The Wolf and the Sheep Read online

  The Wolf and the Sheep

  Wolf #1

  Penelope Sky

  Hartwick Publishing

  The Wolf and the Sheep

  Copyright © 2019 by Penelope Sky

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  1

  Maverick

  As a young boy, I used to stand in this very spot.

  Right in the doorway, neither in the bedroom or outside it, I used to blend in with the shadows and stare at my father’s back. He’d been taller than me most of my life, so I looked up to him—literally.

  He always had the same routine as he stood in front of his vanity. First, he folded his sleeves back and buttoned them. Then the cuff links were added—one of the many pairs he owned. My mother always gifted him a new set on his birthday, finding something sleek he would be proud to wear.

  Once the cuff links were secured, he pulled the watch onto his wrist. White gold and flashy, it contrasted against the dark colors he usually wore. His suits were always black or blue, never tan or silver. His change in wardrobe seemed to occur after the worst day of his life came to pass.

  His silver wedding ring sat on the vanity where it’d been every day for a year. He always stared at it for a long time, as if he were considering putting it on again.

  When I was a child, it was something he never put on—because he’d always been wearing it.

  But now he didn’t know what to do with it.

  He straightened in front of the mirror and admired himself, his shirt still tight on his muscular arms. Sunlight had made his skin tanned and slightly weathered like worn-out leather, but he still possessed the resilience of a young man. Veins stretched from the tops of his hands and up his arms, protruding from the tight skin. He was tall, a mountain in my eyes, but he’d shrunk down as gravity worked against him all these decades.

  Now I was taller than him.

  Stronger than him.

  But not smarter than him.

  Our lives had never been the same since that terrible day one year ago.

  We had never been the same.

  He lifted his gaze and met mine in the mirror. “Yes?”

  When I was a child, he never noticed me because I was too short. But I was a man now…and I’d been a man a long time. Made in his likeness, I possessed his strength, his might. And unfortunately, I inherited all of his flaws—his coldness and his cruelty.

  His deep voice reverberated against the wall, filling every room in the old castle like he was the original king who’d ruled it centuries ago. Life hadn’t been kind to him, so he’d gradually darkened like the stone that comprised the walls of this enormous keep. It’d been the perfect playground for a family of four. But now that he was just a man of one…it was a large coffin.

  I stepped out of the darkness of the hallway and entered his bedroom, the air reeking of solitude. I could feel the loneliness he never showed, the tears he never shed. “You asked for me.” Like a good son, I obeyed my father even as a grown man. His lack of affection always disappointed me, but I respected him all the same.

  After his watch was secured, he rolled down his sleeves and eyed his wedding ring once again, as if he were tempted to put it on and travel back in time, to fix the mistakes it was too late to correct.

  He turned around, his chin up and his shoulders strong. “I have a meeting—and you’re coming with me.”

  The car stopped at the black iron gates, an image of a stallion carved into the bars. Once the security detail allowed us through, we drove up the gravel and approached the three-story estate that sat on prime Tuscan land. Summer was just around the corner, so dusk came late. It was almost eight o’clock, and the sky was still tinted with hues of pink and purple.

  The car circled the large fountain in the center, and I admired the ancient cobblestone that made up the walls of the mansion. With curved archways for the windows and ivy that grew up along the sides, it was clearly a family legacy. Homes like this were passed down through generations, starting with ancient ancestral royalty until the present time. It was unlikely this property had been purchased in the last five years.

  I tilted my face toward my father, keeping my eyes on our surroundings at the same time. “What are we doing here?”

  My father glanced at his watch. “Your guess is as good as mine.” His door was opened, and he stepped out.

  I got out as well, and we were escorted inside, entering an enormous archway with a stunning chandelier. Artwork from the 1800s was on the walls, mostly landscapes of lilies and ponds.

  The men guided us farther inside, bringing us into an enormous dining room lined with more historical paintings and sculptures. I’d grown up with money, so I knew what different levels existed. My family made their fortune through legal and illegal means. But judging from this magnitude, this family was aristocracy.

  We sat down at the long table, a table that could easily seat fifty people for dinner.

  I couldn’t even name fifty people that I liked.

  The men left the room.

  My father sat at the head of the table. With a perfectly straight back and an aggressive nature, he was ready for whatever this meeting would involve.

  I was still in the dark about everything. This could be a new client. This could be an enemy. This could be a friend. I really had no idea. “Who are we meeting?” My voice was minimized by the size of the room, the high ceilings that held several chandeliers. Instead of windows showing the outside world, it was just painting after painting.

  “Martin Chatel.” My father continued to stare straight ahead, his fingers resting on the mahogany of the table. As if he were the one who had called the meeting, he sat with perfect poise, still as a statue.

  Chatel. I recognized the family name.

  French.

  They had family relations all over Europe, a bloodline that traced back through kings. The wealth displayed on every wall had been respectfully inherited through superiority. My father was no longer in the criminal hemisphere, so I had no idea what our purpose was tonight. Unless he’d had a change of heart? “And why are we here?”

  “Martin said he had an offer I wouldn’t refuse.”

  I didn’t ask any more questions, knowing my father’s patience for talking had officially expired. My eyes moved to a painting on the wall, a portrait that stood out from all the others because it clearly didn’t belong there. Displaying a modern hand and new paint, it was a piece of art created recently, not hundreds of years ago. A young woman with brown hair the same color as this rich table sat in front of a dressing room mirror, gazing at her reflection as she prepared for whatever production she was about to perform. A brush was on the table, along with makeup supplies. She wore a tight dress and a diamond necklace. She was young, with rosy cheeks, painted lips, and eyes so blue, they were each their own ocean. She looked directly into the mirror, directly into the admirer of the piece. She seemed intelligent but innately innocent. She seemed kind but also callous.

  But most of all, she was beautiful.

  It was rare for the beauty of a woman to impress me, but I did appreciate art. The piece was special because it seemed so vulnerable, as if she didn’t want to sit for the painting but was forced to. I saw two sides to her—a young girl and a woman.

  There was nothing else in the room more entertaining, so my eyes stayed with the painting until our host joined us.

  Martin Chatel entered the room, thin and pale. He seemed like a man who hadn’t seen the sunlight in years, either because h
e was too busy working to make the time—or he preferred darkness. He sat at the opposite head of the table, even though that meant he was several feet away.

  I ignored the interesting painting and stared at the man who had summoned us here.

  Martin drummed his fingers against the table somewhat anxiously. “Caspian, it’s been a while.”

  “It wouldn’t feel that way if I had a drink in my hand.” My father’s presence was suffocating at times. He could saturate your mind with words, choke you with his derisive looks. He was a strong and fearless man—which made him terrifying.

  Martin paused before he released a chuckle. “This isn’t that kind of occasion.”

  “I’ve never heard of an occasion where drinking wasn’t involved. Even at my wife’s funeral, I drank like an ox.” My father stared at Martin across the table, burning him with his coffee-colored eyes, before gesturing to me. “This is my son, Maverick.”

  Martin looked at me, his eyes sizing me up. He stared at my blue suit, my well-kept hair, and the priceless watch that sat on my wrist. When he was satisfied with his assessment, he turned back to my father. “I know who he is.”

  I suspected my father brought me to these meetings because he wasn’t as focused as he used to be. Now he was more reckless, more unpredictable. I seemed to ground him, to give him a second sight. Most importantly, I was stronger. Age had made my father weak, but youth made me limber and strong.

  My father tapped his knuckles against the wood. “So, what is this offer I won’t refuse, Martin? You summoned us here without offering us a drink, so you better not have completely wasted my time.”

  “And mine.” Sometimes my presence was dwarfed by my father’s, but make no mistake, I was definitely his son. I was just as cold and just as calculating. Ever since we ended our illegal activities, I’d been living a quiet life running the legitimate family business. But prior to that, I made heads roll.

  Martin eyed us both, wearing a collared shirt and tie that seemed wrinkled. The clothes also appeared too big, as if they belonged to someone several sizes larger. For a man dripping with wealth, he looked dirty and poor—as if he belonged on the street. “I can get Ramon for you.”

  That name was cursed in our house.

  The second the name was whispered across the dining table, my father and I turned abruptly still, our bodies shutting down but our hearts beating faster. There was no greater enemy to our family, no worse crime ever committed.

  I turned to my father and saw the sickly expression on his face, the way his skin stretched over his skeleton as every muscle tightened to the most extensive degree. His eyes steamed like frothed coffee, and his hand immediately tightened into a fist.

  Martin continued to watch our reactions, knowing he’d said the perfect words to entice us both.

  “Your offer better be concrete.” My father forced the words out of his mouth, but his throat was so tight that his words were raspy. There was too much rage for him to hold back, too much anger that surged through his body like a current.

  “It is.” Martin closed his eyes for a moment, like he was fighting a sudden bout of fatigue. “I can tell you exactly where he’s going to be in three weeks. I’ll give you everything you need to take him down.”

  My father had never given up his search for Ramon—for the man who killed my mother. My father’s hand shook slightly on the table, like he was picturing Ramon’s death that very moment. Ever since my mother had been raped and killed, my father had been a ghost. Now he had no purpose for living, and all he cared about was burning Ramon alive. He breathed hard before he spoke his next words. “In exchange for what?” There was no price my father wouldn’t pay.

  There was no price I wouldn’t pay either. We’d spent the last year trying to track down the man who murdered my mother, an innocent person who had nothing to do with business. He snatched her while she was out shopping and did terrible things to her. It made me sick every time I thought about it, and I was glad she was dead…just so she wasn’t suffering anymore.

  When my father didn’t get his answer quickly enough, he repeated his question. “In exchange for what, Martin? If they find out you were the rat, you’ll be done. So, what could possibly be worth the risk?”

  It didn’t matter what Martin asked for—we would give him anything. My father would never find peace until Ramon was tortured and killed. I needed it for vengeance. This man hurt my family—and I would kill his entire family line in retaliation.

  Martin shifted his gaze to me. “I want Maverick to marry my daughter.”

  I assumed he would ask for a fortune. Or ask us to kill some of his biggest enemies. The last thing I expected was a marriage proposal.

  My father didn’t flinch. “Done.”

  I did a double take, shocked my father had consented to this so easily. “I didn’t agree to that.”

  “But you will.” My father challenged me with his gaze, telling me to be silent and accept the terms.

  But I refused. “No.” I held his gaze and didn’t care about my appearance of disrespect. I was willing to lay down my life for his, to do whatever was necessary to avenge my mother, but marry someone? That was a ridiculous request. I turned back to Martin. “What kind of deal is that? Why would you even want me to marry her?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Father snapped. “If that’s what he wants, then fine.”

  I turned to Martin. “Explain. Now.” I wasn’t the kind of man a father would want for his daughter. I wasn’t respectful or understanding. I’d killed people for little to no reason at all. I wasn’t romantic or gentle.

  Martin looked me in the eye and blinked a few times. “Things are about to change around here… I’ve made a lot of bad deals, invested in stupid ideas, and pissed away more money than I could earn in a lifetime.”

  The walls were still standing, but the house seemed empty. He probably didn’t offer us a drink because he couldn’t even afford that. This man had lost everything—and that was why he looked like shit.

  “The crows will descend and take everything away. Then the hounds will take the carcasses. My daughter won’t be safe on her own. They’ll come for her next…and do terrible things to her.” He closed his eyes as if just saying the sentence was too much. He might have lost everything, but his love for his daughter was still alive. “The only way I can keep her safe is by marrying her to a strong man, a man who comes from a good foundation, a man that can protect her.”

  He’d described me perfectly—but that didn’t mean I wanted her. “I’m not looking for a wife, Martin. Maybe you’ve gotten the wrong impression of me, but I’m not any different from the crows and hounds you described. I’m cruel—and I won’t be any different toward her.”

  Martin turned to my father. “But you’re both men of your word. If you promise me you won’t hurt her, that’ll you protect her, then I know you’ll keep your promise. I’m giving you the thing you want the most—in exchange for what I want the most. It’s a fair deal.”

  I felt my father’s gaze on the side of my face, the burn of his eyes as they drilled through my flesh. All he wanted was Ramon’s corpse—he didn’t care what it cost to acquire it. But I didn’t want to take on a pet, a nuisance.

  “You said you never wanted to get married anyway,” Father said. “So it’s not like you’re making a sacrifice.”

  “But I am making a sacrifice,” I snapped. “I don’t want to deal with an annoying brat. I don’t want her living in my house, running her damn mouth, getting in my way.” I knew avenging Mother was the most important things in our lives, but I hated what it had to cost. I turned back to Martin. “Why don’t you take her and hide somewhere? Move to Iceland and start over.”

  “I can’t.” Martin inhaled a deep breath, but it sounded as if his lungs struggled to expand all the way, so he coughed into his hand, convulsing at the table.

  Everything made sense in that moment. His sickly appearance…his pale skin.

  He wiped his mouth with a
n old cloth that he kept inside his pocket. “I won’t be around to protect her. I’m not sure what will claim my life—a bullet or cancer. But it’ll be one or the other…and it’ll be soon.”

  I almost pitied him—almost.

  Father turned to me. “Martin, give us a moment.”

  I knew how the conversation would go before he even said a word. I watched Martin walk out of the room, and when he was gone, I spoke before my father could give one of his famous speeches. “I want Ramon dead as much as you do, Father. We will find him—one way or another. Our time is coming. Forcing me into this marriage will only speed up the process. Let’s take our chances.”

  Instead of being angry, disappointment filled his eyes. “There’s nothing your mother wouldn’t have done for you—”

  “I know—”

  “Interrupt me, and I’ll shoot you again.”

  My mouth shut automatically because I knew he would make good on his threat.

  “I listened to you, and now, you’ll listen to me. Your mother sacrificed everything for you and your sister. She gave birth to you, took care of you, put up with you when you were little brats. Now she needs us. Are you going to sit there like a selfish little pig when we have an opportunity to do the right thing?”

  “I think Mother would want me to marry a nice girl and have lots of babies. It would be different if she were alive. I would do it in a heartbeat—but she’s already dead. This doesn’t change anything.”

  His eyes were so steady, it was disturbing. “It changes everything. You will do this, Maverick. Or I’ll kill you.”

  I stared at my father as the numbness set in. Ever since my mother had been put into the ground, he’d become a different person. I’d expected him to recover slowly, to emerge gradually from the dark side of the moon and return to the brightness of the sun. But he was progressively slipping away, disappearing further and further into the unknown.

  I still remembered the man I’d once looked up to, the man who wore his heart on his sleeve. He didn’t have to tell us he loved us because he showed it with his smile, with his affection. But now that she was gone, he was gone too. He was just a shallow shell of who he used to be, someone plagued by regret, bloodlust, and terror. I wasn’t his son anymore. I was just a tool in his box. I was just a means to an end. When Mother died, his love for us died too.