The serial killer Dom protects.
“I’m gonna puke.” The words come out strangled.
Alex yanks out my chair and presses me into it, shoving my head between my knees. “Breathe,” she hisses at me. “Fuck, here comes Sharon. That nosy—Hey Sharon!”
Oh no. Not Sharon. She needs to just retire already.
“What’s wrong with Dylan?” Sharon’s voice drips with disapproval. Hands on her ample hips, those weird glasses with the chain, and a frown so hard it pulls her wrinkles down like a pug.
Alex has written sonnets about it.
“Hangover.” Alex says it with syrupy sweetness that could give you a cavity.
See, I can’t hide the fact that I hate Sharon. But Sharon’s not miserable—she’s survived forty years in law firms by making herself indispensable to partners and untouchable to everyone else. She’s what happens when you play the game long enough that you forget there were other options.
But Alex? Oh, Sharon loves her.
It’s a superpower.
“Well,” Sharon replies, her mouth opening and closing twice before she finds the words. But Sharon likes Alex so much she’d never say something bad about me to Alex. Now if she catches me alone? Different story. “Tell her to just go home.”
“Thanks, Sharon.” Alex’s sweetness is going to rot my teeth. “We’re so lucky to have you as such a caring receptionist.”
Sharon harrumphs and those old-school loafers march away.
I sit up, glaring at Alex. “Thick.”
She shrugs. “She brings me sweet treats.”
“Seriously?”
She smiles dreamily. “Homemade Rice Krispie treats today. And then she showed me a picture of her son who is so hot.” She pauses. “I think I’m gonna ask for his number. He’s a forensic accountant for the FBI.”
“I cannot believe you right now,” I hiss, shaking my head. But it’s working—the panic is receding just enough. Alex knows exactly what she’s doing. “Marcus.”
I look around, making sure no one heard me say the name.
“Right.” She draws it out. “That’s it. That’s all I know. No one knows why he’s here. Not a single?—”
My desk phone lights up. Room 1. Dom’s office.
“No, no, no, no, no, no.” The words tumble out singsong. My throat closes around each syllable.
“You need to answer that.” Alex picks it up for me before it can hit the second ring because she knows Dom will get mad.
I grab it from her. “Sir.”
“Office. Now.” He hangs up.
I’m dead. I am absolutely dead.
“What did he say?” Alex asks as I stand. My legs don’t feel attached to my body.
“I have to go in there.” I turn to her, and I know my eyes are too wide. “Go. Save yourself.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” She rolls her eyes, but she squeezes my arm. “Call me when you’re free.”
Then she walks away. Back to her desk. Like this is a normal Monday.
