Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 56

Chapter 56: A Familiar Figure

That feeling refuses to fade, and I turn to glance out the back window.

But, of course, no one’s tailing us.

Nancy glances at me with a frown. "Please sit properly."

"Sorry."

There’s a definite chill in her words now, but I have no idea what I did to change her attitude toward me. Did I do something? Say something? Maybe one of the officers recognized me and told her about Scott.

I try not to sigh as I turn to look out the window, absently scratching at the back of my neck. The hairs there keep trying to rise, as if warning me of some unseen danger. My fingers trace my skin, attempting to soothe away the prickling sensation, but it persists, stubborn and unsettling.

Suddenly, a deafening bang rips through the air as the car lurches violently to one side. My heart leaps into my throat and lodges there. Nancy fights the steering wheel, fighting to keep us on the road and not down the giant cliff.

"Shit!" she curses, her voice tight with concentration.

I clutch my seatbelt, my nails digging into it as we careen across the road, and I squeeze my eyes shut. There’s no way I’m going to watch as we fall to our death. I’d rather not know exactly when it’s coming.

Yeah. I’m a coward, I think.

My stomach churns as I pray silently for this nightmare to end.

After what feels like an eternity—so probably only a few seconds—we finally skid to a halt. The abrupt stop jerks me forward, the seatbelt biting into my chest. My tense body is stiff, my feet driving into the floor as if that will somehow stop everything.

I force my eyes open, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

We aren’t hanging over a cliff, staring at an abyss. That’s a good thing. We’re facing the right way, too. Somehow, we’ve spun full circle.

Burnt rubber is strong in the air.

We’re still on the road. We’re alive. The danger’s over.

Thank God.

I’m never getting in a car again.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asks, her voice shockingly steady despite what just happened.

I turn to look at her and feel my breath catch. A thin line of blood trickles down her forehead, stark against her pale skin. "You’re bleeding," I manage to croak out.

Nancy touches her forehead, wincing as her fingers come away red. "It’s nothing," she says, and unbuckles her restraint. "Stay in the car. I need to check the tire."

Through the windshield, I can see her making her way to the front of the car. The sun casts long shadows across the road; we’re well into evening. The dimmer light of oncoming twilight makes everything look slightly sinister, like a scene from a horror movie just before something terrible happens.

My brain’s stuck in TV and movie plots after this last week, and I shake off the ridiculous way I’m painting the scene.

It’s just a blown tire.

These things happen all the time.

But no matter how much I try to rationalize it, I can’t shake the feeling that this is more than just bad luck.

Nancy’s crouched by the front tire. I can barely see the tip of her bun over the dashboard. And there, behind her, standing in the middle of the street, is a strange, familiar figure.

"Officer—"

My voice comes out in a croak as I open the door.

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