“Don’t try to lower the pitch of your voice,” Roberts said, giving a rare piece of advice. “Or attempt to hide your nerves. Even young lads know when a job isn’t bang-up to the mark. If the barkeep asks questions, be firm that you only are there for your payment.”
Because greed speaks for itself.
Anna nodded. “Got it.”
Jackson’s insides gave another painful twist as she turned to cross the dark street. “It’s okay to be nervous.”
She made a sound in her throat and walked onto the sidewalk, her gait nothing short of swaggered, exactly like a young man on his way to get paid.
Roberts came to his side and voiced Jackson’s own appreciation for her steel nerves. “Thatis one hell of a woman.Not a trace of yellow in her liver.” He rubbed his chin. “I might even be a little in love with her by the end of the night.”
Jackson’s own nerves took a temporary backseat as he clasped his friend by the shoulder and said, “I have absolute amnesty for crimes committed by the Crown, Roberts.”
Even the murder of a second, idiot son. Something he was truly considering, given that the idiot had encouraged Anna’s participation up until Jackson had relented.
Roberts’s smile looked genuine. “Don’t get me all excited before the mission, Your Grace. I may lose my edge.”
“What a collection the Devil will have when he finally takes your soul: your edge, your morality, your way.” Jackson released the other man and rolled his eyes—his gaze snapping back to check Anna’s progress. She was nearly to the pub.
Speaking of losing one’s way.
Jackson held Roberts back when the man went to follow Anna across the street. “I need you to do something for me first.”
Roberts didn’t hesitate. “I charge by the body count.”
Good to know where the man drew the line.
“No bloodshed this time,” Jackson said. Though red might be the perfect color choice. He grinned. “I need the task done before you head inside.”
In case something went wrong—No! He would see to her safety. But it never hurt to be prepared. Especially because the one thing he could count on where Anna was concerned was she’d never settle for half measures. Given the chance, she’d work this entire mission through to the end, wherever its dangerous paths led.
Jackson would have to see their mission over and done with as quickly as possible.
Clearly intrigued by Jackson’s request, Roberts forwent his usual snide remark and waited.
Jackson told him what he needed done.
Roberts raised a brow but said, “I’ll send word to my men. They’ll have it done by the time the bullets start flying.”
Jackson rolled his eyes again and stepped out into the street. “The only guns involved tonight will be mine if you say something asinine about falling for my wife again.”
Roberts chuckled and called from the alley, “Promise?”
Chapter Nineteen
Anna sat onthe stool at the far end of the bar to avoid notice from the rest of the pub while giving her the best view of the dozen or so full tables around the room.
Jackson was naïve if he thought she’d never disguised herself to get a drink at a bar before. To be fair, her disguise before this had been a simple change into a labor woman’s wool dress and bonnet and not a complete transformation into a young boy, but the principles had to be the same: walk, talk, and drink like you belong. Though the country tavern she’d snuck into with its colloquial—yet filthy—charm was nothing in comparison to the polished bartop and clean sawdust floors of a place that clearly had money for constant upkeep.
“Don’t serve sprouts here,” the barkeep said, coming down to her end of the bar. “Not unless you can pay double.” Tightly waisted, well-built arms, and a scar under his right eye, the man looked more suited to serving face planters than whiskeys.
Anna ignored the man’s serious expression, sure if she thought too hard about the cretin extorting children, she might swing her own fists in disgust.
“Who ya callin’ ‘sprout’?” she said, remembering to rough up her speech but keep her higher tone. “I ain’t lookin’ fur nothin’ but a Flash of Fire without the lightnin’.”
The barkeep’s expression widened before his gaze narrowed on her face. A second of scrutiny bled into four. “You ain’t Hobbs.”
Pounding started in her ears, her heart pumping fast.
