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