Chapter 7
“To revolutionize the world, you only need a handful of tools and a determined spirit.”
Gear Master Jonathan Torren
Bam,bam, bam!
Banging on my front door pulled me from my slumber. I blinked rapidly, trying to focus my blurry gaze. Memories of yesterday drifted through my foggy brain. Had it only been yesterday?
I rubbed the crustiness from my eyes until the cracked plaster on my ceiling became sharper. After staying up all night to finish my orders, I had planned to sleep in. Meeting with Oss and shutting Buster down wasn’t for a few more hours.
The noise started up again. I glanced at my alarm clock. No, it still wasn’t time to get up.
I groaned and groggily slid out of bed. The person banging on my door had best be having a life-threatening emergency, or they would be once I reached the door. I shoved my feet into a pair of thin slippers to delay the shock of the cold floor. I swayed before gaining my balance enough to stumble downstairs. My journey consisted of a great deal of tripping and cursing, but eventually, I made it. With fumbling fingers, I flipped the multiple locks, then turned the chilly, metal knob and yanked the door open.
“What!” I snarled.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Oss’s smug smile had my fingers curling into an instinctive fist.
I might have some anger issues. Normally, I kept them tidily suppressed. I rubbed my eyes, hoping the view would change. When that didn’t happen, I groaned. “Why are you here? It’s not time to meet yet.” With Oss, I didn’t bother pulling out my company manners. They were frayed around the edges anyway.
He pushed at my shoulder and shoved his way past. I obligingly stepped back to avoid being trampled.
“I brought muffins.” He waved a white paper bag at me. He spared a glance at my sleepwear and flashed me a wicked smile. “Not what I would’ve chosen to travel in, but to each his own.”
“Funny.” I rolled my eyes. “Give me ten minutes to get dressed. I got my bag ready last night.” Interrogating Oss never worked out. I’d ask him later when I could focus and was properly dressed.
Packing had involved a spare notebook in case I needed to write something down, my toolkit, a change of clothes, and a bag of nuts. Although we were supposed to be back within twenty-four hours, I’d been in enough situations with Oss to know an extra set of clothes and a snack were always a good idea. Justin often complained about the quality and quantity of my cupboard ingredients. He had taken to bringing his own food when he visited and conveniently leaving most of it behind. The expensive bag of almonds was from his last visit, and I took a savage delight in eating each and every one of them. Brushing away the fond memories, I went to get dressed, not willing to antagonize Oss by dragging my heels.
“Hurry, we’ve got a full day!” Oss shouted.
After splashing water on my face, I dressed as fast as my cold fingers allowed. It wasn’t past the ten-minute mark before I returned to my parlor wearing proper boots and sturdy clothing suitable for work. I didn’t wish to visit a potentially dusty workshop wearing my nicest clothes. Despite what Buster claimed, there might still be some traps he was unaware of. If Torren was determined that his life’s work only went to his heir, there could be some deterrents left behind.
Once I was ready, I confronted Oss. “I’ll make some tea while you explain.”
“Explain what?” Oss offered his most innocent expression.
I wasn’t fooled. “Why you came over two hours early when I have to go to your house anyway.”
He set down his bag of muffins and followed me to the kitchen. “I wanted to talk to you without a chance of my nosy partner or his even nosier butler listening in.”
I filled the kettle with water, then set it on the burner before turning to face Oss. “I’m listening.” I folded my arms and leaned against my tiny counter.
“I suspect Brenson is conducting illegal activities.”
I frowned at Oss’s serious expression. “What makes you think that?”
“Did you see his clothes? Thorne showed me the household budget and Brenson doesn’t make enough for custom-tailored clothing. I tried to tell Thorne, but he brushed it off, claiming Brenson is friends with a tailor and got his clothing at a discount.”
I shrugged. “Maybe that’s true.” I didn’t want to take sides. As much as I didn’t like Brenson, a lot of servants had connections and exchanged services between each other. However, I knew better than to discount Oss’s instincts. “He does have really nice shoes.”
“See. Tell me I’m not crazy and it’s not just my dislike of him guiding my thoughts.”
“I couldn’t say. You’d need to catch him doing something if you want to get Thorne’s support. Like you said before, you don’t want to get into a situation where it’s his word against yours. Your relationship is too new.”
“I know you’re right. Brenson practically raised Thorne and Justin. Their parents were too busy with parties and politics to give their kids any attention. They had Brenson do it for them. If I go to Thorne and tell him that I think Brenson is a crook, he’s not going to listen.”
“Why come to me? I don’t have any more information on Brenson than you do. You should contact Affie and see if he knows anything? He hears things because no one thinks he’s paying attention.” If anyone had heard of Brenson conducting underhanded deals, it would be our street friend.
