Page 2 of Alpha's Second Chance

Why is it so hard to just say the facts?

I confronted hardened criminals on a daily basis. I spoke to news reporters in front of TV crews at least once a week, and I often had to deliver uncomfortable news to victims. Yet speaking the truth of who I was really sucked.

I sat up straight and pressed my palms over my stupid, constrictive dress pants. “You can obviously tell that I’m a bear, and that I’m an omega, although I do not acknowledge either. I wear heavy scent blockers to keep shifters from being able to find me, and I take suppressants to ward off any hormonal fluctuations.” I refused to say the wordheatout loud. At least not yet. “The juror said she could tell I was a shifter.”

“I’ve got a few friends in high places.” He eyed me. “I’ll make a few calls. You’re free to go, obviously, but I’d feel better if you hang out here until Bull’s been transported back to the jail. After I talk to a few colleagues, we can come up with a plan.”

I thanked him. I had a few phone calls of my own to make. Priority number one was finding out why my suppressants had failed. I’d heard a few horror stories, here and there. If my suppressants weren’t working at all, then I would be going into heat within a week or two, whether I wanted to say it out loud or not. That was a nightmare I would not allow to happen.

Priority two was keeping an eye on this fire chief. He was a shifter, and that meant I couldn’t let my guard down. He might seem nice, but if he contacted my family, I’d have to run again.

Owen

Damn it all to hell. This was supposed to be an easy job. My commanding officer had promised I’d just hang around the horse race track in Denver and make sure nothing got out of hand.

My elite military unit within the army was called MASK, which stood for Military Alliance of Shifters, with a K added on for fun. Apparently because one of the founders thought the wordmask, when referring to a shifter, was too good of a pun to skip. I’d roll my eyes, but it was a damned good group of soldiers, one I now considered family.

Thanks to MASK, we’d just finished six months working undercover in Vegas, tracking down illegal arms sales. I’d been a pretend arms dealer, and the scum I’d had to put up with wasn’t fit to be called human.

Today I should’ve been escorting drunks to a taxi, but instead I was listening to a few morons plan to rob the place -- while I stood five feet away. Was it too much to ask for a break? I was beyond ready to get back home to Avon and enjoy my peaceful cabin in the mountains.

I wasn’t sure what was dumber, these crooks thinking they could get away with a thrown-together robbery, or planning it within earshot of me. Sure they wouldn’t expect a normal human to be able to hear, but still. Race tracks were well-guarded.

Once they were on the move, I followed them. I didn’t need backup, not for this.

Or so I’d thought. Too late, I caught the flash of metal as one of them pulled a pistol from the back of his pants. Before I could get to him, he grabbed a random woman and pushed the barrel of the gun into her throat.

I was too slow. He’d taken a hostage.

They were more skilled than I’d thought. The man’s free hand was over her mouth, and she hadn’t had time to scream. No one around us had a clue.

I had to get over myself. I’d assumed they wouldn’t have weapons inside the track. Which was a rookie mistake, considering I’d just spent months watching how well-connected weapons dealers could be. I wouldn’t allow my miscalculation to endanger this woman’s life.

I pulled a race track ticket out of my pocket and ambled along, pretending to study the stats as I shuffled next to the hostage.

Using just a little of my shifter speed, I whipped my arm around and grabbed the gun. I pointed it at the robber’s head.

“Ma’am,” I said to the woman. I didn’t take my eyes off the suspects. “Just follow me.”

“Shouldn’t I get a security guard?” she asked. Her voice was whisper-quiet.

I yanked the suspect’s sleeve up. Sure enough, there was a bull tattooed on his arm. Anyone could be in on this. “No, you follow me.”

As I was hauling him to the exit, my phone rang. It was the fire chief. The only reason I answered was because he’s an extended part of my clan. Anyone else could wait.

As soon as I picked up, he started talking. “I need you at the fire station now. Takes precedence over what you’re doing. Orders from MASK, from the higher ups.”

“I need someone here. I’ve got two perps and a woman who was a hostage.”

“Someone’s almost there.”

“Got it. See you in a few.” My backup arrived within minutes. We got the suspects cuffed and I took a second to speak to the poor woman who’d probably thought she was going to die, before hopping in my SUV.

It looked like I wasn’t getting that promised break after all.

At the fire station, the chief met me outside. His eyes were hard. “We’ve got a situation. It’s about Bull Payne; his trial’s today.”

“I’m aware. Those creeps I found trying to rob the race track are loyal to him. I just got off the phone with the guys who took over; they said they’re refusing any leniency in exchange for information.”

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