DangerbyDalliance (15 page)

He exited his steam coach in front of the seven-story red
brick building. The architect Norman Shaw had done a great job at getting the
Met what it needed, but it was still a little weird to look for Johnson at New
Scotland Yard on the Embankment instead of the old building.

A breeze brought the scent of the Thames. Archer grimaced as
he walked up the steps and into the main hallway. He nodded to the constable
standing behind the reception desk. He’d been a regular visitor over the last
few years and knew his way around. He took the stairs to the fourth floor and
turned left until he reached the homicide department.

The double doors swung inward and opened up to a large main
room with three smaller offices running along the far wall. A row of desks
surrounded by busy constables filled the center. He nodded at a few
acquaintances and strode toward Johnson’s office. Its door swung open before he
reached it and his friend marched toward him.

“Hey, Latimer, sorry, can’t stop. Just caught a case.”

Archer turned and strode beside his friend. “I fixed the
machine.”

Johnson stopped mid-stride, his eyes wide. “Seriously?”

Archer shrugged. “It came to me in the middle of the night.”

Johnson laughed and continued to walk. “That is excellent
news. When can we have the first finished prototype?”

“It’ll take a little time. I need to speak with Rigdon
before I can even show it to you.” During the ride over he had realized he had
no desire to be part of the hubbub of being the inventor. His adjustments had
made the machine functional, but it had been Rigdon’s vision that made it
possible. “It is his invention. He did all the work and deserves the credit. I
only tweaked it.”

Out of the corner of his eye Archer caught a gentleman they
walked past freezing mid-step. He clutched a small stack of papers, crumpling
them nearly beyond repair. He blinked rapidly.

Johnson strode on. There was something in the man’s manner
that rubbed Archer the wrong way. He followed his friend, but remained aware of
the other man.

Johnson turned back to him and waited when he realized
Archer had fallen behind. “How long will all of your—” He waved his arms
around. “All your planning and getting together take?”

Archer paused beside him. The other man did the same just a
few steps away from them, suddenly being incredibly busy with his papers. “Not
as long as you think. Rigdon is pretty amenable. Once I explain the urgency he
won’t stand in your way.”

“Great.” Johnson nodded. They headed downstairs.

“You have to understand I only tested the machine once on
the bill you gave me. We will have to run more tests under standardized
conditions before we can roll them out across the country.”

Johnson shrugged. “If you say it works, it works. Do
whatever tests you have to, but get us the finished product as soon as
possible.”

“Do you have more notes I can use for the tests?”

His friend made a face. “I will have a selection delivered
to your house. You will have to keep them under lock and key and return them
once you’re done.” They’d reached the outside and Johnson’s MENV. He pulled a
pair of sleek goggles out of his pocket and put them on.

“That is not a problem. When will they arrive?”

Johnson climbed into the vehicle. “I’ll probably be some
time, but hopefully not too late tonight. I am heading to Hyde Park. A body was
found aboard the
Venia
.”

“That should be interesting.” The
Venia
was an
airship rumored to be part gambling hell, part brothel, but in truth was a
highly exclusive club that gave its members the opportunity to express their
sexual desires in a like-minded crowd. Very little was known about the owner.

“It certainly will be.” Johnson’s expression was grim, but
the excitement of the hunt filled his eyes.

Archer nodded and stepped back. He watched as his friend
maneuvered his vehicle and slid into traffic, his distant curiosity on what
Johnson would find superseded by his own chase.

He leaned on his cane for a moment and studied the people
streaming by. There he was. The same man from upstairs, this time wearing his
coat and hat, hurried past him.

Archer followed.

He pulled out the remote and signaled his driver to come
after him. Two clicks came back, indicating that the order had been understood.
He swung his cane and studied the area like someone trying to decide where to
go next.

Not that he needed to. The other man paid him no attention
but strode along the walkway, away from the water. Archer fell in line behind
him, keeping his distance and prepared to turn and look at the stalls lining
the area at a moment’s notice.

The man didn’t turn around even once. After a ten-minute
walk he waved down an old-fashioned horse-drawn hansom. Archer pulled out a
small AetherCam and snapped a shot of man and carriage. Then he paused just
beside the road and waited for his steam coach to arrive. He gave the driver
the signal not to disembark and climbed aboard.

Inside the coach he connected to his driver and programmed
him to follow the hansom. As soon as the details had uploaded they were on
their way. Archer flipped open a section of the padded side of the coach to
reveal a small AetherScreen. He connected the Cam and watched the hansom appear
as a flashing blip. With a flick he overlaid London maps, but he couldn’t
predict where the hansom would go next, making the layers of maps unwieldy. He
removed them again and instead looked out of the window to remain aware of the
direction.

They traveled past Charing Cross and slowed down somewhat
due to traffic to turn onto Charing Cross Road. Archer frowned. Who was he
going to in Tottenham?

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. They went past Tottenham
Court and turned onto Oxford Street. He tapped his finger against his leg,
watching the blip for any inconsistencies. Everything worked fine. The hansom
was only a few yards in front of him.

When the blip stopped he instructed his driver to do the
same. He climbed out and searched for the man. It took him a few minutes and he
only caught the back of the coat before it disappeared into an office.

Archer waited for a moment and followed. The plaque on the
door pronounced
Melvin Kemmer, Her Majesty’s Tax Collector
. A heavy
feeling settled into his stomach. He opened the door and stepped into the
office. His target stood just inside a doorway at the other end of the room
with a tall, distinguished-looking man. The second man appeared apoplectic. His
face was bright red. “Are you kidding me?” echoed throughout the office before
the door slammed. For a second the staff paused, only to pick up again at
double the speed.

Archer turned to the receptionist. “Excuse me, where can I
find Mr. Kemmer?”

The young man paled and his gaze shifted to the office. “I
am very sorry, sir. He has just stepped into a last-minute meeting. Would you
like to make an appointment?”

Archer shook his head, gave his thanks and walked back out.

Instead of turning to the coach he strode along the street.
With each step he slammed his cane down with more force than necessary. He had
no real idea what had just happened, but his gut was churning as it always did
when shit was about to explode in his face.

With a curse he whirled around and marched back to the
coach. People moved out of his way.

Whatever was going on, he’d have some of his people keep an
eye on Mr. Kemmer. It was no coincidence that the man he followed had raced
here after overhearing Archer and Johnson talking about the success of the
Rigdon’s Banknote Verification Device.

And he would find out what the connection was.

The next morning Sarah decided to go to Warren and Archer in
the late afternoon, close to early evening. It meant having to wait a nearly
endless day until she could see them again. She had to force herself to focus
on the bookkeeping and not just pull on her coat and rush out the door.

Finally she gave up on the books and grabbed the new issue
of
The Daily Telegraph
’s travel edition, which had arrived yesterday.
Her imagination ran wild as she followed the young narrator on his adventure,
but it was not focused on the wilderness or the animals. Instead it ran wild
with images of naked Warren and Archer striding across the plains of the
savannah, the sunlight glinting off their gleaming bodies.

She would wait in the shade of an acacia tree, a soft
blanket beneath her naked skin. A breeze caressed the tight tips of her breasts
and her moist center. She arched her back at the sensations racing through her.
Her men stood at her feet, their maleness overwhelming and inciting at the same
time.

“Touch yourself.”

Archer’s order hit her like lightning. His harsh voice
rasped across her senses. Sarah swallowed, uncertain if she could fulfill his
command.

“We won’t come any closer until you do.” Warren broadened
his stance, his jaw set.

Her breath caught inside her chest. She bit her lip. Then
she slowly raised her hand and flattened her palm on the curve of her stomach.

Archer set his hands on his hips, his dark eyes burning with
an inferno. His penis was rock hard and rose toward his tight abdomen. She
wanted to reach out to him and touch. As if reading her mind he shook his head
and wrapped his hand around his member. “You won’t get this or this.” To her
complete surprise he grasped Warren’s hard rod.

Her mouth went dry. Shivers raced through her when he rubbed
his thumb up and down Warren’s dick. Never in her life had she imagined that a
man would touch and caress another man like that outside of books. It should
have shocked her back to real life, but instead it entranced her.

Far more so than she had ever imagined.

She gathered her courage and moved her hand down her body
until she reached the apex of her thighs.

“Keep going,” Warren said. “Open that sweet little pussy to
us.”

She shivered at his words and opened her legs. She couldn’t
look away from Archer’s hand, moving up and down Warren’s rod. It was as if one
of the illustrations from Beatrice’s father’s books had stepped off the page.
She just wanted to keep watching the two men together.

They were beautiful. But more than that, there was an energy
between them that drove the need inside her higher and higher. One hand moved
through her curls, getting closer to her moist center. The other hand cupped
her breast and caressed the sensitive nipple.

Warren’s head dropped back and his eyes blazed with arousal.
“I cannot wait to taste you again.”

Sarah clenched her fingers around her nipple, his words
pushing her straight back to when Warren had first touched her between her
legs. She whimpered.

Archer released Warren, his groan echoing around the three
of them. “This time it will be a little different,” Archer said. “I will eat
your pussy and you will suck Warren’s cock.”

She pushed her hands between her legs and caressed her
tender opening. She was wet, so very, very wet. Sarah teased her outer lips and
then worked her way in. With two fingers she spread the moisture up and down. Her
other hand circled her nipple.

Archer and Warren stared at her, their eyes filled with
flames.

Heaviness invaded her body. She spread her fingers and
stroked her clitoris. Her back arched. Tingles spread across her center,
radiating out into every part of her body, adding to the intermittent shivers.

Sarah focused her attention on the button at the top of her
sex, her fingers rubbing back and forth, touching, feeling, experimenting. It
was amazing. Nothing at all like her feeble attempts before. Now she’d climbed
the peak and knew the way. Her breaths came in short bursts.

Archer and Warren both had their hands around their members,
but never looked away from her. Power and confidence filled her.

These two amazing men desired her. Enjoyed her pleasuring
herself.

She panted and rubbed her clitoris. That was nearly enough.
She was so close to that wonderful moment when the real world and fantasy
combined.

Just a few more touches. A couple more strokes.

She groaned.

Just one more touch and she would fly off the cliff. One
more cir—

Loud banging flung her back to the real world. Sarah’s eyes
shot open. She was in her sitting room, her hand between her legs, her fingers
moist, passion raging inside her. She froze. It all had been a dream, a
fantasy.

Everything except the loud banging on her front door.

She sat up and wiped her hand on a handkerchief before
setting herself to rights and getting to her feet. Her knees wobbled for a
second before she poured strength into them. She took a calming breath, walked
to her front door and opened it.

Sarah came face-to-face with the young man she’d seen in
Kemmer’s office. “Yes?”

He presented her with an envelope. “Mr. Kemmer asked me to
drop this off here.”

Her mouth went dry. “He did?”

The young man didn’t meet her gaze. “Yes. This morning. The
minute I came in to work.”

She struggled to breathe as her throat constricted. Sarah
took the envelope with two fingers, not wanting to touch it at all. “Thank
you.” Not giving him opportunity to reply she closed the door in his face and
carried the letter to the dining room table where she set it down.

Her stomach churned as she stared at it. “What does he want
now?” Her voice echoed around the empty room.

Empty. Of course it was empty. Her father was off to Lord
knew where.

And Archer and Warren did not belong to this part of her life,
this dark and desperate part. She would not let it touch them. Not after the
delight and happiness they had shared with her.

She clasped and unclasped her hands, attempting to get rid
of the shivers, and tore open the envelope. Inside was a missive.

Miss Rigdon,

It has come to my attention once again that you are
attempting to steal from Her Majesty by not declaring the full amount of your
taxable income. I expect you at this address by eleven o’clock or I will
contact the Metropolitan Police and have you arrested for tax evasion.

Yours sincerely,

Melvin Kemmer

He had added the directions underneath his signature.

Sarah had a quick look at the clock. She barely had enough
time to make it without being late. Still, she just stood there for a moment,
feeling as if she were being pulled into all directions. Why was he so
insistent that they’d held something back?

She wiped her moist palms on her skirt and straightened her
shoulders. No other way than to go and find out.

She went and pulled on her coat. Her father’s second coat
hung beside hers. Sarah picked up one sleeve, the cuff a little tatty, but he
wouldn’t let her mend it. He liked it as it was. She wished he were here now
and could go with her. Even if he wouldn’t be able to stand up to Kemmer, it
would have been nice to have someone beside her.

With a curse Sarah shook off her woolgathering, grabbed
gloves and hat and hurried outside. She managed to stop one of the steam
hansoms and gave the driver the directions.

A short while later, just before eleven o’clock, she arrived
outside a nice terrace of houses with a white stucco façade. She exited,
searching the front doors for house numbers. Once she’d found the correct
number she tugged on her cuffs until they were just so and ensured her coat was
buttoned all the way.

Sarah lifted her chin, walked up the three steps and
knocked.

It opened a few moments later and Kemmer stood in the
doorway. “Ah, you are here. Very good.” He stepped back and opened the door all
the way. “Come in.”

She didn’t like the idea of having him at her back so she
stepped through as quickly as she could, probably appearing as if rushing into
Kemmer’s house. But she didn’t care. As long as she was five steps away from
him she was good.

Holding her purse before her she asked, “Why are we meeting
at your house and not at your office?”

He studied her with a grave face and malicious smile. “I did
not think you wanted what I have to show you make it to my office.”

The churning in her stomach increased and bile climbed up
her throat. “What are you speaking of?”

“Let me show you.” He strode along a narrow corridor and
through the third door into a crammed office. An uncomfortable chair sat before
a desk. Paper stained with ink and crumbs of dry ink covered the left side of
the desk. Sarah had an idea what Kemmer had used both of them for, but no
proof.

She sat, her back straight. “Why am I here?”

Kemmer sat at the desk and cranked a small generator, which
connected to an old-fashioned AetherScreen. She couldn’t see the image that
flickered to life. The screen was turned toward Kemmer.

“I do not like it when someone lies to me, Miss Rigdon. I
thought I had made that very clear.”

“Mr. Kemmer, I am not lying to you. Why do you keep
insisting that I am?”

“Because a source has informed me that your father’s
Rigdon’s Banknote Verification Device is functional after Mr. Latimer fixed an
issue.”

“Then your source has better information than I do. My
father has not signed a contract or in any shape or form earned an income from
this so-called working machine. There is no way you can tax us on it.”

“I can do whatever I want, Miss Rigdon, and there is nothing
you can do about it.”

Sarah stiffened. “I don’t like your tone.”

“And I don’t care about what you like or dislike.”

She froze for a moment, then jumped to her feet. “I will not
be spoken to in that manner. I am leaving.”

“Get yourself back into the chair or I will share these
lovely images of you and your lovers with the rest of London.”

As she turned back to him he swiveled his screen to reveal a
number of images of her and Warren and Archer. In one Archer kissed her, Warren
stood beside her. In the next she was in Archer’s arms when Warren kissed her
cheek. They’d been taken outside Archer’s back entrance after the last time
Kemmer had upset her.

The images were just good enough to show all their faces.

And would ruin her reputation if they were ever made public.

Her knees weakened. She sank back into her chair. Nausea
filled her. “How in the Empire’s name did you get these?”

He shrugged. “I have my ways.”

Sarah had to swallow, twice, before she could say the words.
“You had me followed.”

He shrugged. “Of course I did. I dislike it immensely when
my plans are waylaid. When your situation changed so suddenly I wanted to know
how that happened.” He gestured at the images. “I don’t understand why my offer
was so different from you selling yourself to Latimer and Dorvee. Maybe a whore
like you needs more than one man to keep her satisfied.”

Too many emotions and responses raced through Sarah. She
needed to leave. But she couldn’t. “What do you want?”

Kemmer’s smile made her shiver. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing
big.” His smile grew so broad his yellow teeth became visible. “I want you to
turn down any contracts offered to your father for this Rigdon’s Banknote
Verification Device. I want all your father’s notes and blueprints. Someone
will be outside your house once you get home. I want you to stop any and all
contact with your men. And I want the only working prototype of the machine.”
He presented his palms to her. “And don’t worry about your precious body. Now
you’ve been used by those two sodomites I have no interest in touching you.”

His last words ground her circling thoughts to a halt. “What
do you mean?”

His jaw slackened. He threw back his head and laughed. “Oh
my goodness, you do not know. That is rather funny, seeing how you’ve been
going to them for nearly three weeks.” He chuckled. “They are probably playing
a long game.”

She blinked, desperately attempting to focus her thoughts.
Sweat stood on her forehead. “What…what do you mean?”

He rested his elbows on the desk and set his chin into his
hands. “Seeing that two men fucking are committing an illegal act under Her Majesty’s
law, they need a cover story.” He shrugged. “If one of them marries you and the
other stays the housemate,” he drew air quotes in the air, “then they have a
much better chance at avoiding prison time.”

She wanted to scream, to pound her hands onto his desk,
smack the arrogant smile off his face, but she couldn’t move even one muscle.
It was as if she were encased in ice.

He leaned back in his chair and waved her off. “Not my
problem.” His expression turned dark. “I want the prototype and I want you to
ensure that it never goes into manufacture.” He rose and leaned over the desk.
“Is that understood?”

Sarah nodded and also climbed to her feet, her fingers
clenched to keep their shaking hidden.

Kemmer walked to the office door. “Bring it to me tonight.” When
she opened her mouth to protest he raised one finger at her. “No. I don’t care
what your excuses are. I expect it before sunrise. Understood?”

She nodded and carefully walked out of his office and out of
his house. The steam hansom waited as she had requested. She gave directions
and climbed in, her whole body numb.

One breath at a time. That was all she could do right now. She
would come up with a solution, she always did, but right now panic raced
through every cell in her body.

In and out.

Were Archer and Warren really using her? She’d thought their
emotions were genuine, had believed their feelings for her were deepening same
as her feelings for them grew with every day.