Dancing Around The Cop
An Alpha and Omega Standalone
By Lisa Oliver
Dancing Around The Cop (Alpha and Omega Series)
Copyright © Lisa Oliver, 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover Design by Lisa Oliver
Pictures purchased at Shutterstock.com
First Edition August 2015
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Conventions. No part of this
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author,
Lisa
Oliver.
Yoursintuitively@gmail.com
No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the internet or any other
means, electronic or print, without permission from Lisa Oliver. Warning: The
unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal
copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by
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purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage
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Dancing Around The Cop is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are
either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance
to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This story was set in Houston, Texas and while the author has been liberal with her
interpretation of the city streets, and the club names are all fictitious Houston does run a
very successful Pride Week every year and details about that can be found at
https://pridehouston.org. Houston Pride has been operating for more than 36 years and
has a huge positive impact on the LGBTQ community in the area. Their Pride Week is held
in honor of the Stonewall Riots in 1969. You can read more about that on the web link
provided.
Dedication
Thank you to all of the lovely people who email me, comment
on my blog or contact me on Facebook – your positive support
means the world to me.
My work wouldn’t be complete without the talents of a couple
of beta readers, who mean the world to me.
Thank you to Janet, for keeping me sane through the writing
process; Kristy for shouting out the name of my new books all
over Facebook – you are my one woman street team and I love
you for it; and last but definitely not least, Stephanie for your
invaluable help and advice with this book.
You all rock!
Chapter One
“What makes the perfect kiss?”
Terry ducked his head, so Roy couldn’t see the roll of his eyes.
Normally he didn’t mind Roy’s outspokenness, but here, really?
They were in a sports bar for goodness sake. He cast a quick
look around, but for the moment it seemed he and his three
friends were safe from prying ears.
“Dreamy lips,” Charlie said with a sigh as he fiddled with the
straw in his cocktail, his own pink lips pouty as though he was
actually on the receiving end of what he was talking about. “It’s
got to include dreamy lips.”
“Stubble. That five o’clock shadow look, so that you can feel it
for a few days,” Joel said. Terry didn’t think that Joel even had
to worry about shaving yet, his skin was smooth and silky and
currently slightly flushed but whether it was from the alcohol, or
the topic of conversation, Terry couldn’t tell. “I adore that Max
has stubble.”
some pathetic dribble from some overgrown lout,” Roy said
snarkily and this time it was a grin that Terry hid. Roy hated
hearing about anyone’s boyfriends, especially when he couldn’t
seem to get anyone to like him longer than a twenty minute hook
up. Roy dressed and looked like a perfect Angel twink with his
shoulder length dark hair, and his trim body, but his mouth got
him into trouble more times that Terry could count.
“Max is the perfect kisser,” Joel defended his boyfriend. He’d
been with Max for more than three years and wouldn’t let anyone
talk bad about the man. Terry couldn’t blame him. Max was tall,
muscled and the sweetest man he’d ever met. And he adored
Joel with a passion.
“Not too much slobber,” Charlie threw in, probably hoping to
stop the inevitable cat fight.
“Just enough pressure to start off with. Deepening into
something passionate, fiery and positively dominating. So you
can feel it in your toes,” Terry said. He dreamed of being kissed
like that.
“You read too much crap,” Roy said, still in a snit over Joel’s
comments. “You wouldn’t know a real kiss if it hit you over the
head.”
“If it was hitting me over the head, then it clearly wasn’t done
right. I’d want to feel it in my balls,” Terry flung back. He might
be embarrassed about his virgin status, but he didn’t need his
so-called friends taking pot shots at him.
“Oho, in your balls, aye? That’s a different kind of kiss, honey,”
Charlie said putting his arm around Terry’s shoulder. “Maybe you
should take Norman up on his offer, and then you’d get a chance
to tell the difference.”
Terry didn’t have to fake the shudder he felt, thinking about
Norman, his boss. The man was almost as wide as he was tall,
with a pudgy face and beady eyes that always seemed to be
trained on Terry’s ass. He’d been propositioning Terry for
months, ever since Terry had started working with the ladies at
the Code Blue Club. It was a dream job, but Norman was a
nightmare. He made Terry’s skin crawl just thinking about him.
“Talk about something else,” he said, shoving at Charlie’s arm.
“It makes my balls shrink just thinking about him.”
“You’re going to have to put out to him sometime, babe,” Roy
said and this time there was no sarcasm in his tone. Just a lot of
pity in his eyes. “All the ladies there have to do the deed with
him at least once. If you want your virginity to go to someone
special, you’d better get onto it pretty fast.”
“That’s sexual harassment,” Terry snapped. “I’m not doing it and
I’m not losing my job because of it. Just because I’m gay doesn’t
make me a freaking rent boy.”
“You look like a rent boy to me, faggot and we don’t like your
types in here,” a harsh voice broke in and Terry looked up to see
four big
scruffy looking men crowding their booth.
“We were just going,” Charlie said, picking up his purse from the
table. “Weren’t we boys.” He made a shoo movement with his
hands, clearly desperate to get out. Joel looked just as scared,
his eyes darting around, probably looking for Max, who was at
the other end of town in a meeting.
Terry made to stand up too, but Roy pulled him back down.
“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Roy said, his perfectly
plucked dark eyebrow raised in disdain. “We are paying for our
drinks, having a laugh like friends do. Go back to your game and
leave us alone.”
Terry sighed, but he made no move from Roy’s side. Roy had
been his friend since he’d first come to Houston four years before
and while Roy could be snarky, and rude, he was also the first
person to drop everything and come to your aid if you needed
him. This wasn’t the first time their flashy style, make up and
fine features had caused problems with bigots and it wouldn’t be
the last. But there were times when Terry really wished Roy
would just shut his mouth. This was one of them.
One of the big louts thumped beef cake hands on the table,
arms. Terry just watched carefully. He wouldn’t start anything,
he never started anything, but he was damned if he was going
to let his friends get beaten up either. He was tiny, only five foot
four and slim, almost willowy in build. But he was an Omega wolf
and the bigots in front of him were pure human.
“We don’t want your kind in here.” The man’s lips were turned
up in a snarl. Terry caught a glimpse of broken teeth set in an
ungroomed face. This idiot was never going to win any beauty
contests.
“And I told you,” Roy said bravely, “that my friends and I aren’t
doing anything wrong. We will finish our drinks and leave when
we’re ready.”
“You will leave now,” the behemoth yelled, as with a sweep of
his arm, he knocked all of the glasses onto the floor, where they
fell with a huge crash. The whole sports bar went silent. There
weren’t that many people in the place, which is why Roy had
picked it out. The four friends just wanted somewhere to have a
quick drink before heading to the club. At the time Terry hadn’t
seen anything wrong with the idea, but now? Yep, now it was a
horrible idea.
Roy stood up, all five foot six of him, and glared at the man
intent on making them leave.
“I was drinking that,” he said. “I demand you buy us another
round, and leave me and my friends in peace.”
“And I said you aren’t welcome here.” The idiot reached over and
grabbed Roy by the neck of his brilliant pink t-shirt, and pulled
the smaller man towards him. Just like that, the fight was on.
Terry and his friends were small, but Terry had faith in his friends
who had all grown up rough. If they couldn’t fight they ran, and
they were good at it. He leapt over the table as one of the other
men made a grab for Joel, knocking the man to the ground.
Unable to see how his friends were faring, Terry rolled and
swerved, ducking one punch, jumping over a kick, trying to stay
out of the reach of big hands. If he got grabbed it would be a lot
harder to stay unhurt, although Terry knew he was a damn sight
stronger than his friends. The fight had turned into a full scale
brawl, with furniture crashing, glass breaking as other bar
patrons got into the action. Terry had no idea who was on whose
side, so he concentrated on defending himself.
A stray boot caught him on his hip and Terry stumbled. One
strong arm caught him around his waist as a single gunshot went
off. Everyone froze.
“Police! No body move.” A stern voice rang out and Terry
groaned. Wriggling out of the arm that was still holding him,
Terry looked around for his friends. Roy was sitting on the floor,
holding his hands to his face, blood seeping through them.
Ignoring the activity around him, as the police started rounding
people up, Terry hurried over to Roy, pulling the man’s hands
from his face.
“Oh crap sweetie,” he said softly. “You’re gonna have one hell of
a shiner in the morning.”
“My nose. What about my nose,” Roy whimpered.
Tilting Roy’s head from one side to the other, Terry shook his
head. “It’s not broken sweetie, just a bit puffy. Nothing there to
scar or give you a permanent bump.”
“Thank God,” Roy said, looking around. “Did you see Joel and
Charlie? Did they get out?”
Terry turned his head, looking over his shoulder and stared
straight into the most enticingly well filled out pants he’d ever
seen. Big package encased in expensive pants. Totally yummy.
Suppressing a gulp, Terry turned his eyes up and looked into the
most perfect face he could ever dream up. Lean with a well-
defined jaw line, a perfectly straight nose, two piercing pale
green eyes framed by dark eyebrows and the most luscious set
of lips known to man, surrounded by dark stubble.
A perfect face. A perfectly formed angry face – those eyes were
looking at him as though they could see straight into his soul.
Terry gave a discreet sniff, and inhaled the intoxicating scent of
double chocolate, cream and brandy. He whimpered and then in
a panic, he turned back to Roy, shaking his head. Maybe the
perfection behind him would just disappear.
“I can’t see them,” he said in a rush. “But I think it’s time we got
out of here.”
“You two aren’t going anywhere.”
Fuck it. Terry almost stamped his foot in frustration. That voice.
Steel clad velvet. Yes, Terry knew that was usually how romance
writers described a cock, but Terry couldn’t think of any other
way to describe the man’s voice. It was just as perfect as the
man’s face. Why couldn’t the Adonis have a permanent squeak
or something just to make him more human? But of course the
Adonis behind him was anything but human.
Standing up, Terry kept his back to the God in human form, and
held his hand out to Roy, helping his friend off the floor. He had
to trust…
“We didn’t start this fight, we weren’t doing anything wrong, and
we don’t have to stay here. I know our rights,” Roy said, focusing
the man’s attention on him. Sometimes Roy’s mouth could be
useful.
“You will need to give a statement.” Terry wondered if that voice
could sound anything but clipped and angry, and if it could, what
would it feel like as it washed over his ears then.
“There’s nothing to say.” Roy stamped his foot, his hands
gripping his hips, working himself into a right tantrum. “My
friends and I were having a quiet drink, minding our own
business. Four guys came over and told us we had to leave
because, well, the idiots clearly didn’t have any fashion sense or
they wouldn’t have insu
lted the way we looked. They broke our
drink glasses, then one idiot grabbed me, and I don’t know
anything else. They were clearly in the wrong. They started it,
so why don’t you go and hassle them.”
“Can you corroborate that statement?”
Damn, those eyes were on him again, Terry could feel them
burning down his body. That had to mean Mr. Perfection was
talking to him. Fuck, what did he say?
“Can you corroborate what your friend said?” And there was that
voice again. Gods, Terry wanted to wallow in it. He opened his
mouth and tried to say something. Closed it. Swallowed and then
tried again.
“Yes. Absolutely yes. We weren’t doing anything wrong. They
came over and picked a fight with us. They probably didn’t like
my jacket, or maybe they objected to Roy’s lovely top.” What a
stupid thing to say. Duh!
Terry refused to look at the bigger man. He just couldn’t. But
then Mr. Perfection said in a low soft voice, “It’s a very lovely
jacket. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Terry looked down at the clothing in question. He was confused.
Admittedly it was one of his own creations – a colorful mix of
blues and yellows, reds, pinks and purples. He had made the
jacket from scraps of cloth from his other designs and to him,
every piece told a story. Davina’s deep blue cocktail dress, Lucy’s
bright red sheath dress, Morgana’s yellow frothy concoction that
took hours to sew up. They were all there, permanent reminders
of the work he loved so much, but not really anything that
anyone else could appreciate. But this Alpha wolf in front of him,
liked it. Terry wanted to break out in a happy dance, but he knew
that wouldn’t be appropriate, especially given as the man in
question was still staring at him and still had anger hardening
that lovely face.
“Yes, well if you want fashion tips, come and see us at Club
Blue,” Roy said, grabbing hold of Terry’s arm and breaking him
out of his trance. “We have other places to be, and I have to
change my clothes. I’ve got blood on me and my shirt is ruined,
just trash bag material. I could scream.”
“Hand over your ID’s and you’ll be free to go.” That steel was
back in the policeman’s voice and Terry wondered if he’d