Page 74 of The Mech Who Loved Me
"Do his feelings extend to matchyours?"
"I don't know." She dwelled on everything Kincaid had told her yesterday. "He said if he wasn't ill, then he'd... consider being with me. But he doesn't want me to watch him slowly die, and he doesn't want to pass on his illness to any children." All her secret hopes and dreams were the antithesis ofKincaid's.
"Sometimes it just doesn'twork,lass."
She nodded sadly, her throat tightening, before she ruthlessly drained her tea. "Sometimes it doesn't." But she had to try. And she'd be damned if she'd let either Kincaid's or her own pride ruin their burgeoning romance. "I'd best be going. He'll be back at Malloryn's by now, and I think best when I can bounce ideasoffhim."
She set her cup and sauceraside.
"Be careful, Ava." Gibson gave her the folder containing all his notes on the case so far. "You deserve more than a brokenheart."
It might be a little too lateforthat.
* * *
Fickle light trickledin through the steam cab’s window as Ava tried to transcribe the notes she'd made after talking to Dr.Gibson.
The streets were quiet, all her leads drying up. She needed a dash of inspiration to breakthiscase.
Rewinding the ECHO recording device Fitz—the Nighthawks mechanical genius—had created several years ago, she pressed Play and heard her own voice fill the carriage. "...is it the SOG or the dhampir group behind all of this... Zero's death argues for dhampirinvolvement,but—"
The cab hit a bump, and Ava's thumb slid off the button as she jolted. Her paperwork slid forward on her lap, and she hastily snatched it up. If the hackney driver thought he was going to charge her full rate for this ride, she'd be reminding him of the roughjourney.
Ava pressed the button again. "...who killed Winthrop? Why? Did they know we were there? Were they watching the shop? Or... were theywatchingus?"
Another jolt. Ava looked up from the recorder, scowling a little. "Is everything all right outthere?"
The steam carriage's boilers suddenly hissed, and then she was flung back in the seat as the carriage lurchedforward.
"Hello?" she called, her clockwork heart beating steadily in her chest even as her head swam with a sudden surge of fright. The worst thing about her replacement heart was its monotone beat. Her body might be preparing itself to flee, but her heart ground inexorably on at its regular pace, and denied her the rush of blood she sometimes needed in thesesituations.
They veered to the right and Ava slammed up against the carriage door, crumpling the blinds, which revealed a searing flash of a green park rushing past the window, surprised faces turning to the carriage as itwentby.
Something wasn'tright.
The boiler was hissing at a frightful pitch. Ava shoved the blinds up, gasping as she saw the London streets rushing by. What on earth had happened to the driver? She wound the windowpane down, poking her head through the opening. The flap of a man's black split-tail coat was the only thing she could see of thedriver.
"Excuse me!" she cried, gripping the windowsill in both hands. "Are you all right? What's going on? Why are werushing—"
A gloved hand reached out, and as she watched, slid the carriage into ahighergear.
A thrill of nervousness litthroughher.
He had to have heard her, but why would he be ignoring her? Or pushing the carriage to its utmost limits in these busy streets? This was madness. Someone was going togethurt.
"Hey!" a man yelled—as if to prove her point—leaping out oftheway.
"Stop!" Ava screamed. "You're going to runsomeoneover!"
Or worse. What happened if they struck a building, or an omnibus? There were still horse-drawn trams in this section of London, weren'tthere?
Ava's breath caught. She couldn't help remembering the last time she'd been trapped in a carriage like this, her father's horses dancing in their traces as a man stepped out of the shadows and shot her driver off the seat. For a second she saw Hague's face superimposed over the driver in front of her as he glanced behind him. "Notnow," she whisperedgrimly.
Hague was dead. This was an entirely new set of circumstances, and the last thing she needed was to lose herself when she was the only person who might be able to stop thecarriage.
The driver gathered his feet beneath him, and then launched himself into the foggyafternoon.
Ava screamed as the carriage rocketed forward. He'd left her here! No. He'd deliberately locked the steering wheel, veering them directly toward a busy intersectionahead.
