Page 2 of Follow Your Instincts

He stepped into my space. “Well, you’re certainly not getting anything to rise for me either,” he said in a nasty whisper. He was a few inches taller than my 5’10,” but I’d dealt with worse intimidation tactics.

I simply stepped back, refusing to engage. “Have a wonderful day in the Glen,” I said sweetly and turned to leave. Our precinct straddled two vastly different neighborhoods, and Eastwood Glen was by far the more dangerous assignment.

Phillips didn’t respond. Alpha or not, he was a fucking coward.

“All units, be advised. 10-65 in progress, armed robbery at Heitzig Diamonds at the corner of Commonwealth and 15th. Suspect is a white male, Beta, 5’11” and roughly 170 lbs. Responding units acknowledge.”

There goes my relaxing day at work. I threw the remnants of my coffee in the nearest bin. I was only a few blocks away. “Copy. Unit 114 responding on foot, ETA 2 mins. Over,” I said into my radio as I took off running towards the jewelry store.This is what you get for being a dick to Todd. Karma, bitch.

As I rounded the corner onto 15th, I could hear the alarm blaring from Heitzig Diamonds and saw the usual crowd of people that always gathered after a crime. The front door was busted, and glass littered the sidewalk. The perp was obviously gone, but I could start to secure the scene.

Another uniform, Fraser, arrived panting. He nodded at me, acknowledging I was the first to arrive and could have dibs on starting the witness interviews rather than keeping the crowd at bay. At least not all my colleagues were sexist assholes.

I stepped through the broken front door into the store. The alarm was still blaring, and my headache, which had temporarily abated in the cool autumn breeze while I strolled around my cushy patrol, came roaring back.

“Oh, thank god,” the woman behind the counter yelled above the screeching. She was slumped on the ground, white and shaken.

“Are you injured, ma’am?” I yelled back.

“What?” She screamed.

“Sorry, could you turn off the alarm?”

The woman crawled over and depressed a button on the underside of the counter, and the alarm cut off abruptly.

“Thanks,” I said and moved closer to her. “Are you injured?”

“I’m fine... Well, not really, but I’m not injured at least,” she said and pulled herself up using the busted jewelry display.

“What happened?” I asked. I wanted to get her talking as soon as possible before she forgot any important details. She was in her early twenties, blonde, and had a pleasant, floral scent. A Beta. According to some very depressing statistics, any crime with a Beta victim was less likely to be solved than if she were an Alpha or Omega, even though Betas were the majority of the population. Although if she were an Omega, she probably wouldn’t be allowed to run a store by herself if her Alpha’s had anything to say about it.

“You always think this only happens in the movies,” she said and crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “A guy came in with a gun and a mask, screamed at me to get down, then busted the cases open.” She looked dazed. “Did that really just happen?”

“I think you’re in shock,” I said and stepped closer to the counter. “Why don’t you come out here and sit down. EMS will be here soon, and they can help, too.”

The blond woman stepped around the counter and followed me to two armchairs in the corner of the room. She was visibly shaking, and I stepped in to help guide her to sit. It was a small store, narrow and deep, but nicely appointed. The carpet was a plush maroon, and the high ceilings were lit by a soft, warm glow from modern gold light fixtures. The armchairs were black velvet to match the lining of the three cases that spanned the far end of the store. All three were busted, but the only one case, on the right, looked like something was missing.

“What’s your name?” I asked and squatted down next to the chair.

“Greta,” she replied.

“Have you worked here long?” I asked.

She nodded. “My grandfather owns the store, but I run the showroom.”

“Do you remember anything about the man that came in?”

“He was wearing a mask, like a ski mask,” she said. “But his hands, I could see those. He was white, not too tall or heavy,” she said, and I nodded along. Her eyes were wide and panicked. “He pointed the gun right at me,” she sobbed. “And said that if I didn’t get down, he’d blow my head off.”

“It’s okay,” I said and she grabbed my hands. “You’re alright now, everything’s going to be okay.”

This was one of the things I didn’t think they focused enough on in the Academy. Most of the time, when shit went down, I wasn’t chasing a perp or busting up a drug deal. Most of the time, I was sitting with someone on the worst fucking day of their life. And I hated thinking that sometimes those people have to deal with assholes like Todd Phillips on top of their lives falling apart around them.

I let the woman cry and squeeze my hands until my fingers turned purple. I heard the EMS siren a few moments later, and then the crunch of glass as paramedics arrived.

“She okay?” an EMT asked, crouching down next to me. He was an Alpha with a heavy, drugging scent that I’m sure helped calm down patients, but reminded me that I was still knee-deep in my migraine.

“In shock, I think,” I replied and tried to release her hands.

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