Taming The Alpha: A Wolf Shifter Mpreg Romance (Savage Love Book 3)

by Preston Walker

  “This is the police,” the voice said. “The driver of the blue truck must remain calm and stay inside the vehicle. I repeat, the driver of the blue truck needs to stay inside.”

  Following this announcement was a brief flurry of activity, in which the pedestrians scrambled for cover, retreating into the nearest buildings. Their faces were torn in half with fright, revealing a stark need for survival. They had no idea what was happening and they didn’t care, just didn’t want to be part of it. They had families to go home to, people who needed them, and they didn’t want to get caught in any crossfire that might occur from whatever sort of standoff was currently going on.

  Ulysses didn’t move. He kept panting, gasping in short breaths and letting the air out in even shorter whoops. Dizziness whirred around in the back of his mind, nagging at him, strengthening in intensity like a puff of wind from butterfly wings, becoming a hurricane. He felt like at any moment he would be swept right out of the vehicle to tumble across the street, like one of those weeds in Western movies.

  All the while, he watched the uniformed men behind him.

  He couldn’t exactly see what they were doing, not when the dashboard was in the way. Maybe they were checking something, communicating with someone back at the station, or they were discussing their plan of action, making sure they were on the same page. He could see their mouths move, though he couldn’t read lips and had no idea what they might be talking about.

  If they considered him a threat, this standstill might go on for quite some time. Maybe they wanted him to break and run, so they could use that against him when they brought him back to the station.

  Because he was definitely going to go to the station with them. He had only just recovered from being injured, there was no way he was going to risk having more harm come to him. Not only that, but he was under no illusions of how much it would hurt to be shot. His hardy constitution as a shifter could do nothing in the face of a projectile like a bullet.

  However, even knowing it would be in his best interest to stay still, the urge to flee was almost overwhelming. Every instinct inside him demanded he escape this situation before it got any worse.

  That was the wolf talking.

  The human in him knew escaping would be exactly what made it worse, and that was still barely enough to keep him in his seat.

  After a very long time, the cop in the passenger seat reached over and opened his door. He stood up, adjusting his belt as he did so -perhaps adjusting the position of his gun at the same time- and then he walked around the front of the unmarked police cruiser so he could come up to Ulysses’ window. He was a tall human and even though there was nothing physically imposing about him, no significant amount of muscle, his physical presence was intimidating all the same just because of stature.

  The cop made a cranking motion, a holdover from a generation when rolling windows down was a manual operation. It would have been amusing at any other time, though right now it only served to bring home the severity of the situation. This was about to happen. Nothing could be done to stop it.

  Ulysses dropped his hand down from the steering wheel, leaving a wet smear on the surface as he pressed the button for the window. The process of lowering seemed to take far too long to finish. When it was finally completed, he leaned slowly toward the gap and said, “Uh, can I help you, Officer?”

  Now that he could see the cop clearly, without any glass or glaring light between them, he felt even more nervous. This officer’s face was completely devoid of anything that might resemble human emotion, making it look like he was wearing a mask.

  “Son, my name is Officer Jones. I’m going to need to see both your hands. If you could please put them on the steering wheel for me, it would be much appreciated.”

  Meaning he wouldn’t be shot if he obeyed.

  One by one, Ulysses moved his hands to the steering wheel. Officer Jones watching with keen interest as he took his hand from the pocket, his lanky body tensing as if he expected a gun or some other form of weapon. When there was nothing, the officer relaxed again.

  “Alright, good. Thank you. If you could just keep your hands there for me where I can see them, that would be much appreciated.”

  From behind them came a sharp thump. Ulysses flinched before realizing what startled him so much had been the sound of a car door shutting. He looked in the rearview mirror and frowned a little. The other officer had left the cruiser and was now inspecting the back of the truck bed. “What’s he doing?”

  “Oh, don’t mind him,” Officer Jones said, his voice oddly jovial for someone with such a passive expression. “Just focus on me. What’s your name?”

  “Ulysses Bender.”

  “That your actual name or just what you go by?”

  “Some people call me Lee.”

  “Your friends?”

  He nodded.

  Officer Jones stepped closer to the car, lowering his voice a little as if they had a secret to share between them. “Well, Lee, you and I could be friends. Yeah, I think we could get along just fine if you cooperate with me. Sound like a deal to you?”

  “What’s going on?” Ulysses asked, trying to guide the conversation back to a place where he would hopefully be able to understand what was happening. Of course, he knew what was happening. He just didn’t know why.

  “Now, Lee, I think I’m the one who should ask the questions here. And maybe when I’m done, you’ll get a turn.” Officer Jones flashed a smile, which was not genuine by any stretch of the word. “So, let’s start. Are you aware that you are driving a stolen vehicle?”

  “Not until a few minutes ago,” Ulysses said.

  Just like that, the smile fell away and Officer Jones frowned, his expression growing fierce and annoyed. “This is not the right time to be smart.”

  “I’m not being smart!” he said. He started to lift up his hands in a shrug and then clamped them back down on the wheel as he remembered he wasn’t supposed to let go. “I was listening to the radio and the DJ said the truck was stolen, and I got freaked out. I pulled over as soon as I could.”

  “Uh-huh.” Officer Jones lifted his hand and Ulysses flinched, although he ended up not having any reason to be afraid. All the cop did was reach into his breast pocket and pull out a tiny notebook, which he flipped open to a seemingly random page. He also had a pen now, though Ulysses had no idea where he’d gotten it from. “I see. You didn’t know this was a stolen truck.”

  “No!”

  “Then when my partner and I were following you, why did you drive like you were trying to shake us off your tail? That’s some suspicious behavior, Lee.”

  “Wouldn’t you be paranoid if you realized someone was following you?”

  “And how did you know you were being followed?”

  “I’m an observant driver?”

  “Right.” There was a short pause as Officer Jones scribbled something down in his little notebook. “So, how did you come to be driving this truck if you didn’t steal it?”

  “My boss told me to come pick it up, to bring it back to the shop.”

  Officer Jones looked up, his eyes narrowed with interest. “What shop is that? A chop shop?”

  “I don’t know anymore,” Ulysses admitted. He felt like he was lost and floundering. Everything he had ever known about the place where he worked was being flipped on its head in this moment. Truths were coming out and he had no idea how to deal with them.

  All he could do was cling to the hope that Wheeler had no idea he was being sold stolen cars. They could all be victims here, being played by some bastard thief who was laughing all the way to the bank.

  Something deep inside him, some instinct as old as time, told him he was wrong. Things couldn’t be so easy. That just wasn’t the way the world worked.

  The police officer had been waiting for him to say more, his manner portraying false patience while his scent told a story of interest. When it became clear that no more was forthcoming, Officer Jones tucked his notebo
ok away in his breast pocket and slid the pen back to wherever he’d gotten it in the first place. “Right. Well, Lee, how about you come along to the station with me and my partner and we’ll get this all straightened out?”

  It wasn’t really a question. He couldn’t say no. Frustration started burning inside him and he could feel his old aggression trying to rise up with the heat to fight his way out of this. If he acted out, if he tried to pull a stunt like he would have in the very near past, he was going to dig himself a hole. He could wind up seeming suspicious, indicating himself in a crime in which he had no real part.

  Even knowing all that, it was all he could do to keep control. His muscles tensed. Trembles racked his body, the wolf inside him throwing itself at the restricting cage of his common sense.

  He clenched his hands so tight on the steering wheel that it wasn’t just his knuckles that turned white. The entire lengths of his fingers blanched from the pressure.

  The plastic of the steering wheel creaked and croaked under the covering of faux leather, threatening to break.

  “Well? What’s it going to be?”

  “Fine,” he grunted. The word came out as hardly a word at all, more of an animalistic growl.

  “What was that? I’m not sure I heard you right. Maybe you want to use a different tone with me so I can understand you.”

  I am so incredibly sorry for anyone I have ever intimidated like this. Shit, this fucking sucks.

  Ulysses took a deep breath but with the state he was in, it wasn’t deep and it also wasn’t much of a breath. More of a shaky gasp. “Fine,” he repeated. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “Good. Now, just keep your hands on the wheel while I open your door. Then you can step out.”

  There was no way Ulysses would have been able to let go of the wheel just yet, not even if he wanted to. He just gave another grunt of acquiesce and then waited while the cop opened the truck door.

  “Come out, now. Nice and easy.”

  Ulysses painstakingly peeled his fingers off the wheel, one at a time. Then, he swiveled to the side and stepped out of the truck.

  “Hands behind your back, now.”

  Knowing that an unspecified number of anonymous watchers were now going to see him be handcuffed did nothing to help his mood. His dark thoughts forming a gloomy thunderhead in his mind, Ulysses stuck his hands behind his back.

  “Good. Now, let’s go.”

  A firm hand clamped on his shoulder from behind, not exactly squeezing but certainly not being gentle, either. There was something undeniably awkward about being guided by someone who wasn’t in front, and the fact Officer Jones was also propelling him forward didn’t help, either. Hardly able to keep himself from stumbling, Ulysses made his way to the cop car.

  A rear door was opened for him and he lowered himself inside. His hands remained free, which was a little baffling to him.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” Officer Jones said, sounding almost pleasant by now. He started to shut the door, and that was when Ulysses realized there was no handle on the inside. This might look like an ordinary car from the outside but from his position, it was a true police cruiser. There was even a barrier between the front seats and the rear ones, a sort of grate through which he could just barely see the dashboard, which was covered in all sorts of monitors and extra buttons, miscellaneous dials.

  “Wait!”

  The cop paused. “What is it?”

  “Aren’t you going to read me my Miranda Rights or something?”

  “No.”

  Oh, good. Of all the people who I could be dealing with right now, I’ve got a rogue cop who doesn’t play by the rules.

  Officer Jones wasn’t done. “Miranda Rights are for interrogations, not arrests. And you aren’t even being arrested. Yet. We’re just going to the station to talk. So, just sit tight for a moment, okay? We’ll get going shortly.”

  He shut the door.

  And then all Ulysses could do was wait and watch what he could, using his obscured view of the front windshield. Officer Jones and his nameless partner finished a quick examination of the truck, during which they seemed to find nothing of interest.

  The partner cop climbed behind the wheel of the truck, while Jones slid back inside the unmarked cruiser.

  “Let’s go for a spin, huh, Lee? Get ourselves a cup of coffee and have a nice chat.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  And he wasn’t even being sarcastic. His anger had faded down to a low throb of misery, and he wanted nothing more in the world but to have a coffee.

  The drive to the police station seemed to last for an eternity. Ulysses spent most of it staring grimly down at his fists, not responding to any of the occasional comments that came his way. Officer Jones was clearly trying to build some sort of buddy-buddy rapport between them, get on his good side so their conversation at the station would be amiable and worthwhile. He would want Ulysses to spill all the secrets he didn’t have, content in the idea that this cop was his confidant.

  That wasn’t exactly what happened when they reached the station, though Ulysses did get his coffee. It tasted like shit and was so bitter it made the hairs in his nostrils curl up, but it gave him something warm and tangible to hold onto.

  Officer Jones sat him down in a tiny little room, which was clearly someone’s office. Another cop came in to stand by the door, as insurance of some kind in case things went wrong.

  And Ulysses talked. Fuck what Wheeler said about not giving out his name, this was a different sort of situation altogether.

  He told them everything he could. The name of the shop, the location, the way they got their parts, the whole process of having vehicles sold to them. That guy who had attacked him, accusing him of stealing his van. The mysterious black parts in the corner of the garage.

  Only once he had told them everything did he realize how little he actually had to offer. Vagaries. Nothing concrete. He had no names. He didn’t know where the vehicles came from, didn’t know where they went.

  He was only a cog in a machine, an insignificant part that only had one function. He was influenced, not an influencer.

  Nevertheless, despite his lack of real information, Officer Jones made him repeat and recite everything several times until he finally seemed content that everything was in order.

  “Well,” the cop said, leaning back and stroking his chin in the manner of someone who has recently trimmed their beard but isn’t yet used to not having one. “I think that’s about all the questions I have for you, Lee. Thank you for being so cooperative. I know this can’t have been very easy for you.”

  Easier and harder than I ever would have thought.

  Even though he had told nothing but the truth, he felt mentally exhausted. At some point he had finished his coffee and started shredding the cup. Shreds of cheap white foam littered the table in front of him.

  All he said out loud was, “Sure.”

  Officer Jones nodded thoughtfully, then continued to stroke at his chin, strumming his fingers over shaven flesh. “Do you have any questions for me before we let you go?”

  “Yeah. What the hell happens now? What am I supposed to do? Go to work and tell my boss I don’t have the truck?”

  “You will do nothing of the sort,” Officer Jones said, his voice growing harsh over the course of only a few words. “What happens now is we continue our investigation using this new information you have given us. We’ll investigate your shop’s involvement and go from there. It’s very likely that someone has been using your place of business as an unsuspecting middleman.

  “We’ll need to be able to stay in touch with you, and if you think of anything else worthwhile, let us know immediately.”

  “And what if that isn’t what’s been happening?” Ulysses grunted. His heart trembled with a sort of fear unlike anything he had ever known before. His future was suddenly very uncertain. “What if Wheeler is doing this on his own? If he’s a big part of this?”

  “Do you think that?”
>
  “I don’t want to think it, no.” Ulysses crossed his arms, gritted his teeth. “What happens to me and the other guys, if we’ve been working under some sort of car thief mastermind?”

  “I can’t vouch for any of your friends because I haven’t spoken to them yet. But you specifically will probably be called on to testify several more times throughout the investigation. We may need you as a witness in court.”

  “A witness and not a defendant?”

  “If you’re telling the truth, and if what we discover backs up your story, you will not be charged. You haven’t knowingly done anything wrong.” Officer Jones flashed one of his patented fake smiles. “In fact, you’ve been manipulated. You could probably sue and get some amount of money as a settlement. If things go wrong.”

  “If things go wrong,” Ulysses repeated. He wasn’t agreeing, just mulling over the sound of the words. They rang false, but not because the statement was untrue. It was just that, to him, it seemed like everything had already gone wrong.

  “As for returning to work today, I would recommend you don’t. Call your boss and inform him that you were stopped by the police, that you will not be coming in to work today because of some events that have transpired. Say nothing else. If you do that as soon as you walk out of the station, he won’t have much time to do anything because we already have officers on their way over.”

  “Alright,” Ulysses said. “I’ll do that. Can I go now?”

  “Of course. I’ll walk you out.”

  As Ulysses made his way back through the police station with Officer Jones in front of him, he couldn’t help but to feel a wave of bitterness. Not for him, but for the fate of his as-of-yet nonexistent custom bike. Not only did he have a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t be getting to work on those parts anytime soon, he also felt like he just wouldn’t be able to enjoy the work.

  What if the parts had been stolen from someone else’s bike?

  What if he had been unknowingly working for a chop shop for years, just blindly overlooking all the glaring flaws because it was easier than facing reality?