“Moving up the ranks?”
“If I don’t kill somebody first. Dammit, Rafe, I’m not cut out for all this paperwork and diplomacy. Field work is where I belong.”
Rafe could easily imagine Reno running agitated fingers through his hair.
“Isn’t there someone you can delegate to? I really don’t want to report Masterson to the likes of Adrian Somerset.”
“Hell, no. Damien would fight to the death rather than come in trussed up in a cage like Adrian has them. Can’t you talk him in? You’re the best there is, after all.”
“Flattery, Reno? Tsk, tsk. The depths you’ve fallen to.” Rafe gently mocked the other man, trying to avoid answering Reno’s request.
“I’d slit my wrists if I thought it would help Damien.”
Rafe was quiet for a moment, not doubting Reno’s sincerity; the men were reported to have been like brothers in everything but blood. He decided to answer honestly. “Reno… I’m not sure I’m up to it.”
Reno was silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and serious. “Rafe, I know—at least I think I know—what you’re up against. The same thing happened to me after Langstaff. A case goes sour and you start to doubt yourself, but walking away isn’t the answer. There are still Lycans out there that need you.”
Rafe sighed. How often had he heard that?
‘This one needs you.’
‘Only you can reach him.’
‘You’re his last hope, Doctor McRae.’
Everyone needed him, but what about his own needs? Did anyone realize the toll each case took on him? The mental energy that was drained from him with each new patient?
“I’m exhausted, Reno. I can’t know with any certainty that I’m reading a rogue correctly anymore.”
“So what? Even if your skills aren’t working at one hundred percent they’re still better than what most of us have. Being one quarter Fae gives you a leg up on all of us. Empaths are hard to come by in the Lycan world.”
“Correction. Empaths are seldom accepted in the Lycan world. The Fae-Lycan schism hasn’t been mended even after all these centuries. Those of us who are the result of such a union are still viewed with suspicion.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. It’s all part of the whole Purist mindset. Only a few lowlifes follow that type of thinking.”
Rafe smiled to himself. Reno had worked hard over the years, trying to eradicate the Purist mentality, but old prejudices still existed. Few were aware of how hard he, as a part Fae, had had to fight to earn his place in the Lycan world, how he’d been shunned by those afraid he’d ‘read their minds.’ Of course, he could only read emotions not actual thoughts, and only those of normal humans or Lycans in their wolf form. But few really bothered to understand empathic abilities. Little did they know that most Fae kept their minds locked, that being barraged by the feelings of others was exhausting. Empathic connections were usually kept for far more intimate moments.
In the end, he’d learned it was easier to hide his heritage. It wasn’t until he began his studies at university that he’d come to see a use for his skills, and find his own place in the Lycan world.
“If you could just befriend Damien, keep him busy for a week or two until I can get there and talk to him.” Reno paused and then continued. “Rafe, I don’t say this often but…please?”
A growl escaped Rafe. He knew when he was beaten. When the mighty Reno Smith started to beg, you knew you had to concede. “All right. I’m not promising anything, but I’ll try to keep him in the area until you can get here. And I won’t say anything to Lycan Link in case Adrian gets wind of it.”
“Thanks, Rafe. I owe you one.”
“Oh yeah, you owe me one, Reno. You owe me big time.” And with that he hung up.
Chapter 6
Reno flicked his phone shut and shoved it in his pocket while casually surveying his surroundings. He was standing outside the main building for Lycan Link headquarters and wanted to ensure no one had heard his conversation. There was a traitor at Lycan Link and he no longer knew who to trust. It rankled to have lied to Rafe—he considered the doctor an old friend—but after five years who knew how the man might have changed.
Checking his watch, Reno began to walk towards a cluster of picnic tables. It was almost time for his meeting; a very private meeting with a few Lycans he knew he could depend on. The captain had put him in charge of this bit of subterfuge and they’d both agreed that the fewer Lycans involved the better.
The weather was warm for an early spring day and several Lycan Link employees were taking advantage of their lunch break, strolling about the large compound or sitting outside reading. While this meant no one would question why he was outside, it also meant he’d have to be extra diligent to ensure no one was near enough to listen in.
Directly ahead, Bradley Owen was sitting at a table placed near a young sapling, the yet unfurled leaves doing little to block the sun. Reno nodded as he took a seat at the other end of the table, tilting his face upward as if enjoying the warm rays.
“Nice day for lunch outside.” Brad took a bite of his sandwich and slowly turned the page of the book he had with him. Anyone looking this way would assume he was lost in the story.
“Sure is.” Reno barely spared the man a glance. He nodded in greeting at an Enforcer that jogged by, and gave a genuine smile when his mate, Brandi, appeared with two paper bags in her hand. The wind was causing her long red locks to ripple like flames dancing about her shoulders and his cock hardened as he recalled how she’d looked in bed that morning, her hair spilling about her on the pillow. They’d almost been late for work because of it.
“Reno! Sorry I’m late. There was a long line at the cafeteria.” She leaned down, kissed his cheek and then sat beside him.
“No problem, Babe. What did you bring me?” He peered in the sack and his stomach rumbled as the scent of French fries wafted up at him.
“A burger and fries. No onion rings though.” She wrinkled her nose and laughed, taking her seat beside him.
He growled in mock anger before removing the food from the bag and placing it on the table. Surreptitiously, he surveyed the area again. They were still alone. “I had a call today from Rafe McRae.”
“Rafe?” Brad spoke barely moving his lips, his eyes still focussed on his book. “I haven’t seen him since we were at the Academy together.”
“Dr. McRae?” Brandi knit her brows together. “Wasn’t he the founder of the Rogue Rehabilitation Clinic? As I recall he made quite a splash with his theory that rogues aren’t inherently evil.” She hugged Reno’s arm. “Of course, I knew that all along.”
Reno pressed a kiss to her temple before continuing. “Yep, that’s him. He called me about a rogue. There’s one in his territory and he thinks it’s Damien.
“Damien?” Brandi stiffened upon hearing the announcement and Brad actually looked up from his book before remembering his cover and sinking down behind the novel again. “Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?”
“I convinced him to try and keep Damien there until I could fly out.”
Brandi clutched the edge of the table. “You’re sure he’s not going to call Somerset? If he does, it’s like signing Damien’s death certificate. Maybe I should go, just to be sure.”
“Rafe is a good guy,” Brad assured her. “He wouldn’t sell anyone out to a creep like Somerset.”
Reno slid a sideways glance at the man. “I’m going with my gut and assuming we can trust him that far.”
“Why wouldn’t you trust Dr. McRae?” Brandi glanced over her shoulder and waved at a co-worker, plastering a smile to her face as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
“I don’t know. But no one is above suspicion. And a rogue died at his clinic recently. It could mean something…or not.” Reno took another bite of food. “Just before that, rumour had it he was making noises, wanting increased funding for more research or some such thing. If he needs money, who knows what he might do?”
r /> Brandi frowned. “Then why ask him to help you out with Damien?”
“He called me. Told me he suspected Damien was in the area.” Reno shrugged. “What was I going to say? ‘Stay away, I’m not sure I can trust you.’ That would have gone over real well.”
“I hate this.” Brandi stared at the fry she was dipping in ketchup, stirring it around in the red sauce. “I hate not being able to trust anyone. I thought when you caught Al Zimmerman that we’d be done with this.”
“Al was only the tip of the iceberg.” Brad closed his book and began to pack up the remnants of his lunch.
Reno nodded. “Investigating Zimmerman is what brought this latest problem to light. Good thing you decided to do a deep security scan of the system. If you hadn’t noticed the correlation between the rogues and the Fae, who knows if we would ever have noticed it.”
“I’m still amazed that you even made the connection.” Brandi darted a glance at Brad. “It wasn’t until I actually saw the printouts side by side that I believed it.”
“I always said that damned photographic memory could be put to better use than playing poker and remembering the stats of females you meet at the bar.” Reno laughed softly.
“Hey, I’m more than a pretty face and a great body.” Brad grinned before sobering again. He flipped a page in his book. “I’m still analyzing the pattern of who is accessing the Lycan Link data bank. Each person who signs in to a file leaves an electronic signature. The trick is trying to compare all the registered accesses and see if any were made by someone who shouldn’t be there. So far, every Lycan who’s looked at the data would have had a legitimate reason to do so in association with their job. As far as I can tell, no one has breached the system.”
Brandi scowled. “Which confirms our suspicions that it’s corruption right inside Lycan Link, not some random hacker.”
“No single department would have a reason to access the list of rogues and the list of Fae.” Brad pointed out. “There’s no overlap of responsibilities between those two areas. And there’s no one person who’s tried to access both lists.”
“So there’s a group of indeterminate size working in more than one department and pooling their resources to carry this out.” Reno reached over and tucked a strand of Brandi’s hair behind her ear. “I just wish we could figure out how they’re doing it.”
“Maybe there’s something about being a rogue—some ancient, instinctive memory—that’s kicking in. While the legend of how the Fae-Lycan schism began can’t really be taken as fact, there has to be some grain of truth that the stories were built on.” Brad speculated as he slowly got to his feet. “That’s the defence they’ll use if this ever goes before High Council.”
“That’s a bunch of crap and you know it.” Reno snorted. “Someone is orchestrating this. Manipulating circumstances to hide their own agenda. You won’t convince me otherwise without a damned lot of proof.”
“Don’t go rabid on me, Reno. I’m just tossing out ideas. I’ll keep looking and let you know as soon as I find anything.”
“Sorry. You know I’m not good at waiting.” Reno grunted, staring off into the distance as if he had no interest in the man. “Keep us posted. Once we have proof, we can make our move.”
“Will do.” Brad sauntered off, dropping the remains of his lunch in a nearby garbage pail.
Brandi set down her now soggy French fry. “What do you think about Damien?”
“I’m thinking the captain picked a hell of a time to leave me in charge.” Reno growled. “I told Rafe I wanted to fly out there, but couldn’t because I have meetings and paperwork coming out my ass.”
“Really? Out of your ass? I’ll have to check that very carefully when we get home tonight.” Brandi leaned back and snuck at look at his rear end, her eyes wide. Reno couldn’t keep the grin off his face. God, he loved her.
“I can’t wait.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Brandi giggled and he took the opportunity to steal a kiss, grabbing a handful of her fries while she was distracted.
Between bites, he inquired about her own progress. “How are things going with the Affiliation Office?”
“The protocols we’re setting up to form liaisons with the various shifter species are still a sticking point. The bears are fairly easy to deal with but the were panthers are proving difficult.”
“Damned cats, what did you expect?” He grumbled at the mention of the species and Brandi gave him a playful jab with her elbow.
“Reno, you know full well you actually liked Malik.” She referred to a case he’d had almost a year ago dealing with the were panthers’ monarch.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say liked.”
“Well, respected then.”
He scowled and she rolled her eyes but let the topic drop.
“Actually, it’s the non-shifters, like the Fae, that are the hardest to deal with. The envoy the Fae Queen sent is very disorganized and distrustful, though who can blame her with the recent deaths.” She compressed her lips and shook her head. “Who would have thought that their queen wanting to unite her people, and preserve their heritage, would actually contribute to their own destruction?”
“The deaths were happening even before she asked Lycan Link for help. It just wasn’t as well documented.”
“But since known Fae have been added to the Lycan Link data base the number of deaths have climbed sharply.”
“Some might say it’s their own damned fault for not keeping better track of their people. If they hadn’t had to turn to us for help, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Reno!” Brandi stared at him, mouth ajar as if she couldn’t believe what she’d heard. He put his hands up in mock surrender.
“I didn’t say I believed it, just that some Lycans might follow that train of thought.” He listed off the Fae’s failings on his fingers. “The Fae have been scattered and disorganized for years. Their monarch, herself, admits they could be nearing the brink of extinction since there are so few pure Fae left. Half the mixed-Fae don’t even know they are Fae, let alone know they have a queen or a heritage. They lack almost any form of infrastructure and balk at our attempts to help them establish one. They have only a partial listing of their members and it’s filled with inaccuracies—”
“That still doesn’t mean they deserve to be wiped off the face of the earth.”
“I agree, but old prejudices run deep. Purist-type thinking isn’t confined to hatred of Lycans who are half human. Some can’t accept the idea of non-humans that don’t fall into the shifter category or—”
“Or Fae-Lycan matings.” Brandi sighed heavily and leaned her head against Reno’s shoulder. “Why can’t everyone get along and see the value of all life? Every living creature is a miracle in its own right, after all.”
Reno gave her a one-armed hug. “I know, Babe. I know. Let’s hope this hair-brained scheme we’ve concocted works.”
“And the collateral damage isn’t too high”
Chapter 7
Eve peered out the window and nibbled on her thumbnail, caught herself and shoved her hand into her pocket out of harm’s way. She really wanted—make that needed—to go outside.
It wasn’t that she minded being inside; a day or two wasn’t too much of a trial. In fact, given the uneasy ‘being-watched’ feeling that had plagued her much of yesterday, staying in the cabin had seemed preferable. However, a good night’s rest had erased what was, no doubt, paranoia on her part and going outside felt less daunting than it had the previous day.
She’d spent much of the yesterday working on preliminary sketches for a series of paintings; a stand of pine trees, set against varying skies from sunrises and sunsets to storms and the Northern Lights. An art gallery had been making noises about featuring her in an exhibit and if that actually happened, she’d need to have several more pieces prepared.
The particular group of trees she was hoping to feature were surrounded by an interesting swirl of mist at the moment. Howeve
r, they were to the side of the cabin and she couldn’t get a clear view of them from the front window without craning her neck at an awkward angle. If it wasn’t for that darned wolf, she’d sit right outside and have an uninterrupted view, but she’d told Rafe she wouldn’t go wandering around.
However… The porch was still part of the cabin, right? Technically she wouldn’t be breaking her word. For one final moment, she pondered the wisdom of what she was about to do then decided to go for it. Art waited for no man…er…wolf!
After pulling on a heavy sweater to ward off the dampness, she grabbed her sketch pad and headed towards the door, bringing Rafe’s gun along just in case. Feeling pleased that she’d taken the necessary precautions, she arranged an old wooden chair so she could see the trees at a proper angle, set the gun at her feet and went to work.
For almost an hour she sketched non-stop, her pencil flying across the pages as she drew the trees, the grass at their base, an old stump, the fog that rolled off the mountains in the distance. Slowly, the sun broke through the clouds, its beams penetrating the misty whiteness and creating interesting lighting effects. A faint breeze began to blow, stirring strands of her hair, but she merely tucked the persistent stray locks behind her ear not wanting to stop to look for a hairclip. The fog would be gone soon.
She squinted, wishing she could see the tree up close. Something wasn’t quite right. Her gaze flicked between her page and the actual tree, puzzling over what was wrong. It would only take a few minutes to walk over there and get a close up look at the texture…
No, her common sense dictated she not take such a chance.
Giving a shrug, she decided she’d done enough for one day and closed her sketchpad. She stretched, pleased with her work and happy to have been outside. The gentle underlying pulse of nature filled her with a sense of well-being, as if she were somehow tapping into an unseen energy source and being revitalized by it. It made her wonder how she’d ever survived living in the city.