Cruel As the Grave Read Online Free PDF Page A

saying blandly, "It gratifies me to hear that, Emma. My life would be much easier if only the other bawds were so law abiding and prudent. I was just telling Master de Quincy here that we could rely upon your discretion and expect your full cooperation."
     
    Emma's eyes narrowed to the merest slits, apprehensive and suspicious. "I will do what I can," she said cautiously. "If a complaint has not brought you here, what then? I swear by the Rood that all of my girls are free of the pox, and I hire no wayward wives or runaway servants or -"
     
    Luke cut her off before she could insist that her whores were as fresh as country lasses newly fallen from grace. As an undersheriff, he knew better than most men the miseries of that precarious profession. "We are seeking a man," he said, "who arrived as curfew was being rung. He is not overly tall, with a scar on his cheek. Tell us where to find him and I'll not look for other laws broken or bent."
     
    Her relief was palpable that they'd come for a customer; men were expendable, her whores harder to replace. "A man with a scar..." She pretended to ponder it, then nodded. "The man who took Arlette for the entire night is likely the one you want."
     
    "Where?"
     
    "Above-stairs. The inner chamber is Arlette's," she said, and stepped aside hastily as they brushed past her. The common room was almost deserted. By the hearth a drunk nodded blearily into his wine cup, and in the corner a ruddy, stout man held a half-dressed woman on his lap. He gave a startled yelp as they burst in, beginning to rise and inadvertently dumping the girl into the floor rushes. By then they were already through, plunging into the darkened stairwell, loosening their swords in their scabbards. They were at the top of the stairs when they heard a woman scream.
     
    Luke was in the lead. Swearing, he flung himself at the door and shoved it open. The chamber was small and cramped, holding only a stool, a basin, and a bed. A couple was entangled in the sheets, gaping up at these intruders. But the man was dark haired and unscarred. Ignoring his sputtering protest, Luke hit the inner door with his shoulder. It gave way at once, catapulting him inside.
     
    This room was even shabbier than the first one, almost all of its space taken up by a rumpled bed. A buxom redhead was kneeling in the middle of it, oblivious or uncaring of her nudity. "He went out the window," she cried, "without paying, curse him! And when I tried to stop him, the whoreson struck me!"
     
    Luke's headlong rush into the room had sent him stumbling into the bed, nearly tumbling down on top of the indignant Arlette. Justin swerved around him and lunged for the window. He was not so reckless as to jump, though, lowering himself as he clung to the sill and then dropping the remaining four or five feet to the ground.
     
    He landed on his feet like a cat. His eyes had to adjust again to the darkness, and at first he could see nothing. He thought he was in the courtyard behind the brothel, but he could not yet be sure, for clouds hid the moon. He stood very still, waiting for the shadows to reveal their secrets, and then heard the soft, ragged inhalation of breath. As he turned toward the sound, a gleam of starlight bounced off the blade of a thrusting dagger. If he'd not spun around, it might have found his heart. As it was, it slashed through the folds of his mantle with just inches to spare. The man had put the full weight of his body behind that lethal lunge and before he could recover his balance, Justin sent his fist thudding into his belly. Gasping, the attacker reeled backward, and Justin fumbled for his sword. As it cleared its scabbard, a dark form came plummeting from the overhead window, crashing into Justin's assailant and knocking him to his knees.
     
    The quarry was momentarily stunned by the impact, giving Justin the time he needed to level his sword at that heaving chest. "You so much as blink and you're dead." As threats went, it