The Girl in the Clockwork Collar (Steampunk Chronicles #2)(72)

Dalton’s attention snapped to her—as did his pistol. “Yes, you are. You had me fooled, you slag. Did you really expect me to believe the duke was only interested in Jasper? Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

“I had hoped,” she replied lightly. Then she stopped thinking and simply struck—like a snake—and seized the wrist of the hand holding the pistol.

She snapped it like a twig.

Dalton screamed—not surprisingly, like a girl—and crumpled to his knees. Jasper snatched up the dropped pistol, which was his to begin with, and brandished it as Dalton’s gang stared at him and Finley in shock.

Mei was the first to move—and Finley was too late seeing it, but she felt it when the smaller girl landed a stunning roundhouse kick to her temple. It would have knocked a normal human out, but Finley, Mei was about to learn, was not normal. She did, however, stagger a few feet backward under the force of the attack.

Shaking her head, Finley shook off the pain, and when Mei came at her again, she was ready. It took a fist to the throat to make her realize that Mei was indeed the one who had taught Jasper to fight. She was not an opponent to underestimate.

Finley squared off. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jasper—or a streak she thought was Jasper—take out two of Dalton’s henchmen with lightning-quick ease. It was about time the cowboy showed his stuff. When Mei launched herself at her once again, Finley was prepared and punched the girl in the face before she had a chance to take another swing. Mei recovered quickly and flew up into the air as though she had wings, her leg whipping out to deliver a powerful kick.

But Finley caught her by the ankle and whipped her around hard, releasing her so that she flew back against the wall before sliding down, into a stunned heap.

“Finley!” Jasper shouted.

She ducked and whirled around just in time to see Little Hank level a gun in her direction. Before she could react, she was caught in a rush of wind that sent her soaring backward. There was the crash of glass, a stinging in her back, and then she hit the ground hard, sending stabs of pain from her waist to her shoulders. Jasper sprawled on top of her.

“Sorry,” he said, breathless. “I meant to be on the bottom when we fell.”

Finley grinned at him. “Worse places to be, my friend. Think those fast feet of yours can get us out of here before they open fire?” Above them, she could see Little Hank rushing toward the window they’d smashed through.

Jasper pointed his pistol at the top of the window and fired, sending a spray of splintered wood into the room and driving the behemoth back. “Let’s see,” he said as they quickly untangled themselves and jumped to their feet. He turned his back to her. “Climb on.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. “The Waldorf-Astoria,” Finley cried as she leaped onto his back and wrapped arms and legs around him. Then she hung on for dear life as Jasper took off running—faster than any horse or velocycle she’d ever been on. Tears streamed down her face because of the wind, but she didn’t dare lift a hand to wipe them away— didn’t know if she could lift her hand.

Jasper didn’t stop until they reached the hotel lift. The operator’s face turned white when he saw them—probably because both of them had blood on their faces and their hair looked as though they’d been caught in a hurricane.

They went to Griffin’s room first. Never had Finley been so glad to see someone as she was to see the Duke of Greythorne. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him for all she was worth. He hugged her back.

Then he froze. “Finley?”

She pulled back. His face was white, his eyes wide. “What is it?”

He held up his hand—the one that had, just seconds before, rested on her back. It was covered in blood. “Turn around.”

Finley did as he commanded, a little ball of worry lying hard in her stomach. His expression scared her. “Blast it, Griffin King, what’s the matter?”

“You’ve glass in your back, love.”

“I know. Jasper and I dived through a window, which was unfortunately closed at the time. Can’t you pick them out?” She turned and saw his ashen face.

“No,” he rasped. “I can’t.”





Chapter 15


Emily performed the surgery on the desk in Griffin’s room.

“Griffin King,” she said, hands poised over Finley’s bare and bloody back, “if you don’t stop pacing and fretting … ”

Griffin froze at the threat in her voice. He didn’t doubt that she would banish him from the room, and then he wouldn’t be there for Finley if she needed him. Not that she was aware enough to know if he was there or not—Emily had given her chloroform to put her to sleep so there was no danger of the shards moving and severing her spine.

It didn’t matter that Emily was “fairly” certain that, even if the glass did move and do the worst, she would only have to secure the severed flesh together and Finley would heal. It didn’t matter that Finley was amazingly strong. What mattered was that she was hurt and he couldn’t help her.

They had all been hurt recently, and some of those hurts had been life threatening. Who was he to ask his friends to put themselves at such risk? And what for? A country that would probably be terrified of them if they knew what they could do. It didn’t seem right or fair, but they did it anyway. And he didn’t have to ask why. They did it for him.