The Girl in the Clockwork Collar (Steampunk Chronicles #2)(4)
Jasper’s heart stopped when he saw who stood on the other side of that threshold. She was little and pale, with poker-straight, long black hair that fell almost to her waist. She wore a long turquoise silk dress embroidered with Chinese dragons, and she was even prettier than she had been the last time he saw her—when he had kissed her goodbye. The only thing new was the strange necklace she wore—a snug band of what looked like clockwork pieces all around her throat.
She looked as shocked to see him as he was to see her. Her almond-shaped eyes widened. “Jasper?”
“Mei,” he whispered. He was dizzy, like he’d spun around and around—fast as he could—and then tried to stand still. He started to get up, but Little Hank pushed him back down with a meaty hand on his shoulder.
Dalton’s smile returned. “So you can see, Jasper, you have something I want and I have something you want.” He rose to his feet and crossed the carpet to where Mei stood, guarded by another of the outlaw’s men. He ran the back of his finger along her cheek, causing her to flinch.
Jasper pushed against Little Hank’s hold, but it was as though his posterior was glued to the chair. “If you hurt her … ”
Dalton whipped around, coming toward him like a striking rattler. “Hurt her? I don’t think you understand me, son. You owe me. If you don’t do exactly what I want, I’ll damn well kill her.”
Chapter 2
The combined Waldorf and Astoria hotels on 5th Avenue were the height of opulence and elegance. At seventeen stories, the redbrick structure had only recently been completed by John Jacob Astor IV.
As they climbed out of their hired carriage, Griffin was the least impressed with their lodgings, and even he thought it splendid. He held his beaver hat on his head as he glanced up. “Grand, isn’t it? What do you make of it, Finley?”
“It’s bloody marvelous,” she replied, without taking her eyes off the building.
He grinned at her openmouthed wonder. He had made arrangements to stay at this place, specifically hoping that his friends would love it. That Finley would love it.
Top that, Dandy, he thought to himself. He knew it was foolish to think of the criminal as competition, but Dandy appealed to Finley’s dark side. Never mind that the two halves of her personality had already merged; they still fought for dominance, and there was still a part of her that found Dandy fascinating. Griffin had never been one for physical violence, but Finley’s attachment to the older fellow made Griffin want to punch someone—Dandy—in the nose.
A handful of bellmen and young boys eager to make a few cents came forward to carry luggage and belongings. Griffin noticed with a smile that none of them tried to take possession of Emily’s cat—a mechanical life-size panther. They all gasped when she powered it up and it came to life, stretching like the real thing, digging dagger-sharp claws into the sidewalk. It’s reticulated joints were well-oiled and moved silently.
“Don’t fret, gents,” she chirped in her soft Irish brogue. “She’s no danger.” Not unless one of them tried to hurt Emily. Of course, she had Sam for protection, as well. Griffin would rather take on the cat than his best friend.
They filed into the hotel lobby, which was just as grand as the exterior. Griffin spoke to the man at the desk, who was clearly impressed at having a duke as a guest. America might have separated from England over a century earlier, but a title and a fortune were still cause for celebrity. The man gave him keys for four rooms. Certainly it would have been more economical to share, but they had separate rooms in London, so it seemed only right to have them here, as well— especially since it was the only way they could escape each other, if they wanted.
They had to take two lifts to their floor—an operator, the four of them and Emily’s cat in one, their belongings in the other. Being inside the small box, packed tightly with his friends, made Griff feel as though someone sat upon his chest. He clenched his hands and tilted his head back and closed his eyes, trying to force himself to remain calm. Soon they would be at their floor.
A soft hand curled around his fist, loosening his fingers so they could twine with hers. He lowered his head, opened his eyes and found himself gazing into eyes the color of warm honey, framed by thick, dark lashes.
Finley.
Suddenly, he was breathless for an entirely different reason. She smiled but didn’t speak. She simply stood there beside him, holding his hand as they slowly climbed to their destination. Griffin wanted to reach up and touch the streaks of black in her tawny hair. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, pull her close, lower his head and …
The bell chimed. They had reached their floor.
And just in time, too, because he had started to lean toward her.
The operator opened the sliding doors and bid them goodnight. Griffin slipped him a tip for his trouble and was gifted with a grin and doffed hat in return.
After divvying up the keys, each of them went to their room so that their belongings could be taken inside. Griff peeled more notes from his money clip and pressed them into the eager hands of the boys who had brought their luggage.
His room was spacious and as luxurious as he expected, with a plush carpet, large, comfortable-looking bed and heavily draped windows, which afforded a spectacular view of 5th Avenue. He went to one of those windows and gazed out. New York looked like someone had captured the stars and dragged them down to Earth.