The Siren (6 page)

My father leaned against the counter with his coffee cup. “Parish? Like the church?” he asked.

Warren nodded. “Exactly like the church. When I was a baby, I was found outside of St. Peter’s Parish in Chicago. No one knew my name, or even if I ever had one, so the caseworker who came and got me named me Warren after her father, I believe, and Parish after the church.”

I looked up. “I didn’t know that.”

My mother handed him the refilled mug. “That’s fascinating.”
 

Warren shrugged and screwed the lid on his cup. “And pretty sad.”

My mother patted Warren’s cheek. “Not sad at all. I think it’s remarkable how you have lived your life despite such a mysterious beginning.”

He smiled at her. “Thank you.”

She squeezed his hand. “No matter how heinous our daughter can be in the mornings, I hope you know you have a family now.”

“I’m not heinous,” I protested.

Warren slipped his arm around my shoulders from behind and kissed the top of my head. “Yes, you are, but it’s OK. I love you anyway. Are you about ready to go? We need to get to the airport.”

I groaned and stood up. “Can I have alcohol on the plane?”

My mother shook her head and sighed.
 

I gave her another hug. “I love you, Mom. I’ll see you when we get home.”

“Have a wonderful time. Tell the detective we said hello,” she said.

“I will.”

I hugged my dad. “I love you, Dad. Maybe I’ll bring you a cactus or a ten-gallon hat.”

He winked at me. “I’ll wear it with pride. I’m sure my patients would love it.” He grabbed my hand as I turned to leave. “Did you remember to pack your meds? Your headache prescription and your Xanax?”

I nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ve got them, and Warren’s going to be with me the whole time, so I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
 

Dad shook Warren’s hand. “Have fun. Take care of my little girl and enjoy your downtime.”

“I will. Thank you, sir,” Warren said.

We walked out of the house, and on the way to the car, Warren looked at me. “You take Xanax? For anxiety or what?”

I nodded. “Usually only when I know I’m going to be around really bad people. Like, the jail causes me to go into hysterics.”

“That’s interesting.”
 

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I tend to be sharper, more focused around bad people. Not anxious.”

I looked up at him. “That is interesting.”

When we reached the car, he opened my door. “I like your parents a lot.”
 

“Yeah, they’re great,” I said without emotion, still hugging my coffee.

He shook his head. “Maybe you need Prozac in the morning.”

I got in the car and looked up at him. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk so much.”

He laughed and shut my door.

As we pulled out of the driveway, I turned in my seat to look at him. “Does my mom give off anything weird to you?”
 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. For the past few months I’ve gotten this really strange feeling around her.”

He laughed. “Is that why you snapped at her back there?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it as hateful as it sounded,” I said.

He shook his head. “I haven’t picked up on anything. What’s it feel like?”

I thought for a moment. “Do you know that fairytale called the Princess and the Pea?”

His head turned in my direction. “Really? Do I look like a fairytale kind of guy to you?”

I laughed. “It’s about this princess who can feel a pea at the bottom of twenty mattresses.”

“What the hell?” he asked, laughing as he turned onto the highway.

“There’s this girl who claims she’s a princess, and this old woman hides a pea under twenty mattresses that the girl is going to sleep on—”

He interrupted me. “Who the hell sleeps on twenty mattresses?”

“Pay attention!” I snapped. “In the morning, they asked the princess how she slept, and she said she slept terribly because there was a pea under her mattress,” I explained. “They knew she was a real princess because she could feel the pea hidden at the bottom.”

“Fairytales are stupid. That makes no sense.” He glowered over at me. “I’ll bet you couldn’t feel a pea. You’re definitely not a princess.”
 

“You’re missing the point, Warren.”

“What’s the point?” he asked.

I was getting frustrated, and he was grinning because he knew it. “That’s what it feels like with my mom. There’s something there that’s hidden, but I can still feel it.” I held up my hands in question. “You don’t sense anything strange around her?”

“Peas?” He shook his head. “No peas.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.”

He reached over and put his hand on my knee. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay more attention when we see her again.”

I sighed. “Thank you.”

The airport was almost empty when we arrived. We checked our bags, declared the arsenal Warren had brought along with us, and made it through security with well over an hour to spare. I wanted to say
I told you so
, but I kept my mouth shut. I stretched out on the sandpaper-esque carpet near the gate and used my carryon bag as a pillow. Warren sat in a chair with a newspaper.

“Did Nathan book the same flight?” I asked.

“I thought so, but he should be here by now,” he said.
 

I closed my eyes and felt the rumble of planes on the tarmac outside. “He’s probably still in bed asleep like a normal person,” I mumbled.

“What?” Warren asked.

“Nothing.”

I woke up sometime later with the toe of Warren’s boot nudging me in the ribs. I opened my eyes.
 

“Feel better?” he asked.

I yawned. “A little.” I struggled to my feet while Warren picked up my bag. I looked around to see that Nathan still hadn’t shown up. “Do you think I have time to get more coffee?”

“They’ll have coffee on the plane,” he said.

To my surprise, the flight was nearly full. In our row of three seats, I took the middle so Warren could wedge his six-foot-three frame into the aisle seat.
 

I rested my head against his shoulder. “How long is the flight?”

He looked down at the large tactical watch encircling his wrist. “We should be there by noon. We have to change planes in Atlanta.”

I nodded and closed my eyes again, this time enjoying the scent of Warren’s cologne. It was strong and masculine, but it reminded me of the ocean breeze and moonlight. The peaceful hum of electricity between us was enough to lull me to sleep again despite the chatter and fumbling of luggage around me.

“Uh oh,” he said, jarring me awake.

I sat up and looked at him. “Uh oh, what?” I followed the direction of his gaze.

Nathan was shoving a large red carry-on into an overhead compartment six rows ahead of ours. He waved when he saw us. I smiled and returned the gesture, but when he stepped out of the narrow aisle, my smile quickly faded and my stomach did a backflip.

Shannon Green was standing right behind him.

5.

“You have got to be freaking kidding me!” I shouted, causing the older gentleman in front of us to turn around in his seat and look at me.

Warren gripped my hand and squeezed. “Keep your voice down.”

“Did you know he was bringing her?” My voice was a squealing whisper, like an emphysemic banshee.

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

I sat back hard in my seat. “What was he thinking?”

Warren turned toward me. “He was probably thinking he didn’t want to be the third wheel here with us,” he said. “Would you want to be tagging along with another couple by yourself?”

Yanking my hand from his, I folded my arms over my chest. “I would be by myself for eternity before I would even go to the grocery store with that woman. I’m certainly not going to Texas with her.” I furiously shook my head. “No. No. No.”

He angled his shoulders to face me. “So, what are you going to do? Get off the plane?” It was obvious Warren’s patience was wearing very thin.

“Do you have any idea how much I can’t stand her?” I jabbed my thumb into the center of my chest. “Do you know how hard this is for me?”

He narrowed his eyes, and for the first time ever, he looked angry with me. “Let’s think about that for a second.” He pointed over the top of the seats toward Nathan. “That guy up there more than obviously has a thing for you. You work together, you hang out together, and he’s even stayed the night at your house—in your bed—at least once. I don’t think you’ve slept with him, but he’s kissed you before, and if he had half a chance he would edge me out of the picture without a moment’s pause.” He was fighting to maintain control of the volume of his voice. “Still, you don’t see me yelling on the plane because he’s here.”

“That’s not the same.”

He blinked with surprise. “How’s it different?”

“Nathan only thinks he has a thing for me. You know, people fear you and they love me.” I gestured between us. “It’s part of…whatever
this
is.”

“Right, Sloan! Because a dude falling for his hot co-worker is so out of the ordinary!”

I pressed my lips together and shrank down into my seat. “But I—”

He held up his index finger, daring me to continue my protest. “Enough.”

I stared at the blue seat back in front of me and picked at a loose thread from the fabric. “I can’t promise I’m going to be nice to her.”

He didn’t say anything more. He just opened up the
SkyMall
magazine and began thumbing through the pages, not pausing long enough to read any of it. He was definitely mad.

I needed to get a grip. Fast. I had chosen to be with Warren which forfeited any right I had to a temper tantrum over Nathan being with someone else but damn it was hard. And of all people…Shannon? Talk about salt in an open wound.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that I was wrong.

“I’m sorry.” And I was.

Warren didn’t even flinch in acknowledgement.
 

After a moment of being ignored, I leaned into him. “How did you know Nathan kissed me?”
 

He didn’t look up from his book as he continued to flip through the pages. “I was there.”

My brain scrambled. “You were there?”

“At your house, the first night I met you. He kissed you at the door and stormed out.” His eyes slowly rolled toward me. “Why? What kiss are you thinking about?”

Crap.

My shoulders sank, and I tried to squelch the guilt churning in my stomach even though, technically, I hadn’t done anything wrong. “It was before you and I got serious.”

“When?”

Every muscle in my body tensed. “The last time, it was—”

He cut me off and closed the magazine. “The
last
time? How many times have there been?”

I cringed. “Three.” He didn’t respond, so I continued. “The last time was the night after we found his sister’s body in Raleigh. The night I got our DNA test results.”

His teeth were audibly grinding, and he turned his gaze toward the seat. I half-expected it to start smoking. “That was the last time?”

I put my hand on his arm. “I swear it was.”

He nodded, but still didn’t look at me. “I already knew about that.”

My head snapped back in surprise. “You did?”

“Nathan told me when we were out looking for bodies a couple of weeks ago.” He seemed to relax a bit.

My jaw went slack. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“There was nothing to say. You were right. It was before we got serious.”

His leniency and patience creeped me out. Rather than coming across as being a bit of a doormat, his steel resolve to be objective and understanding was unnerving. It was scary to think what would happen if Warren was pushed past his limit. I certainly didn’t want to find out.

“I haven’t slept with him ever,” I added, quickly and with conviction.

“OK.” He returned his attention to the magazine.

I shuddered.

My cell phone buzzed on my lap. It was a text message from Nathan.
Good morning, sunshine. Surprise.
 

I tapped out a reply with my thumbs.
I hate you.

A moment later, another message came.
I know.

It was a short flight to Atlanta, and we didn’t have much of a layover. Nathan and Shannon exited the plane first but waited for us in the terminal. I tried to look pleasant as we approached.

Shannon’s blond hair was neatly framed around her face, she was wearing a black pant suit, and—unlike me—she had opened her makeup bag that morning. She was ready for the six o’clock news; I was ready for a cardboard box under a bridge.

She was looking at me with an equal amount of disgust.
 

I forced a smile. “Good morning.”

“Don’t you look lovely?” Nathan laughed as his eyes scanned me up and down. He nodded toward my head. “Your hair looks like a bird’s nest.”

I cut my eyes at him and looped my arm through Warren’s. “Well, your face is stupid.”

Nathan laughed.

“You guys barely made it, didn’t you?” Warren asked.

Shannon flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I had to do the news at five this morning.” She giggled and put her hand on Nathan’s arm. “We had to literally run down the terminal!”

I glanced down at her four-inch high heels. “In those shoes, and you didn’t break your neck?”

Warren nudged me with his arm.
 

I looked at Nathan. The patch on his ball cap read
Shitstarter
. I pointed to it and smirked. “That’s appropriate. I didn’t know you were bringing a friend.”

Shannon laughed. “I certainly wouldn’t classify me as a friend.”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t either.”

Her mouth twisted into a deep frown.

Warren cut his eyes down at me, but the corners of his mouth were twitching as he tried to suppress a smile. He looked at her and extended his hand. “You must be Shannon. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Warren Parish.”

She blinked her bright green eyes up at him and smiled so big I wondered if she might get a face cramp. “I’ve heard a lot about you too.” She was still holding onto his hand. “It’s nice to finally put a face with your name.”