Little Hank led him to the dining room where Dalton sat at a long, polished table, breakfasting on steak and eggs. The smell of it made Jasper’s stomach growl. Were those ... flapjacks? And there were biscuits, too—not cookies, like the English used the word but proper soft, fluffy biscuits—just begging to be smothered in butter.
Dalton glanced up at his arrival. “Ah, Jasper. There you are. Come, eat.”
At that moment, it wouldn’t have mattered if Dalton held Jasper’s own mother prisoner—pride did not fill a belly. Dalton sat at the head of the table, so he took the chair at his right and began piling a plate full of hot, delicious-smelling food.
“Did you sleep well?” Dalton asked, not bothering to look at him as he sliced into his steak.
Jasper didn’t pause as he slathered butter on a warm biscuit. “All right.”
“Really? I thought you were up rather late.”
Now he froze, slowly turning his head to meet the other man’s gaze. “Oh?”
His former friend grinned. Jasper reckoned even Satan never looked so diabolical. Those bright, clear blue eyes of his were unsettling. “Don’t look so suspicious. I have no problem with you and Mei renewing your ... acquaintance, so long as I get what’s mine.”
No. He wouldn’t have a problem at all. In fact, Jasper wouldn’t be surprised if last night had happened exactly as Dalton hoped—planned, even. He had to know Mei would want to talk to Jasper, and that Jasper would do whatever Dalton demanded.
He nodded—slowly. “You’ll get it.” What choice did he have?
“Excellent. I know I don’t have to tell you what will happen if you cross me, but just in case the thought trickled through that block you like to call a brain, Mei’s not my only insurance. It would be a real sin if your brother Nate broke his pistol hand and had to leave the Regulators.”
Jasper stilled. The biscuit tasted like dirt in his mouth, but he chewed and swallowed regardless. His oldest brother had a good career ahead of him in the law. The Regulators took their name from the Lincoln County War, which had happened years ago. The only thing they had in common with that band of deputized outlaws was their name. They were a posse that provided protection—the lawful kind—to towns and individuals who couldn’t protect themselves. Nate had wanted to be one since he was ten years old.
He’d been stupid. Jasper knew that now. He thought taking the device and hiding it would protect himself, Mei and his family. What he was just realizing was that he had crossed the wrong man. And now the people he cared about were the ones at risk. One telegram from Dalton, and Nate could get ambushed. Or his younger brother, Adam, could have an “accident.” God only knew what might happen to his older sister, Ellen.
“You can stand down, Dalton,” he said quietly, reaching for his cup of coffee to wash down the biscuit stuck in his throat. “I hear you.”
The other fellow smiled and gestured with his knife. “Try the maple syrup. It’s from Vermont.”
This was quite possibly the most surreal experience Jasper had ever had—the threat of violence delivered in such a friendly manner. Still, he wasn’t lily-livered nor was he stupid, so he ate Dalton’s food and drank Dalton’s coffee and waited.
Once Dalton had finished his own food, he set his silverware on the plate and leaned back in his chair, his fingers lazily curled around his cup of coffee.
“My men found you at the Duke of Greythorne’s home.” Jasper shrugged. “So?”
A sharp, dark brow arched. “Would you say you and he are ... friends?”
He forced a bark of disbelieving laughter from his throat. The last thing he wanted was to involve Griffin in this mess. “Me and a duke, all friendly-like? Those Limeys would lynch you for suggesting such a thing. Naw, I took care of a delicate situation for him, that’s all.”
“So it’s just a coincidence that His Grace has come to town?”
The bottom of Jasper’s stomach fell, but he kept his poker face—and his breakfast. “Reckon so. I can’t imagine that arrogant dandy coming all this way for a fellow he wouldn’t let enter his house through the front door.” That was a lie, of course, and he felt dirty saying it, even though it was to protect Griff.
Dalton’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying to me, Jasper. The duke was at the Tombs earlier this morning.”
“Such as?”
He seized the first things that came to mind. “Couple of silver candlesticks. A gold snuff box. I reckon it’s the ring he’s after, though. Coulda saved him the trouble of coming all this way. I pawned it in Whitechapel.”
Dalton stared at him for a moment, his icy gaze searching Jasper’s face for any sign of a lie. But Jasper was a good liar when he needed to be—a trait he’d never been proud of until now. The other man laughed. “No wonder he’s here. I’d hunt you down myself.”
Jasper’s smile was thin. “You already did.”
More laughter. Then Dalton gazed at him with something that looked like respect. “It is good to have you back.”
“Does that mean I get to come and go as I please?”
“Why would you want to do that? When there’s no one in the city you’d call a friend?”
And there it was. Dalton wasn’t calling him a prisoner, but they both knew there was no reason for him to wander about the city unless he planned to visit someone—such as the Duke of Greythorne. One wrong move on Jasper’s part and Mei would be dead faster than he could blink.
Dalton continued, “You’ll collect my device today. Do this and perhaps I’ll liberate Miss Mei.”
“It’s impossible to get it in one day,” Jasper informed him. “It’s not in just one spot.”
Dalton scowled. “You took it apart?”
“In case anyone found it—they wouldn’t know what it was.” Jasper didn’t even know what it was, but he knew it was dangerous, otherwise Dalton wouldn’t want it. He’d also known that breaking the thing down would buy him more time if Dalton ever caught up to him.
Too bad he hadn’t thought that all the way through.
Dalton considered this. “I’m not sure whether I should commend your intelligence or put a bullet in your brainpan.”
As he scooped up yolk with a bite of steak, Jasper shrugged. “At least no one else has gotten their hands on
That cold blue gaze pinned him to his chair. “Where is the first piece?”
“O’Dooley’s,” he replied. It was a sporting club on the barest fringe of the underworld—a place where workingmen and fancy gents could enjoy an evening of bloodshed and brute violence.
He could see that Dalton approved of his choice. “There’s a fight tonight. We’ll take in some entertainment, and you’ll collect what’s there. Where’s the rest of it?”
Jasper shook his head. “The only guarantee I have that you won’t hurt Mei is the fact that I’m the only one who knows where the pieces are.”
Dalton leaned forward, all traces of goodwill gone from his features. “I could kill her just for spite.”
The thought made Jasper’s stomach turn over on itself. “You could, but then you’d never get your gadget back.”
“I could make you tell me.”
“No,” Jasper assured him. “You couldn’t.” Because Dalton would be dead if he hurt Mei.
Dalton opened his mouth, but Jasper cut him off. “There’s no negotiating to be done. I get your machine back, and you let me, Mei and my family alone. Give me your word or shoot me now.” His heart punched hard against his ribs as he waited for his former friend, now his enemy, to respond.
“Fine.” Dalton offered his hand. “But for the duration it takes you to get the device, you’re part of my gang and you do whatever I tell you to. Idle hands do the devil’s work, after all. You try to burn me again, and I’ll slit her throat myself.”
Jasper swallowed the rage threatening to send him over the edge and accepted the handshake, sealing the bargain. He could drive a fork into Dalton’s neck before the screw drew his next breath, but then he’d just bring more trouble down on himself. No, he had to do this right if he wanted Dalton out of his life for good.
And now Griffin was in town. The thought both worried him and gave him hope. If Griffin was here, it meant he was still his friend. But he didn’t want to risk Griffin’s safety, especially if Sam, Miss Finley and that pretty little Miss Emily were with him. Then there was the fact that if they tried to help him they might very well get
