Saving the Scientist (The Restitution League #2)(92)
He snorted. “Not so brilliant yourself, now are you?”
“Smarter than you.”
Edison spread his hands wide in a gesture of disbelief. “Listen to her. Bloody bluestocking bitch. Thinks she can order men about.” He eyed the guards, as if looking for some male solidarity.
Their relaxed poses, the way they cradled their guns—not expecting trouble, but not willing to let down their guards—told him he wouldn’t get any sympathy.
“Grenville,” he called out. “I’ve got nothing to do with her damned device. Let me go and I’ll make sure you get the real battery. Did you know? She’s got the best one hidden.”
Grenville paused.
Heart pounding now, Edison waited. Would it be this simple?
With a great wheeze, Grenville turned to face him.
The laughter glowing in his small eyes made Edison’s stomach drop. “The model you’ve got stashed in your offices?” He shook his head at Edison’s weak attempt at bribery. “I’ve already duplicated it.” He sent Ada a nasty grin. “Your work will live on. Not that anyone will know it.”
“You bloated pig.” Fists clenched, Ada launched herself at her old friend.
Edison caught her around the waist, stilling her before the guards could do it for him. She stayed in character admirably, shoving him away with a disgusted gasp.
So it was to be the hard way.
Edison fingered the knife stashed in his shirt sleeve.
Fine.
*
Ada froze, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.
Edison was going to attack. She sensed the tensing of his body, tasted the dangerous bite in the air.
Separated by mere feet, he and Stanton glared at each other—a stallion facing down an aging bear—as if they were preparing for battle.
The tension between them grew like an electrical charge.
An icy feeling came over her.
She hoped Edison wouldn’t have to kill him.
Oh, Stanton deserved it.
He deserved whatever hideous form of judgment was coming his way. But Ada didn’t want to witness it.
And she didn’t want Edison to carry the burden.
The nasty rags hanging from Edison’s broad shoulders added a special touch of menace to the glare he gave Stanton. The torn shirt and billowing pants made his underlying physique seem all the stronger. More desperate. More commanding.
She wanted to help, wanted to add a distraction, be an impediment, or bash one of the guards over the head.
What would Meena do? Or Briar?
Attack, of course. Meena would mutter a pithy remark and skewer the closest guard with a spare hat pin. Briar would use her hands. And those deadly feet.
She, though, had none of their skills.
Ada eyed the three hulking guards as they gave the standoff their full attention. She was more like one of Caldwell Nance’s heroines, smart enough in her way, but utterly unprepared for the evil situation she found herself in.
Exactly. Ada blinked. What would a Caldwell Nance heroine do?
She’d do something dramatic. Something foolhardy. Something the hero would chastise her for once all was well with the world.
Fingers spread like claws, she launched herself at Edison. “Pig!”
His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in surprise. He’d been expecting her to attack Stanton. They all had, from the looks of things.
Men. Such limited creatures.
Even as her fingers tangled in Edison’s stained shirtfront, the two men flanking him closed in, pulling her off.
Edison staggered backwards, managing to get a few steps closer to Stanton in the process. He swiped at his filthy shirt as if trying to rub off her touch.
“I’m more man than you deserve,” he said, adding a theatrical sneer.
She stuck her hands on her hips. “So you think.” She gave his crotch a withering look. “If that’s all you can be proud of…”
The guard at her side snickered.
Edison folded his arms over his chest, as if content to stand about hurling insults while Stanton set up to murder them. “Suited you well enough at the time.”
Ada laughed harshly. “So you’d like to believe.”
Edison grinned. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”
No, he wouldn’t have done. Ada swallowed. Damn the man. Even facing down mortal danger, that smile had the power to set her alight.
She stuck close to the man guarding her. There might be an opportunity. For what, she had no idea.
Behind Edison, Stanton poured tartaric acid into a beaker containing cyanide of potassium. Now all he needed was water to initiate the chemical reaction that would create the deadly blue liquid. Once he added water, the resulting gas would become airborne.
They’d have just seconds to escape.
But it was a delicate process. In addition to creating a deadly poison, water made the mixture highly flammable.
She dove back into her role. “At least I’m not stupid.”
Edison growled. “Stupid enough to let me in your drawers,” he said as he rubbed his stomach, undoubtedly fingering the knife.
Ada snorted. “Only because you—"
“Shut up!” Stanton backed away from the table and threw up his hands. He glared at the guards. “If they don’t shut their traps, make them. I can’t think.”