Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 54: Back Up the Mountain

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing!" My thumb hits the power button on my phone without even thinking about it, heat rising to my cheeks as I glance at Logan.

His brows arch in silent doubt as he takes a steep curve without batting an eyelash. "It doesn’t seem like it was nothing. Why are you blushing?"

"I’m not. I’m just hot in here." Sliding my phone into my pocket, I do my best to ignore the contents of Penelope’s text.

"Hmm," he says, sounding a lot like he doesn’t believes me. "You know I can always pull your text records, right?"

His tone is teasing, but I flinch at the reminder of our awkward situation.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just not a good feeling to think about how you’re supposed to be making sure I didn’t murder Scott."

Logan sighs. "Reframe the situation in your head, Nicole. I’m investigating his murderer. You aren’t his murderer."

"I know. It’s just..."

"Not ideal. I know." Reaching over, he grabs my hand in his, squeezing gently. "I’ll get it figured out. I don’t want you to worry about anything."

Settling a little more comfortably in the seat, I let myself enjoy the moment, shoving away all those intrusive thoughts. Right now, Logan cares about me. I’m free. They’re still investigating. I shouldn’t walk around like it’s a guarantee I’m about to be arrested.

But anxiety still skitters around in the back of my head, whispering all the questions I’m trying not to think about.

Silence settles between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. My gaze drifts to Logan’s profile—the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. He’s unfairly beautiful, damn it.

"Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll pull this car over," Logan growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Then we’ll be heading back to that hotel instead of solving your case."

Heat floods my cheeks. "I wasn’t—"

"You were." His lips quirk into a smirk. "Not that I mind."

I laugh, the sound breaking the tension. "Eyes on the road, Officer."

Logan’s hand slides towards my thigh, and I smack it away. "Behave yourself."

"Never," he retorts, but he keeps his hands to himself for the rest of the drive.

As we approach the mansion’s gates, Logan leans out the window and punches in a code. My eyebrows shoot up.

"You’ve been here before?"

He nods, pulling through the now-open gates. "Yeah, a few times."

Questions bubble up, but I swallow them down.

We climb the steps to the massive front door together. Before we’re even to the top step, it swings open. A woman stands there, her golden eyes regarding us coldly. She’s dressed simply—jeans and a t-shirt—a far cry from the butler’s crisp uniform from my last visit.

Logan flashes a disarming smile. "Hello, I’m Logan Everett with the Supernatural Enforcement Division. Is Mr. Fernsby available?"

The woman’s frown deepens. "No."

The door slams in our faces, and I step back in surprise by how vehemently it was closed. Logan doesn’t hesitate, rapping his knuckles against the wood again.

The door cracks open, the woman’s face a mask of irritation. "You need to leave."

Logan’s nostrils flare. "What’s that smell?"

The door slams shut once more.

"Nicole, get in the car," Logan orders, already pulling out his phone.

I hesitate, torn between curiosity and the urgency in his voice. "What’s going on?"

He shakes his head, punching numbers into his phone. "Just get in the car. Now."

As I slide into the passenger seat, Logan’s voice drifts through the open window. "This is Agent Everett. I need backup at the Fernsby estate. It’s a possible 187."

My breath catches. What’s going on?

The car door opens, and Logan slides in, his face grim as he grabs a gun out of the glove department. My stomach flips; I had no idea it was in there. I guess it makes sense, considering who Logan is.

"We need to wait here until backup arrives," he says, sounding far too calm for a situation that requires a gun.

"Logan, what’s happening? What did you smell in there?"

He meets my gaze, his eyes dark. "Blood. A lot of it."

A chill runs down my spine. "You don’t think—"

"I don’t know what to think yet. But I can’t leave you out here by yourself."

"But what if he’s still alive right now? What if—"

Logan shakes his head. "We wait for backup."

* * *

My hands are slick with sweat, my mouth dry as I watch Logan strap on a bulletproof vest from the trunk. His movements are quick, practiced. But it’s the white jade bracelets that catch my eye, glinting in the sunlight as he secures them around his wrists.

Self-defense wards. I’ve seen them before, of course—helped design them, even. But never on a police officer. They’re obscenely expensive, the kind of thing you’d expect to see on billionaires or high-ranking government officials. Not cops.

"Logan," I call out, my voice shaking. I have so many questions, but this is so not the time. "Be careful."

He nods, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Always am."

The wail of sirens pierces the air, growing louder with each passing second. I count the seconds, trying to calm my racing thoughts. One, two, three...

Before I reach twenty, the first police cruiser comes into view, followed closely by an unmarked black SUV. My stomach twists as more vehicles appear, their lights flashing an ominous red and blue.

So many people here.

A tap on the window startles me. A woman in uniform stands outside, her expression stern but not unkind. "Ma’am, I need you to come with me."

Numbly, I nod and step out of the car. She guides me to one of the SUVs, opening the back door for me. "Please, have a seat. You’ll be safe in here."

I slide into the vehicle’s passenger seat, the leather seat cool against my skin. The officer settles in on the driver’s side. I guess she’s supposed to get me out of here in a hurry if necessary.

I don’t recognize her, but then again, I’ve been dealing with more police than SED.

"Can you tell me what happened?" She sounds casual, but it occurs to me that this is probably a quick interrogation.

"There’s... not much to tell. We just got here."

She nods, jotting something down. "And why are you here, Ms...?"

"D’Armand. Nicole d’Armand." I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "I was checking up on some information I’d been given recently."

"What kind of information?" freёwebnoѵel.com

"Jonathan Fernsby is a client of mine, and he had wanted me to check into some concerns he had."

The officer’s eyebrows raise slightly, but she doesn’t press further, instead straightening as she watches her colleagues.

Through the tinted windows, I watch as Logan confers with a group of men in tactical gear. Their faces are grim, hands resting on their weapons. My stomach churns as I realize what’s about to happen.

They’re going in.

Logan’s going in.

I’ve known him for such a short time, but the idea of him walking into that house, into potential danger...

I lean forward, straining to hear what’s happening outside. The officer gives me a sharp look but doesn’t stop me.