by Riley Cole
“Satan’s balls.” Sweet tore off his noxious apron and heaved it down the alley. “Who the hell are you?”
Meena kicked the iron hoop from a broken barrel down the alley. “This is exceedingly disappointing.”
The rest of the group looked equally dejected. Edison stared down at the ground. Briar hurled throwing stars into a crate. One after the other, they bit into the wood with a soft thunk.
Spencer ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “We can’t leave him here.”
“Why not?” Briar pulled a coil of rope from her purse. “I say leave him for the night watchman to find.”
Edison threw her an incredulous look. “So he can give more evidence against us? Jewel theft and kidnapping? That should help.”
“And you have a better idea?” Briar planted her hands on her hips. “Maybe you could invent a dis-apparating device, turn us all into cabbages.”
“We take him with us.” Spencer was staring up at the sliver of moon. “You’ve got the safe house arranged for Ramsay. This man works for him. He’ll have information we need.”
Edison looked at Meena. “Do we risk it?”
She studied the figure splayed out on the cobbles. “Spencer —I mean, Crane--is right. He may have information we need.”
Meena chose to ignore the question in Edison’s eyes. She gestured to Briar. “Let’s get to the carriage. We’ll send Mr. Hapgood back to help the men.”
Before anyone could protest, she hurried off to their waiting transportation.
By the time their retainer met the men, they had already dragged their prisoner to the mouth of the alley. The carriage was a bit crowded with the addition of another body, but Meena and Briar had their side of the coach to themselves. Spencer and Edison propped their new captive between them on the facing bench.
Meena was thankful Edison had disposed of his foul apron.
In any case, the ride was a short one. It seemed Edison had procured a vacant shop not far from Ramsay’s neighborhood.
She could’ve made quick work of the cheap lock on the front door, but Edison opened it the conventional way, with a key. While Mr. Hapgood drove the carriage out of sight, the four of them hustled their prisoner into the deserted shop.
Spencer held the man upright while Edison locked the door behind them.
“This is it?” Briar was standing in the middle of the empty, but somehow exceedingly dusty space, her hands spread wide.
Her brother rolled his eyes. “I’ve arrange things upstairs. The apartments are quite comfortable. This’ll be my workshop. Mrs. Hapgood’s been hinting she’d rather have my space for a pantry.”
Meena smiled. He sounded so surprised. She had a hunch Mrs. Hapgood would be happy to have the space empty, if it meant an end to the explosions, the foul smells, and the occasional lightning strikes regularly emanating from Edison’s laboratory.
Edison and Spencer dragged the man up the narrow staircase to the landing between the two small apartments.
Edison shoved open the door to the furthest room. It was nothing more than a small bedroom with a washstand and a window facing the back alley. Edison being Edison, he’d already prepared the room to hold Ramsay. Iron bars covered the smallish window, and he had stripped the room of a all unnecessary objects, leaving just the bed and a thick blanket.
Meena left it to the men to secure their prisoner. She followed Briar into the second, larger apartment at the front of the building.
It was surprisingly lovely.
The small parlor was well-furnished. A fire glowed in the grate. On the right, there was a kitchen just big enough for one person to cook. On the left, an adequate bedroom.
The furnishings had been chosen with a great deal of thought and taste. Even the small bedroom, though it held little more than a featherbed, looked inviting. She couldn’t imagine her cousin putting so much thought into a space that had nothing whatever to do with laboratory equipment.
And then it occurred to her. Her cheeks flamed.
Edison had had help. Feminine help.
She could imagine meeting Spencer in such a space. It would be ever so romantic. Illicit. And idiotic. Still, just thinking about planning such assignations fired her senses. She could feel the slide of silk against her bare skin. Feel his hands, stroking her, building the tension higher, higher, until…
She sighed. No sense imagining things that would never be.
“I can’t believe my brother is such a capable decorator.” Briar eyed the well-planned rooms with a puzzled frown. Then her eyes met Meena’s, and her mouth rounded in surprise. “Oh.”
“Exactly.”
Briar thought for a moment. “I wasn’t aware Edison was currently attached.”
“Is that what he calls it?”
Briar laughed. “He might if he talked about it at all. He’s so dreadfully secretive." As the laughter drained out of her, she sank down on the new-looking red velvet sofa. With her face no longer brightened by humor, she looked tired and discouraged and terribly young.
Meena squeezed her shoulder. “The plan will still work. It’s just going to be more… complicated. I imagine everyone’s hungry. Why don’t you put together a cold collation. I'll see what this man knows.”
Meena joined the men in the prisoner’s room. Stepping between Spencer and her cousin, she folded her arms across her chest and stared down at the older man. “What does he know?”
The man was awake now and sitting up on the narrow bed. He was younger than she had first thought. He wasn’t elderly, just hard used.
Meena flinched at the fear in his eyes. “We aren’t going to hurt you.”
Spencer snorted. “That’s not necessarily true.” He wrapped his hands around the brass bedstead and loomed over the man. “You chose the wrong man to work for. Your boss is the one we want. The boss that left you for dead.”
Fully conscious now, the man watched them, studying their faces for the least sign of weakness.
“Your boss framed my friends and I,” Spencer said. “Got the crushers on us. We intend to make it right. Seems it’s your bad luck to get caught in the middle.”
The man sighed as if he’d heard it all.
“You’ve got two choices.” Edison shouldered his way to the edge of the bed. “You can be our friend, or you can stick with that weasel who left you behind. Doesn’t seem like it’d be a difficult choice to me.”
Now the man seemed genuinely confused.
Meena tapped her cousin on the shoulder. “Perhaps if we explain this another way, Mr.—?”
The man crossed his arms over his chest and gave a nasty laugh. “Not gonna catch me up like that. I ain’t giving you my name.”
Meena stared at the ceiling. “I don’t care what your name is. Perhaps you don’t recognize politeness when you see it.” Damnation but this was becoming far more difficult than she had expected.
And now, she was hungry. The smell of fresh bread from the other room was making her stomach turn somersaults.
Spencer pushed back from the bed. “Well that’s it then. Tomorrow morning we take him to the inspector.”
“Wait.” Their prisoner jumped forward until the handcuffs clanked. “You can’t do that.”
Spencer’s smile was most insincere. “I believe I can.”
“You can’t give me up. The boss would—” Fear seemed to close the man’s throat.
“Ramsay?” Meena sniffed. “What could he do?”
She studied the slender man. Their prisoner was far more street tough than Ramsay would ever be. His fear puzzled her to no end.
“Who’s Ramsay?”
Spencer stiffened next to her. “Your boss. The man who pays you.” Irritation roughened his voice.
The man shook his head. “That skinny bloke? The dark-haired one?”
Spencer nodded.
“It ain’t him what pays me.”
Spencer shot Meena and Edison a quick glance. “Who does?”
The man’s mouth clamped shut. H
e seemed to shrink back against the bedstead.
Edison threw up his hands. “That’s enough of this game.” He motioned to Meena and Spencer to leave. “You can talk to the peelers tomorrow.”
“Wait,” the man pleaded. “You can’t take me in. They’ll kill me.”
Spencer turned back. “The police won’t kill you.”
“Not the police, you cabbage head. The rich git’s giant. He’ll slit my throat.”
They all three stopped, turned, and walked back to the bed.
Meena focussed on the man’s pale face. “Who’ll kill you?”
He hesitated, his wide, frightened gaze moving from Meena to Spencer. “It’s a toff. A rich one. He’s got this big ugly giant what works for him. The big man’s the one who paid me and the others. He pays this Ramsay. I’ve seen him with the bobbies. Pays them, too."
Edison moved in close behind them. “Tell us about this toff.”
The man shook his head, more out of fear than stubbornness, Meena guessed.
“There’s no need to fear Jamison Ramsay,” she assured him. “We’ll take care of him.”
“That jumped up cockle brain?” The man threw Meena a disgusted look. “It ain’t him what worries me.” He bent his head. “It’s the big boss. That toff and his giant. There’s no handling them. Not for you. Not for anybody.”
“He hasn’t met up with us yet.” Spencer shared a grim look with Meena and Edison.
The tough’s lips twisted in a sly grin. “I wouldn’t be so certain of meself, was I you. The toff’s the one what wants you.” His grin widened into an unpleasant smile. “He wants you both.”
Spencer caught her gaze. Schooled as they were in the art of concealing their feelings, his shock showed as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud.
That, more than anything, made her afraid.
Meena finished the last of her tea and studied their dejected little group.
They were all better with some food in their bellies, to be sure, but the night’s work was far from done. So far, capturing one of Ramsay’s men had posed more questions than it had solved.
She leaned back against the hard cushions of the sofa.
Far more questions.
Dangerous ones.
With his catlike grace, Edison hurried back into the apartment and shut the door. “He has no idea who this toff is.” He dropped into the chair by the small fireplace. “The only name he knows is Ramsay’s.”
“Damnation.” Spencer threw his napkin down on his empty plate.
“That’s not the worst of it.” Edison rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Says he saw the rich bloke a couple times. Once, he and another hired hand were at the docks with Ramsay. According to him, the rich man had his bloke knife the other rough right in front of him. Says the big man made him and Ramsay toss the body in the river.”
Spencer scrubbed at the evening stubble darkening his chin. “Sounds like we’re talking about a member of Society.”
“Possibly. That or someone on Blackborough’s level.” Edison sighed. “Either way, Ramsay’s minder has enough money and power to kill whenever he likes.”
“What would he want with us?” Meena met Spencer’s gaze. “If it’s thieves he needs, there are plenty for hire.”
Spencer flinched. “Because of Ramsay. He hired Ramsay to recruit a crew. It’s what he’s good at. The rest is my fault.” He threw up his hands. “It started years ago. Ramsay tried to recruit me for a job. I didn’t like the looks of it, so I declined. He pulled the heist anyway. Got nicked.” Spencer’s sigh seemed to reach every corner of the room. “He blames me for the time he spent in Newgate.”
Meena’s spine stiffened with indignation. “That’s preposterous.”
“It’s true.”
Briar seemed lost in thought. “So Ramsay cozies up to a rich toff, says he’ll provide a team, and tries to blackmail you into it.” Anger flashed in her eyes. “I’ll wager he had no intention of letting you in on the cut, either.”
Meena grinned. Her cousin seemed more outraged at the intended cheating of a fellow thief than she did about the intended killing.
Edison crossed his leg over his knee. “So Ramsay’s the least of our problems now.”
“Most likely.” Spencer’s shoulders slumped. “This may have started out as Ramsay’s little revenge scheme, but now we’ve got a bigger player in the game.”
Edison closed his eyes, as if he could picture part of the puzzle in his mind. “But it’s not personal with this man. He relied on Ramsay to bring him a couple thieves. I say we take Ramsay down. If this rich gent is half as smart as he seems, he’ll walk away if we make too much trouble.”
Briar sat up. “I agree. Finding a thief in London’s easier than buying a bag of toffees.” She stopped. “Not thieves as good as you two are, mind, but still.”
“Our man knows more about Ramsay’s whereabouts than he’s telling.” Spencer caught Meena’s eye. “We found him once. Won’t be as hard next time.”
Edison looked thoughtful.
“He’s frightened.” Briar cocked her head toward their captive’s room. “What if he won’t talk to the police?”
Spencer leaned back against the sofa. “I’m sure that inspector’ll have him singing. He’ll offer him a deal. I’d let him go if it meant getting Ramsay.”
She should have been concentrating on the plan, too, but Meena was content to watch the byplay between Spencer and her cousins.
It was almost as if they were a team.
She put a hand to her stomach. A team. Imagine that. A few days ago, Edison wanted to kill him. She appreciated the sentiment, but it was rather like being guarded by a tiger.
And then there was Spencer.
Meena squirmed in her seat. She was trying so very hard not to take what passed between them to heart. It wasn’t working. Even more disconcerting, she didn’t seem to care.
Between the police and Ramsay’s mystery employer, it felt as if half of London was after them.
She should be more concerned. More focussed.
But she couldn’t get Spencer Crane out of her mind.
And she should. She was playing with fire. The more memories they made, the worse she’d be burned. Yet her heart refused to heed the warnings.
She wanted to be alone with him. Wanted him to kiss her, touch her, make love to her.
Damn the cost.
Spencer rubbed his eyes, then drew his hand down over his wicked, sensual lips. Just that small gesture made her breath catch.
Damn the cost indeed.
If the price of this folly would catch up with her anyway, she intended to get her money’s worth.
“We can’t keep him here. I agree the inspector is our best choice.” Briar had retreated to the corner of the room, where she was engaging in some of the exercises Master Tadeoka insisted would keep her in fighting form. Balancing on one foot, her other leg bent across her knee, she raised her arms straight overhead.
A low growl emanated from Edison’s side of the sofa. “Why should we trust this detective? Funny he turns up whenever Ramsay’s around. I don’t like the connection.”
Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “Good point. Our man did say whoever he works for has the police in his pocket.”
It was an excellent point.
Much of the force was rumored to be on the take. They must be exquisitely careful. “We need to make sure we speak only to the inspector,” Meena said. “If he is in this toff’s pocket, we’ll know quickly. Dealing with one man will make it all the much clearer.”
Spencer shot her in admiring look. “That makes sense. I say we try the inspector. If he’s on the take, we’ll make a new plan.”
Edison sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We can still send the police to Ramsay’s lodgings. The stash Briar planted’ll only strengthen our story.”
“Exactly.” Meena watched Briar stretch toward the ceiling. “Really, we’re not so far from where we started. Just a few extra steps.
”
With only the barest wobble, Briar bent forward, still on one leg. “It’s been ages since we planned a good kidnapping. I’m all for it.”
“We need to catch him out alone.”
Meena glanced over at Spencer. “You could offer to meet him.”
“He won’t come alone. He’ll bring as many constables as he can fit in a police wagon. I would.”
Meena grinned. “I’m counting on it. Briar and I will separate the good inspector from his men.”
“That would do it.” Edison clapped his hands together. The sharp sound echoed off the bare walls. “No one ever suspects the women.”
Briar had finished her exercises and was busy picking up the remains of their meal. “Got to be at the top of our game if we’re to capture a detective. We should get some rest. I’ll volunteer to put up with my brother’s snoring. You can thank me later.” She moved toward the bedroom.
Meena could have sworn there was an odd sparkle in her eyes.
Spencer yawned. “Best we don’t leave our guest unattended. I’ll take the first watch.”
With a low growl, Edison unfolded himself from the couch. “I’ll relieve you in a few hours.” He lumbered off after his sister.
“I’ll keep you company,” Meena offered.
She chose to interpret the surprise that swept across Spencer’s face as the happy sort of surprise.
He nodded. “We should keep the doors ajar. I want to be able to hear him.” He went to open the doors between the rooms.
Meena swung her legs up onto the sofa. It was a most unladylike pose, but it had been a long day. Convention be damned.
Having open the doors between their apartment and their captive’s chamber, Spencer came back into the room. Between the sofa, a plump, overstuffed chair by the fire, and a small table with two dining chairs, he had numerous choices.
Her heart lifted when he crossed to the sofa. She pulled her legs back, making him room.
Spencer dropped down. “It’s been a hell of a night.”
“I’d feel better about all this if we’d gotten Ramsay, but I think our plan is sound.”
“If kidnapping a member of the Met is ever a good idea.” Spencer reached for her leg, drawing it upward, until her booted foot rested on his lap.