Carver: An older alpha male and younger curvy woman romance (Alpha Cops Book 1) Read online

  Carver

  Alpha Cops - Book 1

  Sadie King

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  William

  When I escape for some air before the most important business call of my life, I don’t expect to find a woman dancing barefoot in my Zen Garden.

  The last two years of my life have been spent working toward this business deal. But now, all I can think about is her.

  Ariel

  Dad’s drinking is getting worse, and it’s starting to lose him clients. So I step in and take over the gardening business. But who knew our most profitable client was such a silver fox?

  He’s older than me, confident and handsome. The kind of man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it. And I think what he wants is me…

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  Copyright © 2020 by Sadie King.

  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, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover designed by Designrans.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, companies, locales or persons living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

  www.authorsadieking.com

  Carver

  Alpha Cops Book 1

  Amber

  I’m living in rundown student digs, my housemate may be a pot dealer, and I’ve just spent the night in a police cell. Life couldn’t get any worse.

  Then along comes Carver, the tough cop with the soft heart. He rescues me from the cells and my student hovel.

  But will the schemes of my jealous housemate bring my fairytale crashing down?

  Carver

  She’s not the type of girl we usually get in the cells: sweet, innocent, and totally gorgeous.

  I open up my home to her and my heart. But when I find out she’s hiding something from me, I start to wonder: How well do I really know her?

  Carver is a short, sweet, and steamy romance featuring an older alpha male and a curvy younger woman.

  Book one in the Alpha Cop series. If you love insta love, high heat, and a Happily Ever After, then this series is for you!

  Each book in the series is a standalone. No cliff-hangers.

  Contents

  1. Carver

  2. Amber

  3. Carver

  4. Amber

  5. Carver

  6. Amber

  7. Amber

  8. Carver

  Epilogue 1

  Epilogue 2

  Get your insta-love fix!

  1

  Carver

  I wince at the noise coming from the cells as I lead two women into the station. I raise my eyebrows at the custody sergeant.

  “We got the women’s choir in tonight?” I ask.

  His lips curl into a smile. “I wish it was. At least a choir could hold a tune.”

  “What is that they’re singing?” I cock my head, trying to make out the disjointed notes.

  “I believe it’s Carrie Underwood.”

  I nod skeptically. “Well, here’s another couple for ya.” I indicate the two women standing sulkily next to me. “Disrupting the peace.”

  The Sergeant sighs. “We’re just about full up in the women’s cells. There’s not much room for these two.”

  “I’ll go in the men’s,” one of them says saucily.

  “I’m afraid we can’t do that, ma’am,” I say. I lean through the gap in the window to speak quietly to the Sergeant.

  “Are we actually going to charge any of these women?”

  “Probably not,” he says. “It’s the first offense for most of them. Students getting rowdy after a gig, nothing new. There’s been no violence. Mostly singing, dancing in the street, blocking the road, and a few cases of indecent exposure.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Girls just wanna have fun, huh?”

  He nods warily. “A few hours in the cells will be enough to scare most of them into not wanting to do it again.”

  The chorus to a popular song sung off-key is bellowed out from the cells.

  “Sounds like they’re really learning their lesson there, Serge,” I say sardonically.

  He finishes booking the two women, and I take them down to the cells. When I turn the corner, I have to stop for a moment. The women’s cells are chaos.

  A line of women is hanging onto the bars singing at the top of their lungs. Women stand on the benches swaying drunkenly to the off-key music. They’re waving things in the air, which I realize are their bras.

  As soon as they see me, a cheer goes up.

  “The stripper has arrived!” someone yells.

  I inwardly roll my eyes while maintaining a passive face. “I’ll need you to step away from the door, ma’am,” I say to a tall blonde hanging onto the bars of the door like it’s a dancing pole.

  “And what if I don’t, Officer?” Her eyes travel over me seductively.

  “Then I’ll charge you with obstructing an officer. You’ll have another night in the cells and a criminal record.”

  She stares at me for a moment, and I can see the wheels turning in her drink-addled head.

  “When you put it like that...” she says, stepping aside.

  “They’re not coming in here, are they Officer?” someone calls out. “There’s no room.”

  “We’re overcrowded,” someone else chimes in. I keep a stern face, but I can see their point. There’s standing room only.

  My eyes scan the room and light on a woman sitting on the end of the bench. She has her legs tucked up under her and is staring intently at her hands. Her long copper hair falls down her shoulders and over her ample breasts. She’s not joining in the antics of the other women. She looks scared and upset.

  She looks up at me, and our eyes meet. A shock runs through me, and I feel a pang in my chest that I can’t explain.

  “You.” I nod at her and she straightens up, surprised. “Come with me.”

  There’s another woman sitting next to her who’s crying quietly. “And you,” I say.

  They both stand up, and I let them out of the cell as I let the two new offenders in.

  There’s hollering from the rest of the women.

  “Behave yourselves, and you might get to go home too,” I tell them.

  The two women follow me out to the custody sergeant.

  “These two have learned their lessons,” I tell him.

  He eyes them warily. “What are your names?”

  “Amber Trelawny,” says the copper-haired girl.

  He looks over his notes and processes her for discharge. “You’re free to go. If we see you here again, you’ll be charged.”

  “Thank you,” she mumbles.

  He processes the other woman, and she almost runs out of the station she’s so relieved to be free.

  The Sergeant shakes his head. “I’ve never seen anything like tonight in all my years on the force.”

  “It’s full back there, Serge. It’ll need to be one in one out,” I warn him.

  “Well, let’s hope that’s the last of them.”

  I turn to leave, and the girl with the copper hair, Amber, is sitting i
n one of the plastic chairs.

  “You waiting for someone?” I ask.

  “I need to call a taxi.”

  It’s a Saturday night. Taxis are harder to find than hen’s teeth.

  “I’ve just finished my shift. Let me drop you home.”

  Her eyes flicker to mine in surprise, and I feel that shock run through me again. Damn, they’re pretty eyes.

  “I live across town.”

  “It’s no bother. I’m going that way,” I lie.

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  She waits while I get changed, and ten minutes later I’m opening the door of my car for her.

  As she climbs in, I can’t help but check out her curvy ass and thick legs. She’s just the type of girl I like. But when I take the driver’s seat and she turns to me, it’s those green eyes that make me want to find out more about her.

  “Where to?”

  She gives me an address on the other side of town, and we head out of the parking lot.

  2

  Amber

  Never accept a lift from a strange man. Momma’s voice rattles through my head as I slide into the passenger seat of a strange man’s car. But he’s a cop, and there’s something about him that makes me feel safe.

  When I first saw him in his uniform, broad shoulders, the muscles in his arms bulging out of his shirt, I almost swooned. Even now out of his uniform he’s hot. His light hair is cropped short, and he has these piercing blue eyes that keep locking onto mine as if he can see right into my soul.

  “Where we headed?” he asks, and I give him my address near the university.

  He frowns. “You a student?”

  “It’s my final year. I’m studying accounting.”

  He glances over at me. “What’s an accounting student doing getting caught up in tonight’s fray?”

  I look away, embarrassed. “I wasn’t caught up in it.”

  “Honey, you were arrested. That’s getting pretty caught up in it.”

  “I wasn’t doing anything bad. I was trying to help a friend.” It sounds pathetic even as I say it, but he looks at me and nods.

  “I believe you.”

  I feel a flood of relief. For some reason, it’s important that this man believe that I’m not the type of girl who usually gets herself arrested.

  “I went to a concert with my housemate.” I frown as I think back on the start of the evening. Jess leaning on my bedroom door frame waving the tickets.

  She was meant to go with one of her friends, but they’d bailed on her. I didn’t want to go. Concerts aren’t usually my thing. But she didn’t want to go alone, and I didn’t want to let her down.

  “Was the music good?”

  I smile. “It was awesome. She was such a good performer.” I was glad Jess had dragged me along until the trouble started.

  “So what happened?” he asks.

  “I’m not really sure how it all started. She did the encore, and the crowd was going crazy wanting her to come out again.” I pause, trying to remember.

  “I tried to get Jess to leave. I could feel the crowd was turning. Some people had been drinking a lot. Then someone started chanting “Not going home” and the crowd picked it up. They brought up the lights in the venue, and security was trying to hustle everyone out. I managed to get Jess out through a side door, but there was some kind of disturbance going on in the street. I tried to pull her away, but she wanted to see what was going on.”

  “They were blocking traffic, blocking the road,” he says. “That’s when we were called in.”

  “There were girls sitting down in the middle of the road, and Jess joined them. They were singing and chanting. I tried to pull her up, but she said I needed to relax, and she pulled me to the ground. That’s when the police turned up. Jess jumped up, but I was too slow. Next thing I know, an officer is pulling me up and putting me in her car.”

  “And what happened to your friend?”

  “She ran off.”

  “She just left you?” He sounds incredulous.

  I feel the hot sting of tears behind my eyes, and all I can do is nod.

  “She doesn’t sound like much of a friend.”

  I look out the window, blinking furiously. I’m still reeling at the fact that Jess ran off without me. And the fact that I’ve spent the last two hours in a prison cell.

  “Will I have a record?” I ask. I’m twisting the ring on my right hand, which is what I do when I’m nervous or upset.

  “No.”

  Relief washes over me.

  “You weren’t charged. But you’ll be on file, and if it happens again, they won’t be so lenient.”

  This time I can’t stop the tears.

  He looks over at me.

  “Hey, don’t stress about it.” He reaches a hand out and places it over mine. His touch instantly makes me feel better, sending warmth shooting up my arms. “We’re always picking up out of hand college students. For most of them, a couple of hours in the cells is a deterrent for life.”

  He puts his hand back on the steering wheel, and I immediately feel bereft at the loss of his touch.

  “Which one is it?” he asks.

  I’m startled to see that we’re on my street already, and a little sad that our car journey is coming to an end.

  “Past the tree on the left,” I tell him.

  He pulls up outside and peers out the window with a frown on his face.

  “This is where you live.”

  I nod. “It’s student housing.” I’m suddenly embarrassed by the crumbing paintwork and overgrown garden.

  I open the door, and he opens his.

  “I’m coming in with you.”

  “It’s fine. Really.”

  “It doesn’t look fine.” He gets out of the car, and before I can move, he’s around my side of the car, offering his hand to help me out of the seat.

  As soon as I touch him, I feel that spark of warmth again. He keeps hold of my hand as we walk up the stairs, and I wonder if he’s feeling it too. It’s only when I have to get my key out of my bag that he lets my hand drop.

  I fumble with the lock, stalling for time.

  “Who else lives here?” he asks.

  “There are five of us.”

  He looks up at the house. “Five of you fit in here?”

  “Student houses have small rooms. And there’s only one bathroom.”

  He winces. “That must be hard with five women.”

  “There’s two women, three guys.”

  He tenses. “You live with guys?”

  I nod. “Yeah, we’re all students.” I unlock the door. “Thank you for the ride home.”

  He pushes the door open. “I’m coming in.”

  He must see the surprise on my face, because his hand reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “I need to see that you’re safe here.”

  I nod, torn between wanting to spend more time with him and the embarrassment over my living conditions. But I don’t have time to protest because he holds the door open and indicates for me to go ahead before following me into the house.

  3

  Carver

  I’m getting a bad feeling about this run-down student house that Amber’s living in. You don’t need to be a cop to see it’s not the type of place you’d want your daughter living.

  “Do your parents know you live here?” I ask as I follow her into the dimly lit hallway. It smells of wet carpet and weed.

  “It’s just my mom, and she hasn’t been to visit.”

  She doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t push.

  There’s music coming from down the hall, and when she pushes open a door cigarette smoke billows into the hallway.

  We go into the living room, and two guys are slouched on the sofa, games consoles in hand. A third guy is spread over a chair, beer in one hand and a hand-rolled cigarette in the other.

  “Hey Amber.” He looks at her in a way that makes my blood boil.

  “Hi Carl.” She nods a
t him and goes through to the kitchen. His gaze follows her ass until I step behind her, blocking his view.

  “Those your housemates?” I ask when we’re in the kitchen.

  “Afraid so. You want some coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  She gets the coffee ready, and as she’s pouring it Carl, the guy with the staring problem, comes into the kitchen and leans against the doorframe.

  “I didn’t know you were bringing a friend home?” he says peering at me through bloodshot eyes, making me wonder how many beers he’s had.

  “Oh, this is Carver. He gave me a lift.”

  “Bet that’s not all he gave you.”

  My fists clench, and I take a step towards him. “You’d better watch what you say.”

  He must be drunk, because he smiles at me and says, “Good luck, bro. We’ve all tried it with Amber...” He doesn’t get a chance to finish what he’s saying. I grab him by the neck and pin him against the wall. His eyes go wide with shock, and he makes a gargling noise.

  “I said watch what you say.”

  Amber gasps behind me, and I release my hold on him. He slumps to the floor, his hands scrabbling at his neck.

  “What the fuck, dude?” he splutters. “I’m calling the cops.”

  “Yeah? Bet they’ll be real interested in the type of cigarettes you’re smoking in there.”

  He goes quiet, confirming my suspicions.

  “Now get up and get out of here.”

  He scrambles to his feet and bolts out of the door. I turn to Amber to find her trembling beside me.