Dragon Soul by Jaida Jones

contacts, real classy gentlemen, and soon you’ll have more suitors than you can shake a stick at, friend.”
    “And what do I owe you for this kind favor?” Only a fool did favors in Molly without expecting something in return, and it was up to the recipient to ask up front or else
he
was the fool. I neatly skirted around his mention of
particular
customers, not knowing whether that was a warning to me, that he’d perhaps sensed something off and wanted to see if I’d nibble.
    No such luck. Even in Molly, I was a well-trained professional.
    “I get a cut of whatever you make. Twenty percent is standard on high-ticket items, and I can’t say as things get any higher ticket than this.”
    “Done,” I said, without compunction. The Esar provided me with an allowance, as well as covering any costs I incurred while working for him. Money was no object. I would cheerfully pay off this man out ofmy own pocket—or the Esar’s own pocket—in order to achieve my ends.
    What
was
objectionable, I realized, was the idea of anyone unsavory getting wind of this deal before it was finalized. Like the man had said, word spread fast over something this hot, and if Dmitri’s men were to hear of the deal and shut things down before they got under way, I ran the risk of losing my only lead.
    I certainly didn’t cherish the idea of having to return to the Esar to ask if he happened to have any other spare parts lying around that I could use, nor did I think Nor would be so open-minded to strangers in the future, no matter how neat my next disguise was.
    The man sitting in the chair got up and held out his hand. I switched the scale to my other hand and took it, shaking once firmly as I’d practiced so many times, then releasing him.
    “Nice doing business with an interesting chap for a change,” he said, with a glance at Nor that I supposed meant
he
fell into the uninteresting category. “Nor here’ll be in contact to let you know when we’ve got a buyer. As a personal favor, I’ll weed out any offers that I don’t find worth our time.”
    “Very generous of you,” I said, the understanding between us that he was also being generous to himself.
    With a short bow to the man and to Nor, I left.
    Soon, I hoped, depending on how quickly the market’s lines ran, I would have a point from which I could start. After that, I would trace the trajectory from Thremedon until I came to the point of origin of where these parts were being sold. In the meantime, it looked as though I’d be spending my time in Molly. Still, my game didn’t have to be all waiting, not now that I’d discovered some further business that required attending to.
    I didn’t much cherish the idea of conducting said business in my current attire, but there was nothing to be done for it.
    I had to go speak with the Provost.

CHAPTER THREE

THOM
    Another night camped out under the stars and I was going to lose my mind.
    My hand had healed, as had some of my wounded morals, but my back was what troubled me now. The weather was turning hotter and drier as we headed south toward the deserts, and the inns in these parts were few and far between.
    And I couldn’t trust Rook with people, given his present mood.
    I didn’t count; I was his punching bag for the time being, and I could consider myself lucky that such abuse was merely verbal and emotional, and had not yet turned to fisticuffs. It was easy enough to assume I would lose should matters ever come to
that
, but I did wonder how deep the vein of Rook’s anger ran, that even the extreme amounts of physical exercise we endured was not enough to cool his temper.
    My travel log was full of notations—not merely on my surroundings, which was to be expected, but I found I was falling back on old habits, making note of each grunt and scowl Rook tossed my way like a master tossed his hunting dog scraps. Matters had been worse before—even I could admit that, despite how depressing they were now—but now I had no