7 Degrees of Alpha (a collection of seven new BWWM, Alpha Male Romances) (10 page)

Jones waited with Doug and the remainder of the squad at the bottom of the stairs. They had been told not to go up until the all clear was given, the door opened and the apartment secured, regardless of whether Val was in there or not. Jones looked over at Doug, noting his apprehension and the nervous tick that had started in his left cheek. Jones wasn’t tense; he was mad.

Rage; red, black and blue whirled around his head. He wanted to lay hands on the bastard who’d snatched Val and make him pay dearly, for a few hours until he was satisfied that Damon would never try anything like that again, so that Jones didn’t feel the need to lock her away and never let her see the light of day again.

He knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn’t help himself. Val made Jones feel helpless.  She was his Achilles heel, and he couldn't allow anyone to have that type of control over him through her.

They heard an explosion. The first wave running backward down the stairs to exit the building.

“Fuck!” Jones spat.

Now there was no way Jones would get up those stairs to find her. He knew she was there; he could feel it. He could sense her in his bones. He knew she was trapped up there, and now Miles and Damon had set off an explosive device or something that would prevent the police from entering the building until the freaking Bomb Squad was called.

Jones and Doug rushed around the side of the building, the full police team fanning out around the building. Jones looked up at the second-floor windows, seeing flames lapping at the window of one of the rooms. Suddenly, the window exploded outwards, showering glass fragments over the pavement, onto those below. Everyone shouted, moving back out of range of the fireball explosion, fearing there could be more.

“Shit!” Jones cried.

Jones began scanning the other side of the building, looking at each of the windows as he went, Doug matching him step for step. He was looking for some sign of her, anything that would indicate that she was alive and that she needed his help. There was no way that he could get into the building through the front door, and there was nothing to show he could get up to the apartment from the outside and help her.  

They had just turned the corner of the building, when they heard a crash and turned back towards the sound. They saw a shower of glass and heard screaming.

“Help!”

Jones was sure it was her, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions, as he ran back, followed closely by Doug.

Val had her head out of the window. She was coughing and sputtering, and there was a thin stream of smoke escaping out the top of the window. It was worse than he thought; at the rate that the fire was spreading, they wouldn’t get to her in time.

“Val!” Jones shouted up to her, standing under the window.

“Pete! Help! I can’t get out!” He could hear the panic in her voice. It ripped his soul apart.

“Val! Climb out of the window!” he ordered her.

“Are you mad? It’s too high!” she shouted back. He could see the smoke getting thicker, which meant he didn’t have time to debate with her.

“Val! Listen to me! Climb out of the window. Hang by your fingers. I’ll catch you!”

“Pete, I can’t! I’m scared!” she sobbed in return.

“Val! You don’t have much time. Please, baby, do as I say. Climb out of the fucking window! Now!”

He didn’t want to make her panic but the longer she stood there, the less chance she had of escaping, and the more chance there was of her never making it out alive. He couldn’t have that. He wouldn’t allow her to do that to herself… or him.

He watched as she looked back into the apartment and came to a decision. She hooked one leg over the window ledge. He could see the wince of pain, probably from embedded glass that she hadn’t been able to remove, as she pushed herself backward out of the window.

“That’s it, baby! Just a little further! That’s right. Hang by your fingers, Val, so that you're not so high!” he encouraged her. The smoke had become blacker, thicker, more ominous as she slid lower out of the window. Doug moved around, attempting to help, but he knew that Jones wouldn’t let anyone do this but him.

“Come on, Val, just let go now,” he called, encouragingly.

“Let go, Val. I’ll catch you!” Jones shouted up to her.

“Shit! I can’t! I'm scared! Pete, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!”

“Val! Stop apologizing and let the fuck go!” he ordered her.

“Should I go and get some help to catch her?” Doug asked.

“There’s no time for that. She needs to let go, now.” Jones told him.

He could see her body convulsing with the force of her crying. She was petrified, he knew that, but he’d told her he would catch her, and he would. It would hurt them both like hell, but he would be sure not to let her land too awkwardly. All she had to do was let go of that damn window ledge.

“Val! Let. Go. Now!” Jones saw flames shooting out of the top of the window, and he feared that she wouldn’t make it. He saw her look up at the windows, probably feeling the heat from above her, and she gave a small scream and let go of the window ledge.

Jones braced himself to catch her, as she landed in his arms, grasping her, and rolled backward, landing on the ground, hoping to spread the force of her impact on his chest through his legs and out. He was winded, but unhurt. He gripped her tightly as he felt her shuddering with the adrenaline of her ordeal. Val was crying softly, as he turned her around in his arms. They stayed where they were on the ground, as Doug rushed over to them.

“Jones, are you okay? Val?”

“Better now, thank you,” Val told him, gripping Jones tightly.

Jones could do nothing but lay his head on the pavement, and hold on for dear life to the woman who had taken his heart. He felt the reaction as his muscles slowly relaxed. All the hours that he’d been agitated when he’d found her gone, left his body in a huge sigh of relief that she was finally in his arms again.

“Never do that to me again,” Jones told her, kissing her hair, her face, and neck.

“Do what?” Val asked him.

“When I tell you to jump, you jump. Got it?”

“Yes, boss.”

Doug had been listening in on his walkie-talkie as Jones and Val lay on the pavement. Doug helped Val to stand, and reached down a hand to Jones.

“Officers are reporting seeing two men running away, but they lost them in pursuit that turned into a shooting match,” Doug confirmed.

“No!” Val exclaimed, “Please tell me they didn’t get away! Tell me that that psycho, Damon, didn’t get away?”

“Unfortunately, he did,” Doug told her quietly.

“So,” Jones said, looking at Val and Doug simultaneously, “This isn’t over then. Sounds good enough to me. Damon Blake and I have some unfinished business.”

to be continued …

Text the keyword “femistry” to 25827 to receive a text message alert of this release.

Meet Taylor Montgomery, the beautiful, but disgruntle, Chicago cop. She was disgruntled, not because she didn’t love her job, but because she was fed up with the slippery politics associated with the department. Yet, she donned her uniform every day, wearing it with pride, and patrolling the dangerous streets of The Windy City. Her life was fairly simple until she encounters Victor Creed, the sexy, stop your heart, drop-dead gorgeous Governor of Illinois. The moment they laid eyes on one another, there was a fiery attraction that they were unable to suppress.

Victor and Taylor contemplated the possibility of pursuing a relationship. Unfortunately for the couple, there was no shortage of enemies. Due to the unforeseen and unconstitutional shooting of an unarmed man, Taylor must make the choice between telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, at the risk of being ostracized by the very people that she depended on for backup, or go along with the program and lie. Will the governor run in order to protect his political career? Or will he stand with Taylor as she battles the department, the media, and other unknown enemies?

*THIS IS A SNIPPET OF A FUTURE RELEASE*

PROLOGUE

Taylor, so engulfed in her thoughts, almost hadn't noticed the dark SUV that was moving dangerously fast behind her. She immediately changed lanes to see if the driver was simply in a hurry. But once the SUV was parallel to her, she was face-to-face with the business end of a firearm. She gripped the clutch and kicked it up to the sixth gear, riding faster than she'd ever ridden, successfully leaving the SUV in the dust. But, all of a sudden, a dark sedan swerved into the same lane, almost clipping her rear tire. When the sedan sped to parallel her right side, Taylor snatched her pistol from the back of her pants. When the barrel of a shotgun extended out of the back window, Taylor fired a succession of shots at the driver. The sedan began to swerve and veer to the side. She must have hit the driver.

Good.

Unfortunately, Taylor's brief celebration was short-lived when she was suddenly, struck from behind and sent flying to the grassy knoll on the side of the expressway. Unable to control the bike, Taylor dropped…
hard
.

She hit the ground screaming, knowing immediately that her shoulder was either broken or badly dislocated. Her vision was blurred by tears, but she knew that she needed to run. Still, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't move. She could faintly hear cries of agony, and suddenly realized that they were her own. Taylor had never felt such intense pain in her life, and she didn't think it could get any worse, until she was mercilessly flipped onto her back. She howled in agony as her helmet was yanked from her head. Whoever wanted her dead was about to get their wish. Taylor was sure of it. And although she cried, she refused to beg. She took a painful breath and looked directly into the eye of the person that was about to end her life. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw the face hovering above her. To say that she was shocked was a gross understatement. Warm tears escaped her eyes, falling into her ears.

"W-why?" she choked.

Without the mercy of an explanation, he pointed his weapon and fired a shot into Taylor's chest. Her body jerked violently upon impact. As she began to lose consciousness, she realized that a bullet had actually entered her body, and although it burned, it wasn't as painful as she would have assumed. As she looked up at the angry, but familiar face, thoughts of the people she loved danced around in her mind. But just before the world went dark, it was
his
name that she cried out.

CHAPTER 1

Four months prior...

Taylor rolled her eyes during uniform inspection. Because of a ridiculous new rule that officers with tattoos on their arms had to wear long sleeves to cover their ink, inspections were more tedious than ever. She often wondered who down at headquarters had the time to sit and figure out what they could do to fuck with police officers, even more than usual. Working the unforgiving streets of Chicago, one would think that the bosses would try to make life at work a tad bit easier. But no, some fat white shirt was actually sitting in his office like, "Ooh, let's fuck with them like this." Nine times out of ten, it was someone who made supervisor because of someone that he knew, someone who'd probably never worked a day on the streets, and surely someone who had never even seen "The Hood.”

As she stood for the petty inspection, she tried to remember a time, not long ago, when she was in love with her job.

Taylor was thirty, and she'd been a cop for eight years. She grew up in Roseland, a tough neighborhood on the Southside of Chicago. Her dad was a cop, so being a cop was in her blood. Ever since she could remember, it was always her career path. She didn't mind donning her uniform and strapping on her duty belt to interact with the citizens. She didn't even mind the possible danger that she faced every night. But what she did mind was the politics that came along with the job. If she could work her beat and assist her fellow officers without the drama from the powers that be, her job would be a dream. Maybe then she would even have more time to work on her nonexistent love life.

After roll call, Taylor and the rest of the midnight crew began to file out of the roll call room.

"Montgomery, fall back!" the watch commander shouted over her chattering colleagues.

Taylor rolled her eyes and turned to face her supervisor.

"Yes, sir?"

"You caught a detail. You gotta report back here at eight hundred hours."

Is this motherfucka serious?

"Eight? Sir, when am I supposed to sleep?"

"Reverse seniority," was his dry ass response. "You gotta work a traffic detail for the grand opening of that new mega church."

He stared down at his clipboard. "Umm... Yeah. Worship House."

Taylor shook her head, realizing that the police department was the only place of employment where one could be considered a rookie with eight years on the job. She was constantly getting stuck with bullshit details.

"Don't be late!" he ordered as he left the room.

"Yes, sir," Taylor mumbled as she followed him out.