his feet. “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”
One of the men stepped forward and tipped his hat. “Morning, Your Grace. Sorry to barge in on you like this, but my associates and I are here to arrest Jasper Renn and take him New York City.”
A collective gasp of surprise rose from those around the table.
“What?” Griffin scowled at the man. “On what charges?”
“Murder,” the man replied, his gaze darting from Griffin to Jasper and back again. He offered Griffin a folded and tattered piece of brownish paper. “We don’t want no trouble.”
Griffin opened the paper. It was a Wanted poster, and on it was a good likeness of Jasper, along with the promise of a $5000 reward for whoever brought him in. It looked official.
“America’s laws aren’t law here,” he told the man, thrusting the poster into his hand. “Please leave.”
The man hitched up his gun belt. “I don’t think you understand. We’re not leaving without Renn.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” Finley said, rising to her feet. Sam and Emily stood, as well.
The man laughed and pulled a gun from the holster around his hips. “I got six bullets right here that say we’re taking the boy with us and you’re gonna let us.”
Since the night at the warehouse, the Aether came readily to Griffin—almost too readily. It didn’t overwhelm him as it had when he was younger, but it always seemed to be there, just waiting for his call. Right now he was going to call it to knock this yokel on his dirty arse.
“I’ll go.”
All heads turned. Jasper stood and faced the men with an expression Griffin could only term resigned. It was that expression that told him that this was what Jasper had wanted to talk about. He was in trouble and Griffin had been too caught up in his own affairs to see that.
“Griff, don’t do anything.” Jasper moved toward the Americans, eyeing them with an unflinching gaze. “I’ll go willingly, just put the gun away.”
The man hesitated for a moment, then relented. “Get the cuffs on him.”
Griffin couldn’t allow his friend to be taken from his house like a criminal, but Jasper shot him a look that told him to stay out of it. It was also a look of remorse. Rather than endanger his friends, he was going to allow these ruffians to take him back to America where he’d stand trial—if he lived that long—for murder.
Griffin swallowed, hard. It was difficult for him not to try to take control of this situation, not to order the men out of his house. Very, very difficult to allow Jasper to make his own decisions. Even the others didn’t want that. Finley was one of the more vocal as they clapped irons around Jasper’s wrists.
“You can’t let them do this!” Finley cried at him.
Griffin looked at her. “It’s Jasper’s choice, not ours.”
Voices rose again, arguing with him, but it was Jasper’s that cut through the cacophony. “Stop!”
They all looked at him.
“Y’all have been real good to me—the best friends I’ve ever had—but a man can outrun his past only for so long before he’s got to pay for his sins.” His gaze locked with Griffin’s. “Thank you…for everything. Goodbye.” The last was addressed to all of them, though the cowboy’s gaze lingered just an extra half second on Emily, who had tears in her big eyes. Finley, too. Even Cordelia looked saddened.
Griff inclined his head. “Goodbye, Jas.”
They stood in silence as the men led Jasper out of the room, sandwiched between the four of them. It wasn’t until they heard the door shut that everyone turned on him, demanded to know why he hadn’t done something, and what were they going to do now? They couldn’t just let Jasper hang.
“No, we can’t,” Griffin agreed, silencing them. They gaped at him like fish in a bowl. “And we’re not going to.” Lifting his coffee cup, he drained the rest of it, set it down and then began to walk across the room.
“Where are you going?” Sam demanded. Even Sam didn’t want to see Jasper go. That was a pleasant surprise.
“To pack,” Griffin replied. He flashed a grin at Finley, who was staring at him as though he were mad. “How do you feel about taking that walk in New York City?”
Acknowledgments
An author rarely writes a book all on his/her own. There’s usually a put-upon friend who sits and listens while we drone on about our “fascinating” plot, or a spouse who eats takeout more often than either he/she wants. In my case, there are several people who seriously need to be thanked for this book ever finding its way into your fabulous little hands. First of all I need to thank Krista Stroever, editor extraordinaire. When I told Krista I wanted to write League of Extraordinary Gentlemen meets teen X-Men she replied, “Steampunk. Cool.” She treats me like a rock star and I love her to bits for it. I’m just waiting for her to get a restraining order!
Also, I have to give a shout-out to three fabulous writer friends who held my hand through this process and provided much need pep talks and rational thinking when I’d lost all of mine. So Jesse Petersen, Colleen Gleason and Sophie Jordan—you are the best girlfriends I could ask for. I just wish I could see more of you.
Thanks to Nancy Yost for selling this book and for years of invaluable guidance. Miriam Kriss, thanks for being your rockin’ self and not laughing at my Yoda backpack. The Force is strong in you.
More thanks have to go out to my friends for under standing when I can’t come out to play, or when I’m crazier than usual. Thank you to my family for being more incredible characters than I could ever create (I’m looking at you, Weezie). And thank you to Sarah Rose for reading this book in the early stages and giving me ideas for T-shirts.
Last, but certainly never least, I have to point the spotlight at my husband, Steve, without whom I quite literally could not have written this book. Thank you for your research, your brains, your enthusiasm and tireless support. I don’t have enough words to explain what a huge part you played in this project, which is good because if I did have the words, I’m sure you’d never let me forget them. Most of all, thanks for just being your fabulous self because there’s no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life laughing with than you.
Oh, and I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge those awkward years I spent between the ages of thirteen and eighteen. I wouldn’t go back to you for any amount of money, but I wouldn’t change you, either. Though, I wouldn’t mind giving you a good slap or two.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0538-3
THE GIRL IN THE STEEL CORSET
Copyright © 2011 by Kady Cross
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Acknowledgments