Page 45 of Forsaken Secrets

"So, assuming you're right, we'd grab the relics, you'd sell your portion, and I'd sell mine."

He nodded enthusiastically, and a knot in my stomach relaxed a bit.

There was just one more BIG problem. "What about the supplies?"

His smile fell, but an instant later it was back. "I'll just borrow them from my aunt and uncle, then give them to you." He grabbed my arm, pulling me towards town.

I yanked back hard. Gods, I hated people pulling me around like that. "No!"

It felt too much like I was cheating … I'd just sold my gear to them and now I was having their nephew borrow more?

No. I stepped away from him, shaking my head. That would be wrong.

He tried again, face earnest. "What if I pay the Harlsteds for the supplies? Then I can loan them to you for the job? You'd give them back when we finish and could feel no guilt because my aunt and uncle wouldn't be short any money."

My stomach relaxed a bit, and I considered his proposal.

"Besides, a good employer provides his employee with top-notch supplies," he continued, motioning widely.

I chuckled and shook my head. "Good contractors provide their own tools, Eli. We both know that."

"Does it really matter?"

Not really. He'd answered every question I had, and to a level that I felt comfortable.

So, why was I still saying no?

If it worked out, the money would be enough to pay off the debt entirely.

A satisfied smirk twisted my lips as I imagined how it would feel to pass the entire sum to Lady Ellingsworth. Her eyes would widen in shock and maybe she'd even drop the payment as she realized what it meant. All her plans … broken in an instant.

What harm could come from at least going down there with him?

"Fine. I'll do it. I'll help you get down there. If there are as many relics as you say, I'll keep helping. Otherwise, you'll pay me for my time, then you're on your own, and I'll need to find another way to help my aunt."

His mouth split into a wide grin, and he let out a loud whoop. I laughed and covered my ears, eyes stuck on the laugh-lines creasing the sides of his eyes and lips.

He held his hand out to shake.

I looked down at it warily, then slipped my hand inside. Heat spread from the contact, and I swallowed down the fluttery feeling in my chest.

His palms were rough with odd calluses and scars that only came with pretty intense work. Perhaps he really was a Reaper.

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