Page 1 of Follow Your Instincts

Chapter 1

Maggie

My alarm went off at 6 and I knew it was one of those mornings that started shitty and only got worse. My eyes felt crusty, and my tongue was dry. A migraine had already started to pound in my left temple. Wonderful.

I forced myself up and out of bed with a groan. My apartment was blissfully dark thanks to the blackout curtains I’d invested in when I moved in. They were meant to block the creeps that would peep into the window from the rooftop next door, just as much as the sun. Kira hated that I lived in such a shithole, but if it meant no roommate I would deal with just about anything.

My morning stretches did nothing to loosen the heavy aches in my joints or dislodge the icepick ramming into my skull. I dressed without turning on the lights and was out the door before I could talk myself into foregoing my morning run.

I crept down the 4 flights of steps until I reached the lobby so I wouldn’t wake up any of my neighbors. They already hated having a cop in the building; I wouldn’t give them another reason for dirty looks in the hallway.

The city at 6 am was already fully awake, and I paused for a moment to listen to the discordant sounds of traffic, salsa music coming from the bodega next door, and a train janglingacross the overpass behind my building.

A twinge of anxiety took me by surprise. Everything felt too big, too wide. I immediately wanted to creep back into my dark studio apartment and crawl under the covers. I backed up until I hit the side of my building. My breath was coming too fast, and I hadn’t even started running yet.

“You okay, Maggie?” Someone touched me on the shoulder, and I jolted.

“Oh god,” I gasped. “You scared me.” It was Mr. Cristiano, the owner of the bodega. We were friendly. He liked having a cop nearby in case anything kicked off. He was an older Alpha, late fifties, and built like an old-timey boxer. He and his wife, a lovely Beta that insisted I call her Rita instead of Mrs. Cristiano, lived above the bodega and acted as de facto leaders of the block. I liked him usually, but right now I wanted to scrub off my skin where he’d touched me. I caught a whiff of his normally innocuous butter toffee scent, and my stomach turned.

“Sorry, yeah, I’m fine,” I said, after too long a pause while Mr. Cristiano just looked at me with concern. “I need to get rid of some of this pent-up energy, I guess.” I shook out my arms and hopped back and forth to warm up.

“Sounds good,” he said and laughed. “You don’t wanna be this jumpy on the job, right?”

I gave him a tense smile and shoved my headphones in before taking off in a jog.

Running was usually the best part of my day. I could clear my head before work and daydream about the future when I’d finally be out of the damn uniform and working real cases. But today my music was too loud, and I felt like there was a threat lurking just over my shoulder. I kept checking behind me, but there was no one following me. I tried to shake it off, but my head kept pounding and my legs felt like jelly.

The three miles felt like ten. I powered through on sheer power of will and returned to my building feeling like a wrung-out sponge.

Even though I always went to the station in civvies, everyone in the neighborhood somehow knew I was a cop as soon as I moved in two years ago. I’d asked Mr. Cristiano, and he just shrugged and said, “It’s a posture thing.”

I showered and dressed, packed up my uniform, and chugged straight from the jug of cold brew I kept in the fridge. I couldn’t face the thought of riding the train feeling like this.Just this once, I thought as I booked a car on my phone. Maybe a quick nap in the car, and I’d wake up without this horrible hangover feeling.

The morning briefing was a nightmare.

“Good morning, everyone,” Captain Harcourt said as we gathered in the briefing room at 8:30. It was a fluorescent lit hell. The detectives got to sit at the rickety tables while the rest of us in uniform circled at the back of the room. The whole station had the same aging, stained white tiles and gray walls.

Usually, being in a room with this many people was no problem. But the mixture of scents was killing me. I couldn’t distinguish any specific notes, it was just a miasma of sweet, spicy, and musky that was making my migraine worse.

Fuck, am I pregnant?I thought.

Relief immediately followed. To be pregnant, you had to have sex, and god knows that hadn’t happened in a while.

I tuned back into Captain Harcourt. She was an Alpha, about six feet tall and broad-shouldered with brown hair pulled into a tight bun that showed streaks of gray at her temples. Even as an Alpha, making it to Captain as a woman was pretty inspiring to me and the other three female officers at the station. “Murray, Jacobs. Good work on closing that B&E,” she said, turning her attention to two detectives sitting near the front. “Less than 48 hours, right?”

“Less than 36, actually,” Jacobs replied with a smirk. Detective Jacobs was also an Alpha, and a smug asshole.

Detective Murray just nodded. “Thanks, Captain.”

He didn’t know it, but Detective Murray was kind of my idol.He was one of only two Beta detectives in the precinct and gave me hope that I could get there one day, too. He was older than I, and a man which probably helped, but still. He wasn’t sprawled at the table like Jacobs, who was ostentatiously manspreading, but sitting tall with both feet firmly planted on the ground. Maybe Mr. Cristiano was right about the cop posture thing.

“Officers, we’re switching up assignments a bit. Make sure you pick yours up before you head out,” Captain Harcourt said. “Dismissed.”

I tried to breathe as little as possible as the rest of the uniformed officers clustered around a table in the back corner of the room with our beat assignments. I snagged a copy and started out the door. I’d been assigned to Kellen Commons for the week, one of the wealthier parts of the city. I sighed in relief and thought about the nice cafe I’d stop at for lunch. Maybe today could be salvageable after all.

“Oh, of course, the bitch gets off easy,” Phillips said behind me. We’d filtered out into the bullpen, and everyone was starting to disperse, except the idiot who had self-appointed as my mortal enemy.

“Please shut the fuck up, Todd,” I said, bored, and turned to face him. Todd Phillips was the worst kind of cop: arrogant, aggressive, and dumb as hell. He was also an Alpha, so he’d probably be promoted before me regardless of his idiocy. His noxious sweet orange and clove scent was somehow stronger than normal, and it set my stomach roiling. “You’re not going to get a rise out of me.”

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