Archer set the box to the side and refilled their glasses. “Want to run me through the details?” he asked as he sat beside Johnson.
His friend shook his head. “Can’t. The actual details have all been marked as confidential. I think they’re trying to close the barn door after the livestock escaped, but this is a line I cannot cross.”
“Certainly.” In the back of Archer’s mind the wheels were turning. He had a shadow of an idea on how to fix the Rigdon’s Banknote Verification Device, but it wasn’t yet fully formed. Once it was ready he would know.
“Well, what juicy details can you share? The Chief Inspector still walking around with a stick up his arse?”
Johnson snorted and relaxed. He crossed his legs and leaned back. “I had a rather interesting encounter a few days ago.”
He settled in and listened.
* * * * *
Archer sat upright in bed. His idea had come to fruition. One glance told him it was just after two o’clock in the morning.
Beside him Warren grumbled. “What now?”
“I know how to fix the Rigdon’s Banknote Verification Device.”
“Then fucking do it and don’t keep me from my beauty sleep.”
Archer laughed and kissed his shoulder before jumping out of bed and tugging on a pair of trousers.
Rigdon had mixed up the order of the gears, which meant the chemicals to analyze the ink did not combine in the proper manner.
He marched into his office, picked up the machine and strode into his workshop. He pulled open the cabinet under the shelves and assembled his tools. Archer pulled on his multi-sight goggles and dismantled the gears. It was backbreaking work because it was so incredibly intricate. The smallest miscalculation and everything would be for naught.
When Warren came in around seven o’clock in the morning with coffee Archer only waved at him. He was so fucking close.
Finally he attached the last three gears and gently moved one of the levers.
This should be it.
Archer stretched his back and rolled his neck before unlocking his safe and removing Johnson’s pouch. He gently flattened the bill one more time and fed it into the conveyor belt.
Hands wrapped around the edge of the table, he waited with bated breath.
Then the red light lit up and blinked.
“Yes!” He punched his fists in the air and whooped. Elation spread through him.
“What’s all this hollering about?” Warren walked in.
Archer grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him close for a deep kiss. His lover responded in kind and within seconds heat blazed through Archer’s tired body. “I fixed the Rigdon’s Banknote Verification Device.”
Warren’s brows rose. “I take it this is good news?”
Archer laughed. “It is excellent news for everyone. The banknote problem has spread and Whitehall has their knickers in a twist. The RBVD will make them happy, assist in solving the problem and give Sarah’s father what he has always hoped for.” He kissed Warren again and tore himself away.
“I need to head down to the Yard and let Johnson know. This was exactly what they were looking for.”
Warren laughed. “You may want to get dressed.”
Archer looked down at himself and realized he still only wore his trousers. “I really should.” He rubbed his cheek. “I should probably shave as well.”
Warren thrust his hands into Archer’s hair and nibbled on his earlobe. “I don’t know. You look good scruffy.”
Archer leaned into the caress. “As much as I appreciate your compliment, I believe the public in general will disagree with you.”
Warren shrugged. “Who cares?”
Archer pressed a quick kiss to Warren’s lips and disentangled himself. “Unfortunately, if we want to continue to live as we have, we need to follow at least some of the rules. Shaving is a small price to pay to pretend we conform.”
Warren grimaced, but nodded. “I guess.” He rubbed Archer’s bristly cheek. “But the next time you don’t have to leave the house and are not expecting anyone you’ll keep the stubble.”
“With pleasure.” Archer brimmed with excitement as he hurried up the stairs. The sleepless night would catch up with him, but right now he just wanted to find Johnson and share his triumph.
Thirty minutes later Jennings handed him his walking stick and hat. His steam coach waited and the automaton opened the door for him.
A faint whiff of honeysuckle rose when he sank into the cushions. Archer leaned back with a smile. He couldn’t wait to share the good news with Sarah. Finally one of her father’s machines had actual use. With the money coming in from this invention Mr. Rigdon would be able to give up his teaching positions and focus on his real passion.
That would free her to come to them with her head held high. She wouldn’t have liked it if her father required their support. Now it no longer was an issue.
For a second his suspicions that she was part of the problem her father’s machine would solve rose to the forefront, but he shook his head. She had not asked pointed questions or tried to garner sensitive information, both of which he would have expected if she were part of the gang. There had to have been a good reason for her to carry that fake note with her.
He exited his steam coach in front of the seven-story red brick building. The architect Norman Shaw had done a great job at getting the Met what it needed, but it was still a little weird to look for Johnson at New Scotland Yard on the Embankment instead of the old building.
A breeze brought the scent of the Thames. Archer grimaced as he walked up the steps and into the main hallway. He nodded to the constable standing behind the reception desk. He’d been a regular visitor over the last few years and knew his way around. He took the stairs to the fourth floor and turned left until he reached the homicide department.
The double doors swung inward and opened up to a large main room with three smaller offices running along the far wall. A row of desks surrounded by busy constables filled the center. He nodded at a few acquaintances and strode toward Johnson’s office. Its door swung open before he reached it and his friend marched toward him.
“Hey, Latimer, sorry, can’t stop. Just caught a case.”
Archer turned and strode beside his friend. “I fixed the machine.”
Johnson stopped mid-stride, his eyes wide. “Seriously?”
Archer shrugged. “It came to me in the middle of the night.”
Johnson laughed and continued to walk. “That is excellent news. When can we have the first finished prototype?”
“It’ll take a little time. I need to speak with Rigdon before I can even show it to you.” During the ride over he had realized he had no desire to be part of the hubbub of being the inventor. His adjustments had made the machine functional, but it had been Rigdon’s vision that made it possible. “It is his invention. He did all the work and deserves the credit. I only tweaked it.”
Out of the corner of his eye Archer caught a gentleman they walked past freezing mid-step. He clutched a small stack of papers, crumpling them nearly beyond repair. He blinked rapidly.
Johnson strode on. There was something in the man’s manner that rubbed Archer the wrong way. He followed his friend, but remained aware of the other man.
Johnson turned back to him and waited when he realized Archer had fallen behind. “How long will all of your—” He waved his arms around. “All your planning and getting together take?”
Archer paused beside him. The other man did the same just a few steps away from them, suddenly being incredibly busy with his papers. “Not as long as you think. Rigdon is pretty amenable. Once I explain the urgency he won’t stand in your way.”
“Great.” Johnson nodded. They headed downstairs.
“You have to understand I only tested the machine once on the bill you gave me. We will have to run more tests under standardized conditions before we can roll them out across the country.”
Johnson shrugged. “If y
ou say it works, it works. Do whatever tests you have to, but get us the finished product as soon as possible.”
“Do you have more notes I can use for the tests?”
His friend made a face. “I will have a selection delivered to your house. You will have to keep them under lock and key and return them once you’re done.” They’d reached the outside and Johnson’s MENV. He pulled a pair of sleek goggles out of his pocket and put them on.
“That is not a problem. When will they arrive?”
Johnson climbed into the vehicle. “I’ll probably be some time, but hopefully not too late tonight. I am heading to Hyde Park. A body was found aboard the Venia.”
“That should be interesting.” The Venia was an airship rumored to be part gambling hell, part brothel, but in truth was a highly exclusive club that gave its members the opportunity to express their sexual desires in a like-minded crowd. Very little was known about the owner.
“It certainly will be.” Johnson’s expression was grim, but the excitement of the hunt filled his eyes.
Archer nodded and stepped back. He watched as his friend maneuvered his vehicle and slid into traffic, his distant curiosity on what Johnson would find superseded by his own chase.
He leaned on his cane for a moment and studied the people streaming by. There he was. The same man from upstairs, this time wearing his coat and hat, hurried past him.
Archer followed.
He pulled out the remote and signaled his driver to come after him. Two clicks came back, indicating that the order had been understood. He swung his cane and studied the area like someone trying to decide where to go next.
Not that he needed to. The other man paid him no attention but strode along the walkway, away from the water. Archer fell in line behind him, keeping his distance and prepared to turn and look at the stalls lining the area at a moment’s notice.
The man didn’t turn around even once. After a ten-minute walk he waved down an old-fashioned horse-drawn hansom. Archer pulled out a small AetherCam and snapped a shot of man and carriage. Then he paused just beside the road and waited for his steam coach to arrive. He gave the driver the signal not to disembark and climbed aboard.
Inside the coach he connected to his driver and programmed him to follow the hansom. As soon as the details had uploaded they were on their way. Archer flipped open a section of the padded side of the coach to reveal a small AetherScreen. He connected the Cam and watched the hansom appear as a flashing blip. With a flick he overlaid London maps, but he couldn’t predict where the hansom would go next, making the layers of maps unwieldy. He removed them again and instead looked out of the window to remain aware of the direction.
They traveled past Charing Cross and slowed down somewhat due to traffic to turn onto Charing Cross Road. Archer frowned. Who was he going to in Tottenham?
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. They went past Tottenham Court and turned onto Oxford Street. He tapped his finger against his leg, watching the blip for any inconsistencies. Everything worked fine. The hansom was only a few yards in front of him.
When the blip stopped he instructed his driver to do the same. He climbed out and searched for the man. It took him a few minutes and he only caught the back of the coat before it disappeared into an office.
Archer waited for a moment and followed. The plaque on the door pronounced Melvin Kemmer, Her Majesty’s Tax Collector. A heavy feeling settled into his stomach. He opened the door and stepped into the office. His target stood just inside a doorway at the other end of the room with a tall, distinguished-looking man. The second man appeared apoplectic. His face was bright red. “Are you kidding me?” echoed throughout the office before the door slammed. For a second the staff paused, only to pick up again at double the speed.
Archer turned to the receptionist. “Excuse me, where can I find Mr. Kemmer?”
The young man paled and his gaze shifted to the office. “I am very sorry, sir. He has just stepped into a last-minute meeting. Would you like to make an appointment?”
Archer shook his head, gave his thanks and walked back out.
Instead of turning to the coach he strode along the street. With each step he slammed his cane down with more force than necessary. He had no real idea what had just happened, but his gut was churning as it always did when shit was about to explode in his face.
With a curse he whirled around and marched back to the coach. People moved out of his way.
Whatever was going on, he’d have some of his people keep an eye on Mr. Kemmer. It was no coincidence that the man he followed had raced here after overhearing Archer and Johnson talking about the success of the Rigdon’s Banknote Verification Device.
And he would find out what the connection was.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning Sarah decided to go to Warren and Archer in the late afternoon, close to early evening. It meant having to wait a nearly endless day until she could see them again. She had to force herself to focus on the bookkeeping and not just pull on her coat and rush out the door.
Finally she gave up on the books and grabbed the new issue of The Daily Telegraph’s travel edition, which had arrived yesterday. Her imagination ran wild as she followed the young narrator on his adventure, but it was not focused on the wilderness or the animals. Instead it ran wild with images of naked Warren and Archer striding across the plains of the savannah, the sunlight glinting off their gleaming bodies.
She would wait in the shade of an acacia tree, a soft blanket beneath her naked skin. A breeze caressed the tight tips of her breasts and her moist center. She arched her back at the sensations racing through her. Her men stood at her feet, their maleness overwhelming and inciting at the same time.
“Touch yourself.”
Archer’s order hit her like lightning. His harsh voice rasped across her senses. Sarah swallowed, uncertain if she could fulfill his command.
“We won’t come any closer until you do.” Warren broadened his stance, his jaw set.
Her breath caught inside her chest. She bit her lip. Then she slowly raised her hand and flattened her palm on the curve of her stomach.
Archer set his hands on his hips, his dark eyes burning with an inferno. His penis was rock hard and rose toward his tight abdomen. She wanted to reach out to him and touch. As if reading her mind he shook his head and wrapped his hand around his member. “You won’t get this or this.” To her complete surprise he grasped Warren’s hard rod.
Her mouth went dry. Shivers raced through her when he rubbed his thumb up and down Warren’s dick. Never in her life had she imagined that a man would touch and caress another man like that outside of books. It should have shocked her back to real life, but instead it entranced her.
Far more so than she had ever imagined.
She gathered her courage and moved her hand down her body until she reached the apex of her thighs.
“Keep going,” Warren said. “Open that sweet little pussy to us.”
She shivered at his words and opened her legs. She couldn’t look away from Archer’s hand, moving up and down Warren’s rod. It was as if one of the illustrations from Beatrice’s father’s books had stepped off the page. She just wanted to keep watching the two men together.
They were beautiful. But more than that, there was an energy between them that drove the need inside her higher and higher. One hand moved through her curls, getting closer to her moist center. The other hand cupped her breast and caressed the sensitive nipple.
Warren’s head dropped back and his eyes blazed with arousal. “I cannot wait to taste you again.”
Sarah clenched her fingers around her nipple, his words pushing her straight back to when Warren had first touched her between her legs. She whimpered.
Archer released Warren, his groan echoing around the three of them. “This time it will be a little different,” Archer said. “I will eat your pussy and you will suck Warren’s cock.”
She pushed her hands between her legs and caressed h
er tender opening. She was wet, so very, very wet. Sarah teased her outer lips and then worked her way in. With two fingers she spread the moisture up and down. Her other hand circled her nipple.
Archer and Warren stared at her, their eyes filled with flames.
Heaviness invaded her body. She spread her fingers and stroked her clitoris. Her back arched. Tingles spread across her center, radiating out into every part of her body, adding to the intermittent shivers.
Sarah focused her attention on the button at the top of her sex, her fingers rubbing back and forth, touching, feeling, experimenting. It was amazing. Nothing at all like her feeble attempts before. Now she’d climbed the peak and knew the way. Her breaths came in short bursts.
Archer and Warren both had their hands around their members, but never looked away from her. Power and confidence filled her.
These two amazing men desired her. Enjoyed her pleasuring herself.
She panted and rubbed her clitoris. That was nearly enough. She was so close to that wonderful moment when the real world and fantasy combined.
Just a few more touches. A couple more strokes.
She groaned.
Just one more touch and she would fly off the cliff. One more cir—
Loud banging flung her back to the real world. Sarah’s eyes shot open. She was in her sitting room, her hand between her legs, her fingers moist, passion raging inside her. She froze. It all had been a dream, a fantasy.
Everything except the loud banging on her front door.
She sat up and wiped her hand on a handkerchief before setting herself to rights and getting to her feet. Her knees wobbled for a second before she poured strength into them. She took a calming breath, walked to her front door and opened it.
Sarah came face-to-face with the young man she’d seen in Kemmer’s office. “Yes?”
He presented her with an envelope. “Mr. Kemmer asked me to drop this off here.”
Her mouth went dry. “He did?”
The young man didn’t meet her gaze. “Yes. This morning. The minute I came in to work.”
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