Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-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."

"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.

Scott pulls me into his office within ten minutes.

Scott closes the door behind me, his face a mask of concern that feels too overblown. Fake. The familiar scent of his cologne turns my stomach.

"Nicole, we need to talk." Sweetness oozes from his words as he brushes a hand over my back.

I stiffen at his tone, stepping to the side. "Only if it’s about work."

"I’m worried about you. You look... well, terrible. And you’ve already called off again."

A spark of anger ignites in my chest. Yes, I’m exhausted. I didn’t spend time in front of the mirror today. A little bit of BB cream and mascara is all I managed before rushing out the door.

I really need a car.

"Thanks for the compliment," I snap, my professional demeanor on its very last tether.

"That’s not what I meant." He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I once found endearing. "You’re falling apart without me. I can see it."

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."

"Are you? You’ve been getting into car accidents a little too often. That’s not like you."

I think of the files I found, his name scattered throughout like breadcrumbs. Could Scott be a part of this mystery? Is he in deeper than I ever would have expected? This delusional side of him is new to me; what else don’t I know about his personality? "Perhaps I’ve had a lot on my mind lately."

"Exactly my point." He steps closer, and I resist the urge to back away. "You need me, Nicole. We were good together."

"Were we? Because I seem to recall finding you in bed with another woman."

His jaw tightens. "I told you, that was a mistake. One I deeply regret."

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

He sighs. "Nicole, please. I’m trying to help you."

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

Scott’s hands clamp around my arms, his grip surprisingly strong. His eyes bore into mine, intense and earnest in a way that makes my skin crawl.

"Nicole, I’m here for you. Just lean on me. Stop pushing me away. We’ll be stronger together again. You need me, baby. I’m here."

My stomach churns. This isn’t the Scott I know. Or thought I knew. Why is he so intent on getting back together? Is it ego? Or does it have to do with his name all over those suspicious files?

I try to pull away, but his fingers dig deeper into my flesh.

"Let go of me, Scott." My voice comes out sharper than intended, laced with a growing panic.

He doesn’t budge. If anything, his grip tightens.

I shove against his chest, hard. "I said, let go!"

His face looms closer, and I realize with horror that he’s leaning in to kiss me. No. Absolutely not.

Instinct takes over. I bring my knee up, connecting solidly with his groin. Scott doubles over, cursing loudly as he finally releases me.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he wheezes, face contorted in pain.

"Me?" I scream, fury and disbelief battling for dominance. "What the fuck are you doing?"

I wrench the office door open, my hands shaking. "I’m done with your bullshit, Scott. I’m going to HR."

Before I can step out, Scott’s hand clamps around my arm again, yanking me back into the office. My heart pounds in my ears, rage flowing through my veins. How fucking dare he?

"Don’t you dare try any more shit," I snarl, meeting his gaze. "You’ll regret it."

For a moment, we’re locked in a silent battle of wills. Then, slowly, his fingers uncurl from my arm. His jaw clenches, eyes blazing.

I take a deep breath, forcing my voice into a semblance of professionalism. "I won’t be able to work today after all. I’ll be back on Monday."

As I stride towards my cubicle, I feel the weight of curious stares. Whispers follow in my wake. More fodder for the rumor mill. Hopefully this time they’ll realize I’m the victim, and he’s a grade A dick. I grab my purse, pointedly avoiding eye contact with anyone.

My mind races as I head towards HR. What the hell just happened? Scott might be a cheating asshole, but he isn’t usually this level of erratic or aggressive.