When I finally decided to leave Sturgis, she was there, bag and bottle in hand. “Got room for a couple bottles of whiskey and a shitload of Acapulco...Gold?”That was the start. She was all about fucking, whiskey and weed. She warned me up front; we’d have a month, maybe two at most before she moved on. She never stayed with a man longer than that. Gypsy Jane wasn’t just a nickname, it was what she was.And yet... And yet... There she was, month after month, as close as my shadow, a Siren wreathed. Or on Monday if need be. I’d not gotten far into email, which was mostly just subscriptions and a couple of messages regarding my research thesis, when a man showed up in the doorway.“Excuse me,” he said. “I’m looking for Miss Deborah Riley?”“How may I help you,” I said, straightening behind my desk.“I’m John Allen of Allen Jackson Attorneys at Law,” he said, presenting a card. It looked legitimate. In fact, now that I thought about it, that was the name of the law office I took Dag to last. More

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