Fate's Edge

formal here on the West Coast. Just ‘Johanna’ will do.”
    “Okay, Johanna.” Audrey forced a smile. Go away.
    Johanna turned to stop into her office and paused.
    Now what?
    Serena was walking down the hallway with a pack of folders. Oh no. Keep walking. Keeeep walking.
    Serena stopped by Johanna’s doorway and held out a file. She would have to go by them to get outside. Her escape route was gone.
    Why now? Why when everything is going so well? Am I cursed or something?
    Audrey swallowed. That was fine. She was a Callahan. She would handle it.
    Audrey opened the door. A man stood by the window, looking out. He wore faded jeans, tan leather work boots, and a charcoal hoodie. She could walk outside and find ten men wearing a variation of the same thing. People on the West Coast took it easy and didn’t bother with too much formality. Out here, he could be anyone: an older college student, a college professor, or the CEO of a multimillion-dollar company.
    His hair was neither too long nor too short, tousled, and very dark, almost black. His shoulders were wide, his waist mostly hidden by the sweatshirt, but his butt looked like he’d spent a fair amount of time running. Hair and butt said younger than forty, shoulders said older than teens. Probably late twenties. Her entire assessment took about a second.
    Audrey beamed a bright, pretty-girl smile, and said, “Hi!”
    The man turned.
    Oh sweet Jesus.
    He had a narrow, strong face, good cheekbones, and a full mouth. If she covered the top half of his face, she’d say he was a very handsome man. But his eyes, they were devil eyes. Light brown like clover honey, smart, and framed in long eyelashes, the man’s eyes brimmed with wicked humor. They lit his whole face, changing him from a handsome man to the kind of man any woman with a drop of sense would stay away from. He toned it down almost right away. The only reason she saw it at all was because she had caught him off guard, but it was too late. Nice try. She’d spent her life in the Edge, among con artists, thieves, and swindlers. Don’t you worry. I’ve got your number.
    This man was a rogue, not because circumstances forced him to be a criminal but because he was born that way. He was probably conning his mother out of her milk the moment he could grin. He’d charm the clothes off a virgin in twenty minutes. And if the poor fool took him home, he’d drink her dad under the table, beguile her mother, charm her grandparents, and treat the girl to a night she’d never forget. In the morning, her dad would be sick with alcohol poisoning, the good silver would be missing together with the family car, and in a month, both the former virgin and her mother would be expecting.
    Whatever he wanted, it was bad. She had to get the hell away from him. He wasn’t one of Alex’s junkie buddies, and he wasn’t one of her father’s “friends.” Seamus Callahan knew his limits. This man would run circles around him, and Seamus never partnered with anyone smarter than himself. Well, except for the family.
    No, this man was too dangerous to be a common Edge rat. He was working for someone in the Edge or, more likely, in the Weird, and he probably wanted the box she had stolen from West Egypt. If he had found her, others would follow. They would never leave her alone, and they wouldn’t think twice about killing her.
    She was finished. Her job, her life, it was all over.

    THE girl was beautiful.
    Kaldar had expected a junkie or a long-suffering victim, a woman with a haggard face, toughened by life, and bitter. He’d seen some pretty girls in his time, a lot of them in their entirety, but Audrey was in a class by herself. She was golden. Her tan skin almost glowed. Her dark eyes sparked under narrow eyebrows. Her hair, pulled away from her face, was that particular shade of dark red, more brown touched with gold rather than orange. And when she smiled at him, showing white teeth, it was infectious. He wanted to smile back and do something amusing so she would smile at him again.
    She walked up to him. Big smile, wide eyes, no hesitation. Nice outfit too; professional, true, but tight enough to show off her long legs and hug her butt, and her red shirt under the jacket was cut just low enough to pull the gaze to her breasts, which were very nice to look at. He’d bet there were men in this building who spent too much time picturing themselves peeling off her clothes and pondering the color of her panties. The