Wolf Untamed

  Also by Paige Tyler

  STAT: Special Threat Assessment Team

  Wolf Under Fire

  SWAT: Special Wolf Alpha Team

  Hungry Like the Wolf

  Wolf Trouble

  In the Company of Wolves

  To Love a Wolf

  Wolf Unleashed

  Wolf Hunt

  Wolf Hunger

  Wolf Rising

  Wolf Instinct

  Wolf Rebel

  X-Ops

  Her Perfect Mate

  Her Lone Wolf

  Her Secret Agent (novella)

  Her Wild Hero

  Her Fierce Warrior

  Her Rogue Alpha

  Her True Match

  Her Dark Half

  X-Ops Exposed

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  Books. Change. Lives.

  Copyright © 2020 by Paige Tyler

  Cover and internal design © 2020 by Sourcebooks

  Cover art by Kris Keller/ Lott Reps

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, and imprint of Sourcebooks

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  www.sourcebooks.com

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Excerpt from Wolf Under Fire

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  With special thanks to my extremely patient and understanding husband. Without your help and support, I couldn’t have pursued my dream job of becoming a writer. You’re my sounding board, my idea man, my critique partner, and the absolute best research assistant a girl could ask for. Love you!

  Prologue

  Dallas, Texas, October 2012

  Officer Diego Miguel Martinez strapped the breaching ram into place along the inside wall of the Dallas PD SWAT operations truck, then stepped out into the torrential downpour, cursing as what felt like a frigging bucketful of freezing-cold rain found its way down the back of his coat. As much as he despised the long raincoat that was part of his uniform, he really should have worn it tonight. Behind him, someone chuckled, and he turned to see Officer Hale Delaney regarding him with a grin, blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

  “I’m not complaining about the help, but if you’re out in this monsoon much longer, you’re going to start sprouting gills.” Tall and heavily muscled with dark blond hair, the SWAT cop unloaded the M4 carbine he held, dropping the magazine and taking out the round in the chamber. “They had you securing the perimeter for what, four hours?”

  Diego laughed. “Actually, it was closer to five, but who’s counting?”

  Perimeter duty was what patrol cops with barely three years on the force like him did while officers like Hale—one of his best friends in the department—and the other members of the SWAT team got to kick in doors and save lives. Tonight, Diego had stood and watched from the outside as four members of the Dallas Police Department’s most elite unit had gone up against a deadbeat husband who’d gotten high as a kite and barricaded himself in his house with his three children. The man had threatened to kill the kids if the police didn’t bring him more drugs. Because, according to him, everyone knew the cops had a lot of drugs locked up in their evidence room.

  After hours of unsuccessful negotiations with a suspect who was quickly coming unglued, Hale and his three teammates had entered the house. While Hale and his SWAT buddies were all huge, they’d moved so quickly and quietly in the total darkness surrounding the property that Diego had never even seen them. One second, the father had been shouting he was going to end them all, and the next, SWAT was bringing the children out of the house, along with their handcuffed druggie dad.

  It had been awe-inspiring to see and enough to finally convince Diego that he wanted to get into SWAT. He’d been thinking about it ever since running into Hale months ago during another hostage situation at a bank. He knew getting past the physical assessment exam at the SWAT compound would be tough as hell, but when had he ever let a challenge hold him back?

  “Though if we’re being honest,” Diego added as he shook Hale’s hand, “I was soaked to the bone after the first thirty minutes. The rest was just for fun.”

  Hale winced as he stepped in the vehicle and locked his weapon into the rack mounted on the wall. “Sorry it took us so long. We wanted to give our negotiator a chance to talk the guy down and get him to come out without a fight. Didn’t go that way in the end, though. But at least those kids are safe. That’s the important thing.”

  Diego didn’t know the SWAT team’s negotiator very well. All he knew was the guy was as big and jacked as Hale, and he must have the patience of a saint to do that job. While Diego appreciated the man’s conflict-resolution skills, there was no way in hell he could ever be a negotiator. Talking a person on a three-day meth bender off a metaphorical ledge wasn’t his thing. Kicking in doors and saving a bunch of kids, on the other hand? Let’s just say that deal had his name written all over it.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Diego said as Hale came back out of the truck. “I knew tonight was going to be miserable the moment I saw the weather report this morning. I’d rather get soaked standing out here helping you and your team rescue those kids than handing out tickets to a bunch of doofuses for urinating in public.”

  Hale laughed, falling into step beside Diego as he walked along the street toward his patrol car. “Ah, the trials and tribulations of a beat cop in North Division on a Friday night. Can’t honestly say I miss that stuff. The clubs along Harry Hines Boulevard still generating lots of calls?”

  Diego snorted at the mention of the seemingly endless nightclubs around the intersection of Northwest Highway and Harry Hines, and how much time he spent in them when he was on duty. “A dozen fights every weekend, along with almost that many stabbings and at lea
st 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 fun. Ignoring them, he stood there, rain dripping off his uniform to splash on the floor as he swept the crowded room, trying to figure out why he was there. Between the deafening music, clacking of billiard balls, and people shouting to be heard as they tried to have conversations with one another, it was frigging loud as hell, but nothing seemed out of place.

  That was when he saw the bartender waving him over. Despite the uniform and badge, it still took him nearly a minute to shove his way through the crowd to reach her. Tall and reed thin, she had wild, curly red hair and tons of freckles.

  “You the one who called Dallas PD?” he asked, shouting to be heard over the noise. “Some kind of fight?”

  She nodded, continuing to mix some concoction involving five different kinds of alcohol that didn’t look like they’d taste great combined together. But to each their own, he guessed.

  “It wasn’t really a fight. It was something I saw that made me uncomfortable,” the bartender yelled back. “Three women were at the bar drinking for a while and got a little tipsy, so I helped them order an Uber. When they went over to the door to wait, two rough-looking dudes started hitting on them.” She paused mid-story to deliver her collection of drinks to the waitress standing impatiently at the bar. “It was obvious they were trying to convince the girls to leave with them, and just as obvious the girls wanted nothing to do with them.”

  “So, what happened?” he nudged.

  She sighed. “I’m not sure, and that’s the part that worried me. I turned my head for a minute, and when I looked back again, the women were leaving. A few seconds later, the two men walked out.”

  Diego could think of half a dozen different ways the scenario the bartender had described might have played out. And most of them didn’t end well.

  “I’m telling you, a shiver ran down my spine as those men walked out.” The bartender shook her head. “Anyway, I finished up what I was doing and ran outside to make sure the girls were okay. I didn’t see them, but I saw those two guys running down Harry Hines away from the club area. I couldn’t tell for sure if they were chasing anyone, but it felt like they were up to no good, you know?”

  Diego frowned. Of all the scenarios he’d envisioned, the guys chasing the three women down the street wasn’t one of them. If something like that happened on any other night, there would have been twenty calls into 911. But tonight? It was extremely possible no one saw anything because they were too busy trying to get out of the rain.

  “Can you describe the two men?” he asked.

  Normally, he would have written down what the bartender told him, but his notebook was probably as drenched as the rest of him, so he didn’t bother. He could remember two guys with dark hair between five-ten and six feet wearing jeans and T-shirts.

  Giving the bartender a nod, he headed outside to his patrol car, glancing in the direction she said the men ran. The only thing that way were strip malls and industrial buildings. If the women had gotten so spooked they’d decided to abandon the club before their Uber got there, why head someplace where there wouldn’t be anyone to help if they needed it? Going to another club—or staying here—would have been much safer. Then again, people did strange things when they were scared.

  Diego climbed in his vehicle and radioed dispatch, telling them what he had and that he was going to drive around and check out the area north of the club.

  “Roger, Charlie 204. Sending additional units to your location.”

  “Copy that,” he said.

  The strip mall was filled with stores that had been empty of tenants for months. Everything looked fine from the front, but when he drove around to the back, he caught sight of an open door in the beam of his spotlight. Diego’s gut tightened and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He was out of his car the moment it rolled to a stop, updating dispatch even as he grabbed his flashlight and Glock.

&n
bsp; He’d barely stepped foot outside when a woman’s scream came from the building, piercing the night.

  Shit.

  He couldn’t wait for backup. Not when someone’s life was in danger.

  Grip tight on his weapon, Diego slipped through the doorway, immediately taking cover behind a concrete support column. He moved the beam of his flashlight back and forth around the space ahead of him, but other than a lot of bare shelves and crushed cardboard boxes, there wasn’t much to see. Then he caught sight of a doorway on the far side of the wide-open area and realized this store was connected to the one next to it. He cursed his luck. He’d hoped this strip mall was composed of individual units.

  He cautiously made his way across the room, trying to see behind every support column, shelf, box, and dark corner all at the same time. That was damn near impossible to do on his own. Dammit, he should have waited for backup. Other units called out their location over the radio, but they were all a good distance away. He prayed one of them was a K9 team. What he wouldn’t give to be able to see in the dark like one of his four-legged coworkers. And being able to smell like a K9? Crap, that would be awesome.

  He couldn’t see in the dark—or sniff out bad guys—and he never would. But he was going to risk his life to find those girls anyway…if they were in here.

  Diego stepped through the second doorway into the next store to find it even darker and more cluttered than the first. He was slowly weaving his way through the mess when he heard a gunshot immediately followed by a woman’s scream.

  Shit.

  He thumbed the mic on his radio. “Shots fired. I repeat, shots fired.”

  Then he was moving, less concerned about checking every dark space and more concerned about getting to the woman. Running through one store after the other without thought to the fact that there might be a bad guy waiting to shoot him was reckless and stupid. But when someone was in trouble, helping them was the only thing his head would let him do. It was the way he was wired.

  Diego let his instincts guide him as he worked his way through the confusing twists and turns of the shops, running all the way to the far end of the interconnected strip mall without seeing anyone.