The Girl In The Clockwork Collar (22 page)

Sam was right. He needed to stop whining. The incident at Tesla’s was the second time in a matter of weeks that he had been injured to the point where his life was in question. That didn’t sit well with him, not at all. So rather than brood on how weak he was, it was time to make himself as strong as possible.

To make his little band of “strays” —as his aunt Cordelia sometimes called them—as strong as possible.

So perhaps he should be completely honest and admit that this wasn’t just a leisurely stroll. He had intentionally walked in the direction of Reno Dalton’s house. He knew where to go because Emily had mentioned the address. He wasn’t quite certain why he walked this way—perhaps he wanted to tempt fate and maybe run into the criminal. Perhaps he simply wanted to take a measure of the man.

Or maybe he hoped to catch a glimpse of Finley. He missed her. Sometimes she drove him mad, but she was as much a part of his world as Sam or Emily. From the moment they’d met, he’d felt as though she completed the puzzle that was his life. She just seemed to fit.

When he reached Dalton’s unassuming address—a simple brick house with clean windows and freshly swept steps—he kept to the shadows so that he could spy on the occupants, unnoticed. He was surprised that Kirby wasn’t already there. The man seemed to have made a habit of watching Dalton and his companions.

The curtains were open in one of the front ground-floor windows. Lamps kept the room well lit, so he could clearly see the two people inside.

Finley and Dalton. They were playing a bizarre and dangerous game, where Dalton threw a dagger at her and she caught it by the handle before throwing it back. Did neither of them have any concept of mortality or respect for their own safety and lives?

He thought of her sitting out on the bow of the airship on the way to New York. The idea of falling hadn’t even occurred to her; she thought she was invulnerable, like many young people their age, but a fall from several thousand feet would kill Sam. It would definitely kill her, as well.

His heart stopped as she caught the dagger a mere fraction of an inch from her left eye. It would have killed her if she hadn’t grabbed it. The thought rolled around in his stomach, making him feel sick. What did she do? She laughed. The idiot.

This was not one of those moments when he wanted to kiss her. What he wanted to do was storm into that house, punch Dalton in the nose, throw Finley over his shoulder and take her back to the hotel, where she belonged.

He did neither of these things. Firstly, she had to stay there if they were going to help Jasper and make sure Dalton paid for his crimes. Secondly … she obviously liked it there. She trusted Dalton to throw a deadly weapon at her. He trusted her to throw it back. Neither of them had any concern of betrayal or injury.

Dalton was dangerous and likely more than a little mad. That would appeal to Finley’s dark side. Lately, it seemed that darker part of her was to become the dominant half of her personality. That part of her would not be content with his world. There was excitement, but usually someone ended up getting hurt, and there wasn’t much of a reward for it.

Would she return to him when this was over? Or would she choose Dalton instead?

As the thought crossed his mind, he saw Finley’s head turn, and she looked out the window. He hadn’t realized, but he had walked out of the darkness into the pool of light from a nearby streetlamp. She could see him. Those sharp eyes of hers could probably make him out plain as day.

The smile slipped from her face as they stared at one another. She set the dagger on the table and crossed the floor to the window. Griffin watched as she placed her palm against the glass, as though to wave at him. Was that guilt he saw on her face, or did she miss him, too?

She glanced over her shoulder and said something. Then she turned back to him. Her fingers curled against the glass before she lifted her hand and took a step back.

Then she yanked the curtains closed.

Griffin shoved his hands in his pockets, turned on his heel and started walking back in the direction of his hotel. She’d done it to keep Dalton from seeing him, obviously. Not because she wanted to shut him out. He told himself that it meant nothing, that he should trust Finley. That he
did
trust Finley.

Only, he realized now that he didn’t trust her—not as much as he ought. Not as much as he would expect her to trust him. And that was the worst of it all.

The Olympia Theatre was in Longacre Square, situated between 44
^th
and 45
^th
Streets. The
New York Times
heralded it as “one of the most imposing facades” on Broadway, or so Dalton claimed. To Jasper, the building was ostentatious and sprawling, never mind all that “French Renaissance” nonsense Dalton spouted about its design. Architecture had nothing to do with why Jasper had chosen this particular building as the hiding place for the final piece of the device.

He had hidden it there because he knew it would be hard to recover—even harder than the piece from Wildcat. After all, he knew Wildcat well enough to know that she would have stopped beating on him once she figured he had enough. But tonight, there was no such guarantee that they would get off quite so easily.

“If anything happens tonight, I want you to run,” Jasper whispered to Finley as they walked through the large doors into the theater’s opulent vestibule.

She shot him what could only be termed as a dirty look. “I won’t leave you.”

“I need you to protect Mei. Please, promise me.”

Her stare was hard, and her mouth tight. “No. You’re the one wanted for murder, not me.
You
run. I can’t be trusted to protect her. I’d turn her over faster than you can blink, if it would save you.”

Jasper knew that it would be impossible—even for him— to carry a torch for three girls, but he fell a little bit in love with Finley right then. No one—and he meant
no one—
had ever been so loyal to him.

“I hope Griffin realizes how lucky he is to have you,” he murmured fervently.

A strange look came over her face. She looked sad. “I’m not sure he thinks himself all that lucky.”

Jasper opened his mouth to ask why and was cut off. “What are you two whispering about?” Dalton demanded. “You’re like a couple of old women.”

Gritting his teeth, Jasper turned his head to reply, but it was Finley who jumped in. “Renn just wanted to make sure my inferior female brain understood what needs to be done tonight.” Her tone was dry as the desert.

“Don’t underestimate her, Jas.” Dalton chuckled. “She’s as smart as she is pretty.”

Jasper and Finley shared a wry glance. “I’ll do my best to remember that,” Jasper replied, biting back a grin. He shouldn’t feel any humor in the situation, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

“We’ll go to our box,” Dalton informed them. “Once the performance starts, I want the two of you to go collect our treasure.”

Jasper just loved how he said “our” as though he was a willing participant—or even a partner. Dalton didn’t share well with others, and this was not going to be an exception to that rule. Once he did this, he was going to be just one more loose end that Dalton needed to tie up, unless he could come up with a plan. For all his reassurance to Mei that Dalton would let them go, he didn’t really believe it. Dalton was a man of his word, but he was also the kind of man who took disloyalty very personally. Jasper would pay for betraying him, and so would Mei.

Too bad
he
wasn’t as smart as he was pretty.

They climbed two flights of crimson-carpeted stairs to the floor where their box was located. Dalton had won the deluxe seating from its owner—some swell with a season subscription—in a game of cards a few nights earlier. He’d even made the man believe that offering it up was his idea, rather than a suggestion Dalton had planted. It was all handled in a charming and gentlemanly way, which won Dalton the gentleman’s regard, and that of his cronies, as well.

Of course Dalton would have to draw attention to himself by having a box for the evening. For a man who claimed not to want to be fancy, he sure made a fine stab at it. He smiled and waved at another man nearby. Jasper recognized him as one of the men from the poker game. The man tipped his hat in greeting.

Dalton sat in the front of the box, placing Mei and Finley on either side of him. Jasper and Little Hank sat toward the back, in the shadows, and the two other ragtag members of Dalton’s gang waited outside by the carriage. Jasper didn’t remember their names. They hadn’t been part of Dalton’s racket when he had been up to his eyeballs in it.

Jasper tugged on the cravat around his throat. Dalton had insisted they all dress like gentlemen, and the starch in his collar made Jasper’s neck itch. It felt like he couldn’t move freely—or breathe comfortably, for that matter. How in a rattler’s tail did Griffin stand the blasted things?

As fate would have it, that was the moment Dalton turned to regard him over his shoulder, blue eyes hard and bright as ice. “I see your friend has arrived, Jasper. What a coincidence.”

Jasper frowned and followed Dalton’s gaze as he turned to face the theater once more. There, across the open expanse above the public seating in a box exactly like this one, sat Griffin, Sam and Emily.

A thick lump formed in Jasper’s throat. They weren’t there to enjoy the show, of that he was certain. Miss Emily looked like an angel in a copper-colored gown, which warmed her pale skin. Would anyone recognize her as the girl who came looking for Finley? He noted the way she and Sam—the surly oaf—regarded one another and felt a stab of envy. And a little jealousy, for which he immediately felt shame when Mei was so close.

He wished someone would look at him the way Emily looked at Sam. Mei had looked at him like that once. Maybe she would again, if they could manage to get out of this alive. Maybe she’d leave America with him; they could have a good life in England.

But back to the matter at hand. He didn’t know how to respond to Dalton’s comment. Did the criminal suspect Griffin was there because of him? Did he think Jasper had somehow managed to contact the duke?

Once again, Finley stepped in and took the attention from him. “
That’s
the Duke of Greythorne?”

“It is,” he replied.

“I thought he’d be older,” she remarked, boldly staring across the theater. “He’s a little bit of lovely, innit he?”

“He is,” Mei agreed enthusiastically.

Jasper’s head whipped toward her, and he wasn’t the only one who stared—Finley and Dalton did, as well. The Asian girl shrugged her delicate shoulders. “She asked.”

Jasper had many options when it came to envying Griffin, but appearance hadn’t ever been one of them—until now. But that wasn’t his utmost concern at the moment. No, what needled him was the fact that Dalton seemed to feel exactly the same way. Could it be that he had developed feelings for Mei?

No, that was impossible. Mei was just another possession to him. Though, if Dalton had gone soft on her, then it would make him much more reluctant to kill her. More reluctant to let go of her, as well.

Meanwhile, Finley looked as though she’d like to strangle the other girl. “Maybe you’d introduce me to His Grace,” she suggested to Jasper.

Dalton reached over and put his hand on her leg, which was covered by the same gown she’d worn to break into the house party. “Not tonight,” he informed her. “We have work to do. You can work your wiles on the fancy man another time.”

Finley pretended to shrug it off, but Jasper saw the stiff set of her shoulders. If Dalton didn’t take his hand from her leg, he was likely to lose it.

Jasper looked to Griffin, wanting to see how he viewed this little display. Obviously he couldn’t see where Dalton had his hand, but he could tell that it was near or on Finley. The young duke’s jaw was tight, but he nodded in polite greeting at their pointed stares.

Dalton inclined his head, as well, then turned to Jasper once more. “Perhaps you
should
introduce Finley, Jas. He appears to be quite fascinated with her.”

Finley laughed and shifted in her chair so Dalton’s hand fell away. “Right, he might recognize me as the one who knocked him senseless at that house party.”

“You are a difficult girl to forget, Miss Finley,” Dalton agreed. “You would be an excellent way to divert the duke’s attention. He could be our first test.”

“Test of what?” Jasper demanded, resisting the urge to shoot a worried glance at Finley.

Dalton merely smiled. Not for the first time, Jasper was tempted to beat the smile right off the blackguard’s face. He could no longer resist glancing at Finley, who looked as though she entertained similar thoughts.

The lights went down, and a roar rose from the crowd in the pit below. A man in a suit came out to introduce the performance, and then the curtains parted, and the entertainment began. The audience quieted.

“Time for the two of you to get to work,” Dalton commanded in a low whisper. “Be quick about it.”

Jasper rose to his feet along with Finley. The two of them said nothing, just filed out of the box into the empty corridor.

“When this is over,” Finley whispered as they walked, “we’re going to take turns holding him down while the other beats his pretty face.”

Jasper chuckled at her bloodthirsty tone. “Sounds fun.” He liked the fact that she just assumed they would defeat Dalton, as though he wasn’t a danger to either of them. He didn’t know if she was foolish or confident, but whatever it was, she bolstered his own faith in their abilities.

“C’mon,” he said, guiding her toward the end of the corridor. “We have to get downstairs.”

“Tell me you didn’t hide it in one of the dressing rooms,” she murmured.

“No,” he replied. “It’s not in a dressing room.”

Beside him she breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”

Jasper winced. “It’s in the lobby.”

Finley halted in the middle of the carpet, turning on him with astonishment. “Are you out of your ruddy mind? What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking of ways to make it impossible for Dalton to assemble the damn thing. How was I to know he’d stoop to extortion?”