“Hello to you to, Devin. And I’m not cleaning after him. This,” Miss Stone hands righted a stack of uneven, lopsided papers. “Is his mess and he can get himself out of it. It’s not my business. I’m just looking for my report on the recent Night Hawk sightings, which he wassupposedto review two weeks ago, and now I have another three pages to add.” She took a deep breath. Her hair was done in a simple bun, a style women could do without a maid and the soft blonde color matched the paler hue of her blue eyes. She had a calm presence, reassuring. Miranda liked her instantly.
“Oh,” she stopped her search of the desk when she noticed Miranda. “New friend?”
“This is Miranda Wilde,” Devin introduced and Rachel’s eyebrow shot up. “Yes, of those Wilde’s.”
“Cordelia is my sister,” Miranda clarified.
Miss Stone gave her a sympathetic nod. “My condolences, or,” She turned to Devin, “Does she know?’
“It no longer matters,” Miranda pressed forward before Devin could answer. “The marriage will not take place, so, that is the end of it.”
Devin shot her a look, clearly thrown by the little detail she had neglected to mention, but in her defense he had hardly left her the space for it.
“Then why on earth are you here?” He directed the accusation at Miranda.
Miranda sighed. “I’m here for me. I lived my entire life preparing for a fight I was never meant to see. My sister may be free, but the city is not.”
Miss Stone shook her head. “You’re talking about Graves?” Her face remained impassive, the only hint to her feelings on the subject pointed to exhaustion, more than anger. “You roped her into your vendetta?”
Devin frowned. “I hardly roped her, she was insistent.”
“Please, the pair of you sound as bad as Gideon.” Miss Stone pushed around the desk, collecting garbage on the way and tossing it in a bin. She motioned toward the wall, where it wasn’t in view of the open windows. A giant map of the city took up most of it, each line and street labeled or covered with pinned pictures and scribbled notes. “Gideon’s ‘idea’ board. But it never gets anywhere.”
She set her hands on her hips. Dressed in a Watchmen uniform, though she had removed the jacket and rolled up the sleeves on the black undershirt, Miss Stone exuded a unique femininity Miranda could relate to, though not common where Miranda grew up. A femininity that stemmed from assurance and physicality. From knowing that she was a woman who could handle herself.
“He has all this and still has not found a way to put Graves away?” Miranda took in the board, feeling a little sick. This looked like years of work and study. What if her evidence wasn’t enough?
Miss Stone shrugged. “Graves is too smart. And we’re greatly restricted by red tape and rules. We can’t figure out which of the officers are on his payroll and anyone higher than Gideon thinks he’s a champion of the city.”
“That’s why I maintain that it was insanity to join up with the Watchmen.” Devin’s comment earned a harsh glare from Miss Stone.
“Better than drinking away our feelings.” She took a deep breath, arms crossing over the mess surrounding her. “What brings you here in the middle of the night, anyway? You didn’t come to chit-chat towing a guardian noble behind you.”
“No, we were hoping to speak with Blair.”
Miss Stone’s eyes hardened. “That won’t be possible until morning. The Captain doesn’t get here till at least nine.Andhe’ll be hungover. Begging me to do the shift briefing while he holes up in here to sleep another few hours. Meanwhile, I’ve been up half the night trying to make heads or tails of this sty he calls an office when I know he’s just going to come in here and mess it all up again.” She took a calming breath and Miranda sensed there was a special sort of history between the Captain and Miss Stone.
“I was about to head home, but you’re welcome to wait for him. I trust you not to go unlocking criminals in the cell bay or tamper with evidence or, honestly, I don’t care enough to stop you. There’s a few cots set up in the back offices if you need sleep.” She eyed Devin and then Miranda. “Separate offices, if that’s the preference.”
“It is,” Miranda insisted, but a little too forcefully. Miss Stone sent Devin a look that was both critical and knowing.
“I’m sorry I can’t offer a chaperone. That matters to those upper ring types, doesn’t it?” Miss Stone asked, but not unkindly. “There’s Watson over in dispatch, but…” She cringed. “You’d need a chaperone forhim, if you get my meaning.”
“It’s fine,” Miranda insisted, ready for this whole topic to be over.
“Alright then, goodnight,” she said guiding them out the door.
Miss Stone descended the stairs, locking Gideon’s office behind her and leaving Miranda and Devin in the upstairs hall outside it. Alone.
He may have said he would no longer attempt to sway her into anything untoward, but she did not fully trust herself to abide by her part of the bargain and, in truth, she hadn’t decided if she wanted to. She was already curious to learn what he could show her, to feel that rush again, to bask in the impropriety of just one more night.
Devin watched her, arms crossed over his chest. He wore perfectly fitted black everything with a black vest and sleeves rolled up his forearms. His dark hair was roguishly tousled, just a hint longer than was fashionable. If she stared at him any longer the decision would be made for her.
She risked meeting his eyes, but she did not find desire. He was merely watching, waiting, she supposed, to see what she would do next. What was she going to do next?
“What’ll it be, Miranda?” he asked, voice brushing through her body like satin. Two voices warred in her thoughts.
You don’t have to be curious, you can find out for yourself.
