Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 62

Chapter 62: $500,000

It’s been two weeks since Logan was arrested for Scott’s murder, and I’m going absolutely insane.

He wasn’t even allowed visitors.

"There are a lot of people here."

Penelope’s voice is practically a shout in my ear, but it has to be. The crowd is loud. People have been lined up all morning to get into the courtroom. Everyone wants to see the SED Officer who became a serial killer.

It’s a sensational story, but there’s little update in the news. Just the same rehashed headlines.

Some say it’s his looks that lend the story popularity, and I tend to agree. Who wants to believe someone as gorgeous as Logan goes around murdering people?

But, of course, he didn’t. I know it in my bones. The man’s innocent.

The events of this last month have been nothing short of whiplash.

The bailiff’s voice cuts through the din. "All rise."

Penelope and I are squeezed into the middle of a packed row, our view of the proceedings less than ideal. The hard wooden bench digs into my thighs as I shift, trying to catch a glimpse of Logan.

I’ve never been to court before, so I’m disappointed to see he isn’t anywhere to be seen.

"Can you see anything?" I whisper to Penelope.

She shakes her head. "Just a sea of suits and bad haircuts."

We sit through case after case, the monotony of legal jargon washing over us. My mind wanders, replaying the events that led us here.

"The State versus Logan Everett."

My breath catches. I crane my neck, desperate for a glimpse of him.

"Holy shit," Penelope hisses. "Look at his lawyer."

I follow her gaze to a man in an impeccably tailored suit. Everything about him screams money and influence. He even walks rich. I didn’t know that was possible until now.

"Where did Logan get a lawyer like that?"

Penelope shrugs. "No idea. But if he’s so good, why’d he let the media have a field day? You’d think he’d have kept things under wraps."

It’s a good question, one I file away for later. Right now, I’m focused on Logan. He looks composed. Like he hasn’t suffered at all during these past two weeks. His dark gold hair is combed back, his face clean-shaven. Even the orange jumpsuit does nothing to dull his attractiveness.

I can hear the camera shutters clicking away as things proceed.

The lawyer’s voice rings out, clear and confident. "Your Honor, my client has an exemplary record with the Supernatural Enforcement Division. His service in one of our nation’s largest cities speaks to his character and dedication to public safety."

I lean forward, hanging on every word.

"Furthermore, the prosecution’s case is built on circumstantial evidence at best. Sergeant Everett poses no threat to the community. We request he be released on bond pending trial."

The prosecutor jumps up. "Your Honor, the defendant is accused of multiple murders. He’s a danger to society and should remain in custody."

I grip the bench, knuckles white, feeling a insane urge to jump across the rows of people and punch that bastard in the face. Logan, a danger? The blatant lie raises my blood pressure dramatically.

The judge peers over his glasses, unimpressed. "Counselor, do you have any concrete evidence linking Mr. Everett to these crimes?"

The prosecutor fumbles, clearly caught off guard. "We’re still processing evidence from the crime scenes, Your Honor. But given the severity of the charges—"

"Yes, yes," the judge waves a hand dismissively. "I’m well aware of the charges. What I’m not seeing is anything beyond speculation at this point."

Hope blossoms, like a fragile flower. Maybe, just maybe...

"Very well," the judge continues. "I’m setting bond at five hundred thousand dollars. Mr. Everett is to surrender his passport and check in weekly with the court. Next case."

The gavel falls with a resounding crack.

"Holy crap," Penelope breathes. "They’re letting him out. That was so easy."

But I’m focused on the back of Logan’s head. I haven’t even had a chance to make eye contact. To show him that I’m here. That he isn’t alone.

My stomach sinks. I don’t own a house, my car’s barely worth ten grand (and that’s before you consider what’s left on my loan), and the most valuable piece of jewelry I own is my engagement ring—nowhere near enough.

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