The Stone Wolf (The Chain Breaker Book 4) by D.K. Holmberg (digital book reader TXT) 📕

the booth and turned, looking at both of them. “I might be able to help you trace this back.”

“Trace it back?” Gavin asked.

“To the man who hired me. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You want to know more about the man who pulled me into this job.”

Gavin snorted. “I know everything about the man who hired me. Probably more than anyone else alive.”

“Is that right? He went about things pretty roundabout with me. Didn’t want anyone to know, you see. It’s like he wanted to keep it all secret. Hush-hush, if you were.”

“Go,” Gavin said again.

The man walked away toward the entrance to the tavern, and Gaspar leaned over to Gavin. “You’re just going to let him go like that?”

“No. I don’t suppose you have somebody nearby who might be able to follow?”

Gaspar frowned. “I might.”

“I was hoping so. Just keep tabs on where he goes, and then we can see who he’s been in contact with.”

“Even if you know what Tristan wants out of you?”

“Especially if I know what he wants out of me.”

Gaspar slid out of the booth, moving more quickly than Gavin had seen him move before, which suggested that he wore an enchantment. He slipped through the kitchen and then disappeared.

Gavin sank down into the seat and stared at the paper. Wrenlow had been captured. And now Gavin had to go back to a place he had not been in a long time.

Why Nelar, though?

For whatever reason, it seemed that Tristan had decided to bring up the past, to play a game. But the problem was that Gavin had no idea what game Tristan intended to play, nor did he know the reason behind it. Whatever it was, it involved Gavin doing something for him.

And it would be something he didn’t want to do. He was sure of it.

Gaspar returned from the kitchen and sat in the booth, nodding to Gavin. Worried lines creased his brow. “Done.”

“Imogen?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Gavin said. “I don’t think Tristan would have accounted for her.”

“You said this man is an incredibly gifted planner?”

“He is.”

“Then what makes you think that he isn’t aware of the people you’ve been interacting with?”

“He’s probably gifted at that too,” Gavin said.

“So he would know about Imogen.”

Gavin smiled. “Seeing as how I don’t know anything about Imogen, I’m not so sure that Tristan knowing something about her will make much of a difference at this point.”

“She’s probably the finest damn sword fighter I’ve met. And she’s discreet.”

Gavin had a hard time telling which of the two mattered more to Gaspar. Probably the discreet portion, though. Given what he knew about Gaspar and what he valued, the sword skill would’ve come into play a few times, but discretion was even more important.

“How would he have gotten Wrenlow?” Gaspar asked.

“He probably followed us back to the Dragon,” Gavin said. “And then when Wrenlow disappeared again last night to meet with Olivia, Tristan might have snagged him then.”

“And you’ve heard no word from Wrenlow in the meantime?”

It seemed so long ago now, but not so long that Gavin felt he couldn’t retrace the steps. He got out of the booth and looked around the tavern. Everywhere around him were the sounds of merriment—the minstrel still strumming his lute and bringing his annoying warble above everything, and the shouting of the crowd that mixed with the boisterous calls of others around them. Some cried out for the serving staff to join them. None of it fit Gavin’s mood.

And maybe that was more of a reason why he hadn’t returned to the Dragon. There was too much happiness here, far more than he felt the mood to take part in.

“I need to see where Wrenlow has been,” Gavin said.

“His room?”

Gavin nodded. He walked to the door leading up to the sleeping rooms and tapped on the enchantment. “Wrenlow, if you’re listening, I need to reach you.”

He had no idea whether Wrenlow would even be able to respond. Even if he still had his enchantment—and if Tristan was involved, he probably would’ve stripped the enchantments first—there was still the issue of getting through whatever magical restrictions had been placed around him.

“No answer?” Gaspar asked, climbing up the stairs behind Gavin.

“There hasn’t been any.”

“What about that crackle?”

He wasn’t even in the mood to make a joke on Gaspar’s behalf.

“Probably not, but I don’t know what else to do,” Gavin admitted.

“Focus on the task in front of you. And then move on. That’s all you can do. All anyone can do.”

Gavin glanced back at the old thief. “Why are you helping?”

“Who said I was helping? I’m just going up the stairs.”

“This is you helping,” Gavin said as they reached the landing on the second level, where Wrenlow’s room was. “You care about him.”

Gaspar grunted. “Care about the kid? You should know better than that by now.”

“I thought I did,” Gavin said, shaking his head. “But maybe I had you right from the start.”

He reached Wrenlow’s room along the hallway. There were half a dozen stout doors, each of them a brown, stained oak, and Wrenlow had one at the end of the hall. Gavin tested the handle, finding it locked. He started to push on it, but Gaspar grabbed him and pulled him back.

“You don’t need to force it open, boy. Not everything has to be brute strength with you.”

“Go ahead, then,” Gavin said. “I suppose we could ask Jessica for the spare key.”

“Don’t have to do that either.” Gaspar slipped out his lockpick set and made quick work of opening the door. When he was done, he rolled up the lockpick set back into the leathers and returned it into his pocket. Gaspar waved his hand. “There. Was that so hard? You didn’t need to try to force it open.”

“Thankfully, I have you here.”

“Thankfully,” Gaspar muttered.

The inside of the room was relatively neat, which showed Jessica’s involvement. The bed was made, and the basin nearby emptied. A table at one end of the room had a stack of books, the only sign of any