Collateral Damage Read online

  Collateral Damage

  The Ever Chace Chronicles, Book 2

  Susan Harris

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

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  Collateral Damage

  Copyright ©2016 Susan Harris

  All rights reserved.

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  Summary: When Derek Doyle wakes up next to a ripped-apart body, he's terrified he's about to lose everything he holds dear—Ever, his job, and his family. Ever Chace has a lot on her plate. Confronted with the possibility that she is indeed losing her mind, Ever tries to push it aside as they deal with the ramifications of Derek's past.

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  ISBN: 978-1-63422-222-8 (paperback)

  ISBN: 978-1-63422-221-1 (e-book)

  Cover Design by: Marya Heidel

  Typography by: Courtney Knight

  Editing by: Cynthia Shepp

  For my grandmother

  Mary Josephine Walsh

  Who shared with us her smile, her laughter, her poise, and her strength.

  But most of all,

  An abundance of love.

  May we meet again

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Smoke & Mirrors, Book 3

  Also by Susan Harris

  Playlist

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Afterword

  Hark now hear the warrior’s cries

  As lightning streaks through darkened skies.

  Blood and sand are mingled here,

  Though we’ve no time to drown in fear.

  The clash of swords, the song of death,

  A battle cry of warriors met.

  Gods will fall; kingdoms follow,

  Until the world is all but hollow.

  The Valkyrie queen shall lead her kin,

  Into a battle she must win.

  Embrace, she must, a destiny true,

  Her failure starts the world anew.

  A monster wakes, a champion will rise.

  A daughter must slay a father despised.

  The seventh-born queen must save her kin,

  As thunder rages, war shall begin.

  A sharpened sword and steady hand,

  Only she has the power to make a stand.

  Worlds will falter, heroes will die.

  Impossible choices of love and lies.

  Ragnarók spells the end of all.

  The brave will cower, the mighty fall.

  The Valkyrie queen has a dangerous task.

  But it’s for her blood that we must ask.

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  Taken from the Libraries of Valhalla.

  Author unknown

  The scent of copper permeated the air as he struggled against the silver restraints that bound him to his cell. His vision was blurred, and the bones that had been shattered had slowly begun to knit back together. He learned a long time ago, shortly after he’d been changed, to embrace the pain. Pain makes you remember you’re alive; that there might just be a spark of hope in the far regions of your battered mind; that someday, somehow, you might escape the horror around you.

  Cowering in the corner, naked and shrouded in the darkness of the cellar in which he was caged, Derek had never felt so alone. When he’d awoken and learned that all his men were dead, Morris had beaten him within an inch of his life to prove his alpha dominance. His family must think he was dead like all the others—especially since his captors had sent body parts back to the army.

  For what seemed like an eternity, he had been forced to fight for survival, his alpha insisting only the most vicious, ruthless wolves could be in his pack. For Derek’s alpha, you either fought and killed or you were killed. Not that Derek wanted to live, but he fought a constant inner battle against his other half—a wolf who refused to let him sacrifice himself, who had now killed twenty-nine of his alpha’s best men, and who had revelled in the act.

  The wolf howled inside his mind, pacing back and forth, hating the prison the man’s actions had forced upon them. Derek had refused to toe the line and bow down to the bastard who had ripped his throat out, and that both irked and pleased his wolf. It showed strength, yes; but it was also the reason why they were locked in a cell, being treated like prisoners. The wolf swiped a paw at Derek, and Derek cringed; the wolf was slightly stronger willed than him. The evil that now shimmered beneath Derek’s skin, this overwhelming need to claw and sink his canines into flesh, compelled him, and he did not need a direct order from the man who called himself his alpha to maim and kill.

  He longed for the familiar scent of home—his mother’s stew simmering on the stove, his father coming in smelling of freshly cut grass and the horses he bred. He sometimes closed his eyes and imagined he was home, sitting around the dinner table, listening to his siblings quarrelling and teasing each other or watching as his father came inside to press a kiss to his mother’s cheek as she served up dinner. His heart ached to think of them in mourning for him, but he feared returning home as a son and brother who was no longer human would never lead to a happy reunion.

  The door to the cellar scraped open, and a burst of light pierced his swollen eyes. Derek hissed before shielding his face, a feral growl ripping through the air. He balked when he heard a chuckle; it was a sinister sound that showed Derek this man—this monster—was not afraid of him… yet.

  “Hush your growling, pup. When you learn to behave and be civilized, then you can join us upstairs in the compound. But for now, you need to learn to have some respect for those who are superior.”

  “Kill me,” Derek begged the man with the salt-and-pepper hair. There was not one shred of dignity left in him. He had been changed almost two months ago, and Neville Morris had made sure Derek knew who held his life in his hands.

  Morris boomed with laughter as he descended the stone steps and neared Derek’s cage. “Kill you? Why would I do such a thing? I can smell your power, boy, and I can utilize your skills. Once I break you—once I make you compliant and once you show me your loyalty—then we can talk again.”

  Derek assessed his options. He could unleash the beast and go for Morris’s jugular. After all, his wolf was faster than the man was, and it despised the power the other wolf held over Derek. His own death afterward would be swift—the werewolf’s second in command would release him from this cursed existence quickly.

  “I can see the cogs in your mind turning, boy, and I approve. Maybe one day you will kill me, but today will not be that day.”

  He flashed a smirk and then turned his back to Derek—an ultimate show by the alpha that he held no fear of the locked-up Derek. Morris strode up the steps, paused at the door, and glanced over his shoulder at his captive. Ambe
r flared in his eyes, and Derek shuddered under the power that flooded Morris’s body.

  “Rest up, pup. You’ve a busy night ahead of you. I do love watching your conscience come into play when you rip into someone’s chest with your claws and teeth. Very amusing.”

  Morris chortled, and a chorus of cackles sounded outside the door. Then, the door slammed shut and the darkness became his only companion.

  Derek’s new hearing meant he could detect the rumble of words above him. He strained to hear, but the thick concrete encasing him prevented him from discerning more than a mumble.

  Derek pulled on his restraints, relishing the bittersweet agony that seared his flesh. He wanted to wallow in the darkness, become resigned to his fate, but he was a soldier and still had a mission. The darkness around him was illuminated as his eyes flashed amber, and for the first time since he was changed, Derek grinned. He was used to being patient, to waiting for days in silence, waiting to pounce on his prey. The wolf in him now made it more enjoyable as adrenaline flooded his veins.

  He would wait, and he would be patient.

  And then Neville Morris would die.

  The past bled into the present as consciousness came to him slowly, a wave of nausea flooding through him—although he wasn’t completely certain whether the nausea was from the drug or his haunted past. Remembering those times tended to give him a violent reaction.

  Painfully, he turned on his side and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor. His stomach heaved and clenched as he lay back down against the pillow and groaned. He never got sick… except for that one time Ricky had plied him with his own concocted moonshine. This was like the hangover from hell. What had happened to him?

  Flashes of memories came back to him—getting jumped outside the station, being drugged, and then… nothing. Not many supes could have gotten the jump on him. If he hadn’t been so caught up thinking about Ever, then maybe he would have been paying better attention. Christ, his head hurt.

  He tried to tap into the mating bond that tied him and Ever together, but not even a trace of it remained. It frayed his nerves, unsettling him. Despite the fact that the bond was new and tender, Derek found it calming. Having it tempered screwed with his balance.

  A sliver of light slipped through an unshielded window. Despite the illumination, Derek found it difficult to focus. Everything sounded like he was underwater, and the only sound that could be heard was the pounding in his own ears. Whatever he’d been shot up with, it had taken away the supernatural aspect of his physiology.

  Not accustomed to the stark blindness of his senses, Derek felt around on the surface he rested on, and his fingers discovered a sticky substance. He lifted up his hand, and the crimson, cold blood made his stomach lurch again.

  Blinking a couple of times, he concentrated and focused on his surroundings. It appeared he was in a high-end apartment. The bedroom he was in consisted of brown walls, and he had already acquainted himself with the oak hardwood floor. The curtains were pulled slightly closed, but the small gap was where the faint sunlight was coming from.

  He glanced down at himself and fought back the bile that flooded his throat. Apart from a minimalistic pair of black boxers, Derek was naked and covered in gore. He ran the back of his hand over his mouth. It came back bloody.

  His eyes darted to the side, and he leapt off the bed, retreating until his back connected with the harsh coldness of the windowpane. His breathing was ragged, and for the first time in a long time, he felt an emotion that he’d pushed to the far regions of his mind.

  Fear.

  The body of a beautiful young woman lay on the bed. Her hair was a dyed blonde, guessing from the dark roots, and her lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling, but that wasn’t what made him empty retch once again.

  The woman’s body looked as if she had been vivisected, but with claws instead of medical equipment. Her ribs had been cracked open, and her insides now decorated her outside. Blood, bone, and intestine spilled from her open body, her heart visibly missing from her chest, and Derek knew with a sickening certainty that he was being set up.

  Or was he?

  The thought rushed to the forefront of his mind before he could stop it. Of course he was capable of this—any wolf under a bloodlust would be—but he felt calmer than he had in eons, despite the circumstances. It wasn’t the first time he had seen a body in this state, and the pit of his stomach lurched when he recalled how he had administered a death like that to many a wolf under the order of Neville Morris.

  He glanced around the room again and saw that both his clothing and what he suspected was her clothing lay tossed around the room. If he had to garner a guess, whoever had devised this plan had been so organized, so meticulous in their thinking, that they’d made it look as if Derek and the woman had been embroiled in a night of passion, and after hurriedly taking off his clothes and having his way with her, Derek had gone to town on her.

  But only a small circle of friends and family were in on the secret that he and Ever had mated. It had been done in a rush since they had both been dying, and he’d wanted her to get used to the supernatural side effects that came with the mating bond before he sang it from the rooftops. Wolves mated for life and would never dream of cheating on their mate, so he had an ace in his back pocket.

  Spying his pants, he searched through the pockets, surprised to find his phone still there. His first instinct was to contact Ever, but he really didn’t want to alarm her just yet. Instead, he rang the one person he knew would have his back no matter what.

  “Yo, D, you looking for dating advice before the big night tonight? Like, I know you all chivalrous and shit, but damn! Make a move already! ‘Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen’ won’t work on your missus.”

  It made him smile to hear his friend’s voice.

  “Rick, I’m in big trouble, man.”

  “I know. You don’t deserve a chick like that.”

  Derek sighed. “No, Rick. I mean like get my ass put in jail, headed for a swift execution trouble.”

  And just like that, his friend went into cop mode.

  “What happened?”

  “I was attacked last night and drugged. I woke ‘bout ten minutes ago next to a dead girl with her chest ripped open.”

  “Jayzus, D… What the fuck?”

  Derek cleared his throat. “A call’s gonna come through to dispatch with an anonymous tip. I say I’ve ten minutes before they storm in here and arrest me. I didn’t do it, Ricky, but it sure looks like I lost my shit and ate her.”

  “Whether you did it or not isn’t even a question that needs answered.”

  And that’s why Ricky was his best friend.

  “I’ll give Sarge the heads up, and we will sort this out. Any idea who’s after your fine ass?”

  Derek snorted. “You really need a list? They were wolves, I’m sure of that. But their scents were blocked somehow. Ricky, whatever they gave me, it’s knocked my supernatural senses for six. I can’t really hear or see, and I have no strength.”

  “That’s messed up, D.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “Okay, just get out of there. Run. We can cover your tracks until we figure out which SOB has it in for you.”

  “You know I can’t do that, mate. I’ll look guilty as hell if I leave the scene.”

  Ricky blew out a breath at the other end of the phone. “How’d I know you were gonna say that, you noble asshat? Okay, keep your shit together. We got your back, D. Never doubt that.”

  “That wasn’t even in question.”

  “Now stop being a soppy git and let me gather the team. We got this.”

  The line went dead, and Derek shivered. Damn, it wasn’t until he felt utterly human that he realized how much he liked being a wolf. The strength, the constant warmth, and the extra sensory benefits were a major bonus, though he did feel like a monster. Sometimes it disgusted him that he quite liked it—being a monster.

  He pulled on his discar
ded pants so that at least when the uniforms burst in on him he wouldn’t be giving them a peepshow. He braced himself, then studied the woman again. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, and the hair was probably to establish a link that he liked blondes, considering that Ever was a blonde.

  For a devastating moment, Derek saw Ever when he looked at the body on the bed, her body broken and ripped apart, and shuddered. The vision before him was nothing that he wanted to see for real. He’d done some bad stuff in the past, but whoever had done this was a real monster.

  You’re a monster, pup. Embrace it and you’ll be better for it.

  Neville Morris had tried to mould him into a monster, to make him the ultimate bodyguard. Morris hadn’t been able to break Derek’s spirit, but he had created a monster.

  He listened as the wail of sirens came closer. Tires screeched outside, and Derek sank to his knees. He waited until he heard the door burst in and footsteps stomping up the stairs before he linked his bloody fingers behind his head and waited.

  Letting his eyes drift shut, Derek focused on Ever—her smile, her laugh, the maddening way in which he wanted her. She was a light in the dark that consumed him, and he prayed he didn’t lose her in the midst of all this madness. Yet again, he was letting her down, and he feared they would never get to go on the date he kept promising to take her on.

  The thundering footsteps came into the apartment, and Derek readied himself. Since he couldn’t smell or hear anything more than his human senses allowed, the heartbeats of those who crashed into the bedroom eluded him. Behind closed lids, he listened to people vomiting, swearing, and wondering what in all hell had happened.