For the same reason that the hotel was so quiet, Finley assumed they would have a difficult time finding a cab. She was wrong. There was one sitting just around the corner. Apparently New York, like London, was a city that rarely, if ever, slept.

Or perhaps the carriage was waiting for the assassins to finish the job and return them to Dalton.

“You waiting for these two?” Finley asked the driver.

The man’s eyes grew wide, the whites clearly visible in the light of the streetlamps. Sam turned his back to the man, so he could see his captives’ faces. The driver nodded. “Yes. They paid me to wait for their return.”

“Well, they’ve returned,” Sam replied glibly and proceeded to toss his burdens into the carriage.

Finley gave the driver Dalton’s address and climbed into the carriage behind Sam. The large young man sat across from her on the opposite side of the coach. The two men were piled on the floor between them. It might have been her imagination, but she was fairly certain the cab leaned to one side—Sam’s.

“How much do you weigh?” she inquired.

He frowned. “Plenty.”

Fair enough. She leaned back against the upholstery and remained silent for the rest of the trip. Obviously Sam had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. Huh. One might think that he was the one who was attacked by a hired assassin.

When they pulled up in front of Dalton’s abode, several windows glowed with light despite the late hour. Obviously he was expecting company.

Finley opened the cab door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. She pulled one of the men out into the night and tossed him unceremoniously onto the ground. His grunt was the only indication that he had regained consciousness.

Sam tossed the other out of the carriage. He landed with a groan next to his partner, so that both of them lay on the walkway leading to the front steps. Finley jogged toward the house. Her bare feet slapped on the cool ground—she’d have to wash them before she went back to bed.

She climbed the steps and rang the bell—several times— before turning and running back to the cab. “Get in,” she commanded Sam. Then to the driver, “As soon as I give the word, you get us out of here as fast as you can.”

He nodded. “Yes, miss.”

The front door of the house opened just as Finley jumped into the coach. Pivoting on her heel, she turned with a grin. Little Hank bent his head to walk out the door. It didn’t take him long to see the men on the walk.

“Give Dalton my best, will you, ducks?” she called out. The behemoth looked at her in disbelief, and then she had the pleasure of seeing Dalton come to the door. His too handsome face hardened into sheer rage. Finley waggled her fingers at him and then yelled at the driver to drive away. She didn’t want to risk the poor man’s life, and Dalton was sure to have a pistol nearby if not on him.

The steam carriage sped down the street, but no shots were fired. Finley was almost disappointed.

“That was a bit of fun, wasn’t it?” she remarked, feeling as though she’d eaten too much sugar—her insides positively buzzed with energy.

“We could have grabbed him,” Sam replied, his frown slightly deeper than usual.

“And do what with him? We can’t prove he hired those men. We can’t prove he means to steal anything. The only thing we could prove is that he shot at Jasper and myself, and Jasper is still considered a wanted criminal. No, we let him make his move, and then we take him.”

To her surprise, a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re starting to sound like Griffin.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“By all means, if you reckon sounding arrogant, demanding and overbearing is a good thing.”

She stared at him for a second before bursting out laughing. He laughed, too. She didn’t know what she’d done to warrant this friendliness, but it was nice being able to talk to him without feeling like there was bad blood between them. It was almost as though they could forget that he had tried to kill her and that she had almost killed him.

They arrived back at the hotel and had to use Sam’s telegraph machine—that he had been smart enough to bring— to ask Griffin to come down and pay the driver as neither of them had any money on them. When he arrived Finley noticed, with chagrin, that he had put a shirt on.

“Did Dalton see them?” Griffin asked.

“He certainly did,” she replied. “I’ve no doubt he wants my head so badly now, he can taste it.”

His smile twisted. “Nice image.”

The three of them rode the lift up to their floor, and after checking on Jasper, Griffin walked Finley back to her room. He kissed her on the forehead before she slipped through the open door. Smiling—more from the kiss than from rubbing Dalton’s face in his failure—she closed the window and locked it, then pulled the drapes closed, as well. Then she climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. There was so much to think about—so much to do and so much that had already been done—that she doubted she’d get any more rest that night.

She was sound asleep within five minutes.

Chapter 18

Finley liked dressing up, especially if the gown was also designed to give her freedom to kick arse.

The gown she had found at the shop—so pretty and dark purple—was just that sort of dress. The little puff sleeves did nothing to restrain her arms. The bodice was snug, but she wore a flexible corset beneath so she could bend and move without difficulty. But the skirts were the true masterpiece. Today’s fashions were for lean skirts, which created a lovely silhouette, but were absolute rubbish for kicking or anything else that required lifting one’s leg any more than a thirty degree angle. The skirt on Finley’s gown was constructed of individual pieces and layers of fabric. The result looked very much like the petals of a rose. It was beautiful, and best of all she could kick as high as her head in it—it would reveal a shocking amount of her leg if she did, but the mobility was worth it.

She and Emily had helped each other with their hair and in getting dressed. Emily was beautiful in her golden gown that made her skin look like ivory. Finley had coiled the ropes of her hair on top of her head in an elegant topknot, which showed off the length of her neck. In exchange, Emily had gathered Finley’s hair into a loose cloud high on the back of her head. It looked like the whole of it might fall at any moment, but it was as secure as Westminster Abbey.

Neither of them had much jewelry, just the small gold earrings they’d purchased the day Griffin made them go shopping. But with gowns like these—especially Emily’s—little jewelry was better.

“The lads are going to fall all over themselves when they see us,” Emily predicted, patting her hair.

“They’d better,” Finley added. “It’s taken hours for us to look like this. I would hope they’d appreciate it.”

They were just about to meet the boys in Griffin’s room when Emily hesitated. “What’s wrong?” Finley asked.

“It’s Jasper,” the redhead replied, her pretty face all concern. “His poor heart must be broken, being used like that by a girl he loved.”

“This whole mess is because of her,” Finley added. “I wager she was the one who knew Jas would recover the machine to protect her. The collar was probably her idea, as well. She’s a coldhearted slag.”

“Maybe we could find him someone new in London.” Finley smiled. Emily seemed to have a penchant for matchmaking. Maybe her love of fixing machines made her want to fix people, too. “Or we could let him do that himself— when he’s ready.”

Emily obviously preferred her own suggestion but saw the merit in Finley’s, as well. That was the end of their discussion of the brokenhearted cowboy. They had an event to get to and a villain to stop.

And then they could go home. As fantastic as the city was, Finley couldn’t say that she’d be sorry to leave it. Not after the “adventure” they’d had.

Her friend had been correct in one thing, however, Finley realized as they entered Griffin’s room—the boys did look as though they might fall over at the sight of them.

“Amazing what the right dress can do, isn’t it?” Finley asked with a slightly embarrassed grin.

Griffin offered her his arm. “It’s not the dress—it’s the girl.”

She blushed as she tucked her arm around his. She wasn’t certain how to react when he said such things, because she knew he meant them.

Behind her, she heard Sam tell Emily how pretty she was. She could tell he meant it, too.

“I think we’re all dang pretty,” Jasper commented, sounding more like his former self. “Me especially.”

Finley grinned at him. “Perhaps we can simply dazzle Dalton into surrendering, eh, Jas?”

He stared at her, a surprised light in his green eyes. Finley realized she had started to refer to him by the nickname a few days ago. It was a sign of how quickly she had come to think of him as a dear friend, and he knew it.

Poor thing. She really just wanted to hug him and tell him it would be all right. Bloody hell, now she was starting to think like Emily. Next, she’d probably try bringing nice girls home to meet him.

“Maybe, Miss Finley. Maybe.”

Despite the gravity of their situation, their spirits were fairly high as they climbed into a shared cab that was fortunately large enough for the five of them—Sam took up the space of two people. And why shouldn’t their mood be bright? They knew what they had to do, how to do it and had the confidence that they would each be able to play their roles. Sam was their physical strength and would provide muscle, as would Finley. Emily was in charge of gadgets and anything mechanical. If she was able to get close to Dalton’s machine, she would be able to disarm it with a touch, but if she couldn’t, then Griffin would find its Aetheric signature and do it remotely. And Jasper would do anything that required speed or accuracy. The boy could shoot a marble at a hundred yards while at a dead run—faster than any of the rest of them could ever imagine.

And she … well, she was willing to play a little dirtier than her friends.

They would not let Dalton succeed, and they would certainly not let him escape. Finley was the only one who held the same determination where Mei was concerned. She would not allow the girl to get away after all she’d done to Jasper.

The Museum of Science and Invention was located in a fashionable neighborhood near 2nd Avenue and 11th Street. It was a stately stone building, which looked as though it might have been a wealthy family’s address rather than a place where art and scientific discoveries were displayed.

The area teemed with steam carriages, horses and street cars. Men and women in elegant clothes and glittering jewels streamed into the facility, their conversations a low buzz mingling with the sounds of the street and city.

Finley felt like a princess as she entered the society building on Griffin’s arm. She hadn’t said anything, but he looked absolutely gorgeous in his black-and-white evening clothes. Really, if she was honest with herself, she thought he’d look gorgeous in a burlap sack. Jasper and Sam looked very handsome, as well. It was odd to see Jasper in anything but his hat and casual kit.

The building was just as impressive inside as out. Pale walls showcased beautiful, colorful paintings of all sizes. Glass cases on tables and pedestals held delicate and priceless treasures.

“It’s amazing,” she breathed.

Griffin smiled at her. “We can go to some of these sort of events in London if you like.”

For a moment, Finley’s heart jumped at the idea, but then she remembered that she was not of the same social sphere as Griffin. Here, they could pretend, but back home, everyone would know she was lower-class and shun her. They might shun him, and she didn’t want to be responsible for that.

“Perhaps,” she replied around the fist-size lump in her throat and then glanced away before he could see the truth in her eyes—that they would never attend such an event in London.

Griffin didn’t seem to notice her change in demeanor, for which Finley was thankful. He turned to the rest of their party. “Keep your eyes open for Dalton or any of his gang. Check your communication devices.”

Emily offered each of them the small metal buds to put in their ears that amplified sound and voice. Each was attuned to the frequencies of their individual voices, so while they would pick up some background noise, they would amplify anything they wished to communicate with one another so that it could be heard by the rest, even in different parts of the building.

Each of them said something in a whisper and the others nodded if they heard it. When they were convinced the system was working, they split up: Finley and Griffin, Sam and Emily, and Jasper on his own. Since he would be a primary target for Dalton, the rest would make certain to keep an eye on him, as well.