The Girl in the Clockwork Collar (Steampunk Chronicles #2)(62)

Dalton’s face paled at the man’s name. The reaction intrigued Jasper. So Dalton was afraid of something—someone. “This is unfortunate,” he murmured. “Did you get the piece?”

Was that all the consideration Finley got? Jasper wanted to punch Dalton in the face. Instead, he patted his jacket. “Right here.”

“Good.” Dalton shot a glance over his shoulder at Little Hank. “Let’s go. It seems we’ll have another way to test our device. The Duke of Greythorne can wait. We have a much more important agenda now.” He took Mei by the arm and hauled her to her feet as he stood.

Jasper rose behind him. He cast one last glance across the theater before he departed and saw Griffin watching them. He shook his head, hoping his friend saw how sorry he was. Maybe someday, Griffin would forgive him, but as he turned to leave the box he figured it was highly unlikely—especially now that Finley was in Whip Kirby’s custody.

Dalton waited for him outside. Mei was with Little Hank now, and the two of them were already a considerable distance down the corridor, poor little Mei rushing to keep up with the giant’s long strides.

The criminal glanced at him as they began to walk. “Don’t mope, Jas. It doesn’t become you.”

“Bugger off,” Jasper growled, borrowing an appropriate phrase he’d picked up in London.

“Now, don’t be like that.” Dalton nudged him with his elbow. “Cheer up. We have work to do.”

“You mean putting together your precious machine?”

Dalton grinned. “Of course, and you know what we’re going to use it for?”

“What?” Jasper asked warily.

He smiled, lips curving sharply. “A jailbreak. We’re going to bust Miss Finley out.”

Where was Finley?

Griffin’s heart seemed to be struck in his throat as he watched Jasper return alone to Dalton’s box in the theater. Jasper looked worried—Dalton, too. That couldn’t be good.

He gripped the arms of his chair as he waited for Sam to return. He’d sent his friend to spy on Finley and Jasper, and he should have returned by now.

Unless something had happened to Sam, as well.

He turned to Emily. “If he’s not back soon, I’m going looking for him.”

Emily nodded, ropes of hair swinging around her face. “I’m coming with you.” She nodded across the way. “Where do you suppose they got off to?”

“No idea.”

Silence fell between them for a couple of heartbeats— which he felt in the back of his mouth.

A small hand settled on top of his. “She’s all right, lad. You know she’s tougher than most men.”

He nodded. Physically, Finley was one of the strongest people he knew next to Sam. She was strong in other ways, as well, but they were in a country that wasn’t their own, up against an enemy they really knew nothing about.

A charming, handsome enemy who made crime seem exciting and fun, something he feared she wasn’t strong enough to resist. Finley liked danger. He could offer her danger readily enough. Perhaps not a steady stream of it, but the work they did wasn’t without risk. But Finley was drawn to the darker side of it—her friendship with Jack Dandy was proof of that, as was how deeply she’d thrown herself into this mess with Dalton.

He had known when he saw her fight all those people to get close to Dalton that this might tip her toward her more base nature. He knew, because there had been a moment where unadulterated joy had shone on her face. He’d been jealous because she never looked like that with him.

His thoughts were thankfully interrupted by Sam. He couldn’t waste any more time worrying over Finley’s morals, because which way she went was nothing he could control.

“What happened?” he demanded when his friend sat down on the other side of him.

“Finley’s been taken by Kirby. He led her off in irons.”

Emily gasped, drawing a cross look from a lady in the box next to theirs. Emily frowned at her before turning back to Sam. “Why would he do that?”

Sam leaned closer so as not to earn them more dirty looks. “That Astor-Prynn bird set some gentlemen on Finley. I wager Kirby took her with him to keep her safe. Either that, or he fed us a line of shite and he’s going to use her to get to us.”

“I believe he was sincere when he spoke to us,” Griffin argued. “Taking Finley serves no purpose except to keep her from trouble.”

Sam offered him a folded bit of paper—yellowed and stained. “She dropped this.”

It unfolded to reveal a schematic of a machine. Griffin wasn’t stupid, but he couldn’t generally tell what a machine was just by looking at it. This needed Emily’s attention. She took it and tipped it toward what little ambient light there was. “It looks like some sort of oscillator, but what kind, I’m not certain.” She raised her head with a pinch between her brows. “It looks like Tesla’s work.”

“Tesla?” Griffin echoed. “Is that possible?”

“I don’t know, but it looks like his signature smudged at the bottom. If we show him this drawing, perhaps he can identify it.”

“And tell us how Dalton managed to come by it in the first place.” Had Jasper brought it to New York from San Francisco? Or had Dalton stolen it right out from under Tesla in his home?