Siren Song

Anyone who is used to having their office life organized by a really efficient secretary knows the kind of hell that breaks loose when said secretary is out.

It was instantly obvious to me that Dawna had not opened the office this morning—and that she probably hadn’t been in for a couple of days at least. The phone was ringing off the hook, and as I raced to answer it I stumbled into a pile of UPS parcels behind the desk. The unmistakable smell of caramelized coffee was floating out of the kitchen, and somewhere in the middle distance I heard a cat yowling. A cat?

“What the hell?” Skirting the boxes, I managed to dive behind the desk. All four lines were ringing. I answered each and put them all on hold, then raced to the kitchen to take the coffeepot off the burner. I didn’t feel like picking shards of glass out of my feet for a week if the carafe shattered from overcooking. With that crisis averted, I began wading through the rest of the mess. After about fifteen minutes and the third insulting and irate caller, I resolved that I never, ever, was going to be a secretary. I truly don’t the temperament. Still, I managed to sort through things well enough that Ron, the attorney whose office is on the first floor, actually opened his door and looked out to see why the ruckus had stopped. Not that he had made any effort whatsoever to help stop the ruckus. But that was Ron, down to his probably pedicured toenails.

I’d noticed there were people in the waiting room, and while my higher brain function recognized them, I didn’t have time to deal with them until I could actually breathe.

When there was enough room to sit down behind the reception desk, I turned to face the visitors.

The man in the closest chair was John Creede. I was more than a little surprised to see him. He’s one half of Miller & Creede, the largest security firm in the country, and Bruno’s future boss. Creede might have enjoyed second billing, but I’d met both Miller and Creede and Creede was the one with real power magically. He’d been at Vicki’s wake, guarding her mother, Cassandra. Who was she being guarded from? Why, yours truly, of course.

So why was he here—and without her?

Sitting across from him was a lovely older woman with a kind face and sparkling eyes. At her feet was a blue plastic box with a carrying handle and wire mesh door. A moment of pure panic coursed through me at the sight of her and the delicate mew that came from the carrier. Oh, hell. I forgot. The cat. I agreed to take Dottie’s cat. Shit. But I’d told her at the wake that I couldn’t take Minnie the Mouser until after I got out of Birchwoods. Had something changed?

“Sorry for the delay, folks. As you can see, it’s been a little . . . busy.”

“You’re not that bad a receptionist.” As Creede stood up and walked to the desk, I gave him the look that comment deserved and he laughed. He had a nice laugh, one that lit up his face. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him laugh or even give more than a polite smile. Of course, I’d only seen him on duty. Bodyguarding is a very serious business.

Today he wasn’t dressed for work. In fact, we looked almost like twins. His jeans were a little more worn and his polo was a slightly darker blue, but other than that we matched.

He noticed me noticing and gave me a smile. It was a good smile, charming, showing straight white teeth in a face that was handsome but not excessively so. Like me, he hadn’t won the genetic lotto, but he hadn’t lost his shirt, either. He had a strong jaw and good cheekbones, but his nose was a little bit large and hooked, almost but not quite a beak. Eyes the color of honey met my gaze easily and today they held just a hint of warmth.

That made me immediately suspicious. What was he up to?

“So, John, what’s up?” I kept my voice calm, but I knew it was tinged with frustration and wariness.

“I want to rent an office.”

I blinked. Slowly. I don’t doubt it made me look stupid, but I couldn’t help it. I was struck positively dumb. I had to have misheard him. Miller & Creede owns two or three buildings in the greater California area. “Why would Miller and Creede open a branch office in our tiny little city? You’ve already got a huge office in L.A.”

He gave me a look that held more anger than pain. “You might as well hear it from me first. Miller and Creede is becoming Miller Security. The news should hit the papers tomorrow.”

“Crap! What the hell happened?” The words popped out. Probably not tactful of me. Then again, tact has never been my best thing. Another one of the big reasons why I work for myself rather than one of the big firms.

“The short version? My partner decided to fuck me and he didn’t even kiss me first.” John’s voice was filled with a cold, hard rage that almost made me feel sorry for the other guy. He glanced at Dottie belatedly and had the decency to flush. “Pardon my French.”

She waved it off. “I’ve heard worse, dear. Not much bothers me at my age.”

Wow. Miller was an idiot. I mean, I’d only met him briefly and he hadn’t struck me as particularly stupid, but you do not cross a man like Creede. He might not have as much raw magical oomph as Bruno, but Creede makes charms that has made him a major player, both respected and feared by the bad guys. No, you don’t cross Jonathan Creede. Not if you want to stay healthy.

“I was also going to talk to you about going into business together.”

Into business? Together? Me and one of the biggest names in the industry? My brain couldn’t even wrap itself around that concept. But even as the ambitious part of my brain was screaming, Do it! Do it! I couldn’t seem to be able to bring my lips to form words.

He shrugged and looked around. “But if you can’t even afford a secretary—”

“I have a secretary. I don’t know what happened to her. But unless somebody forgot to tell me something, I have one.” That wasn’t the complete truth. Dawna is more than my secretary; she’s one of my best friends. And I was pretty sure I knew exactly what was wrong with her. Not long ago she had been mind-raped by a thousand-some-year-old vampire who’d been looking for me. It damaged her. She was supposedly getting help, but I’d been a little out of touch, what with being an inpatient at the mental facility and all. At a guess, judging by the office, she wasn’t doing so hot. I tried to ignore the wave of guilt that washed over me and focused on the situation at hand.

“I think she quit.” Bubba from Freedom Bail Bonds had come through the front door and immediately picked Creede as the man to keep his eye on. Bubba’s a big ole southern man who looks and sometimes behaves like a stupid redneck, but it’s a carefully constructed act. He doesn’t belong to Mensa only because he doesn’t like “clubs.” He’s originally from central Texas, keeps his head shaved and covered with worn ball caps. About six foot one, he’s built like a linebacker or a small tank, with next to zero body fat. His nose has been broken at least once since I’ve known him, but I don’t think it was ever actually straight. Today he was wearing a Lynyrd Skynyrd Free Bird T-shirt over black jeans and heavy black work boots. “She walked out early on Friday after throwing the phone across the room and saying she couldn’t take this anymore. She hasn’t called or shown up since. I got a temp in, but Ron pissed her off and she walked out after a couple of hours. I told Ron that this time he could take care of finding a replacement.”

Which he hadn’t, Ron being Ron and all. Bubba glanced coldly at Ron’s closed office door and intentionally raised his voice to a low shout. “We’re supposed to be taking turns answering the phones.” The look he gave me said things that should never reach air. “Today was Ron’s day.”

Of course it was. Asshole. Never mind that every missed phone call was another potential client lost.

“All right.” I took a deep, steadying breath and turned to Creede. “I had a secretary. I will either get her back or find us another one.” Dawna was my friend. If I could save her job for her, I would. And I so did not want Ron in charge of hiring a replacement.

“There is an office available on the third floor.” I pulled open the narrow center drawer of Dawna’s desk and pulled out the master key she kept there. “Look for the doors without signs. Go see what you think.”

Creede took the key. He was keeping a straight face, but his eyes were sparkling. Apparently he found the situation funny but was keeping his mouth shut. Wise man.

I just wish I could figure out why alarm bells were ringing up a storm in my head. I needed to get hold of Bruno right away, see if he’d heard anything about the Miller-Creede split and what it might mean for Creede and for us. Since Creede had been the headhunter for the firm, did that mean Bruno’s new job was out the window?

“I’ll take him up. Show him around,” Bubba offered, his gaze very steady on Creede.

Perfect. “Go with Bubba.” I made it a benediction as I gestured toward the