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  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

  book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or

  mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval

  system,

  without

  permission

  in

  writing

  from

  the

  author,

  Lisa

  Oliver.

  [email protected]

  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

  the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Please

  purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage

  the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights and livelihood is appreciated.

  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.”

  “Your Max isn’t here. I’m talking about the ultimate kiss, not

  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,

  causing Joel to squeak and try and climb into Charlie’s slender

  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