Page 4 of Partners In Evil

I try to keep my voice as gentle as I can, and it seems to work until my last line. Her eyes flash, and I’m suddenly very aware that I haven’t really looked up what exactly sirens are capable of. Something about singing, right?

It doesn’t sound too dangerous, but I also vaguely remember tales about sirens picking over sailors’ bones in the olden times. Wasn’t Homer tied to the mast of his ship? Or was that Odysseus? Anyway, the point is that sirens are as dangerous as demons, possibly. Originally, I thought that our shared dark histories might bind us together as a couple.

Now I am acutely aware that we’re alone in the office, and she’s got the start of a homicidal glint in her piercing eyes.

The dim lights of the office make her ivory skin glow against her jet black hair, and I think I smell salt in the air, as if she’s calling the ocean to her. Whatever magical bullshit that’s about to happen needs to take place far away from our renovated office or Damien will remind me exactly whatourancestors were capable of doing to those who wronged them.

I call the elevator and favor Raven with my most charming smile. Her glare melts into something more sultry, and I finally take her hand in mine and guide her into the elevator. Fuck, even Eduardo, the elevator attendant, is gone for the night. What the hell am I doing with my life?

“The security camera doesn’t reach the far left corner,” I say, keeping my voice dark and seductive. “Unless you’d like to put on a show, of course.”

“Hmm.” Raven’s eyelids droop, and she arches her back to bring her breasts against my chest. “Don’t think this means I forgive you for all the things you’ve said.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I wait until she walks over to the far corner of the elevator, still pouting, when I dramatically pat my pants’ pockets.

“Shit,” I say. “I forgot.”

“Forgot what?” I must undersell it, because her eyes narrow suspiciously. Fuck, I don’t even come up with a better excuse. My brain is beyond fried and I’m abruptly done with Raven entirely. “I’ll wait–”

But I’m already on my way out of the elevator, hand slamming on every single button before it hits the ‘close door’ one. “Darn, my hand slipped.”

“Finn!”

I narrowly dodge her hand as it attempts to grab hold of my jacket, and the doors slam shut behind me before she can grab anything else.

Her shriek of rage shakes the windows before it’s swallowed by the elevator shaft, and I don’t stick around to hear it, anyway. I yank the stairwell door so hard I’m worried it might fall off the hinges, and then I’m racing down thirteen flights of steps. I’ve felt lethargic and disinterested all day, but now my heart is pounding and my old friend adrenaline is giving me a boost.

I’ve got somewhere to be, and I don’t want to be late.

3

EMMA

So I’m waiting alone at a small bar in Chicago to meet my boss for drinks after work. No way this can possibly blow up in my face, right? It’s not like I haven’t struggled for months just to land an interview.

Great life choices, Emma.

I’m not even sure why I said yes. He’s my boss – and okay, initially, that’s probably why I said yes. I want to stay in his good graces. I definitely don’t want to assume that he was asking me out… What if he just wants to talk about legal briefs or something?

“Holy shit!” a girl shrieks. Her top flies off as she wobbles on the bar to take a shot with the bartender.

Yeah, this probably isn’t the most work-friendly environment. Though, to be fair, with those six inch heels, if she falls the wrong way she’s probably got a liability case. Maybe we’re scoping out potential clients.

“Sorry I’m late.”

I jolt, turning my attention from the topless girl to Finn. He looks as buttoned up as he did in the office, but there’s a slight breathlessness to his voice like he ran here. It makes me wonder what he sounds like in bed.

You could probably just ask half the girls in the office. Or this bar. Or probably the entire greater Chicago area.

Lucy had pulled me aside after he asked me out to let me know that Finn had a reputation for being overly friendly with most of the women on staff.

“Like, super friendly,” she’d said, tapping away at her pale pink computer. “Not creepy friendly, y’know? Honestly, most girls come on to him first. But like…” She’d looked over her shoulder in both directions and then waved me closer. In a whisper, she continued. “He’s definitely going to try to bring you home. Which is cool, but you seem sweet. And he doesn’t call the same girl twice, if you know what I mean.”

I know what she means.

I do.