Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 27

Chapter 27: Scott’s Overtures

Penelope frowns. "That’s not right. If there’s a murder, doesn’t it take a few days to clear out? The kid would have noticed."

"Exactly." Flipping through my papers, I read off the next address. "Let’s see what we can find this time."

The next two houses on the list are the same as the first. Quiet, human-populated neighborhoods, with cookie cutter homes. Not a single ward energizing the air. Only the remnants of where wardstones might have been placed.

"I’m starting to think no one’s been murdered," Penelope mutters as we pull away from the last house on our list.

The sky’s darkening, our bellies rumbling with hunger.

"That can’t be. Mr. Fernsby saw the bodies. And Logan." But the uncertainty in my words is palpable.

"Maybe they’re both lying?"

"They didn’t seem like they were lying." Knocking my knuckles against the papers in my lap, I add, "And these files exist. So it isn’t like we can’t find any trace at all."

"Nothing adds up, though."

Leaning my head back, I just sigh. "No, it doesn’t. And we haven’t even looked into that panther shifter, either."

"What are the odds that they’re unrelated?"

"I don’t know." I sigh. "I can’t make any of it make sense. It just feels like improbable things keep happening around me, and I don’t understand why. Do I have some sort of neon sign over my head inviting crazy?"

"No. You’re pretty unfriendly most days." She grins when I groan. "But, yeah, it doesn’t make sense. I still think you should stay at my place for a while." ƒree𝑤ebnσvel-com

"Why? It isn’t like I’m the one being murdered. I just work with a mole."

"The panther—"

"Could have happened to anyone driving down that mountain," I point out. "It isn’t like I was targeted."

She shakes her head, red hair flying. "I don’t like it. There’s an awful lot of coincidences around you lately. Too bad McSexy’s not out yet."

"He’s an asshole, remember? Rejected me? Fated mates no longer. Big fat X."

Her perfectly manicured nails tap against the steering wheel. "He paid for your hospital bill."

"Allegedly. According to the hospital, it came out of some sort of victims of supernatural violence fund. I don’t trust your source."

Penelope lets out a dramatic sigh, eyerolling in my direction. "When did life become so exciting, anyway? Fated mates, murder mysteries, a rich man willing to pay for your entire hospital stay—"

"Allegedly," I point out again, shaking my head. "Exciting? You were just telling me it’s too dangerous to go home. Make up your mind, Pippa."

She shrugs, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, it’s still dangerous. But admit it, Nikki. There’s a thrill to living on the edge like this. When have we had this much excitement? Never. You live your life playing it safe."

"I think you’ve got some wires crossed in that brain of yours."

Her laughter fills the car, bright and carefree. "That’s not news to either of us, darling."

I roll my eyes, but can’t suppress a smile. Trust Penelope to find the silver lining in this quagmire of questions.

"You’re impossible," I mutter, shuffling through the papers on my lap. "We should be focusing on figuring out what’s going on, not getting an adrenaline rush from it."

"Why not both?" Penelope winks at me before turning her attention back to the road. "Come on, Nikki. When was the last time you felt this alive?"

I open my mouth to argue, but pause. As much as I hate to admit it, she has a point. The past few days have been a whirlwind of emotions and experiences. "Fine," I concede grudgingly. "Maybe it is a little exciting. But that doesn’t make it any less dangerous."

"Mm." She glances toward me. "So why are you still investigating all of this? It isn’t your problem. This is SED’s problem."

"It’s a company problem. It’s my clients."

"They’re not even your clients, though."

Well, she’s not wrong. I’m not even sure these people exist, though apparently their addresses do. "I want that Fernsby account. I need to prove to him our security isn’t compromised."

"You need to talk to someone who’s part of the investigation, then. We’re getting nothing doing this on our own. We don’t even know if the victims exist." Penelope glances at me with a sly smile. "McSexy came to you first. I think he’s your best choice."

* * *

Sleep eludes me once again, leaving me feeling almost hung over when I clock into work.

The audacity of his statement leaves me momentarily speechless. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that we’re at work. "I appreciate your concern, Scott, but I’m fine."

"Right. Mistake. You just slipped and your dick fell into her vagina. In my bed."

"I told you, I only want to talk about work. This is not an appropriate workplace conversation, Mr. Bower."

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