Mission: Improper: London Steampunk: The Blue Blood Conspiracy Read Online Free Page B

of the city. Are you in?"
    "What if we're not?" Kincaid's voice roughened.
    "I'm fairly certain that Jem Whitlow was your cousin, was he not?" Malloryn lifted a folder from his desk and flipped through it, though Byrnes was fairly certain that Malloryn had the information memorized. "Whitlow spent eleven years in the King Street enclaves before helping you march on the Ivory Tower to cast the prince consort down. Imagine that... eleven years in hell, then three blissful years of freedom before someone crushes him beneath a manufacturing machine—"
    "I know what eleven years of hell in the enclaves feel like," Kincaid snapped. "I don't have to imagine it."
    "Don't you want to find out who killed him?" Malloryn arched a brow.
    Silence. The entire group focused on the burly mech.
    "The enclaves are mine," Kincaid finally said, his jaw jutting pugnaciously. "I get to hunt the bastards as did this."
    "Done." Malloryn gave no sign of satisfaction other than a slight heaviness around his eyelids. "Everybody else?"
    "Aye," both Byrnes and Ingrid said at the same time. They shot each other a sharp look as the others echoed them.
    "What do we call ourselves?" Charlie called.
    "Malloryn's Henchmen?" This from Gemma.
    "The Merry Men—and Women," Charlie Todd countered.
    "Malloryn’s Misfits?” suggested Gemma again.
    Malloryn did not quite roll his eyes. "I'm sure you'll all think of something." Grabbing a stack of files, he and Isabella began handing them out to people. "Byrnes, I know you're familiar with the Begby case. I want you back on it."
    Byrnes stared hungrily at the images on the screen, the bloody and broken bodies in the enclaves. Then he sighed. "It's a cold scene, sir. Seven months cold, to be precise."
    "True." Malloryn's eyes glittered. "But these disappearances aren't. Same type of scene, same kind of mayhem. Happened last night." Sliding a folder across the table toward Byrnes, he straightened. "We move fast, we keep it quiet, and we stop whoever is doing this before the general public finds out about it."
    Byrnes dragged the file toward him with his fingertips. A case, one that nobody had been able to solve last time. Intriguing.
    Byrnes lifted the edge of the folder as Malloryn muttered something.
    "Hell, no," Ingrid stated flatly.
    That made him look up. He'd missed something.
    "You brought down the Vampire of Drury Lane," Malloryn replied. "Your expertise is exceedingly valuable, and you and Byrnes should make one hell of a team."
    Team. Everything in him went on point. Like bloody hell. This was his case. His—
    "I would rather spend the rest of my days knitting," Ingrid stated, crossing her arms. "There's no way I'll work with Byrnes."
    Byrnes slowly tilted his head to look at her. That stubborn mouth was set in a line he remembered only too clearly and suddenly his brain kicked into gear. A flash of memory cut through his emotions: of himself lying naked on his bed, finally forced to concede and yell for help once he realized he couldn't get free of the silk stockings binding him to the bed. "Sounds like an excellent idea," he found himself saying, and suddenly he was the recipient of every stare in the room.
    "It— What—?" Ingrid demanded. "Are you mad? Or drunk? We very nearly killed each other last time."
    "Think about it, Ingrid. My experience, my skills at deduction married with your strength, and your skills at tracking, so much better than mine," Byrnes said, watching her eyes narrow as he laid it on thick. Oh yes, my dear. Now you're catching on. "Who else could handle such a case?"
    "Anybody in this room."
    "What's wrong?" Byrnes taunted, letting silence fill the gap, until the moment had stretched out long enough. "Scared?"
    Ingrid's almond-shaped eyes narrowed to thin slits. They really were beautiful, though at the moment, they were practically incinerating. "Of you? I don't think so."
    "Excellent," Malloryn interceded. "Consider yourself enlisted, ladies and gentlemen. You're now protectors