The Girl in the Clockwork Collar (Steampunk Chronicles #2)(58)

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?”