Under Cover: A Blue Collar Alpha Romance

by Aria Cole

  CHAPTER ONE

  Phoebe

  The police station was packed. It usually was on a Friday night. As I pushed my way through the crowd of people, my senses were accosted with the stench of stale alcohol and vomit. I started to gag, so I held my breath until I reached the reception desk. A middle-aged lady was sitting behind it, her hair in a tight bun and her oversize thick-rimmed glasses hanging just on the tip of her nose. I wasn’t sure if she needed them to see or if she was making some sort of fashion statement.

  “Hello, can I help you?” she asked without even looking at me. I wondered if she ever bothered to look at anyone, or if we were just nameless, faceless numbers that she had to contend with. I didn’t blame her. Her job wasn't one that I would want.

  “Hi, I need to file a missing persons report. My baby ran off, and I’ve been searching for him for the past two hours, and I’m really worried. He’s incredibly small, and who knows what can happen to him all alone out there!”

  I wasn’t sure if it was what I said or how I said it, but the woman finally looked at me, panicked all of a sudden. She walked around the desk, pushed through a small swing door, and hurried to my side.

  “Oh, you poor dear. Please, come with me.” She gently touched my elbow and directed me down a hall to a glass door.

  The name said Detective Brody Romano.

  When she opened the door, I was taken aback by the broad stature of the man in the dark button-down and tightly fitting pants. This was someone who did not get messed with. He was at least seven feet tall and built like a ton of bricks. I didn’t think I had ever seen someone so huge in person before—he was Arnold Schwarzenegger in Terminator big. I mean, so huge that beside him, I looked like a toddler. He got up, walked over to us, and looked down at me, and I mean way down. Maybe this was me being generous, but I came to his elbow.

  “Hey, Patsy. What do you need?” he asked without taking his eyes off me. I could feel my face getting flushed with what I could only assume was nerves.

  “This young lady has lost her baby. Since you’re working all those missing persons cases, I thought you could help her.” Patsy directed me to take a seat on the plain leather-covered desk chair opposite his desk.

  I sat, feeling really good about the service our police department gave to the citizens of our city. I had to remind myself to give them a good review somewhere online.

  “Thank you, Patsy. I’ll take care of it,” he said. When Patsy walked away, he closed the door behind her and turned around. His stare was a little scary for such a handsome face. His full lips formed a straight line, and his brows furrowed as he looked at me. I didn’t know why, but I automatically wanted to look at my face in the mirror to see if there was something on it or if I looked just as bad as I felt, disheveled and disoriented.

  “Hello, Miss…” He trailed off.

  “Wells,” I supplied.

  “Miss Wells,” he finished. “I”m Detective Brody. When was the last time you saw your child?” He walked over to the desk and took a pad of paper and a Bic pen from his desk and started to jot down notes.

  “Well, we’d just eaten dinner, and I went to answer the door—it was my neighbor, wanting to borrow some icing sugar. She ran out, and she knows I always have some, since I love to bake. Charlie loves it when I bake because I let him sneak tons of sugar. When I wasn’t looking, he ran out I guess. He is usually really good. I thought he was in his room playing, but he must have gotten out. I just want my baby found.” Tears started to fill my eyes, and I could feel a few betray me and escape down my cheeks in desperate rivers.

  “Please don’t cry,” he said, handing me a tissue. I could see by the shuffling of his feet and the rigid stance of his shoulders that the crying was making him uncomfortable.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that he’s so little, much smaller then he should be at two. I’m just scared something terrible has happened to him. What if he got hit by a car? Or someone abducted him? He’s so pretty, I can see someone taking him. He’s in demand, you know.” I was babbling, completely unloading all my worst fears.

  Detective Brody bent down so that his eyes were level with mine. He grabbed another tissue from his desk and wiped my tears. It was a very gentle act for a man who seemed obviously out of his element.

  “Please don’t cry, Miss Wells. Do you have any pictures?”

  At that moment, I felt like a complete fool because I didn’t.

  “Oh my God, I don’t. I used to, but then our old place burned down and my camera and all the photos were swept up in the fire. I guess I got too busy with everything. I am the worst mom ever! Who doesn’t have a picture of their baby?” The realization made me cry even harder. I was full-on ugly crying, probably with snot dripping from my nose.

  “Please don’t cry. Oh, please don’t cry, Miss Wells. You just wait here, and I’ll go get our sketch artist.” I could tell by his tone and the fact that he was trying to distance himself from me that he was not equipped to deal with the dramatic cries of what probably appeared to be a hysterical woman.

  He ran out of room so fast that one would have thought my tears were bullets ricocheting across the room in rapid fire. He came back a few minutes later with an older man wearing a tweed suit.

  “Miss Wells—” he began before I immediately cut him off.

  “Please call me Phoebe,” I said, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

  “Phoebe, this is Hector. He’ll be taking a description of Charlie. I’m going to leave you two alone so you can describe him. Hector, you think one hour is enough time?” he asked.

  “Yes, that should be fine.”

  With that Brody shut the door, and I began to tell Hector what my sweet Charlie Boy looked like.

  ***

  “This is Charlie?” Detective Brody asked for the fifth time, looking at the piece of paper in his hands. I wasn’t sure why he kept asking that, but for the fifth time, I responded with an eager nod.

  “Yes! That's my baby. What is the next step?’ I asked, anxious to start the search.

  “Lady, are you kidding me? You took up my time, a valuable department resource in Hector…all for this?” He shoved the piece of paper at me.

  “He’s missing! You’re the police! This is where people come when their child is missing,” I stated as calmly as I could.

  “It’s Friday night. It’s a fucking zoo in here, and you come here with this shit?” He sounded angry as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  “What else was I supposed to do?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, lady. Maybe print out some flyers and put them up in the neighborhood, ’cause you didn’t lose a kid but a fucking dog.” He stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Brody

  “That was fucking wild,” I grouched to Patsy, eyes still trailing Phoebe as she left the police station.

  “What’s that?” Patsy smiled up at me sweetly. I liked Patsy. She reminded me of my mom.

  “She’s not missing a kid. She’s missing her mutt dog.”

  “Really?” Patsy suppressed a giggle. “She seemed pretty determined to find him.”

  “You don’t even know the half of it.” I watched through the window as she backed out of the station in a little red Toyota. “Tell ya what, Patsy… The beautiful ones are always taken or crazy. There’s no in-between with girls like that.”

  Patsy was used to my grumbling, and I was used to her telling me I worked too much and should find a good girl to settle down and have some babies with. I suppressed a laugh now at the thought.

  I did work too damn much, but not because I was lonel
y, because I loved my job. What could possibly be more meaningful than helping my neighbors? I worked a lot of hours to earn this position as lead detective. I wasn't the slightest bit concerned with tying myself down with things like a woman and family.

  My service to this town depended on my head staying clear and focused. A woman like that would surely distract me from what really mattered most.

  “Don’t be so quick to judge, honey. For many of us, our canine friends are family. I called 911 one time when my poor Jetson had a seizure. The first responders looked at me a little funny when they saw my dog was having a seizure, but I didn’t even think twice.” She shrugged sheepishly. “Anything for my four-legged babies.”

  I nodded, not wanting to tell Miss Patsy that apparently she too was one of the crazy ones. If I hadn’t spent the last fifteen years working alongside her on my shifts, I’d have thought she was certifiable, but at her heart she was a kind and compassionate woman with a heart of gold.

  “It all worked out for the best anyway. They gave my Jetson an ambulance ride to the emergency vet, made me life so much easier.”

  “That’s a mighty big medical transfer bill.” I couldn’t help the snark.

  She only shook her head with a smile. “It is unless your sister is the head of medical billing for the hospital.”

  I laughed, thinking how lucky it was she had her sister. Once Patsy’s husband had passed of a heart attack a few years ago, she’d started working more hours alongside me. Truth be told, it’d probably serve us both good to get out of this station more than we did.

  But the job called, and we made it our business to answer.

  “Hopefully she’ll find what she’s looking for soon.” Patsy went back to tapping away behind her computer, and I retreated to my office, Phoebe the crazy dog chick still in my mind.

  ***

  “You wouldn’t believe the night I had last night.” My brother, fellow officer, and current roommate, Connor, tipped the first beer of the night to his lips while I flipped sizzling steaks on the grill.

  “Man, you and me both.” I cracked the cap on my bottle of beer, about to touch the cool glass to my lips with thoughts of last night’s missing dog fiasco running through my head. Since my little brother’s first night on the force, we had a long tradition of exchanging horror stories, and this one, I knew he’d get a kick out of.

  “So I’ve got a few beers in me, and I get a call from, guess who—can you guess?”

  Just as I was about to badger him for leaving me guessing, my phone rang, the special ringtone I reserved for the station rattling around us. “Shit.”

  I pulled my phone from my pocket, swiping to answer. “’Ello?”

  “Brody, I’m so sorry,” Patsy said brightly. “I know it’s your night off, but something arrived in your office, and I think you’re gonna want to see it.”

  “Oh? It can’t wait until morning? I’ll be there at six. I’ll even stop and pick you up some of those blueberry muffins you like.”

  “Well, that sounds mighty nice, Brody, but I don’t think this can wait.”

  “Okay. Be there in a few minutes.”

  “Hurry, Brody,” she said before hanging up.

  “What’s up?” Connor raised an eyebrow.

  “Not sure. You mind pullin’ these off the grill when they’re done? I shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes, whatever it is.”

  “Sure thing, bro. I’ll hold the fort. Just don’t be surprised if you come back and find me swimming in that pimp pool of yours. Still think it’s a shame you haven’t christened it.” He winked before chugging more of his beer.

  I waved him off, snagging my keys on the counter and cringing at the mess throughout the kitchen. I really needed him to get his shit together and get the fuck out of my house. I’d heard him having conversations with my mother. She was so happy he was crashing here, and she was hoping that his charm with the ladies would rub off on me. She really wanted grandbabies and didn’t think she would have a hope in hell of getting one out of Connor.

  I growled under my breath at the thought of sharing my life with anyone. I didn’t have time for flowers and first kisses. I was the lead detective in this town. If I took more time off, who the hell would be here to answer life’s emergencies?

  Two minutes later, I was two blocks down the street and pulling into the police station parking lot. Only Patsy’s car sat out front, piquing my interest a little more. Patsy caught sight of me through the double-paned doors and buzzed me in.

  “What’s up, Patsy?”

  She only raised her eyebrows and gestured to my office. “Crazy, apparently.”

  I frowned, winding my way around her desk until I had a better view of my office.

  And then I stopped dead in my tracks.

  I’d know that flash of wavy blonde hair anywhere. And damn those big, expressive eyes that’d looked up at me all teary and helpless.

  I growled, pushing a hand over my stubbled chin and stalking into the room.

  What in the actual fuck?

  There sat crazy dog chick.

  Handcuffed to my desk, smirk on her pretty little face.

  Fuck. Me. Now.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Phoebe

  “Oh good. Detective Brody. How lovely to see you,” I lied.

  Detective Dick Face just rolled his eyes at me as if I was a hysterical woman and proceeded to try to find a way to uncuff me from the desk.

  “Where is the key, Miss Wells?” he demanded.

  I smiled, knowing he would never find it.

  “I’ll be glad to tell you once you agree to help me.” I pouted while I batted my eyes at him. I knew men liked pouty lips and eyelash batting—in all the romance books I’d ever read, they seemed to do a lot of it, anyway.

  He let out an exasperated sigh and continued to fiddle with the cuffs. I wasn’t sure what he was hoping to accomplish. I’d worked very hard to make sure the key was in a safe place.

  “I’m not playing with you, Ms. Wells. I want that damn key. If I don’t get that damn key, I’m going to place you under arrest. It’s not like I need to cuff you. You’ve already managed to do one part of my job.” He gestured toward my hands.

  I couldn’t help but think that in another time or place, Detective Dick would be very nice to look at. I might have even considered allowing him to buy me dinner, maybe get to second base. I shook my head to clear the slightly lust-filled cobwebs.

  “As I said, Dick, I’m gonna need you to first agree to help me find Charlie.”

  “Lady, you’re fucking crazy. Completely certifiable.” He threw his hands up in the air in what looked like intense exasperation.

  Good, I was wearing him down.

  “All you have to do is agree to find my baby,” I protested.

  He turned, looking at me with steel in his eyes, a look of pure defiance. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. This man wasn’t going to help me, and I was desperate for help.

  When I went home last night, I was fuming, then crying, and then eating ice cream as I sat by the computer, wondering how I was supposed to make flyers when I didn’t have a picture of my poor Charlie.

  I was an epic failure as a mom.

  The detective hadn’t made me feel any better refusing to help me just because Charlie was my fur baby and not my human baby. He obviously had no idea what it felt like to love a little pup the way I did.

  Detective Dick was a first-class dick.

  I hated that I was crying in front of him now. Every time anger boiled over in me, I started crying like a leaky faucet. I had no idea how to make it stop. I only knew that I looked weak, and I hated that.

  “Shit,” he muttered under his breath then, crouching down on the floor beside me.

  “Please don’t cry,” he begged, and those three words made me realize that maybe this time crying didn’t make me look stupid, but just maybe I could use it as my kryptonite.

  I tried thinking of every impossibly sad thing I could
think of, taking my brain to the darkest places it could go: my poor Charlie lying on dirty cement, cold, wet, alone, and dying.

  The tears came like a waterfall then, unwavering and in abundance.

  “I just want my baby!” I sobbed. The detective grabbed a Kleenex and wiped my face.

  “You’re being a little rough. Can you pat gentler?” I cried, knowing snot would be covering my face soon, but I didn’t care. I had nothing to lose.

  Charlie was my everything.

  “Fine. I’ll help you. Now where's that damn key?” he bellowed.

  “You heard him, right?” I confirmed with Patsy, who’d been standing at the door watching our entire interaction. She needed some popcorn with all the dramatics here.

  She nodded eagerly, confirming my statement.

  “Now, where is the key, Miss Wells?” Detective Dick asked again.

  I smiled at him sweetly, cocking my hip to one side. If he looked closely enough, he would see the faint outline of the tiny little key through the rear pocket of my denim. Not the most unexpected place to hide it, but trouble for him considering the jeans I wore were nearly painted on they were so tight. “The key is in my back pocket, Detective.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Brody

  “Is this some sort of sick joke?” I shoved my face to within an inch of hers, hot as fucking fire. This woman had no idea what she was playing with here.

  “’Fraid not, Detective.” She smiled, and I swear I detected a hint of smug satisfaction rolling off her lips.

  She wiggled then.

  I gritted my teeth, seething.

  “First yesterday, and then the tears, and now this?” I moved closer, close enough that Patsy’s prying eyes couldn’t see my lips moving as I whispered, “If I didn’t know better, this might look like an invitation to something you aren’t prepared to handle.”

  I arched an eyebrow, waiting for a response, when she gritted her teeth and forced a wicked smile.

  “Try me, Detective.”

  I about lost my mind, and I removed myself from her space before I lost all my damn sanity.