A Call to Arms, by Roshanna Sidney Evans

The emails came like a flood, six at a time, three times a day, timed irregularly just so they’d get her attention, no, so they’d interrupt her flow. He knew how to get under her skin, dammit. She had to read all six, or none, and he knew her upbringing wouldn’t let her block personal messages – in case of an emergency – It just wasn’t done. The predictability of human kindness made her an easy mark for those who toy with others.

Time to change. Why not some sweet, ladylike revenge?

Yes, the Dillinger whispered, you can trust me.


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