Free Stolen Petals by Katherine McIntyre Page A

brats and all the nonsense that entails," he grumbled and returned to his drink. Knowing nobles the way she did, any misinformation on her part and he wouldn't hesitate to correct her.
    "Well, I'll be tending the bar there, so hopefully I can prepare you something to take the edge off." She flashed him an extra-wide smile before strolling back to the bottles in stock, making the conversation as forgettable as possible. The tight gray cincher around her waist regulated her breaths while doing lovely things to her figure. Her petticoats swished at her ankles and lace itched her bosom. Didn't dare scratch though, not in front of clientele like them.
    "Barkeep, I'll take another," the chap from the opposite end announced. His loud voice hung in the air like noxious perfume and drew the eye of every patron in the bar. Viola held her sigh back, grabbed a glass, and poured. As she handed over his pint, his rough fingers brushed against hers.
    He'd slipped her a piece of parchment. Curious.
    Before she could retreat back to the other end of the bar, he stood, chugged his lager, and plunked the empty glass back down.
    "Thank you kindly, madam." He tipped his tattered top hat her way, a cheeky grin on his face. Whistling, the man walked out the door. Grimaces weighted the faces of gentlemen and ladies alike in the wake of his departure.
    Viola swiped his glass and made a retreat back to the washroom. Carefully, she unfolded the parchment.
    Meet me at the Rusty Scupper tomorrow evening. You want word on Brownetree's brother? I've got it.
    —The Fox
    Damn and double damn.
    While the run-down tavern, the Rusty Scupper, was the last place a lady should dally, the opportunity was too good to pass. She'd been on this bounty for months and couldn't let this chance slip. Viola focused on the name. Should've recognized the scoundrel.
    A smile curved her lips. No, she couldn't pass up this opportunity. Under her alias, the Brass Violet, she'd maintained a healthy competition with most, but none as much as the Fox. Like his namesake, he snuck in and snatched her targets before she had the chance to nab them. He stole the pickings of others, especially hers, for his own entertainment. So why the peace offering? If he had information, he wouldn't share it unless he needed something from her. Which meant this bounty was about to get interesting.

Chapter Two
    The next night, Viola adjusted her burnished chocolate brown corset in front of the mirror. A dim light overhead came from the desk lamp she kept by her mirror to examine details. Her bodice dagger slid into place, as were the ones tucked inside her boots. Her custom-made garters held five to six vials each of whatever latest poison she'd concocted, and although the term made her upper lip curl, her herbal blends couldn't be termed anything else. In her field, one could never be too prepared, especially when trudging through the worst district in New Londo n — Shantytown.
    She kept her ashy curls pulled back with a rose-shaped brass fascinator. Like most of the accessories she owned, upon flipping the switch, the handy gadget clicked together to form a knife. The brown in her dress brought out the green in her eyes and she'd powdered her face to perfection. Beauty was a weapon as well, one Viola enjoyed wielding. Even for the undeserving.
    Grabbing a shawl and purse, she stepped out onto the cobbled street, winding her way toward that tragedy of a bar.
    Some neon signs were on for the night, although most places preferred the cheaper illumination of gas lamps. Dozens of them lit the city streets, coating the cobblestones with a greenish, subterranean hue. Smoke from the industrial complexes rose to the sky in thick, choking tufts, like an attempt to snuff out the stars. A rat scurried around her heels and several crows cawed overhead.
    Shouts from several streets over sent her into alert mode, but she kept walking forward. Paying attention to the lowlifes would give them more reason to come