The Wild Adventure of Jasper Renn (The Steampunk Chronicles) (2 page)

Chapter Two

Jasper Renn was soaked in so much sweat his clothes clung to him like a second skin. He’d used his talent for moving incredibly fast to run around England—literally—and had returned to King House only seconds earlier. His body mercifully tired, he hauled himself upstairs to his room, shut the door and began undressing as he walked into the small, attached private bathing chamber.

He turned the taps in the tub until the water gushing from them was the right temperature, and then threw the lever that forced the stream to come out the shower attachment. Naked, he climbed in, letting the hot water rinse away the sweat and stink and uselessness he felt.

Miss Emily, darling of a girl, was lost. Taken. He’d just searched the entire country for a clue to her whereabouts and found nothing.
Nothing
. She couldn’t have dropped off the face of the earth, which just left the uncomfortable realization that he’d missed something.

But then, missing something seemed to be a talent of his, as well. He had missed that Mei, the girl he once loved with all his heart, was not who he thought she was. And he’d missed the fact that she loved someone else. In the end, he’d missed being able to save her, as well.

He didn’t blame Griffin for her death, not really. Griffin hadn’t known that his abilities would trap Mei in a wall, crushing her. Mostly Jasper blamed himself for not being able to stop her before she died. He blamed himself that she had fallen in with Reno Dalton. He blamed himself for a lot of things. He had more regrets than a man of eighteen should be carrying on his shoulders.

He couldn’t save Mei. Couldn’t find Emmy. And he couldn’t forget Cat. When he’d first gotten involved with Wildcat a couple years ago, he’d still been half in love with Mei. He’d told himself Cat was only having fun—like he was. When it came to lying to himself, he was plumb brilliant. The second time—he’d stopped by New York on his way back from San Fran a little while ago—he’d known it wasn’t just meaningless fun for either of them, but he’d still left. In fact, he couldn’t have run away fast enough. The joke was on him, though. He’d run away and thoughts of her followed him. Haunted him.

If Jasper regretted Mei, then he...well, he couldn’t think of an adequate word to describe the depth of his remorse where Cat was concerned, but it was deep. The bottomless kind. It had to be, because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She was fine, of course. That girl would always come out on top. He could write to her, but what would he say? That he was sorry, but he just couldn’t get involved with another girl who lived on the wrong side of the law? It made him sound like a pansy. And New York held too many painful memories for him to ever entertain living there. Besides, if Dalton ever got out of jail, he might come looking for revenge, and London would be a lot more difficult for him to get to, especially since Griffin had connections with the local port authorities.

No, London was where his life was now. Where his friends were. Where he wanted to be, even though it was sometimes painful to look Griffin in the eye, still ashamed of involving his friends in that mess. They had traveled all the way to Manhattan—at great expense—to bring him home, and learned all about his shady past in the process. Finley had even infiltrated Dalton’s gang and risked her own life to save him.

How could he ever begin to repay that kind of debt?

Tarnation, but he was tired of thinking about this stuff. Finally feeling clean, he turned the taps and dried off with a soft towel, which he then secured around his waist. He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up someone different.

Or at least have something to wake up for. It was maudlin, but a little happiness didn’t seem too much to ask.

Barefoot, he walked into his room, rubbing his hand in his hair to make the waves dry faster. He had just taken three steps in when he froze. Jasmine. Sunshine. He knew that scent. His heart slammed against the inside wall of his chest. His mouth dried up like the Nevada desert.

“Hey, Jas.”

That voice. He closed his eyes. Was this a joke? Had he finally lost his ever-loving mind? Now he was imagining her there—smelling her, even!

But that tingle between his shoulder blades—that was real. That sensation of knowing that if someone had a knife to bury in your back you’d be dying at that very moment. Very slowly, he turned, his hand instinctively going to his hip.

“You gonna shoot me with a towel?” There was mockery in that husky tone. “Or you got something under there I should know about?”

Jasper forced his shoulders to relax. Forced himself to relax. “Cat. What the blue blazes are you doing in London?” How had he managed to sound so calm and collected? She was in his bedroom—and he remembered things they’d done in hers—sitting there with dust on her boots, as if she owned the place. She’d removed her hat, and all her hair, that glorious riot of corkscrew curls, fell over her shoulders.

She had the
best
hair.

Gracefully, she rose out of the chair and walked toward him. Instinctively, he placed his hands in front of his privates, because she had the look of a woman intent on damaging a man. “Why, Jasper. I came to see you, of course.”

Were that but true. His heart reacted as though it was gospel and not a honeyed lie just to torment him. “The only way you’d come to see me is if I was hanging by a noose.” He knew it was true, because he had hurt her, and Cat was one of those women you could fight with, curse and wish to the very devil, and she’d still come back. But hurt her...

She stuck out her lower lip. She also had the best lips. Red and soft, he’d kiss them if he didn’t think he was in enough trouble already. “You make me sound evil.”

“No room for evil in you with all that pride takin’ up space,” he retorted. “Be honest, Cat. You didn’t come here for me. You’d rather poke out your own eye than confess to missing me, so why are you here?”

Something flickered in her eyes. Something strange. Could it be that she had actually missed him? He was such a dolt. Of course she’d missed him. Her feelings had been as sincere as his own.

“Sparrow,” she said softly. “She’s gone.”

Jasper frowned. “Gone? Oh, Cat. Do you mean she’s...dead?”

She shot him a look that said exactly how low she thought his intelligence. “No, I mean she ran off with a rich white man who promised her chocolates and flowers and pretty dresses.”

He swore. She chuckled dryly, as though he’d understated it. “How old is she?”

“Fifteen just this week.”

“How old is the bastard she ran off with?”

“Six and twenty.”

More swearing. Other girls would have squealed in disgust, but Cat looked as those she agreed wholeheartedly. “Do you know who he is?”

“Yeah. Fella not far from here, but that doesn’t matter now.”

“The hell it doesn’t! We’ll go get her and I’ll teach the bounder a thing or two about the dangers of molesting young girls.” Maybe six things—straight out of his Colt.

“She’s not there anymore.”

He hadn’t expected to hear that. “Where is she?”

“Not the foggiest.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze with a direct one of her own. “You and I are no good together, I know that, but I need your help. I know I’m not the easiest woman to get along with, but I wouldn’t come to you if it weren’t important. You and your friends know this city. I can track, but in a place this size it’s next to impossible unless I have a place to start. Will you help me?”

She made it sound as though maybe their breakup had been her fault. Maybe in a way it was, because of her criminal activity, but he’d been the one to run out. “You don’t even have to ask. The others are busy trying to find Emily, but I’ll help you.”

Cat’s brow puckered. “The one you had with you the day you came to collect your belongings?”

“No, that was Finley. Emily’s a sweet little Irish gal who has a way with machines. She disappeared—looks like abduction.”

“It’s contagious.”

If someone else had made that callous a joke, he would have blackened their eye, but somehow Cat managed to say these sorts of things and make the situation a little palatable. “Appears so.”

“Well, you don’t have to help me. I can do this on my own. You should go find your friend. It’s obvious you have a lot of tenderness t’ward her.”

Surprise took hold of his face. He could only imagine the hideous expression that surely had to be convulsing his features. “Miss Emily’s my friend. She has her fella, and I couldn’t be happier for the two of them.” That was a lie. He was happy for them, but sometimes he wondered why it seemed so easy for some people to engage in relationships, while others would never, ever find that sort of happiness. “They don’t need me anyway.” And that was just him being a spoiled brat.

“I don’t
need
you, either, just so you know.”

Jasper looked at her. She was staring at his chest. His naked chest. Could she see his heart pounding beneath his skin? “But you want me.” His voice was low. “My help, I mean.” He’d never thought himself particularly skilled at flirting, but with Cat it seemed to come naturally.

She swallowed. Slowly, her gaze rose up his chest, his neck, his jaw, and then finally met his. “Yes. I want your help. I don’t like it, but I do.”

Why did he get the feeling she was talking about more than his “help”?

God, she was so pretty. Fierce. He had no right to be thinking about her like this, to wonder what she’d do if he put his arms around her. He remembered the feeling of her skin against his. But she’d be going back to New York, and he would stay in London. She’d go back to crime and he’d go on with Griffin’s bunch. The two of them couldn’t be more different.

Tarnation, but he wanted to kiss her.

“Can we go now?” she asked, gesturing to the open window she must have climbed through.

“I need to let someone know I’m going out, and put some clothes on, ’less you’d prefer I go out like this.” He spread his arms.

Her gaze traveled along the length of him once more. “I’m not keen on attracting attention. That pretty face will get us noticed more than enough.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

She arched a brow, a wry expression on her face. “Like you don’t already know it. I’ve seen you use your looks to make so many girls do what you want. Charm and a pretty face, that’s what you are.”

Now, that sounded like an insult, and it stung. “You must really be worried about Sparrow to come to me.”

“I am.”

“You hate me that much, Cat?”

Her eyes burned with intensity, her vertical pupils wide in the dim light. “I wish I could hate you. I’d be so much happier if I hated you.”

Jasper’s breath hitched a little. If she didn’t hate him... No, there was no future for them. “I wish you hated me, too.”

And then he kissed her.

Chapter Three

Oh
,
lord.

Cat’s hands came up to grab Jasper by the hair and push him away. Instead, her fingers tangled in his damp curls and pulled him closer. His arms went around her, holding her tight as he kissed her. She kissed him back.

He infuriated her. Could hurt her like no other. He also kissed like a dream and felt like heaven. And he smelled so very, very good—like pie. She didn’t even want to think about how good he looked half-naked. Was he more muscular than the last time she’d seen him? He looked more rugged and less pretty. He was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen, and one of the best people she’d ever known. There weren’t many she’d talk about favorably, but she would about Jasper, even though he’d broken her heart.

He had to feel something for her, because fellas kissed girls they liked differently—either as if they were made of china, or as if he was dying of thirst and she was a cool mountain spring.

Obviously, Jas didn’t think she was fragile.

What was she doing? Her sister was missing and she was digging the fingers of one hand into Jasper’s scalp while her other hand explored his bare shoulder and back. She wanted to rub her face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in.

And Sparrow was out there all alone.

It took all of Cat’s strength to push him away. How stupid was she? She was
not
going to risk her heart again, especially not at her sister’s expense, but she had no sense when it came to Jasper Renn.

“Get dressed,” she told him. “I’ll wait for you outside.” She slipped out the window and down the side of the house the way she had come up, her claws digging into the stone as she descended. The cool night air was just what she needed to return to sanity. The nerve of him, standing there looking so gorgeous and knowing it! He ought to be ashamed of himself—but really, when a man looked that good, he had to know it, or he was a simpleton.

Above her she heard the window shut. Was he not going to—

“All right, let’s go.”

Cat jumped. She couldn’t help it. One second she’d seen him at the window and before she could finish her thought he was right in front of her. She’d forgotten how fast he was, but it seemed as though maybe he’d gotten even faster.

Jasper grinned. “Nerves frayed, are they, kitten?”

“No.” She scowled. “Call me by that awful name again and I’ll slice you open from belly to throat.”

“You’d have to catch me first.” He turned and walked away, leaving her no choice but to hurry after him. He was not in charge of this search—
she
was. He was not allowed to make her feel as though he was the boss. Some of it came from pride, but some from her parents. Regardless of their love for each other, her mother had distrusted white folks in general, which made sense, given her family history, and her father had mistrusted everyone who wasn’t Irish. That left Cat with the assurance that she could trust only herself, and possibly Sparrow.

Although it seemed she’d been misguided in that respect. Her sister had just up and left without even a goodbye. Sparrow had been angry at her, and maybe with good reason, but that was no reason to just...abandon her sister.

She was at Jasper’s side when they entered the stables. There was a low level of lighting in there—just enough that most regular folk could barely see to get around. Cat could see everything quite clearly, so when she spotted the velocycles in their bays, she immediately felt a spark of adventure.

“Are we taking two of those?” she whispered.

Jasper shook his head. He wasn’t wearing his hat, which made him look like less of a cowboy. “We’re taking one.”

“But if we find Sparrow...”

He shot her a glance. “Then you’ll either take a hack back to your hotel and I’ll drive the cycle, or you’ll come back here, in which case I’ll just run.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t any big concern.

When had he become so comfortable with his abilities? When she’d first met him, he had been using his talents for nefarious reasons, and he’d seemed pretty torn up over it. He had not been made for a life of crime. Neither had she, it turned out—though she had been very good at it once.

She’d turned to crime to feed herself and her sister, to help people less fortunate and, yes, for money. She was now at a point where she didn’t need much where money was concerned, and stealing, dealing and wheeling just didn’t hold the same allure they once had.

Jasper, on the other hand, was as fascinating—or more so—as he had been on that first meet. The scoundrel.

He straddled one of the cycles, leaving her room to climb onto the padded seat with him. “You’ll have to put your arms around me. You all right with that?”

Was he teasing her? “I think I can handle it.”

“But can you control yourself? I wouldn’t want to drive you into a state of histrionics.”

She glared at him—because she wanted to laugh. “All this English tea and pudding has gone to your head and turned what brain you had to mush.”

“Used too many big words for you, did I?” he asked with a grin. “I’ve been workin’ on my vocabulary, my elocution, my verbosity, my... Damn me, but I can’t think of another word.”

She would not laugh. She would. Not. Laugh.

She laughed. Jasper’s grin grew.

“Don’t be mad at me, Cat. I lied when I said it would be better if you didn’t like me.”

Was that cracking ache in her chest her heart breaking? “I lied, too.” She wasn’t about to point out how many times. “And I’m not mad at you, Jas. Not really. Not much. But you hurt my feelings, boyo, and I can’t forgive you for it.”

His grin slid from his face. “I know, and I’m sorry for it.”

Of course he was. So was she. She climbed onto the cycle behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re over. Just help me find Sparrow.”

He started the velocycle, the low rumble of the engine coming to life like a purring lion. “All right,” he said.

Cat didn’t know which of the three he was in agreement with, and she was afraid to ask. It didn’t matter, she told herself, but she was lying again.

It mattered quite a bit.

* * *

Jasper didn’t know Sparrow that well—he’d met the girl only a few times. She’d been in school most of the time he’d been with Cat. He might not know her, but he knew her sister, and he knew enough girls to have an idea of where Sparrow might go.

Straight into the middle of trouble, which made it all the more important that they find the girl. No one at King House would be upset that he’d left to help Cat. She’d helped them in New York, and like he’d said earlier, they really didn’t need his help to find Emmy. He’d left the report of his search on Griffin’s desk earlier, and a note on his door that he was with Cat and would be back soon. They could reach him on his portable telegraph if they needed him.

Covent Garden was one of the entertainment centers of London. It had theaters, dance halls, taverns and shops where a young woman might get employment. It also had many boardinghouses nearby where those same girls could live if they hadn’t any family. It was one of the first places he’d gone when he arrived in London, so he’d wager that Cat’s little sister had gone there, as well.

It was also the sort of place where predators hunted for naive little girls.

Damnation, but Cat had to be out of her head with worry. And he’d taken advantage of that when he kissed her. True, she’d kissed him back and made him happier than he should have been, but it had been wrong of him.

He’d do it again in an instant. Obviously, he had no willpower where she was concerned.

He drove to an area not far from the Theatre Royal and parked the velocycle in the lengthening shadows. Nighttime was when this place truly came alive.

“Did you bring something of hers for scent?” he asked, slipping his leg over the machine as she climbed off. “A photograph?”

“Both.”

He nodded. “All right, then, let’s go ask some questions. Best let me do most of the talking. Folks won’t be inclined to trust you.”

“Because of my skin, or because I’m a woman?”

The defensive edge in her voice gave him pause. “Because they don’t know you.”

“Oh.”

He would have laughed at her expression if he didn’t think it might get him disemboweled. Those claws of hers could be nasty when she brought them out.

“C’mon,” he said, inclining his head. “Let’s find that little bird.” He offered her his hand, not really expecting her to take it. She stared at it for a fraction of a second, and then slid her fingers around his. Joy exploded in his stomach. He’d told himself this wouldn’t work. Told himself she was the wrong girl for him, yet every instinct and emotion he had was against him. He couldn’t help himself. He’d help her, spend time with her—kiss her as often as she liked—and then he’d have to let her go. He’d already done that twice. Wasn’t it madness to do it again?

Yes
, said his mind.
No
, said his heart. Both of them could just shut the hell up for the time being.

They walked into a tavern called The Hart and Crown. It was popular with the theater and artistic set, especially the younger members. If Sparrow was in the area, then this was their best chance at finding her.

Outside, the building looked to be at least two centuries old. Its dark wood was made even darker by an earlier rain, and the old gas lamp above the sign—which could stand a fresh coat of paint—flickered in the evening breeze. The windows were made of small diamond-shaped panes of that old sort of glass that you couldn’t really see through. The door was heavy and the hinges squeaked, but inside it was pleasantly warm, lit with a golden glow and filled with low chatter and laughter. It smelled of meat pie and ale. Behind him, Wildcat’s stomach growled. He chuckled as he glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Reckon we might as well grab some food while we’re here.”

Her cheeks actually turned pink. “Sure. That would be good.”

They took a table not far from the fire. Jasper chose that one on purpose because he knew how much she enjoyed the heat. She’d curl up on the tabletop and nap if they’d let her, he thought. She was so much like a house cat, which made sense, given her appearance and abilities. He didn’t know how she’d come to be as she was, and he didn’t care, but he assumed it had to do with organites—the little critters that were responsible for all life, and for the current mutations in the human race that made some of them
more
than human.

“Can you smell her at all?” he asked. Cat’s intensely keen sense of smell was what made her an excellent tracker, along with her sharp eyesight.

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “There are so many other scents here it’s hard to focus on one. With this amount of people all I can smell is them, and food, and beer. I think I can smell her, but it’s weak. Maybe just wishful thinking.”

“We’ll find her, Cat.” He meant it, and he didn’t make promises he didn’t intend to keep. “I won’t stop until we do.”

Were those tears in her eyes? She’d blinked so quickly they were gone, but he could have sworn he’d seen tears. “Thanks, Jas.”

The barmaid came over, so Jasper ordered ale and two pies for them. “Any chance you’ve seen this girl?” he asked, taking the photograph from Cat’s fingers and handing it to the girl.

The buxom, freckled blonde looked at Sparrow’s face. “Oh, aye. Come in just two nights ago with some of the girls from Pick-a-dilly. Sung a right pretty song, too. She’s not in any trouble, is she?”

“No,” Cat replied before he could. “I’d just like to find her.”

“You’re her sister, ain’t you?” The barmaid grinned, revealing slightly crooked but clean teeth. “You look just like ’er.”

Cat smiled—truly one of the loveliest things Jasper had ever seen, even with her lips closed. “Yes, although I’d be most obliged if you didn’t mention that I was here looking for her.”

The girl nodded. “Right. You’re the elder. Got a baby sister and brother meself, and I understand your meanin’. I won’t say a word. She’ll probably be back with the girls tomorrow night.”

Jasper offered her one of the calling cards he’d had made a little while ago. It was simply his name, his telegraph number and the address for a postal box he kept. On the back he had scrawled the address of King House. “If you see her, talk to her or hear anything about her, maybe you’d be so kind as to let me know.”

Either the girl had a tic or she was fluttering her eyelashes at him. “Of course, ducks. Anything for you.” As she walked away he heard Cat emit a dramatic sigh.

“What?”

She rolled her eyes at him. In this low light her pupils were dilated, but that made them rounder and more normal-looking. “You can’t help yourself, can you? You’d flirt with a tin can if you thought it was female.”

“Flirt?” His voice cracked, the accusation was so incredulous. “How was I flirting?”

Cat made a face. “Maybe you’d be so
kind
as to let me
know.
” She’d made her voice so deep she had to tuck her chin to her chest, and every word and gesture was overly exaggerated. She snorted. “Should’ve winked at her while you were at it. Maybe give her a little pat on the bottom.”

“I have no desire to go anywhere near her bottom,” he retorted, not caring how it sounded. “And I wasn’t flirting. I was asking about your sister.” He tossed the photograph back at her. “Next time you ask.”

“You really don’t think she’s pretty?”

“She’s pretty enough.” He shook his head. Cat wasn’t the least bothered by his surliness. She was more surprised—apparently—that he didn’t want every girl he met.

In fact, other than Mei,
she
was the only girl he’d really wanted. He had flirted a bit with Emily, but only because she was such a sweetheart and it irked Sam when he did it.

“So, we’ll come back tomorrow night,” he said, changing the subject. “We can always check with the circus, as well.”

“Yeah, what is the Pick-a-dilly Circus?”

“They do a lot of acrobatics, animal stunts, freak shows. They’re just like any other circus except they seem to be good to their employees and their animals. They seem to have a lot of people like you and Sparrow working for ’em.”