Blood Ties, Love Binds Read online

  ♥

  Blood Ties,

  Love Binds

  ♥

  Blood Ties, Love Binds by Alexa Whitewolf

  Copyright ©2008-2018 Alexa Whitewolf

  Cover design by Y. Nikolova at Ammonia Book Covers

  Kindle Second Edition

  This is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

  Acknowledgements

  A writer’s life is never easy. Between many all-nights and juggling multiple things, it can be easy to get lost or overwhelmed. Which is why it’s important to have a great support system.

  I’ve been blessed with an amazing husband who understands that I’m not always going to be cooking dinner – especially when I’m working on a new novel. His support made this book possible, and Steven, my love, know that I appreciate it every moment of every day.

  To my mom, a huge thanks for always believing in me! If you hadn’t been the mom you’ve always been, I’d never have grown up to be the woman I am today.

  To my two furballs, Zeus and Achilles… Thanks for all the times you knocked my laptop/tablet over so we could play, and so I could take a breather. Thanks for knowing me well enough that you could tell when I needed a break. And thank you, most of all, for the long walks in the moonlight that always spark inspiration!

  A huge shout-out goes to my friend and fellow talented author Eldon Farrell (Descent Series & Singularity), who spent hours perusing the earlier draft. His feedback smoothed many hurdles in the long process of rewriting this story!

  Massive, massive thanks to Y. Nikolova at Ammonia Book Covers for yet another awesome cover!

  And as always, to my readers – thanks for sticking it through with me!

  ♥ Prologue ♥

  The villa rose amid a colourful field of tulips and grapes. Three stories high, with a faded beige exterior and windows from the Renaissance Age, it painted a pretty picture. Vines covered the cracked walls, enhancing the structure’s ancient feel.

  Acres and acres of vastness surrounded it, with no soul to be seen for miles on end. The only security was a metal gate uniting the rectangle of cement blocks. Its lock lay discarded on the dusty ground, the rusted top broken off by force.

  The area was picturesque, perfect for a vacation, were it not for the men lining the entrance to the metal gate. Like a human wall, they circled the outside periphery, their unwavering gazes glued to the villa and the person hiding within.

  The rising sun casts a shade over their contingent, not obscuring them, but somehow emphasizing their sinister countenances.

  ♥∞♥

  A screech of tires outside pulled Cassandra’s attention from her phone.

  “Shit.”

  She ran up the stairs and into the attic, heading to the small window for a better view. A thin lace curtain blocked the frame, and Cassandra moved it to the side, glancing below. Two other cars had arrived, bringing the total number to eight.

  Her hazel eyes momentarily fell on the lake in the distance, now painted with the rising sun’s amber glow. Such a beautiful landscape…and such pity I’m about to die here.

  Cassandra kept herself out of sight, biting her lip. The vultures’ numbers had multiplied, and it didn’t look like they’d be leaving anytime soon.

  From afar, it looked like a welcoming committee, the type any diplomat would get. The men wore dark, business suits, sunglasses and drove expensive-looking black cars. Some were pacing, others leaning against the vehicles as they waited.

  The only problem with that assessment was that Cassandra was no diplomat – quite the contrary. Her trip to Italy was motivated by love, and a lack of survivor’s instinct that would be her downfall, considering the heavy guns the men were packing.

  As if on cue, the sound of a gunshot snapped Cassandra out of her ruminations and drew her gaze to the morbid spectacle below. Two of the men were busy wrestling a third, and a short argument ensued. It ended when the man received a gunshot to the head and dropped dead on the ground. Within seconds, the sandy grass was stained by his blood.

  Cassandra tore her eyes from the morbid scene and forced herself to step away. Biting on her lip until she could taste blood, she felt for the gun strapped in the waistband of her jeans, drawing comfort from the small protection. Good thing my parents thought to hide at least some measure of protection on this estate. Not that it’ll do me much good despite my semi-decent aim.

  Not for the first time, Cassandra was reminded of the steps that had led her to that exact moment. The distrust, the betrayal, the love and the heartache. With the mounting danger, it was impossible not to imagine what would have happened if she had simply walked away.

  As quickly as it came, the idea was repelled by another. I wouldn’t have done anything differently.

  The unwelcome thought crossed her mind that there was no escaping the final showdown…and she had no backup.

  They know I’m here. I know they’re out there. The question is how much reprieve do I have?

  The ring of a cellphone cut through the oppressive silence. Cassandra dug it out of the pocket of her jeans, not even bothering to look at the caller ID.

  “Hey, D!” She tried to keep a neutral tone, if only to hide her predicament, but her boyfriend’s words quickly dispelled the notion she had succeeded.

  “What the hell are you thinking, Cass?” She cringed at the anger in his voice, but held back a snarky retort. He's worried, and if the situation were reversed, I would be too.

  Another car moved down the dusty road and her grip on the cellphone grew slack, even as her muscles tensed, intent on the men’s reactions. Is this it?

  Panic bubbled up Cassandra’s throat, almost choking her. Damon’s muttered curses on the other line faded in her ear, and she couldn’t get a single word past the knot in her throat.

  As she watched the latest newcomers exit the newest car, Cassandra reached behind with her free hand and pulled the gun out of her waistband, her knuckles whitening from the force of her hold.

  With her life hanging in the balance, she couldn’t help but think back to how the whole mess had begun…

  ♥ Chapter 1 ♥

  A few weeks earlier…

  Damon turned from his spot at the bar, casing the surroundings while sipping a glass of scotch. With his free hand, he pulled at the tight collar of his white shirt, drawing in a proper breath despite its constricting hold.

  “Was this penguin suit really necessary?” His lips barely moved as he spoke into the microphone embedded in his tie, addressing his team on the other end.

  “You wanted to blend in, right?” Amy’s voice held a spark of amusement, and Damon rolled his eyes.

  “You’re enjoying this.”

  His teammate was smart enough not to retort, and only silence answered him. Damon was about to draw her into another conversation, when movement by the elevators drew his gaze.

  “Target confirmed on my 6. Navy suit and cropped hair.”

  A pause followed as Amy consulted with the rest of the team, then, “Confirmed. You’re a go.”

  Damon downed the rest of his drink, and headed towards the elevator. He added a convincing stumble to his steps, keepi
ng his face angled to the floor in order to avoid the cameras. When the beep of the doors opening sounded, Damon stumbled into the target with enough force to knock him into the elevator, separating him from his group.

  “What the he—”

  With the doors safely closed and the elevator moving up, Damon dropped the act and slammed the man against the wall, one hand gripping his throat. “Where were you last Friday night, between one and two in the morning?”

  “Screw yo—” The curse finished on a wheeze as Damon tightened his hold.

  “Do I look like I’m fucking around? I asked you a question, Dimitri Kovalski, and I expect an answer.”

  It took a few more seconds until he turned blue in the face for Dimitri to tap the wall, signalling submission. Damon eased off his grip enough for him to speak.

  “I was at the Five Gentlemen club.”

  “And did you attempt to assault a young woman by the name of Rita Shakes?”

  Dimitri’s eyes narrowed and he struggled against Damon’s hold, attempting to escape it. Damon’s fingers closed around the man’s thorax with the force of a lion’s jaw. He stared him down until Dimitri slacked in his grip, and nodded.

  “I need a verbal answer.”

  “Yes. I was drunk and –”

  Damon dropped his grip, only to follow it with a punch to the gut. The target bent over in two, then dropped to the ground, coughing and wheezing.

  “I’m not interested in your excuses. I’ve gotten what I came here for.”

  When the elevator doors opened, Damon walked out and straight to one of the hotel rooms. He checked around to make sure no one saw him, then swiped a key and entered.

  The room was packed with computer monitors and people, all either on the phone or typing wildly. Amy, a petite redhead who had joined his team a year earlier, walked to him and held out her phone.

  “I have the Polish ambassador on the line.”

  Damon nodded and took the call, already unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. With the first few buttons undone, he could breathe freely. “Mr. Ambassador, I apologize for disturbing you at such a late hour.”

  There was a brief silence, then the man’s thick Eastern European accent came on the line. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “We have proof one of your diplomats committed a violent act towards a British citizen.”

  Only silence answered him, and Damon’s jaw clenched as he dropped all pretence. “I know you were aware of Dimitri’s transgression, Marcus. It’s time you strip him of his diplomatic status and let the authorities have him.”

  “You have no proof.”

  Damon turned to Amy and nodded. She lifted a small recording device to the phone, and played Dimitri’s confession. Damon waited a moment before returning on the line. “Is that enough proof?”

  “How did you get that?”

  “It’s what my firm does, Mr. Ambassador. Now, do we have a deal, or are we to go to the press with this information?”

  There was a heavy sigh on the line, then Marcus said, “I agree to your terms. I’ll draw up the paperwork first thing in the morning.”

  “It is morning, Mr. Ambassador. No better time than now.”

  After hanging up on the diplomat, Damon returned the phone to Amy and shrugged out of his suit jacket. When he felt her hovering nearby, he faced her once more. “What is it?”

  Rather than her usual confident self, Amy shied away from meeting his gaze. “Something came up across our radars…”

  When she didn’t continue immediately, Damon arched an eyebrow. “Well?”

  “Something you asked me to keep an eye on.”

  Damon’s expression hardened, even as he pulled his jacket back on. “Show me.”

  ♥∞♥

  “Are you all packed?”

  Damon moved away from the window of his corner office to glance at the newcomer. When he’d last seen Derek Pennington, he’d been his boss, but before all that, his mentor and friend.

  Gray hair cut short like a marine – despite his recent retirement – and dressed in a suit the envy of Armani himself, the old man had aged well. Yet the tight grip when they shook hands, and the solid pat on his back betrayed his strength.

  “What brings you here, boss?”

  A chuckle, and a wry smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve been your boss, Damon. But word has it you’re heading out on a solo mission.”

  Damon stayed quiet, unsure how much to reveal. Even in the tight-knit secretive groups, one could never be too safe. And despite Derek no longer calling the shots, his advice carried weight.

  Before he could decide, Derek levelled his dark gaze on him pressingly. It lasted for a few seconds, before he nodded. “You’re going back to her.”

  Damon’s jaw tightened reflexively at being found out, but after a moment of indecision, he inclined his head ever so slightly. “Yes.”

  Derek paced toward the window, keeping his own counsel. The air in the room brimmed, filled with tension. He turned after a few moments, his gaze no longer warm, but all business. “Why now? It has, after all, been over… what, ten years?”`

  “She’s in trouble. Or will be as soon as certain pieces fall together.”

  Derek pursed his lips, his stare hardening. “You don’t trust me?”

  Damon sighed, holding up his hands. “That’s not it, Derek. She means a lot. Too much.”

  Derek’s eyes fell to his protégé’s tightened fist, then back up. “I can tell. Ten years you were under my command, and not once did I see you lose your temper. Iceman, we called you. And yet here we are, barely two minutes of mentioning her, and you’re wound up like a cord ready to snap.”

  Damon knew any answer was futile, considering Derek knew him better than anyone. He’d helped Damon when he applied to the special operations side of Interpol and pulled him out within a year after he started his own private security company. Within a few years, the reins had passed to Damon.

  “You’re right,” Damon admitted, dropping into the closest chair. “She always got to me, even when we were younger.”

  “What made you leave back then? You never did tell me.”

  Another moment passed as Damon gritted his teeth. The scene was as familiar in his mind as though it happened yesterday. “Her father.”

  Derek tilted his head to the side in surprise. “You? Intimidated by a parent? I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type, even as a teenager.”

  “It wasn’t intimidation. The bastard was a manipulating prick.” Damon’s knuckles were white from clenching them so tightly. He could have hit something, but forced a deep breath instead.

  Derek stepped closer and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Whatever happened, you are past that, lad. Nothing – no one – can stand in your way.”

  “You’re right.”

  Derek looked ready to add more, but settled for a handshake, then walked away. By the door, he turned again. “Remember my number one rule: keep your wits about you. It would be a shame to lose you, now that you finally made it to the top.”

  Damon watched him leave, his words raking more than he wanted to allow. Then he glanced at his gym bag, packed and almost screaming with exuberance.

  Time to go.

  ♥∞♥

  Damon passed by airport security with a single sweep of his badge. The border agents knew enough not to contest it when his passport scan came back classified, and way above their pay grade. So even though he was packing weapons, they let him through.

  On the airplane, Damon found a spot by the window seat. Unlucky for him, a busty blonde occupied the seat next to him. She took one look at him and practically panted.

  “Pardon me, miss,” Damon tried to say as politely as possible, while squeezing past her – without succeeding. A fact made even more impossible when she arched her back and brushed her breasts against his forearm.

  He dropped to his seat in relief after long, agonizing moments, and turned away, rummaging through his backpack. Whether
on purpose or not, his neighbour chattered away, attempting to engage him in a conversation he wanted no part of.

  Despite himself, one question got through. “What brings you to visit Canada?”

  Damon faced her fully, almost smirking at her expression when she took in the scar on the side of his face, near his hairline – an old knife wound. “My fiancée, actually. I’m going back to see her.”

  The woman’s gaping mouth was a sight, but he turned away without outright laughing. A roll of his shoulders released some pent-up tension, then he plugged headphones in his ears and settled in for the ride.

  Ready or not, Cass, here I come.

  ♥ Chapter 2 ♥

  A honk behind her had Cassandra jump, then quickly press the accelerator and take off. She’d been so lost in her own thoughts, dreading yet another work day, and she’d missed the green light.

  As she turned a corner, a quick peak in the rear view mirror showed her the same black car following her. Cassandra frowned, wondering what kind of trouble she’d attracted again, when the dashboard of the car flashed red, white and blue.

  “Et merde!” The French version of oh shit rolled off her tongue too seamlessly. Biting back a second curse, she engaged the signaller and pulled over on the right side. The cop car stopped mere inches away from her back bumper.

  Cassandra bent over the passenger seat and rummaged for her license and registration, bemused at what might have triggered the random pull-over. When she straightened up with her ownership and insurance papers, the police officer was already at her door.

  The window slid down with a push of a button, and Cassandra angled her profile to get a peek at the cop. “I’m sorry, officer, but why—”

  The words died on her lips when the man squatted down, his face mere inches from hers. “Hello, Cassandra.”

  The dusty-blonde hair and strong jaw should have been appealing, especially when combined with the unique cerulean shade of his eyes. But all Cassandra felt was a need to get far, far away from the law officer who’d plagued her the last few months.