Alpha's Second Chance

by Jade Alters

  Alpha’s Second Chance

  Jade Alters

  Contents

  1. Eve

  2. Owen

  3. Eve

  4. Owen

  5. Eve

  6. Owen

  7. Eve

  8. Owen

  9. Eve

  10. Owen

  11. Eve

  12. Owen

  13. Eve

  14. Owen

  15. Eve

  16. Owen

  17. Eve

  18. Owen

  19. Eve

  20. Owen

  21. Eve

  22. Owen

  23. Eve

  Afterword

  Also by Jade Alters

  © Copyright 2019 - Starchild Universal Publishers Inc. All rights reserved.

  It is not legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Eve

  A hush fell over the courtroom as I began the closing argument. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, dozens of innocent citizens are dead because of this man,” I paused to hold my hand in the direction of the defendant. I’d presented the evidence -- now it was up to the jurors to put this bastard away for good.

  The bastard in question curled his lip at me, but I met his gaze head on. His sneer didn’t faze me. I made my voice louder, detailing the heinous crimes Bull Payne had committed against our residents.

  As I spoke, one of the jurors began waving her arm. She made short, frantic motions with one hand. With the other hand, she held up a small scrap of paper. The paper trembled, wobbling in the air. My eyesight was better than most, and I could just make out her words. “I can tell what you are and so can Bull. Bull is a bear too. He’s going to come after you. Go to the fire station. They can help.”

  My blood froze. The inside of my mouth went dry. In a daze, I asked for permission to approach the bench. I fumbled out a lie about a very sudden, very extreme case of food poisoning, and the judge excused me. I left one of the junior prosecutors to do my job.

  On autopilot, I got into my car. The suit jacket that seemed so professional during the trial had turned into a noose. I tossed my jacket in the backseat and unbuttoned the top of my blouse.

  That juror had dropped two bombs on me.

  First, apparently Bull Payne, Denver’s biggest thug, was a shifter.

  The second part was what really messed with my head. The juror, and most likely Bull, could tell that I was also a shifter.

  It was a secret that I guarded, because not only was I a shifter, I was an omega.

  In the shifter world, omegas were highly prized. They were always fertile, always conceived children quickly, and were generally sweet and amenable.

  I didn’t know about the fertile part, but I’d never been sweet or amenable -- not for one second. That didn’t stop the bear clan I was born into from treating me like a possession.

  If I’d stayed with them, I’d have been forced into marriage, forced to bear a child, and then I’d have zero say in any aspect of my life or the life of my child. My mate would have called all the shots.

  I’d rather die than live like that. When I turned eighteen, I ran. I’d left the tiny town of Avon, Colorado behind, and moved to Denver.

  A horn honked behind me. I jumped, startled, but kept both hands on the wheel. Just minutes later, I made it to the fire station in one piece. I managed to stay upright on the walk inside, despite the temptation to take my heels off and chuck them at the cinder block walls.

  “May I see the chief, please,” I said to a passing firefighter. With a hand that shook as much as the juror’s, I held up my deputy prosectuor’s ID card.

  Within seconds, the chief strolled out. I knew immediately he was a bear. Unlike me, he hadn’t tried to cover who he was. I didn’t wait for introductions. “A juror from the courthouse sent me. She said it was obvious —” I lowered my voice. I hadn’t said the words in so long. “She said it was obvious what I am.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah. It’s coming off of you in waves.”

  How was it possible? I’d been so careful. I had an alarm on every device. I had a reminder on every calendar. I had never missed a pill.

  “She also said Bull was after me.”

  “Damn,” he said. He took me by the arm. “Let’s go to my office. You need to sit down. We’ll get this figured out.”

  I didn’t let anyone lead me around. I pulled my arm away. “I’m fine.” I sure didn’t trust a shifter to help me. There was always the risk that he’d alert my clan, and they’d come after me. Clans didn’t let omegas go without a fight.

  He didn’t comment on my pulling away from him. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said as I tried to get a grip on my emotions. I might not trust shifters, and I never minced words, but if I was going to survive this, I’d like to still have a job in this town. I didn’t need to burn bridges with a potential ally.

  I sat in a chair across from his desk. I had to clasp my hands together to keep from pulling at my tailored suit pants. There were several places where they dug into my skin.

  The store had claimed they were custom made for ‘women with curves,’ but they still looked liked they’d be better suited for someone with a ruler-straight figure. Maybe if I’d only done more yoga like my best friend had suggested, I’d have flattened out those pesky curves. Yeah right. And you could have given up those steaks you like so much while you were at it.

  I had bigger problems than my awkward clothing. I had to figure out a plan. I needed to get back to my house and find out why my scent blockers, and possibly my suppressants, had failed, then I needed to get back to work. The biggest trial of my career was happening, and I was screwing around in a fire station.

  I took a long, steadying breath. If the chief was going to help me, he needed information, and at this point, he was my best option. I’d have to be frank with him. “I’m Eve Johnson. I’m a deputy prosecutor, and I was in the middle of a criminal trial, for Bull Payne.”

  He nodded. “We’ve been following the news. We’re all hoping he gets life.”

  “A life in prison is more than Bull deserves,” I said. Then I hesitated.

  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 word heat out 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 word mask, 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 spend 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.”

  “Goes beyond that. There’s a female here. The lead prosecutor. She was in the middle of her final speech to the jury, and one of them says she can smell her because she’s a shifter. Says Bull’s a shifter too, and he’s after her.”

  “Suppressants,” I said.

  “And scent blockers. She’s been using them for years. And so has Bull.”

  “What the hell. How did we not know that?” Even with blockers, someone, somewhere, should have known Bull was a shifter. I rubbed my face. Sometimes these things seemed harder than physical battle. We’d all been after Bull for years, and we’d had no intel about this.

  “Really good chemicals,” the chief said. “He’s got the money.”

  I pressed my fingers into my temples. As a shifter I relied on my senses. The blockers created an absence, one that meant my senses were useless. I didn’t know any shifters who would touch them, although I was aware there was a thriving market of shifters who did. But from what I’d heard, a shifter usually used them only for a short period of time. Bull would have been using them for decades.

  There was nothing that would ever make me take a suppressant. I would never hide who I was.

  If we’d known what Bull was, he never would have stood trial in a dinky state courtroom. MASK would have taken over and we’d have gotten him into a federal court.

  He’d kept this charade going for a decade. Had the two idiots today at the race track been shifters?

  Not likely, because they hadn’t reacted to me at all.

  I needed a hot shower and a steak. But first, I had to work to do. “I’ll interview the prosecutor. Get her to a safe house.”

  The chief grabbed my arm. “Owen. One more thing.”

  “What is it?”

  “Watch yourself. She’s an omega.”

  An omega. The word was painful to say. My first — and only — real love had been an omega.

  It had taken years, but I’d gotten over her. Eventually.

  Protecting everyone, human and shifter alike was my job. But an omega in danger? That was a mission I would defend with my life.

  Eve

  Alone in the chief’s office, I made several calls to the places where I bought my suppressants. Because shifters weren’t known to humans, we bought them in an underground network of shifters made up of doctors, scientists, and pharmacists.

  “What do you mean, they lose their effectiveness after five years?” I said to one of the pharmacists I’d been visiting for years.

  “It’s common for omegas,” she said, her voice crackling over the phone. “Shifters have powerful immune systems. Our hormones overpower the synthetic ones. Someone should have explained this to you.”

  Maybe they had explained years ago, when I was so desperate to be human. To blend in.

  How had I never asked if it was a permanent solution? It was an unforgivable oversight. The blockers and suppressants becoming ineffective was a reasonable enough conclusion. I’d grown complacent, taking them for years, never anticipating the day they might not work. Had I been willfully ignorant? That wasn’t like me, not at all.

  Reeling, I leaned back and closed my eyes for a few seconds. The stress had my blood pressure shooting sky high. I grabbed my phone and opened up a text message. I needed to check in with my team and find out the status of the case.

  As I texted, an odd feeling came over me. A wave of dizziness made my head spin. When I took the suppressants, they lived up to their name and suppressed most of the extrasensory skills I had as a shifter.

  Gradually, those skills were coming back to me.

  There was another bear nearby, besides the chief.

  I stood, tugging at the blouse, willing it to lie flat against my generous chest. I went to the window and lifted the blinds.

  Outside, the chief greeted someone. A man. A very tall, broad man with a powerful, decisive stride.

  I’d seen that walk before. Many years ago.

  My hear
t, already working overtime, sped up. The man in the parking lot was no human. It was Owen Brady. My almost-mate. And a bear shifter from my clan.

  You can’t let him see you.

  My throat constricted. Had this been a ruse to get me back to the clan? It seemed too convoluted for that. If they’d known where I was, they could have simply grabbed me.

  The reason was irrelevant. I’d worked too hard to let him take me now.

  I’d thought the dual shock of finding out Bull was a shifter, while discovering my own precious chemicals no longer worked, couldn’t be topped. How wrong I’d been.

  I pulled my prosecutor’s ID badge from my purse again and clipped it on. I grabbed a clipboard and pen from the desk and left the chief's office. I pushed my shoulders back. Any firefighters on duty would recognize the ID.

  As first responders, firefighters were occasionally asked to participate in investigations, so I’d have to hope I looked like I was on official business.

  I met no one in the hallway. I ducked into the women’s locker room. I shed my clothes and wadded them into a ball. I jumped into a shower, letting the hot water run over me. I soaked my hair and I dumped every shampoo I could find over myself. With quick motions, I scrubbed my entire body.

  I wrapped my long hair up in a towel. Still dripping, I dug for a spare uniform. Damn it. The only two women on the force were much much smaller than I was. Maybe I should go into firefighting as a second career. I could at least sling a small adult over my shoulder. I’d be shocked if these tiny size two’s could lift a cat.

  Across the hallway, I found the men’s extra uniforms and pulled on a pair of black pants and one of the button down shirts they wore. I spotted a can of men’s deodorant and sprayed myself down with that too.