He startled as he lifted his head and saw me. “Bree, what are you doing here?” His blue eyes narrowed, and even in the dark, I thought I could see them glimmer. He said, “Damn it, Eammon gave you a card, didn’t he? He asked you to come.”

I nodded. “He did. He thinks I’d be a good fit, so I’m here for an interview.” I tipped my chin up, daring him to challenge me.

He snorted. “You’re too old. Our oldest trainees are in their early thirties, and even that is too old in my opinion for this job.”

Oh, he did not. “Say that again? I think my hearing is going. Eh, sonny? What did you say to me old self?” Okay, so I’d slid into some form of pirate speak, but I figured there was no point in pretending to be normal now. “I can’t be hearing you with my aged ears, not as good as they used to be.” I bent forward for effect, touching my lower back as if I were a hundred and ten, not forty-one, thank you very much.

I looked up as he rolled his eyes. “This job isn’t for . . . we don’t hire women for the most part,” Corb said, trying to take another tack that was almost equally insulting. “Go back to the loft.”

Sounded too much like telling the little woman to go home so the men could take care of things. I think not. I stood straight and gave him my best resting bitch face.

“No. If you’ll recall, you have no say over me or my life. We aren’t married. We aren’t even,” I made a rude gesture with the flashlight and my free hand. If he wanted old school, I’d give it to him. The light bobbed in and out of my cupped hand several times. “Not that us doing that would give you any say, either.”

Would he get the Seinfeld reference? Probably not. Too young.

His jaw flexed and I flipped the flashlight up, so it pointed directly at his face, blinding him. “I’ve already picked the lock and made friends with one of your creepy skeleton people, so I’m doing just fine. Thank you very much for your lack of faith in me and my rickety old female body.”

His eyes narrowed along with the line of his mouth. Pity, his mouth was lovely and full. “We are hiring because three of our recent hires were killed, Breena. On the job.”

Oh. Well, I suppose that wasn’t a shock. Eammon had mentioned it could be dangerous, and they didn’t pay you twenty thousand a month to twiddle your thumbs at a desk job. Gran had always said the shadow world wasn’t for the faint of heart or the slow of wit. I was neither.