A bluish, purplish bruise had bloomed along his jaw and for a moment, Sarah regretted marring that handsome face. Then she remembered why she’d done it. If he couldn’t figure out why, he deserved the lick and more like it. “You said you had a lead,” she whispered, finding his gaze in the dim light. “Tell me about it.” “Yes. One of the Gypsies finally slipped out and got word to me through Eric at the inn. She’s crafty. Apparently, she was the one who told Fabian about the Shrews and about Patrick.” Ah. “I think he stumbled over the psychic tripwire when the troupe came into the area. Maybe Patrick walked past her while she was allowed out to do her shopping or something.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Could be a trap, but that’s no different than me taking them by surprise, I suppose. They’ll be prepared either way.”
