The Girl In The Clockwork Collar (28 page)

An eternity later, Emily finished removing all the glass from Finley’s back and draped a sheet over the sleeping girl. Then she took Griffin by the hand and pulled him over to the bed where the two of them sat side by side.

“You care about her, don’t you?” Emily asked, nodding at Finley.

“I care about all of you.”

“But you don’t want to be kissing Sam or me.”

“Hell, no.”

Emily laughed. “I didn’t t’ink so. So what’s the problem, lad?”

He glanced at Finley’s prone form. A little blood had soaked through the sheet that covered her. It turned his stomach, despite knowing that her wounds had already begun to mend once more. Her body had even tried to start healing around the glass fragments.

“What if it turns out that her darker nature is her true self? What if she decides she’d rather be bad than good?”

The expression on her face spoke volumes; she thought he was an idiot. “Griff, my friend, if she wanted that, she would have gone that way weeks ago. She wouldn’t be with us now.”

“I just don’t know if I can trust her to do the right thing.” He looked away. “I don’t like it.”

“You think I don’t wonder if Sam’s going to run off and get mixed up with the wrong sort again?” she asked. “You think I don’t wonder if someday he’s going to decide that he can’t forgive me for turning him into a mandroid? Everyone has doubts, lad. What you have to decide is if the risk is worth it. Is she?”

He glanced again at Finley, thought of that sharp pain in his chest when he saw the glass in her back—how he’d actually prayed for her to be all right. If Dalton had hurt her, he would have not only brought the house down on the bounder, he would have ripped him apart—just as Sam had threatened.

“Yes,” he whispered. “She is.”

* * *

Jasper was very much aware of Sam watching him as he cleaned the pistol he’d managed to take back from Dalton. With any luck he’d be able to retrieve the other, as well. If not, he’d have to hire Emily to build a replacement.

“You got a problem, Morgan?” he asked, without looking up.

“Just wondering what happened to seize up that normally flapping tongue of yours.”

“Maybe it’s the company,” he retorted coolly.

“Perhaps.” The bigger fella didn’t seem the least bit offended. “Or maybe something happened that’s got you all holed up in your head.”

“You mean like being kidnapped and forced to work for a criminal against my will?”

“No. I mean like whatever it was that made you leave your girl behind.”

Jasper stilled, but he still didn’t raise his head. Sam was smarter than he suspected. “She’s not my girl.”

“But she was. Wasn’t she?”

“I thought so. Seems I was wrong.”

“So what happened? She toss you over?”

Jasper’s head came up, and he glared at the darker boy. “It’s none of your damn business.”

Sam’s face lost all traces of humor. “She did, didn’t she? Devil take it. I’m sorry, Renn.”

He buffed the sides of the pistol with a soft, clean rag. “Don’t need your sympathy, Morgan. I was stupid, and I got played. That’s how the world works.”

“You want a torch or a candle, maybe? You’ve got your head so far up your own arse, it must be dark in there.”

For a second, anger burst hard and fast inside Jasper, but then the absurdity—and the truth—of Sam’s remark struck him, and he began to laugh. He laughed until it hurt and beyond. He didn’t even try to stop, because he needed to let his emotions out, and he was very much afraid that if he didn’t laugh, he’d humiliate himself by crying.

When his laughter stopped, he wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands, and glanced up to find Sam watching him with a smile that wasn’t exactly sympathetic or overly friendly but was one of understanding.

“You’re not the first bloke to ever be played for a fool,” Sam reminded him. “I almost helped get us all killed just a short while ago. Remember?”

Jasper did remember. “I thought she loved me,” Jasper heard himself confess. “I guess she doesn’t. I’m not sure that she ever did.”

“Is she the kind of girl you would want to have love you?”

He didn’t have to think about it that hard. “No. She killed a man in cold blood and let me assume the blame—told me it was in self-defense, but she was working for Dalton even then.”

“Love’s like being barking mad,” Sam commiserated. “Makes a body do the damnedest things.”

Jasper regarded him closely. “Like give a man a mechanical heart just to save his fool life.”

Sam went very, very still. “That would be foolish indeed,” he said quietly. “Especially if the idiot didn’t appreciate the effort.”

Until that moment, Jasper hadn’t grasped the depth of Emily’s feelings for Sam. If he had, he might not have flirted with her quite so much. Then again, he might have, if for no other reason than to get under this big brute’s skin.

“Right,” he said, slapping his hands against his thighs. “That’s enough girly talk for me. How ’bout you?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Tell me about Dalton. How many men does he have with him. Any I need to worry about, other than the big one?”

Jasper shook his head. “Little Hank’s a brute, but I doubt he’s a match for you.” Heck, he doubted Dalton’s entire posse would be a match for Sam, but he didn’t say that aloud. No need to cater to Morgan’s confidence.

“It’s the machine we need to worry about,” he said. “Miss Emily could shut it down if she got close enough, but Dalton’s bound to have someone guarding it, so someone would have to take out that person.”

Sam looked thoughtful. “Griff found out he has something of an effect on machines that work with Aether. I didn’t understand all of it, but Mr. Tesla seems to think Griffin could shut the machine down. What about the girl?”

Jasper shrugged. “I can always shoot her.”

Black eyes widened. “Could you do that?”

“Nah.” It wouldn’t help the team to lie. “I couldn’t, and the only person I know who might be able to best Mei in a fight is Finley. I want Dalton.”

“Because he shot Kirby?”

Jasper nodded. Thank God his brother-in-law—tarnation, but that was a hard fact to wrap his head around—was going to be all right. He owed Emily for that. “And other things I ain’t inclined to discuss.”

“Understood.” Sam glanced toward the door. “What the bloody Sunday is keeping them so long?”

“She had a lot of glass in her back.” He felt responsible for Finley’s injuries. He was the one that took them through the window, and he’d only suffered a couple of cuts—nothing like what had happened to her.

Sam shrugged. “Better that than a bullet to the head. Those are much more difficult to come back from.”

“Even for you?” Jasper asked, talking just for the sake of talking.

“If one managed to penetrate my thick skull, I might be able to regenerate provided it didn’t destroy anything vital. I’m not sure, and I’m not terribly anxious to find out.”

Jasper grinned. “I suppose not.”

A comfortable silence lapsed between them, but it only lasted a few moments because the door to Sam’s room opened, and Emily and Griffin walked in.

“Success?” Sam asked the redhead.

Emily smiled when she looked at him. It was a genuine smile, and it rubbed salt that much harder in the wound of Mei’s betrayal. Jasper had thought Mei looked at him with affection, but it had only been a lie. He had been blind.

“She’ll be fine,” Emily replied. “Left her sleeping off the ether. I’ll check on her in a few moments. Have the two of you come up with any ways to defeat Dalton?”

“We could just walk right into his house and take the bloody thing,” Sam suggested. “Griff could shut it down.”

“That would be tricky,” Griffin remarked. “It takes a lot of focus, and I would hesitate to try with such a device. If Dalton has modified it to work on humans, as well, I could kill a lot more people than just us and Dalton’s gang. Who knows what sort of range the thing has. No, I’m not going to take that chance. This is for you from Kirby.” He turned to Jasper and offered him an envelope.

Jasper took the letter and opened it. The sight of Whip’s familiar scrawl warmed his heart. Now he wouldn’t have to face his sister knowing he had brought about her husband’s demise.

“He says he wants in on whatever we plan for Dalton. He wants to be able to drag the rascal back to San Francisco in chains.”

“I think we can oblige him,” Griffin replied with a smile. “Emily, send a note round to Tesla tomorrow morning, will you? Tell him I’m willing to let him study me if he’ll let me practice on some of his machines.”

* * *

She had no clothes.

This unhappy realization came to Finley shortly after she woke up on the desk in Griffin’s room. The corset she had been wearing earlier was ruined. Her shirt was in even worse condition. Her pantaloons were filthy from landing on the ground and also stained with blood. The only thing she had that was reasonably clean were her stockings.

And she didn’t have much in her room here at the hotel, either, as she had taken all of her clean clothes with her to Dalton’s. Nothing of Emily’s would fit, so that left her with one other option.

Griffin.

She held the sheet around her as she hopped off the desk. Her back itched and stung a little—like a rash or several nasty bug bites—but it wasn’t anything too painful. She owed Emily a big hug for digging all the glass out and not severing her spine. Good show. Though, she had a morbid curiosity about whether or not her spine would have healed.

Tucking one end of the sheet under her arm so it wouldn’t fall, she opened the wardrobe and surveyed the clothing inside. Griffin was tall, but he was lean, so his clothing should fit reasonably well. She took a pair of gray trousers, a white shirt and a waistcoat. Then she dumped her bounty onto the bed and proceeded to get dressed, keeping her ears sharp for the sounds of anyone approaching. She’d be mortified if one of the boys came in and caught her starkers.

First, she stepped into the trousers. They were way too long and a little snug in the hips, but they’d do. The shirt was also long and just fit around her chest. She tucked the tails into the pants and rolled up the sleeves before putting the waistcoat on over top. It acted like a corset, protecting her modesty and providing support—and, it looked pretty bloody sharp, if she said so herself. She tucked the long trouser legs into her boots and tightened the laces.

Finally ready, and resisting the urge to scratch at her back, Finley walked to the door and wrapped her fingers around the knob. A thought stopped her. A memory, actually.

She remembered hearing Griffin and Emily talking. Had she dreamed it, or was it real? Griffin had said he didn’t know if he could trust her, and then Emily had asked if she was worth the risk. What had he said in reply? She couldn’t remember.

A vaguely sick feeling squirmed in her stomach. If Griffin didn’t know if he could trust her … Oh, bugger it. If Griffin was in doubt, she would just have to remove that doubt. Simple as that. Hadn’t he convinced her that he was different from the other spoiled rich boys she’d encountered?

As she strode from the room, she suddenly understood why Emily liked to wear masculine garb. It was very liberating. Comfortable, too.

When she reached Sam’s room, she heard multiple voices chattering. Making plans for bringing down Dalton, no doubt. Hopefully making plans to return to England, as well. New York was lovely, but she wanted to go home. Wanted to curl up with a book in front of one of the many windows in Griffin’s library. Wanted to get some decent fish and chips.

All heads turned when she entered the room. The most comical expression had to belong to Griffin, whose jaw dropped when he saw what she was wearing.

“Hope you don’t mind,” she said. “All my clean clothes are at Dalton’s.”

“Not at all,” he replied with a shake of his head. There was something in his gaze that told her he liked how she looked in his clothes. It had to be a bloke thing, because she certainly wouldn’t want to see him wearing hers.

“Do we have a plan yet?” she asked, sitting down next to Griffin on Sam’s bed. Emily came over and gave her a gentle hug, mindful of her back. Finley squeezed her tight and murmured thanks in her ear.

“We’re getting there,” Griffin told her. “We know that there’s close to a one hundred percent chance that Dalton will go after the treasures on display by the Historical Society at the Museum of Science and Invention. I can get us into the gathering. If Dalton brings the device in with him, Emily will shut it down if she can get to it. If not, I will, using the Aether. Then we nab him and hand him over to Whip Kirby.”

“And then we’re back to London?” She wasn’t able to keep the hope from her voice.

Griffin smiled. “Then back to London.”

Finley turned to Jasper. She had grown to know and like him even more over the past few days. “You’re coming with us, right?”

He managed a smile, but she saw the sadness and betrayal in his green eyes. Poor thing. She just wanted to hug him. She’d kick Mei’s tiny little arse for doing this to him. She and Dalton deserved each other.

“I might take a trip home to San Francisco first. Been a while since I last saw my family. ’Sides, Whip might need some help escorting Dalton and … the others back. I would like to return to England after that. If you have room for another.” This last part was directed at Griffin.

“Have you seen my house?” Griffin asked drily. “You could bring your entire family with you, and I’d still have room. We’d be glad to have you.”

“I suppose you might be useful,” Sam commented, but even he was smiling.

“The lot of you are going to need suitable clothes for the event,” Griffin informed them. “Sam, you and I and Jasper will go off to the tailor tomorrow. Surely there will be some ready-to-wear items that we can have altered for the pair of you, though Sam’s shoulders might prove a hindrance. Finley, you and Emily should go shopping, as well. Get gowns and all the necessary accessories. Have the boutique send the bill to me here at the hotel. If they give you any grief, act like an offended aristocrat.”

Emily made a face. “I have to wear a dress?”

Sam slipped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “If I have to wear a bloody cravat, you have to wear a dress.”