As he neared the tavern, he started to have a sense that someone was following him. He slowed, pausing and scanning his surroundings. Dozens of storefronts lined the street. At this time of day, there weren’t all that many people out. The crowd thinned, though there were still people who shopped in these stores and traveled through this section of the city. Gavin had spent considerable time in this area and knew his way around. He had wandered through here often enough that he recognized the feel of it, not only the sights and sounds.
This section was not nearly as populated as other parts the city, and the people that lived here weren’t wealthy. Most of them worked in the various shops throughout Yoran. The residents didn’t dress as formally as those who lived in the manor houses, but they also weren’t as poor as those in the outer slums. Clothing here typically covered the wearer from head to toe and was drab, a sharp contrast to the bright colors preferred in some of the cities farther east.
Gavin leaned on one of the nearby buildings, trying to look as casual as he could without attracting any attention. He stared along the street, unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching him. There was no sign of movement, so he moved onward.
He meandered, making a point of not having any real direction to his course. He looked all around him as he did, searching for any sign of suspicious activity, but he didn’t see or hear anything. Still, the feeling stayed with him.
He passed the Roasted Dragon, moving beyond it and along the street. He’d gone another dozen paces or so when the feeling started to fade. Gavin paused and veered off, circling around and coming back to the Dragon from a different approach. When he neared it, he hesitated and waited there for a moment, but the sense continued to fade. By the time he wound toward the rear entrance of the Dragon, the feeling was gone.
He slipped along the alley leading up to the front of the building. From there, he searched for any sign of someone watching the tavern. Gavin waited for a while, but the strange sensation never returned.
He ducked in through the kitchen of the Roasted Dragon and hurried inside the mostly empty tavern. Ever since the attack a few months back, Jessica hadn’t done much to get it back up to full speed. She preferred to keep it running at a slower pace.
Jessica was a lovely woman with dark hair, a curvy figure, and full lips. He’d found the Dragon by chance, but he’d stayed because of her. Wrenlow sat near her, a notebook propped open on his lap the way that it often was. He was about ten years younger than Gavin, incredibly smart, and more of a planner than action oriented. Ink stained one cheek, and he rubbed at his temple, smearing it every so often.
The other person at the table was Gaspar, an older thief who used the Dragon as his home base. Gavin had come to know him during his time working in the city and found Gaspar to be skilled, if a little crotchety. Deep wrinkles creased his brow, and he ran one thumb along his prominent nose while looking at Gavin.
Jessica looked over to him. “Gavin. I’m glad you’re finally here. This woman needs your help.”
Gavin flicked his gaze around, settling on Wrenlow, who nodded toward a lovely young woman who sat across from them.
This was the person who wanted to hire me? She didn’t look like my typical employers.
“Come on over,” Jessica said, grinning at him.
Gavin couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Something wasn’t quite right. It was a feeling he’d learned to trust and one that seemed to swallow him now as he approached the table.
Chapter Two
“You’re Gavin Lorren?”
Her voice was high as it trembled, and she fidgeted, twisting her fingers together. The woman had to be in her mid-twenties, with chestnut hair that hung in waves down to her shoulders. She had a deep blue traveling cloak around her, but Gavin’s eyes were drawn to the full figure not quite hidden underneath. He forced his gaze back up to meet hers and nodded.
Jessica glanced over at him, grinning again. The owner of the Dragon was a beautiful, slightly older woman who’d welcomed Gavin to the tavern—and to her bed. “This is Gavin. I told you I would get him back here.”
“I’m so glad that you returned. They weren’t sure when you’d come back.”
He shot a look over to Gaspar, but the old thief was staring at the hearth, almost making a point of ignoring him. He scrubbed a hand through his short gray hair in an expression of irritation. Gavin frowned. He’d missed something.
Imogen stood at the back of the tavern, quiet as usual while cleaning her sword. Gaspar’s partner was a slight woman, whip thin, and had a dark air of mystery to her. Her narrow sword sheathed at her side was just within reach. Maybe she and Gaspar could do this job without Gavin. She traced a pattern along the blade, almost as if she were adding writing to it. Gavin studied her for longer than he should, trying to figure out why she worked so studiously at the blade.
“I’m Gavin Lorren,” he said. “And you are?”
“I am Erica Delmonica.”
“You’re looking to hire me?” Gavin wouldn’t expect someone like her to hire him. His normal employers were more the sort of men like Gaspar.
Erica nodded, looking from face to face nervously. “I heard you were incredibly skilled. I’ve been asking around to see who to hire, and everyone kept saying your name.”
“I’m sure they weren’t,” Gavin said. The idea that somebody might be sharing his name throughout the city was almost as troubling as Jessica trying to drum up business for him.
She’d remarked on the fact that he hadn’t been taking jobs, but he’d turned most down because he wasn’t
