The Girl in the Clockwork Collar (Steampunk Chronicles #2)(82)

Finley came up onto her knees, still holding the man. He’d regained his wits and struggled against her hold, but he wasn’t much of a threat without his rope. She coshed him with her head again—this time hard enough to knock him out.

Then—still in her unmentionables—she climbed out of bed, flipped him onto his stomach on the floor and used his own rope to tie his hands behind his back. She used the laces out of one of her corsets to secure his feet and then tied the lace to the rope, effectively “hog-tying” him.

The thought of Jasper’s colloquialism made her think of the cowboy himself. If an assassin had come for her, one might have come for Jasper, as well. Or maybe hers was supposed to eliminate both of them, but she couldn’t be certain.

Hastily, she threw on the trousers she had borrowed from Griffin and the shirt, as well. They hadn’t been laundered, but they would do for the moment. In her bare feet, she hurried silently from her room and just down the corridor to Jasper’s.

The door was locked. Bollocks.

Finley ran back to her room, hopped over the unconscious man on her floor and leaned out the window. Jasper’s room was two doors down from hers, but the only way to get there was to traverse the narrow brick ledge that ran around the building.

Good thing she wasn’t afraid of heights.

Sighing, she slipped half of her body out of the window and unhooked the assassin’s climbing apparatus. It landed on the sidewalk below, the attached rope muffling the crash.

She braced her toes on the ledge and got a good hold on the window frame with her right hand before easing the rest of her body out. Then she pressed her back against the rough brick and quickly moved toward Jasper’s room, legs moving in wide strides.

As she approached, she spotted a rope dangling from Jasper’s open window. Don’t let me be too late. She couldn’t bear to get there and find him already dead. She would have to kill Dalton herself if that happened.

Neither finesse nor silence played any part in how she launched herself through the window. Her ungraceful sprawl onto the floor was quick as she immediately sprang to her feet. Jasper was struggling with his attacker, who appeared to be a bit more skilled than hers. The cowboy couldn’t use his incredible speed to hit the man because he was trying to keep the rope around his neck from cutting off his supply of oxygen.

Finley walked up behind the man and kicked him hard between his legs. As he doubled over, crying out in pain, Jasper turned and punched him hard in the jaw, sending him sprawling.

Jasper pulled the rope from around his neck, coughing and gasping. “Thank you,” he said.

Finley grinned and snatched the rope from his hands. “Happy to be of service. Help me tie him up.”

It was at this point that the door to the room crashed open—thanks to the sole of Sam’s boot. He, Emily and Griffin all rushed in. Sam in trousers and an untucked shirt, Emily in her nightgown and Griffin in nothing but a pair of trousers.

Finley wasn’t the least bit ashamed of stopping what she was doing to simply admire the view.

“What happened?” Griffin demanded.

“Assassins,” she replied as she pulled the limp man’s legs up so Jasper could bind them with a pair of braces and then secure them to the man’s wrists. “One for me and one for Jasper. A lovely gift, courtesy of Reno Dalton if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re not,” Jasper replied. His voice was slightly hoarse from being strangled. “He’s the only one who would know to find you and me in the same place.”

Griffin offered his hand to help her to her feet. She didn’t need any help, but she accepted the gesture, regardless. When she stood, he pulled her against him in a fierce hug. If he planned to do this every time someone tried to kill her, she might risk her life more often.

She returned the hug—shamefully, more so she could touch his naked back than comfort him in any way. His skin was warm and smooth. Muscles twitched beneath her palms. When he pulled back their gazes locked, and she knew— knew—that if they had been alone, he would have kissed her.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No.” Reluctantly, she released him. “But Jasper is.”

Emily swept forward, her bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her white cotton nightdress. “Let me see.” Jasper had no choice but to stand and offer her a view of his bare throat.

And of course, Sam scowled because the cowboy was wearing a robe and showing an indecent amount of collarbone.

“Sam, could you fetch my bag?” Emily asked. “I need to put some salve on these abrasions.”

Sam hurried off to do as she asked and returned in a few moments. While Emily tended to Jasper, the big lad hoisted the assassin over his shoulder.

“There’s one of those in my room, too,” Finley informed him. “Do you want me to help?”

“I’ve got it” came the stern reply, and he walked from the room as though carrying nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

“You’re going to have to pay for that door.” Finley nodded at the splintered wood.

Griffin shrugged. “I would have had him go right through the bloody wall if necessary.” He glanced at Jasper. “Your window’s seen a lot of traffic tonight.”

The cowboy chuckled—a hoarse sound. “Maybe I should put in a toll.”