Theo didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her or the heat burning in them.
He might be a handsomer than average man with the sort of blacksmith’s build to make most women fall into his bed—and many did—but he had the personality of a pickled turnip. Theo rested her hands on her hips while she eyed him, refusing to indulge the blatant implication he threw behind his words. She should punch the smug expression off his face and just steal the pieces, damn the consequences.
“A favor,” she said, at last. “In my professional capacity.” She emphasized the word professional to dispel any ideas he might be entertaining. The sooner she could acquire the scrap and get the hell out of there, the better. Her sister might be bleeding in an alley for all she knew.
Silas tapped the side of his chin as if he were musing over the proposition—as if he hadn’t already made the call. “While a favor from you might be helpful, we subcontract technomancers on a regular basis. I’m not going to hand over my scrap metal and hope you bring back our automaton. I’ll bargain for a favor from you if I’m along for the hunt when we track your sister.”
Theo’s eyebrows lowered with her glare. Spending more time around Silas Kylock was not only hazardous to her health but edged her closer and closer to the ledge of getting locked up for homicide.
Except he possessed the exact item she needed to track down Ellie. And no matter what trouble her little sister had gotten into this time, Theo would do anything for that girl.
She heaved a sigh. “Fine. Meet me in an hour at my residence with the scrap metal. You may as well clear out the rest of your busy calendar today. I don’t know how long this will take.” Her words dripped with derision she didn’t bother masking. The Kylocks had made themselves quite a few shillings between his father’s business connections and Silas’ tinkering, but like her, they were gutter trash from Islington. Bottom-of-the-barrel ruffians didn’t fit amongst the posh and pretentious folks, no matter how hard the Kylocks tried to pretend the opposite.
“You have yourself a deal,” he responded, tugging off the thick work gloves he wore and tossing them to the ground.
He stood from the stool with a creak and crossed the distance between them until he stood mere inches away. Theo’s hands didn’t budge from her hips while she looked up at him with her back to the door. At six feet and a few, he towered almost a foot over her, but she had never found him intimidating.
Silas thrust his hand out between them to shake. She offered her own, and heat emanated from his callused palm as they shook on the deal. This close, she could smell the tinge of copper, earth and amber, an infusion that made her mind swirl. Theo realized their handshake had gone on seconds too long when a smirk curled Silas’ upper lip. She yanked her hand back.
“I trust you can find your way out?” he asked, not budging an inch despite the proximity between them.
“Quite capable, thank you,” she snapped, whirling around to face the double doors. Behind her, she heard the shuffle of footsteps and the clank of metal parts from myriad tools being moved around on the table.
Theo Whitfield kept marching forward. Even if she was required to work with the most obnoxious bootlicker on this side of town, Ellie was roaming out there and needed her help. Theo wouldn’t let her down.
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About the Author
Strong women. Strong words.
Katherine McIntyre is a feisty chick with a big attitude despite her short stature. She writes stories featuring snarky women, ragtag crews, and men with bad attitudes—high chance for a passionate speech thrown into the mix. As an eternal geek and tomboy who’s always stepped to her own beat, she’s made it her mission to write stories that represent the broad spectrum of people out there, from different cultures and races to all varieties of men and women. Easily distracted by cats and sugar.
Katherine loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website details and author profile page at http://www.totallybound.com
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