a choice.
He jerked his head toward the lane. “This way.”
Finley followed him silently, but he noticed how her amber gaze took in their surroundings, not missing anything. If there was anyone he’d want at his back going into a situation like this, it was her.
The sun was almost directly overhead as they made their way down the lane, aware of faces watching from windows and from the shadows. The flapping laundry over their heads alternately blocked out the light or let it blind them, depending on the wind.
Doors opened behind them, and Jasper knew without looking that they were being followed. He didn’t turn, and he suspected Finley didn’t, either, though she was undoubtedly even more aware of their stalkers than he was.
At the end of the lane stood a house that was in only slightly better repair than the others. Someone had tried to whitewash it, but it had turned a dull gray, and the eyelet curtains in the windows were dull and frayed. It was at the door to this house that he stopped—and knocked.
The battered wood swung open on hinges that screeched like an angry hawk—no sneaking into this house— to reveal a tall, muscular young woman, perhaps his age or a little older. She had long black hair, which she wore in two loose ponytails on either side of her handsome face, a leather vest, snug trousers and scuffed leather boots, which came up over her knees. But it was her eyes that commanded a fella’s attention—they were the color of lilacs, and while you were gazing into them, you were likely to get a knee in your privates. They were brightened by her dusky complexion.
“Jasper Renn.” Her voice was as smoky as the air in these parts. A slight smile curved her mouth as she leaned her shoulder against the door frame. “What brings you round these parts?”
He tugged the brim of his hat at her in greeting—and respect. “You look good, Wildcat. I’m here for that item I gave you a while back.”
Those brilliant eyes narrowed. “You remember what I told you before you left here last time?”
He nodded. “I surely do.” Did he ever. Their relationship had been intense and unexpected and over before it really had a chance to get started.
Wildcat turned her attention to Finley. “I know you. You’re the one that was here with the Irish witch.”
“She would prefer to be called a scientist” came Finley’s drawled reply. “I’ll give her your regards.”
The dark girl turned back to Jasper. “She’s almost as much a smart-arse as you. She all you brought?”
“I got a driver, but he’d rather see me dead than do me a favor.” Then he grinned. “But if you know my friend, you know she’s enough.”
The girl nodded, grime-streaked face serious. “All right, then. You know what has to be done.” And then she stepped across the threshold, a baseball bat in her hands. Its wood was smooth and stained brown with old blood. A dozen other girls and fellas followed after her—some armed, some not.
“Jasper?” Finley asked warily. “What the devil’s going on?” He turned to her with what he hoped was a suitably apologetic expression. “When I left the piece with Wildcat, she told me if I ever came back she’d ‘beat the snot out of me.’” Technically, he hadn’t left the part with Cat. It had gotten left behind when she kicked him out. He was simply relieved she still had it.
Finley’s eyes widened. “Are you telling me we have to fight? All of them?” She gestured at the gang standing in the street behind Wildcat.
Jasper nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“At least we don’t have to take on the entire gang,” Jasper offered with a sheepish smile. “Just Cat’s best.”
Finley was tempted to leave him to fight on his own. “Oh, that makes it so much less insane. There’s only thirteen of them. Piece of bloody cake.” She reached into her trouser pockets and pulled out the knuckle-guards Emily had made for her out of brass. They were fingerless gloves with caps of brass molded to fit over her knuckles. If all she had were her fists, she was going to have to make every punch count.
Jasper flushed, but his gaze never wavered. “You don’t have to do this.”
Of course, that immediately softened her, because she knew that he meant it. He was fully prepared to do this on his own—and probably die doing it. At the very least he’d end up severely injured.
She bent her neck to the side and was rewarded with a sharp crack. Then did the same to the other side. Jasper grimaced but made no comment. Wise boy. “Let’s get this done.”
“You sure you want to do this, San Fran?” Wildcat asked, coming down the steps.
“I have to, New York.” Jasper pushed his hat down farther on his head—Finley wondered if she would be “London” when all this was over. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”
The girl shrugged. “That’s the worst apology I’ve ever heard. Break a girl’s heart and can’t even say you’re sorry? What sort of man are you?”
As much as she dreaded meeting the bat held in Wildcat’s hands, Finley had to admit it was difficult not to like the girl. She had an easy yet dangerous air to her that felt oddly comforting, perhaps because, Finley suspected, they were very similar.
“He’s sorry,” Finley piped up. “He’s so very, very sorry. Can I have a bat, too?”
Wildcat smiled and tossed hers aside. It hit the dirt with a solid
“How’s that?” the girl asked.
Finley shrugged, noticing that Wildcat had wickedlooking metal claws on one hand that were more than a match for her brass knuckles. “Fair enough.”
The fight began almost immediately, without any dancing about. Finley took on Wildcat and anyone else she could between blows. Jasper was able to use his speed and agility against the others, who—fortunately for him— were simply “normal” humans. Wildcat, on the other hand, was decidedly more than normal. She was fast, vicious and had those blasted claws—no doubt these factors contributed to her apt nickname.
Blood ran down Finley’s cheek from a particularly nasty swipe. It stung and burned, but she ignored it as best she could, consoling herself with the fact that her opponent was also bloody.
Strike. Dodge. Reel. Swipe. Kick. Stagger. It was almost like a bizarre dance they had going on between the two of them, and neither was about to surrender. But they both knew neither of them was going to win anytime soon. And Jasper swayed on his feet. Even though he could still move faster than his opponents, he simply had too many to avoid.
Finley grabbed Wildcat by the throat and shoved her up against the side of the house—a nearby window shuddered. Wildcat’s own hand came up and seized Finley’s neck. They faced each other with opposite hands poised to strike.
“This been enough of a fight for you?” Wildcat asked, a touch of Irish in her voice, which Finley hadn’t noticed before.
Finley didn’t lower her hand. “It was your idea.”
The other girl smiled, and Finley thought she caught a glimpse of fang. “I made a promise, and I had to keep it. Point of pride, you know. Tell you the truth, I’d rather just give him the thing and send you both on your way.”
Since Finley wanted that also, she lowered her striking hand. Wildcat lowered hers, as well, and once that was done, they released one another.
Finley turned to find Jasper on the ground, face bloody but not too badly battered. Half a dozen of Wildcat’s followers were also down, and the rest all wore signs of battle as they panted from exertion. At least Jasper had managed to tire them out.
Before Finley could help him up, Wildcat offered him her hand and easily drew him to his feet.
“Come inside, cowboy. Clean yourself up.” She cast a glance at Finley. “You, too.”
Shrugging, Finley followed Jasper inside.
The interior of the house was as surprising as Wildcat herself. It wasn’t much, but it was neat and clean. It was obvious that someone had put effort into making the place feel like a home. The furniture was worn but comfortable, serviceable. Photographs and paintings hung on the walls in chipped frames, and frayed rugs covered the bare-board floors. The air smelled of wood smoke and cinnamon—a strangely pleasant scent.
Jasper seated himself at the table, so Finley did, as well. One of the girls brought them a bowl of water and cloths to clean their faces while Wildcat disappeared from the room. When she returned, Finley had just wiped the
