley and was
watching him approach.

“Damien.”

“Reno. Good to
see you.” It was a casual greeting, as if they were mere
acquaintances who often saw each other.

“You, too.”
Yep, same old Damien, keeping his feelings close to his chest, Reno
thought. It was a game they both played, neither of them were good
with the heart-to-heart stuff.

They studied
each other, neither speaking. Despite seldom spilling their guts to
each other, they’d developed a close relationship over their years
of working together.

Shifting his
weight, Damien looked away, glanced back then darted his eyes away
once more. “Listen, Reno, about that last time…I….” His voice
trailed off, a muscle working in his jaw.

“What last
time?” Reno cocked his head to the side, hooking his thumbs into
his belt loops.

Damien looked
at him, his brows raised.

One corner of
Reno’s mouth curled upward.

Damien shook
his head and rubbed the back of his neck, giving a brief huff of
laughter. “Thanks.”