Betrayed: Days of the Rogue

  “Are there members of such a ‘branch’ operating locally?”

  Victor cocked his head to the side. “How much is the information worth?”

  “I’ll let you live.” Reno curled his lips and showed his teeth.

  “There’s nothing you can do to me here.” Victor complacently folded his hands on his stomach. He was developing a bit of a paunch. “High Council might have taken away my freedom, but even the confined have basic rights. You can’t lay a hand on me.”

  A rumble rose in Reno’s chest. The man was right, dammit. “What do you want?”

  “A woman and a steak dinner every day.”

  Reno snorted.

  Victor chuckled. “It was worth a try. Let’s say… An extra twenty minutes of exercise each day.”

  “Five.”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Ten.” Knowing that he was actually bargaining with such scum made him want to puke.

  The corners of Victor’s mouth formed a self-satisfied smile and he nodded. “Ten it is. What do you want to know?”

  “Who’s directing the local group? Who’s their next target? How are they carrying out the assassinations?”

  “So many questions.” Victor pursed his lips, then shook his head. “I can’t tell you who’s directing the group or who the members are. They don’t exchange names and never meet face to face.”

  “That’s not going to win you extra exercise time.” Reno warned.

  “Sorry, that’s the way they operate. I can tell you that their next target depends on the location of the assassin. When a Fae is located within an assassin’s vicinity, they act. It’s all based on chance.”

  “Chance? Not very efficient.”

  “They like to believe that they are guided by the ancient gods; that divine inspiration comes to them during a full moon. If the gods choose to place a Fae within the vicinity of an assassin then it’s the gods’ will that particular Fae should die.” Victor casually reached over and took a sip of water before continuing. When he did there was a certain mocking tone to his voice. “It’s all very deep and spiritual.”

  Reno barely kept himself from rolling his eyes and focussed on the important point. “And who are these assassins?”

  Victor gave a faint smile. “The rogues, naturally. Such unstable beasts; Lycan society really is better off without them.” He took another sip of water and carefully placed the plastic tumbler back on the small bedside shelf.

  “Rogues.” A sick feeling churned in Reno’s stomach as Victor confirmed what he already knew. When Brad had first noticed the correlation between the dates and locations of murdered Fae and the deployment of Rogue Retrieval, it had seemed a strange coincidence. But when it turned out that each rogue had been involved in a murder, warning bells had immediately sounded in his head. As a man who’d battled rogue tendencies all his life, he had an affinity to those who lost the fight. There was something off about the whole scenario, however. He just hadn’t figured out what. “How do they convince the rogues to cooperate? Are they paying them, or what?”

  Victor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Do rogues really need money? Now there’s a question.”

  “Hadsund, I don’t have time for games.”

  “No? How unfortunate. It’s rather dull here and I do appreciate a good battle of wits.”

  Reno growled a warning.

  “Very well.” Victor sighed. “Consider this; is it possible to make a rogue behave? To guarantee it does as you wish? Or do you have to manipulate circumstances so that it appears—”

  A bell sounded and a guard tapped on the door. “Time is up, sir.”

  “In a minute,” Reno barked at the man.

  “But, sir—”

  “Come now, Reno. You know you have to follow the rules. I’d hate to have to report that you’re harassing me. You’d be in contravention of the Fair and Just Treatment of the Confined Act. It’s outlined in the Book of the Law.” Victor gave mocking smile.

  Reno got to his feet, grumbling under his breath while Victor stretched his arms and then interlaced his fingers before placing them behind his head.

  “It was nice of you to visit, Smith. Do come again.” He smirked. “I’ll think of you during my extra ten minutes of exercise.”

  It was all Reno could do to keep from knocking the self-satisfied look off the man’s face, but he managed to control himself until he was out of the building. Only inside the confines of his vehicle did he let out the string of curses he’d been suppressing for the last half hour. Damn, that bastard knew exactly how to get under his skin!

  Finally, feeling calmer, he pulled out of the parking lot, and began to make his way back to Lycan Link while mulling over what he’d learned. It hadn’t been a lot, more a confirmation of what he already knew. However, the question remained as to how this Purist sect was convincing the rogues to act as assassins. Victor hinted that they were being manipulated rather than paid. And the man was correct when he said rogues were notoriously difficult to deal with. So how did you manipulate them? He scowled wishing he could find one, just one rogue to interview. If he could, then the case could be blown wide open. Unfortunately, Rogue Retrieval methods usually resulted in the death of the rogues involved, and that meant tracking down who was manipulating them nigh on to impossible.

  Reno drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he paused at a traffic light. He could visit Victor again, try to squeeze more information out of the bastard, but that took time. It would be another week before he could visit the man again without being in danger of a harassment charge. And a week might be too late. Another Fae could be dead by then.

  Chapter 25

  Eve shoved her hands in her pocket and walked briskly away from Rafe’s house. The man was a control freak and she wouldn’t put up with it. And his opinion of Damien made her blood boil!

  Yes, at first Damien had been surly, but over the past few days she’d watched the man, seen the sadness on his face, the loneliness. She wanted to comfort him, soothe the furrows from his brow, make him smile. Something about him called to her, made her feel a connection, which was strange given the fact that she’d yet to read him empathically. A hint of guilt washed over; she’d repeatedly tested her skills on both Damien and Rafe but had come up blank. Well, now she knew why that was the case with Rafe, but it still left Damien as a big question mark. Was he Fae, too? Perhaps, but wouldn’t Rafe have mentioned the fact? Unless Rafe didn’t want to talk about Damien. Their relationship was damned confusing. Given how Rafe often acted, she was surprised he kept Damien around. She shook her head, unable to make any sense out of the situation.

  Spying a large rock, she used it as a chair and sat down. The sun had burnt off the early mist and she now had a clear view of the area. This side of Rafe’s house faced a meadow of sorts and was dotted with early spring flowers and clumps of fresh grass. A few song birds twittered in the distance, while the sun’s rays beat down warmly on her shoulders. Tension drained from her body, the earth seeming to soak up the negative energy and replace it with a feeling of peace and relaxation.

  Propping her chin in her hand, she stared at the tree line where, from her bedroom window, she’d seen deer grazing earlier. She’d also noticed that a family of rabbits lived under a nearby bush. Perhaps she should consider adding a series of wildlife paintings to her exhibit.

  Wildlife.

  Uh-oh.

  Eve froze in place and cautiously turned her head, studying the shed, the bushes, stand of trees in the distance. In her pique with Rafe, she’d totally forgotten about the wolf. The strange ‘being watched’ feeling hadn’t plagued her since she’d been here, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was safe. It was obviously still in the area. Was the animal poised and ready to pounce on her? There didn’t seem to be anything around, but she really shouldn’t be going for a walk. With a sigh, she realized that meant she was stuck inside the house with Rafe again.

  Her stomach began to knot at the very idea. True, she often enjoy
ed his company. He was quiet yet seemed to listen intently to everything she said. When he did speak, it was always deep and insightful, inspiring interesting conversations. And he had a dry sense of humour that made her laugh… If only she could get a handle on how he felt about her. Two nights in a row now he’d wanted her, and the other morning in the kitchen he’d seemed possessive. Yet at the same time he said he wasn’t looking for a relationship; that because they were both Fae, it couldn’t work. Yet, if that was the case, why was he acting as if he were jealous of Damien?

  She ran her hands through her hair. God, she hated it when people said their status was complicated yet here she was in the same situation!

  A sound from behind had her spinning around, muscles tensed and ready to run only to relax when she saw it was Rafe. Before he could speak, she started talking.

  “I know, I know. I can’t go wandering around. It’s dangerous out here.”

  He nodded. “Glad you realize it.” His expression was as deadpan as when she’d first met him save for telltale twitching of the muscle in his jaw. “If you want to spend some time outside—maybe do some drawing—I can stay with you and act as a lookout.”

  Surprised by the offer, she studied him, noting his calm tone, and relaxed stance. If it wasn’t for that little twitch, no one would ever suspect he was upset. Knowing this must be his attempt at a peace offering, she agreed. “I’d like that. I’ll grab my sketchpad while you go find your gun.”

  “Gun? Oh. Right.”

  They each gathered what they needed, casting the occasional glance at each other, neither seeming to want to break the momentary truce. Eve settled back on the rock and began to do some studies of the local plants, while Rafe sat on the ground not far away, the gun lying at his side.

  Time ticked past, the sun warming her shoulders and the occasional drone of a bee helping to ease the tension of their earlier disagreement. It was a pleasant companionable silence and she cast a glance at Rafe, a smile hovering on her lips as she took in his profile. His eyes were at half-mast and he appeared deep in thought. Flipping to a new page in her book, she began to draw him with sure, quick strokes of her pencil. There was something about his posture that she itched to capture; it was confident and relaxed, yet there was an undeniable awareness about him as if he was completely attuned to his surroundings.

  She managed to complete several sketches before he finally looked her way, the corner of his mouth quirking. Darn, it appeared he’d known what she was about.

  Expecting him to make a comment, she was surprised when he merely stood up and stretched. “I’m going to go for a short walk around the meadow. I’ll keep you in sight so you don’t have to worry.”

  “All right.” She’d been going to ask to go with him, but decided not to push her luck. Things were good between them right now. Best not to rock the boat. Cool and distant seemed to be the way he wanted things, so that’s what she’ do.

  Rafe walked the perimeter of the meadow, testing the air and casually noting the signs left by various forms of wildlife. He hadn’t had time to patrol this area lately; keeping watch over Damien and Eve had taken up most of his time. A short morning run was all he allowed himself and, with Eve around, it had to be in human form. His wolf missed roaming freely. Even at his home near the clinic there was a ravine where the wolf could go for a run.

  She’d spent the last half hour studying him, her gaze moving from his face to his chest, and lower still, before sweeping back up only to repeat the process. It had been soothing, almost as if she were stroking him over and over. His limbs had relaxed and his lids had felt heavy. Indeed, he could have fallen into a trance if he hadn’t been guarding her.

  He looked back to where she was sitting. There was almost a glow coming off her that most would attribute to a mere trick of the sunlight on her hair, but he knew better. The Fae in her was growing stronger, tapping into the natural energy in the world around her as she progressed through the Awakening. Did she hear the whispering of the trees yet, he wondered? Sense the hum of creation? As only a one-quarter Fae, he lacked the same strong connection that a more pure-blooded Fae might have. That was the price he paid for being able to shift.

  “Would you rather talk to a shrub than me?” His wolf looked at him out of the corner of its eyes, its tone offended.

  “Of course, not. Trees don’t have an opinion on anything.” Rafe countered in his head.

  “Trees don’t talk at all,” his wolf corrected. The creature really was too pedantic at times. “They just stand there giving indistinct whispers. At least that’s what the Fae would have us believe.” The beast then sniffed, obviously suspicious of that claim.

  “Which is why I much prefer having you.” Rafe assured his inner animal ignoring its last comment. His wolf loved a good debate, and was prone to making inflammatory remarks just so it could enjoy the argument that ensued. Now, however, was not the time.

  The creature subsided, content that it was appreciated and Rafe chuckled softly. With one more glance at Eve, he continued his examination of this corner of his territory.

  There was nothing out of the ordinary…except a few paw prints. They had him biting back a growl as memories of Damien’s defiance came to mind. His self-control was being stretched to the—

  He stopped mid-thought, his brain registering something. About to move on, he now paused and examined the paw prints again, noting the wolf’s stride. Definitely a wolf, but were they really Damien’s? Damien had an almost imperceptible limp that should be notable in the pattern of his gait. He tried to bring an image of Damien’s tracks to mind, but wasn’t positive. Crouching down, Rafe studied the prints more carefully. They were new enough that there should have been a scent, but there wasn’t. Picking up a piece of the soil, he brought it up to his nose and focussed all his attention on the sample. There was nothing except a faint residue of flowers.

  His hand curled into a fist, crushing the clump of dirt into powder as a nasty suspicion came to mind. Rising to his feet, he glanced back at Eve. She was still sitting on the rock, sketching.

  Keeping half his attention on her, Rafe began to follow the tracks, continually testing the air, yet finding no trace of wolf. A small tuft of fur was caught on a branch and he plucked it off; it was black like Damien’s.

  No scent, but definitely a wolf present. He was beginning to build a picture and it wasn’t a pretty one. Pulling out his cell phone, he called Reno.

  “Smith here.”

  “Reno, what kind of game are you playing here?”

  “Game? Rafe, I don’t—”

  “Don’t try to bullshit me. You’ve got Damien planted as a mole snooping around here, and I want to know why.”

  “Damien, a mole? Now what makes you think that?”

  “Wolf tracks. Tracks that have no scent. Rumours have been circulating for ages that Lycan Link’s developed scent masking technology.” He shook his head, unable to believe Reno would stoop so low. “Now, I’ll ask you again, why is Lycan Link spying on me? Are they investigating my last case? Or wondering why I demanded an investigation of Rogue Retrieval? Is it the funding money?”

  “To the best of my knowledge there are no operatives in your area. And the scent mask is considered classified information.” The creak of leather could be heard as Reno settled back in his chair.

  “Yeah and no one knows about the tooth fairy either.” He snorted. Did Reno really believe there was such a thing as a secret within the walls of Lycan Link? “Cut the crap. If it’s not Damien then who else has access to the scent mask?”

  “No one. At least not legal access.”

  Rafe paced back and forth, still keeping an eye on Eve, while weighing the veracity of Reno’s tone. He exhaled gustily. “All right. I’ll assume you’re telling me the truth.”

  “That’s big of you.”

  He ignored Reno’s comment and continued. “Then why would Damien—a rogue Enforcer—be using an illegally acquired scent mask and conducting surveillance on m
e?”

  “No reason I can think of. What makes you suspect that?”

  “A tuft of black fur, tracks around the perimeter of my yard and no scent. What other conclusion could I come to?”

  “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve just provided me with the missing puzzle piece.”

  “What puzzle?” Rafe gripped the phone tighter.

  “I can’t tell you, but things will be resolved soon.”

  “Reno—” He started to protest, but the other man had already hung up.

  Rafe put his phone away while cursing under his breath. He didn’t have a clue as to what Reno was talking about. All he knew was that he didn’t want Eve involved in anything dangerous, and for that he needed to keep her near him so he could protect her. The best place for that was inside, but ordering her around wasn’t going to get him very far, especially not after their earlier blow up.

  He returned to where Eve was working and strove to keep his tone from sounding too demanding. “I need to get back to work. Would you mind finishing your pictures another time?”

  She nodded and gathered her things without a word.

  Not quite forgiven yet, he decided. But at least she wasn’t ripping a strip off of him either. Once inside, she went to her room and shut the door. He stared at the closed panel before sighing and turning away. It was for the best. Two empaths in a relationship weren’t a good idea. It was too intimate, too intense; they became lost in each other to the exclusion of the rest of the world. Little wonder pure-blooded Fae were almost unheard of anymore; over the centuries, they’d avoided breeding with their own kind in order to maintain some individuality.

  He walked across the room and noticed the throw rug was still bunched in the corner of the foyer. He’d meant to deal with it yesterday, but the arrival of Eve’s friend had caused him to forget. It was muddy and needed a good washing. Intent on throwing it in the laundry, he paused, his hand on the wall. The plaster was smooth and cool under his palm, the white surface reminding him of Eve’s fair skin. He’d taken Eve in that very spot less than forty-eight hours ago. Even now he could recall the sensations; the feel of her limbs wrapped around him, her scent filling his lungs, her soft cries as he buried himself in her over and over…