“Not yet.”
“How do you get the jobs then?”
“They always use an intermediary.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“It’s not so much that I’m okay with it as that I don’t have much of a choice. The jobs pay well.”
“That’s all you care about?”
He frowned. “Is there anything else I should be concerned about? I mean, I need to find well-paying jobs to ensure I can pay for my lodging.”
She grinned at him. “I’m sure we can speak to the proprietor. I suspect she wouldn’t have any problem with you finding alternative methods of payment.”
Gavin found himself laughing. Despite what he’d gone through tonight, sitting and talking with Jessica always put him at ease.
“There is more than financial benefit you can take from your work,” she said.
“Really? What other benefits do you take from your work?” he asked.
“You mean, other than having the benefit of spending time with men like you?”
“How many other men like me are you spending time with?”
“You’d be surprised, Gavin.” She got up and tapped the table. “Let me bring you some food and fresh ale, then you can relax.” She looked over to where Wrenlow had moved. He was sitting alone on the far side of the tavern, his book open on his lap once more, the pen moving rapidly as he made notes. “Maybe I should send one of my girls over and have a few words with him. Do you think that would make him feel better?”
“No, it would probably make him more nervous than anything. I need him focused.”
She grinned, tapped the tabletop, and sauntered off, weaving her way to pause in front of Wrenlow’s table. Gavin shook his head as she leaned over, revealing a flash of her ample cleavage. Even from here, he could see what she was doing.
“That one can be a bit difficult,” Gaspar said, taking a seat across from Gavin.
The old thief was grizzled, with one eye constantly narrowed, and there was a perpetual sense that he was seeing more than what he let on. The heavy hide cloak he wore always had a stain, though never in the same place. Gavin had always found that amusing, something of a mystery about the man, almost as if he were getting it cleaned and then dirtying it again.
“You’re back early,” Gavin said.
“Now you sound like her,” Gaspar said, nodding to Jessica.
Gavin smiled to himself. “I suppose I do. I figured you’d be gone for most of the night.”
“Not tonight. Too many preparations for the next job.”
Gaspar rarely spoke about his jobs, preferring to keep the details to the crew he hired. Seeing as how Gavin was never part of those crews, he found out about what type of things they did only when the jobs were over.
“I figured you’d be gone longer too,” Gaspar said.
The way he said it suggested he had knowledge of what Gavin was involved in. Knowing the thief and the connections he had, it was possible he did know. He was well-connected within Yoran and often able to use those connections to find information others wanted to keep hidden. Gavin wouldn’t be able to conceal much from Gaspar if the man deemed it desirable to know.
“The job went sideways,” Gavin admitted.
“Still don’t know who you’re working for?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Yet?” Gaspar arched one bushy eyebrow, leaning toward him. “Something changed. You never really cared before.”
“I cared. It was just…”
Gaspar leaned back, laughing. “Turnabout.”
“What was that?”
The man chuckled. “Turnabout. An assassin gets turned on. Never would’ve expected it to be your employer, but I guess your employer never expected you to fail him.”
“Or her.”
“Do you think?”
Gavin looked around the inside of the tavern. “I don’t really know. Outside of Yoran, I would’ve said no”—the neighboring cities were nothing if not harsh on women—“but inside the city? With the people I’ve met here, I really don’t know.”
“Maybe it’s her,” Gaspar said, nodding to Jessica.
It was Gavin’s turn to chuckle, though there was a part of him troubled by the idea. He didn’t think it was Jessica, but it could be somebody else he knew. Hamish knew things about him and had information he really shouldn’t; not without having insider information as to the kinds of things Gavin was involved in. Somehow, the other man always had an upper hand.
“I didn’t say that to get you upset, boy. I was just—”
“You didn’t upset me. I was just thinking I keep assuming that my employer is somebody with money and who’s well-connected, but maybe it’s someone I haven’t paid any attention to.”
“You don’t think your employer has money? I thought you were taking jobs to get paid. What kind of assassin are you if you aren’t willing to work for money?”
Gavin flipped the knife out of its sheath, slamming it onto the table quickly. It was a flurry of movement, faster than most people could track. He expected Gaspar to jerk his head back, but the old thief simply sat there, watching him.
“Not an assassin,” he said more harshly than necessary.
“Those are the jobs you’ve been taking.”
Gavin glowered at him. They had been, though they weren’t the kinds of jobs he preferred. He didn’t like killing unless he knew the person deserved it. That was where Wrenlow came in. Even tonight’s target wouldn’t have been handed over to Hamish until Gavin knew more about her.
“I get paid. I’m starting to wonder if perhaps the person paying me is hiding in plain sight.” It was going to force him to look at everybody with a different level of suspicion. Perhaps that was Hamish’s plan—if there was a plan at all.
“Care to talk about it?” Gaspar asked.
A minstrel took up a position in the far corner. They started slowly strumming a long-necked lute, and the music drifted into the tavern. When they started singing, their warbly voice sounded something like an injured animal. Gavin shook his head, looking across the tavern to Jessica, who grinned as she locked eyes with him.
“Damn that woman,” he muttered.
“You don’t like the music?”
“She knows I don’t like music. I think she’s been hiring the worst minstrels in all of Yoran just to torment me.”
“Why would she torment you with minstrels?”
Gavin got to his feet and grabbed the knife, placing it back into a sheath and shaking his head again. “Because she wants me out of the tavern.”
As he started past Gaspar, the thief reached for his wrist. Gavin grabbed the man’s hand, pulling it off and twisting. A slender, dark-haired woman sitting in the corner jumped to her feet. Gavin noticed the narrow blade strapped to her waist and stiffened. Imogen often worked with Gaspar, so Gavin should have known she’d be here, but he hadn’t seen her. She could be sneaky. Wrenlow watched Imogen, but he hadn’t moved. Not much help for him there.
Gavin released Gaspar’s hand quickly, letting out a slow sigh. “I’m sorry, Gaspar. Force of habit.”
“Never apologize. I shouldn’t have laid a hand on you. You’re quicker than you look.”