by Isabo Kelly
“I got a question for you,” Vic said, as she finished the last of her stew. “If you’ve got spies enough to find me, why do you need me for information on Tracker’s men?”
He looked silently at her for several heartbeats. Just when she began to fidget, he answered, “You know what you’re looking for already.”
She nodded skeptically, but let his answer suffice. Working as a spy for a King’s Own was bound to pay big, so she wasn’t about to argue with his choice. Mar brought the fourth round and Vic gulped at hers greedily after the salty stew. Setting the clay mug back on the table with a thud, she opened her mouth to ask another question when movement at the door caught her eye.
In one lightning quick move, she skirted the table to sit in a chair at Jacob’s elbow, all the while keeping her back to the door. “Sorry to do this to you twice in one day,” she whispered, leaning close to Jacob’s face and resting her hands on his broad shoulders.
“Another one of Tracker’s men?” he asked quietly, toying with her hair while he covertly looked at the man standing in the doorway.
“No. This one’s Big Charlie’s. They don’t know I’m a woman, but I’m not taking any chances. What’s he doing?”
“Scanning the room.”
Jacob leaned so close, she could feel his warm breath against her cheek, and the pleasant scent of musk mixing with strong ale played havoc with her senses.
“Is he coming in?” she spoke in his ear, whispering, but her heart sounded so loudly in her temples she felt sure he wouldn’t be able to hear over its thudding. His hand, already twisted in her hair, tightened when she spoke. Vic closed her eyes and fought back a sudden surge of desire. This was no time to let Jacob Marin muddle her thinking.
“He’s moving across the room,” Jacob said, moving his mouth around to her other ear in order to keep the man in sight. “Looks like he’s settling in for awhile.”
“Damn.” Vic looked over Jacob’s shoulder to the bar and caught Mar’s attention. With her eyes, she pointed in the general direction of the new patron, and Mar nodded imperceptibly.
“Mar’s gonna distract him so we can leave. Play drunk and lean on me a lot but don’t get loud.” A quick flick of her wrist pulled her black cape off the chair she’d been sitting in. “Throw this over your shoulders when we leave.”
Jacob moved away from her cheek and set his mouth close to hers. His gaze was still turned toward Big Charlie’s man, so he didn’t notice when Vic’s lip began to tremble. She bit the inside of her lower lip irritably and held her breath.
“Okay,” Jacob whispered against her mouth. “Mar’s got his attention.”
Vic sensed his crooked smile.
Flipping the cape across his shoulders, Jacob stood and pulled Vic roughly to her feet. He circled her shoulders with one arm and leaned heavily on her, tripping over her chair as they walked to the door.
She wrapped her arm around his waist and placed her free hand on his chest, as if supporting him. An extra swing in her hips finished the illusion, and they stumbled out into the street.
“Where to now?” Jacob said, still leaning on her.
They played their respective roles until Vic led them into a black, narrow alley several blocks from the Screeching Hawk.
Pressing her back against the alley wall, she whispered, “Were we followed?”
He scanned the dimly lit street, the black cape thrown over his shoulders blocking her from casual view. While he watched the street, she scanned the alley, making sure she didn’t miss anything this time.
“Doesn’t look like it.” Jacob turned and faced her. “I don’t think your man even noticed. Mar’s good at distraction.”
Vic rolled her eyes. Jacob’s quiet chuckle reminded her that they were quite alone in a dark alley. Her heart thumped faster as his fingers lightly caressed her cheek.
“You’re pretty good at distraction, too, Victoria.”
She took a step away. “Sorry about using you like that twice.”
“It wasn’t a problem.”
“I’d better get into hiding,” she said, hastily taking a second step away.
“Want an escort?”
“What, are you kidding? Wouldn’t be much of a hiding spot if I led anybody to it.”
Jacob’s laugh was tinged with irony.
“You’re a very practical young woman, Victoria.” He looked her over slowly before saying, “You’ll be all right?”
Not if I stay here much longer. To hide her discomfort, she smiled and said, “I still have all my knives. I’ll be fine.”
His brow arched.
“You want an escort back to the castle, General? Streets can be kind of tough this late at night.”
“You offering your services as bodyguard?”
“No. I know a guy who’ll guarantee you safe passage through the streets.”
With another chuckle, Jacob shook his head. “If I can’t have you, I think I’ll take my chances alone.” He closed the distance and swung the cloak to cover her shoulders.
“You came out without a cape?” She scowled as a chilling breeze rippled his shirt.
“I’m used to the cold. Why, Victoria Flash? You worried about me?”
“You’re not the kind of man that needs to be worried about,” she said, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.
“But you are worried. You’re worried about being this close to me.”
He cupped her cheeks in his hands, and she forgot to breathe.
“Such a young face to have such old eyes.” He leaned down and brushed her parted lips with a gentle kiss. “Sleep well, little thief,” he said against her mouth, then moved past her up the alley, disappearing into the inky shadows.
She leaned heavily against the wall, her breath coming out in a whoosh. She tilted her head to look at the black sky. “What are you doing, Victoria?” she said to the sliver of night visible past the buildings. “If you’re not careful, you’re gonna end up another one of Jacob Marin’s flowers.”
Jacob flopped onto his back and stared at his bedroom ceiling. Despite his well-rumored reputation, he hadn’t been involved with a woman for over two years. Mostly, he chose to ignore the reason behind his unusual celibacy.
Jacob loved women. He loved to listen to them talk. He loved the way they could comfort a child and yell at a merchant in one breath. He loved their inner strength and their unending well of compassion. He adored their variety. With very few exceptions, he found something beautiful and unique in every woman he met.
And women loved him.
A fact he was acutely aware of, and one that had gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion. For most of his life, he hadn’t lacked for eager female attention. The last two years were no exception.
But despite the willing, hopeful women vying for his regard, he couldn’t bring himself to make any of them more than a friend. Rolling to his side, he laughed at his own foolishness. The sound echoed harshly off his bedroom walls. He’d finally decided there probably wouldn’t be a new love in his life.
Then he’d met the little thief. And in one day, her big brown eyes were banishing the blue eyes that frequently haunted his dreams. Victoria was the antithesis of the woman to whom those blue eyes belonged. Yet, here he was, restlessly tossing across his bed, remembering every detail of her mischievous face, every smile, every laugh, every curve of the alluring figure she’d kept hidden for so long. She touched something in him he’d thought long lost to a woman beyond his reach.
When she’d kissed him that morning, it had sent a lightning shock of lust through him so potent it burned his blood. He hadn’t felt lust like that in some time. The intrigue of that feeling had pushed him to seek her this evening. His excuse was valid. He did think she could help him discover what was happening in the city. But it hadn’t been his primary reason in finding her.
Just being in her company had made him feel alive again. It had taken all of his willpower not to deepen the gentle goodnight kiss he’d given h
er. A restraint he was now vaguely regretting as the thought of her tightened his muscles. But Victoria wasn’t an “oversexed barmaid” as she’d so eloquently pointed out. She was a hard-edged, street-smart young woman, too cautious to trip on flattery into his arms. She needed straight talk and honesty, things obviously not common in her line of work. He’d have to earn her trust, or she’d disappear back into the Dareelian night.
Quite suddenly, Jacob realized that he was contemplating a seduction for the first time in two years. The thought left him feeling an odd mixture of relief and anxiety. Maybe this time…
With a sigh somewhere between a chuckle and a groan, he threw himself out of bed and wandered into his sitting room for a drink.
Chapter Four
“Thanks, Azri.” Vic tossed the clothes merchant a handful of copper kerns and left the shop. Still forced to wander as a woman, she’d returned to the clothes shop for new outfits. Gip wanted her to stick to Upper Market for a few more days, so she was once more forced into buying something bright and totally unsuitable for moving about at night.
Today, she favored a bright teal tunic and tight breeches with a wraparound woolen shawl of light purple. A large silver and amethyst brooch held the shawl at her left shoulder. Azri had insisted on a pair of white suede calf-high boots, declaring they brightened the already bright teal. If Azri had his way, eventually she’d be garbed in orange and yellow with fuchsia accents. He was enjoying this way too much. Two other new outfits stayed with the merchant until she could pick them up at the end of the day. And, as she’d promised herself, one was specifically designed for night wandering, much to Azri’s despair.
Lower Market bustled past as Vic stood outside Azri’s shop letting the weak sun warm her face. She would have been happy if not for the sudden appearance of Brad Ruf.
“I hear you’ve been consorting with King’s Own,” he said, sidling up to her.
His black hair hung in a tangled, greasy mass around his pockmarked white face. Little brown eyes peered from above a crooked, pointed nose. He stood a few inches taller and insisted on hovering, emphasizing their height difference.
Vic snarled at him and turned toward Upper Market. To her dismay, he fell in beside her. “What do you want, Ruf? I got things to do today.” She wrinkled her nose at the smell wafting off him, unwilling to guess at its origins.
“Wanna know what you’re doing hanging with King’s Own, Vic.”
“Why do you care if I have a few drinks with a King’s Own?” She lengthened her stride, but he kept pace easily.
“Just curious. Doesn’t look good, one of our best consorting with a guard.”
“It’s business. And if Gip hasn’t seen fit to fill you in, then I guess it’s none of yours.” She switched tactics and slowed to an annoyingly lazy stroll.
He slowed to stay next to her. “So the great Vic Flash has finally traded in her hand for a softer line. Does the King’s Own carry enough secrets to make the sacrifice of your legendary virtue worthwhile?”
Her lip curled. “You know damn well I don’t whore, Ruf. Not even for the Hole.”
He snorted. “Because you don’t like men, huh, Flash?”
She turned to face her pock-faced nemesis, flashing him a sweet, sarcastic smile. “Just because I don’t want your greasy hands all over me, Ruf? Ha! I like men just fine. I don’t like slugs.” Turning her back on his vicious snarl, she sauntered up the street.
She truly hated Brad Ruf, and she didn’t hate many people. When she’d turned away his lewd advances several years back, he’d thought to force himself on her. For his trouble, she’d left a permanent scar across his bony white chest. Tension between them had been high ever since.
***
Vic strolled through Upper Market with little to show for her day. Late in the afternoon, she stepped into a side street to watch the crowded market center. Casually leaning against a building corner, she breathed a heavy sigh.
Not an unusual anything all day.
After her little sleight of hand with Lord Xank the day before, even the challenge of picking a few pockets was denied her by the necessity of staying inconspicuous. The few times city guards had passed, she’d hidden her face, in case Xank had realized who’d liberated his money. Other than that little game, Vic found nothing in Upper Market to focus her attention.
As the sun dipped low in the sky and the air began to chill, she gave up. She could be as patient as the next person, especially when acting as a spy, but this was frustrating. Okay, maybe she couldn’t be as patient as the next person. Still. An itch in the back of her mind hinted that something wasn’t right. Somewhere out there the bit of information she needed waited to be uncovered, the detail that would prove all was not well in Dareelia. Her nerves were starting to rub as raw as Gip’s because, for the life of her, she couldn’t catch sight of the elusive clue.
She pushed away from the building and made her way toward the lower end of Upper Market. Passing a large alley separating a prosperous glass shop from a Depnie rug shop, she threw a quick glance up the quiet corridor. Then stopped short. The flicker of black and purple moved behind the rug shop before she managed to get a good look.
Torn between keeping her cover and curiosity, Vic turned up the alley, a rush of anticipation humming in her blood. She pulled her shawl over her head and cast a covert glance around her. The two other people in the alley were moving toward the market. Near the corner, she pressed her back to the wall of the rug shop and hazarded a glance around the edge of the building.
Nothing.
The narrow street running along the backside of the building was thinly populated, but not a single black and purple anything was in sight. Whatever she’d seen had slipped away.
Cursing under her breath, she moved back to the market.
Jacob answered the door of his room at the Winnow Tree Inn at her first quiet knock. He looked her over slowly, a sly smile touching his lips.
“Making sure no one confuses you for a boy, aren’t you, little thief?”
Vic grinned and moved past him into the room. Against Azri’s urgings, she’d added to her purchases that morning with a pair of form-fitting black breeches and a black shirt to help her move at night. To accent her figure and ensure she wasn’t taken for a boy, she’d added a deep green bustier-style vest. The effect was flattering to her figure and practical for hiding in shadows.
“It’s new,” she said, as he closed the door and turned. “You like?”
“Yeah, Victoria, I like.”
Her grin broadened even as her stomach jumped. She didn’t know how he did it, but Jacob Marin made her feel attractive and womanly. A strange feeling.
He motioned to a wooden chair at one side of the sparsely furnished room. “You want something to drink?”
“No thanks. This is business.”
He pulled a second chair in front of her and straddled it. “So, is Thieves’ Hole willing to loan me a spy?”
“Boss says yes. But in our time. You get information when we’re ready to give it. We’ll take half the fee up-front. For expenses. The rest, after I deliver. And if I’m gonna risk my neck hunting Tracker’s men, I want a little information as well.”
His eyes narrowed. “What kind of information?”
She leaned back in her seat and bit her bottom lip. “I want to know what’s happening when you know.”
“I’m not sure I can do that, Victoria. Not if the information could endanger the Kingdom.”
“Listen, Marin, I already know about the goblins coming down into Karasnian Forest, and I know about the tension at the Magic Guild. If there’s gonna be a war, I want to know before it starts.”
Jacob ran his fingers through his dark hair, his expression thoughtful.
She held his gaze, willing him to agree to her bargain.
“I can’t make any promises,” he said, finally. “Will that cost me your help?”
With a resigned sigh, she shook her head. “No. The boss wants the money. I
wanted the information. I don’t know what it is, Marin, but the air feels wrong. Like there’s a shadow covering the city, but when you look, you can’t see what’s causing it. It’s making me damned nervous.”
“Maybe when we find out what Tracker’s still doing here, we’ll know what’s happening.”
She shrugged, unconvinced. Jacob smiled, and her mood improved immediately.
“What’s the fee, little thief?”
“A thousand gold kern.”
He choked visibly. “A thousand?”
“You said you pay good.” She shrugged and tried not to grin at his shocked expression. “This is what the boss considers good.”
“You better bring me something interesting, Victoria.”
She chuckled. “Don’t worry, Marin. I’m very good at what I do.”
“Yeah, I’ll just bet you are.”
Smiling, she stood to leave.
“Stay and talk awhile,” he said, half rising from his chair. “We’ll order a good wine. You can drink now, right? Business is over.”
A warning buzzed in her blood. “Why?”
“Why not?”
“In here?”
“Worried?”
“No.”
“Yes, you are.”
She scowled at his confident response.
He laughed and stood. “You think I go around luring young women to my room, get them drunk, then take advantage of them?”
She snorted at the image. “No. I know you don’t need to go to all that trouble.” She’d seen the man at work.
“I want to hear your story, Victoria.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“Then we’ll only have one glass of wine.”
“I thought I was a con artist.” She sighed and hoped it sounded more resigned than wistful. “All right, General. One drink. But downstairs.”
He agreed with a triumphant smile.
Sweeping his arm toward the door, he said, “After you, lady thief.”
“Don’t let the outfit fool you, Marin. I still have all my knives.” His quiet chuckle sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.
