Logan pulls up in a snazzy car worth far more than what he should be able to afford on an SED Sergeant's salary.
The passenger window rolls down, and he says, "Get inside," in a voice so rough I jump for the handle.
Sliding into the passenger seat with haste, I study his profile, hardly paying attention to how the leather seat hugs my body with the kind of luxury I've never experienced. It's buttery soft and divine.
"What happened? Is everything okay? Did the Conclave—?"
"No," he responds, hitting the gas as soon as my seatbelt clicks. "Is Penelope coming home early tonight?"
I shake my head. "She said she was going to be out late. Do I need to call her?"
"No. It's good she's busy."
The engine purrs, filling the awkward silence as he gives me no extra information whatsoever. His pheromones are dumping like crazy, though, leaving me surprisingly agitated as I shift my weight, leaning subtly away from him.
