Veil of Lies by Jeri Westerson Read Free Book Online Page A

you are. You reek of blood. It could be mine next.”
    Fear changed her expression to something wild and distant. She stared at his whitened fingers wrapped around her wrist. “You are hurting my arm,” she said.
    He chuffed his displeasure and threw her hand aside. “Our business is over. Take your coins and be gone.”
    She blinked hard in succession. Her red lips grew darker when she mashed them together. “You won’t help me?”
    “Why should I? You come to me with a ridiculous story to hide your own wantonness. I do not wish to waste my time. Good day.”
    “I cannot go to the sheriff.”
    “That is not my affair. Good day, Madam.”
    She raised her chin and gathered the coins. He helped her find those on the floor and dropped them smartly into her open scrip. She said nothing more and strode in harsh steps to the door, yanked it open, and stomped through.
    Crispin stood for a moment looking at the open doorway.
    “I’m hungry,” he decided.

    He sat by the fire in the Thistle and stared up the staircase to the door of Philippa Walcote’s most recent tryst. The thick broth he ordered tasted savory, its flavors melting on his tongue, but he found no pleasure in it when considering the possible identity of her dark paramour. With a hunk of brown bread, he sopped the rest of the pottage out of the bowl and looked up from his meal with a belch before he spied a familiar face that had obviously not yet noticed him.
    A ginger-haired boy threaded through the crowd, squeezing through with apologies on his lips. Unseen by the patrons, his hand with the small knife slipped down and up, neatly slicing purse from belt on one man after another without detection. It was something quite amazing to behold and Crispin couldn’t help admiring the boy’s skill even as he grew more annoyed with him. The boy zigzagged quickly through the throng and slipped outside.
    Crispin followed hard on his heels, came up behind him, and nabbed his hood. “Jack Tucker.”
    Jack spun. “ Master! What are you doing here?”
    “Working. And so are you, I see.”
    “W-what? Me?” He tried to hide his hands as if their mere presence made him guilty. “I gave up me thieving ways when you rescued me from the sheriff, remember? All I want in this life is to serve you.”
    “And I told you I don’t want a servant.”
    “Now, Master Crispin. A man like you ought to have a servant.”
    “If you would have it so, then why aren’t you at home?”
    “Well, I just stepped out for a breath of air, didn’t I.”
    “You’re a bit far from the Shambles.”
    Jack smiled. It lifted his entire countenance into an act of revelry with its blunt nose, ginger hair, and array of freckles speckling his cheeks and forehead. “The air’s better over here,” he said.
    “Let’s have it.” Crispin opened his hand.
    Jack tugged uncomfortably on his tunic. “Now Master. I’m hurt, I am. That you should doubt me when I said I’d given it up.”
    Crispin thrust his hand down the open laces of Jack’s tunic and pulled out the money pouches. Three in all. “And how did you come by these?”
    Jack pressed his lips together and looked at the ground. “It’s a very hard habit to break, sir. And I know you’ve been low on funds. I was just trying to help.”
    Crispin laid his hand on Jack’s shoulder. The boy winced at first, but relaxed under Crispin’s gentle tone. “I do not need this kind of help, Jack. You know my stance on this. You are the one who insists on being my servant, not I. If you truly wish to be worthy, then I suggest you return these to their owners. Now.”
    “But Master—”
    “ Now, Jack. I will watch.”
    Crispin handed back the pouches, crossed his arms over his chest, and raised his brows expectantly. Jack withered under his gaze. “Ah now. All of them?”
    Crispin’s frown deepened. “And be careful about it, boy. If they notice you and mistake your purpose, you’ll surely hang, and I won’t be able to save your neck a