The Stone Wolf (The Chain Breaker Book 4), D.K. Holmberg [psychology books to read txt] 📗

“And what exactly is that?”

“A message,” the man said. “Had to do it in person, you see, as that’s how I’m going to get paid.”

“By who?”

“The man who paid me is who. Now, don’t go snooping around my business like that. I’m just telling you that I’m here to give you a message.”

Gavin tensed, holding on to the El’aras dagger with one hand, ready for the possibility of an attack. It would be just the kind of thing Tristan would pull. And if that was the case, he would have once again brought violence to the Dragon.

“What’s the message?” he asked.

“I came to see if you would take a job.”

Gavin raised an eyebrow. “What sort of job?”

“Hey, I can’t say that I know all the details. I was supposed to give you this.” He reached to his side, and Gavin raised the dagger. The man quickly raised his hands, shaking his head. “Come on, man. I’m not jumping on you, so you don’t need to go jumping on me.”

“I’m not jumping,” Gavin said.

“You aren’t being kind, that’s for damn sure. I have something for you. Let me get it and give it to you, then you can decide if we need to have words.” He grinned.

Gavin glared at him.

The man shrugged. “Be my guest. Anyway, I’m supposed to give you this.” As he pulled the paper from his pocket, Gavin recognized the sigil on it.

How could he not? He had lived beneath that sigil, that marker with a small swirl surrounded by a triangle, for the better part of his childhood.

Tristan.

If there was any question that Tristan was the one lurking in the warehouse, Gavin now had his answer. He was even more thankful that he had the dark egg on him now. If Tristan came, maybe Gavin would unleash them on him.

“What’s the job?” he asked.

“I wasn’t privy to it,” the man said. “Just supposed to bring you that. And so I did, and…” His gaze drifted to the dagger in Gavin’s hand. “Maybe I just need to get going. I don’t want you to get too excited about that, you know.”

“I’m not going to attack you. Where did you get the letter?”

“It came through several intermediaries, you know. Sort of the way things go with me. I’m too new to get the jobs directly.”

Gavin doubted that to be the case. That was never how Tristan did things.

He started to step away, and the man got to his feet. Gavin spun and twisted his arm behind his back, and he shoved the man toward the far side of the tavern.

“What’s this about?” the man sputtered. “I told you I don’t know anything.”

“We’ll see. But you aren’t going anywhere until I find out about the job, and then we can decide how much you know—or don’t. Either way, you’re sticking around for a bit.”

Gavin walked his captive to the table where he’d sat with Gaspar, and the old thief looked up at him.

“A job,” Gavin explained. “From Tristan.”

Gaspar nodded, and he quickly flourished a pair of knives and got to his feet. “Sit,” he said to the beady-eyed man.

The man shrugged, and Gavin shoved him forward into the booth. He unfolded the letter, and his gaze skimmed across it.

“Well, shit,” Gavin muttered under his breath.

“What is it?” Gaspar asked. “What’s the job?”

“He has Wrenlow.”

Chapter Eight

Gavin stared at the page in front of him, trying to figure out just what Tristan wanted out of him, but other than a location—a familiar one, at that—Gavin couldn’t tell anything. The paper itself was thin, which meant it wasn’t from Yoran, where the paper mills tended to make a much thicker stock. It reminded him more of something Tristan would’ve brought from the south.

He pushed those thoughts away. That wasn’t the issue now.

Wrenlow was gone.

After everything they’d done together, this was how he’d disappeared. There had always been the possibility that something would happen during one of their jobs, but Gavin had hoped to protect Wrenlow from most of it. By only having Wrenlow scout, he should have been able to protect him.

Now…

He was another casualty of Tristan’s planning.

“Are you sure about that?” Gaspar asked, looking over to the man and shaking Gavin from his thoughts.

“He has him,” Gavin said.

“Hey,” the beady-eyed man said, “I was just sent to give you a message, nothing more than that. You can’t blame me for any of this.”

Gavin reached for the El’aras dagger and then paused. “I need to know what you did before you came here.”

“I didn’t do anything,” the man said. He looked over to Gaspar, and he flashed a sardonic smile. “Maybe you can get that point across to him. All I did was take a job. Is that so wrong?”

“All you did was help abduct his friend,” Gaspar growled. He twisted one of the knives in his hand, flicked it around, and jammed it into the tabletop. “If you want to live through this, I suggest you tell him everything he wants to know. I’ve seen him pick apart a man. He starts with your fingers, carving them off. Then he works his way up, taking your hand off at the wrist, then at the elbow. And then he starts with your lower portion, going from your toes, all the way up—”

“Enough,” the man said. “I told you, it was just a job. Nothing more.”

Gavin continued staring at the paper. Just a job. That was all Wrenlow was to him.

And Wrenlow had been the test.

That had been the reason Tristan had targeted the warehouse in the first place. All of it to gauge Gavin’s weaknesses, trying to determine whether he cared. It hadn’t been about trying to test Gavin’s fighting style after all. At least, it hadn’t been entirely about that. That might’ve been a portion of it, but would Tristan really have cared?

No. This was for something else.

“Go,” Gavin said to the man.

Gaspar frowned at him. “Are you sure about it?”

Gavin nodded. “Go.”

The man slipped out of