Wolf Untamed (SWAT - Special Wolf Alpha Team #11) - Paige Tyler Page 0,1

on duty. “A dozen fights every weekend, along with almost that many stabbings and at least one shooting a month, just like clockwork.”

“Sounds like nothing’s changed since I worked that beat.” Hale stopped beside Diego’s patrol cruiser and turned to look at him, thumbs hooked in his tactical vest as he regarded him from beneath his ballistic helmet. “I know you like being on the streets, but when are you going to take my advice and apply for one of the department’s special units? Any of them would take you in a heartbeat.”

Hale had been on his case for months to advance his career, and the best way to do that was to get out of patrol. Diego had already decided to try out for one of the specialized units, although maybe not the one Hale thought.

“Actually, I’m thinking about showing up for the next SWAT assessment test.” He shrugged. “I figure, why not take a chance. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Hale snorted. “You mean other than embarrassing yourself? Nothing at all.”

Diego couldn’t help laughing at the good-natured ribbing. “Ha-ha.”

“Seriously, though,” Hale added. “You have as much chance as anyone in the department of making it onto the team. I mean, it’s a small chance, but it’s still a chance.”

Diego opened his mouth to make a crack about it obviously not being that difficult to get on the SWAT team if Hale had been able to do it, but the dispatcher’s voice coming over the radio on his belt interrupted him. “Charlie 204, we have a possible disturbance in the ten thousand block of Harry Hines.”

Diego threw Hale a long-suffering look, then keyed his mic, letting dispatch know he was on his way as he opened his car door. “I’ll see you around,” he said to Hale. “Be safe out there, huh?”

“You, too. I’ll make sure you’re on the list for the SWAT assessment coming up in two weeks. Don’t do anything to screw it up.”

Diego gave him a wave, turned on his wipers, and then pulled away from the curb, flipping on his lights and hitting the gas. The ten thousand block of Harry Hines Blvd. was dead center in the area he and Hale had been talking about. You’d think on a rainy-ass night like this, people would stay home where it was warm and dry, but no such luck. If anything, crappy weather seemed to bring the morons in droves.

Diego turned the heat up, hoping to dry out a little before he got there, but it didn’t help. His wet clothes clung to him like a second skin. Damn, he really needed to start keeping a backup uniform in the car. Especially if he wasn’t going to wear that stupid raincoat.

Wipers moving back and forth rhythmically across the windshield, he sped along the highway, grateful when other drivers moved out of the way for him. Even without sirens, he made it to Harry Hines in less than eight minutes. Slowing, he thumbed his mic as he scanned the sidewalk.

“This is Charlie 204. I’m in the area of that disturbance. Do you have the location of the reporting party or description of the suspects?”

“Negative, Charlie 204,” the dispatcher said. “The reporting party called from Cue Two saying there was a fight of some kind in the parking lot. Nothing further.”

“10–4.”

Diego wished he could say that wasn’t the norm, but in reality, he rarely knew what the hell was going on when he showed up at a scene. More often than not, that was the way it worked. He showed up, asked questions, trusted his instincts, and figured things out as best he could.

He pulled up into the parking lot of Cue Two and parked alongside the curb near the entrance, watching as a few people ran for their cars through the pouring rain. The lot was nearly full, even on a night like this. That said a ton about the place, part pool hall and part dance club. People obviously liked coming here. But with good food and half-price drink specials, who could blame them, right?

Diego cut the engine, then stepped out of his patrol car into a puddle that could have been mistaken for a small pond. He cursed under his breath as cold water found its way into his patrol shoes, making his feet wetter than they already were. More than a few people eyed him warily when he walked into the club, no doubt assuming he was there to put a crimp on their