“Come here a moment,” he rasped. It cost him to get the words out. “Closer. I want to make you a proposal.”

Brandon set down the pitcher, and a flicker of wariness crossed his tired face — the look of a young man who had learned that offers usually came with hooks in them.

“If it’s about extra care, Mr. Benedict, I’m happy to sit with you a while. You don’t have to pay me anything for that.” He hesitated. “But if it’s something else — I don’t do anything that isn’t allowed, sir.

I need this job.”

“That,” Roderick said, and almost smiled, “is exactly why I chose you.”

“Chose me for what?”