Chapter Six
The faintest of whispers was all Jack heard before the click of the door closing broke the silence in the room.
Her sharp hearing was something she’d honed to great effect over the years, and the fact that someone had slipped into the room without her detecting their approach was troubling, to say the least.
She casually paused in skimming through some papers on the desk, pretending to tidy them up, before she glanced up and jumped slightly, as if she were surprised.
Then her eyes immediately clashed with the fierce gray of the inspector’s. Of course it would have to be him.
The man stood there, hands crossed over his chest, standing in front of the only exit out of his office, an expression in his eyes much like what Jack imagined a hunter had when sizing up his prey. But Jack refused to be cowered, so she stared up at him and smiled.
“Good afternoon, sir.” She put on an Irish accent and was happy with how confident she sounded. “I shan’t be long. I’m just finishing tidying up your desk, and then I will leave you to your work.”
The man didn’t budge an inch but simply continued to stare at her, with the only change being a slight raise of his brow, suggesting he wasn’t believing a word of what she was saying. How could a man convey so much with a simple raise of his eyebrow? But Jack got the message loud and clear.
The man was going to be trouble for her. She felt it deep in her bones.
Boldly, she stared back at him, her blue eyes clashing with his.
She refused to let him think he could either scare or intimidate her, even if her heart was starting to race.
Then she realized her mistake. A cleaner would have been intimidated by this man; there was no ifs, buts, or maybes about it.
“Those are confidential papers you’re rifling through.
” His deep voice was smooth and cultured, sounding for all the world like he was a born and bred nobleman.
Interesting. She’d never met a police officer before who sounded like a blue blood.
Many certainly tried to emulate such an upper-crust accent, but without having actual been born into such a world, there was always an underlying hint of the common in their vernacular.
A trait that was completely lacking in this man’s voice.
“Any cleaner working here knows not to touch papers on a desk,” he continued, his expression completely devoid of emotion. He’d make an excellent poker player.
“I’m new, sir, so my apologies. And honestly, I wouldn’t know they’re confidential, as I can’t read.
” A lie, of course, but one that would be expected of someone in her position.
She quickly glanced beyond the inspector to the wall clock above the door.
Two minutes to go until her diversion kicked in, which she now knew was going to be required.
Thankfully, she always planned for contingencies.
Still, though, she’d try to talk her way out of the situation, rather than having to resort to her other skills.
She curtsied, then grabbed the broom resting against the side of the desk and strode over to the man, as if she expected him to remove himself from blocking the door.
He didn’t budge an inch, merely continued staring at her much like a hawk would a dove before it swept in for the kill. “I have a feeling,” he drawled, “that honesty doesn’t come naturally to you.”
She halted a few feet in front of him, every single fiber of her being feeling singed from his very nearness. She could smell the sandalwood from his aftershave, a deep, earthy scent, that she was disgusted with herself for finding intoxicating. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
Instinctively, she knew this man was dangerous to her.
Not in a manner where she felt worried over her actual safety, but in a manner that was more primal, more physical.
The male standing before her was tall and athletic, and he had an aura of power that was palpable.
The man knew his place in the world and had little time for nonsense.
Jack had never been so vitally aware of a man before… so aware of her own femininity compared to his masculinity… Not even when she’d been a young and impressionable girl who’d thought herself to be in love with that bounder Caleb Dodd had she ever felt like this.
“Why don’t you cut out the act, and tell me who you are and what you’re doing here?” His voice was so matter of fact, almost like he were asking her about the weather.
Jack raised her chin a fraction of an inch, all the while assessing her options for escape.
Clearly, he thought he had her cornered, which was a good thing.
Those who thought they were in a position of power never considered the possibility that it was all an illusion, and the tables could be turned in an instant.
But she needed him in a position she could escape from.
One minute to go.
She had to get him closer to the locked filing cabinet handles.
Dramatically raising her hand to her head, she turned around and stumbled over to the filing cabinets on her right, which were nicely out of reach of the doorway.
“I admit it, sir, I shouldn’t be here!” She began to cry in earnest. All false tears, but a very effective way of eliciting automatic sympathy in a gentleman; men couldn’t help seeing themselves as saviors.
And she doubted this inspector was any different to the rest of his species.
“The newspaper reporter offered to pay me a tidy sum if I could get them any information on the new case.”
She sensed him walk over to her, rather than heard his footsteps. Interesting. The man knew how to approach silently. Something she would keep in mind for the future.
Then, just as she’d assumed he would, he pulled out a handkerchief and stretched his hand out, silently offering it to her.
She turned and stumbled into him, her hands pressing briefly against his chest, before he steadied her on her feet and she took the handkerchief he was still holding out for her.
As she did so, the tips of her fingers accidentally brushed against his own and she gasped from the contact as heat surged from his fingers to hers.
Her eyes were drawn up to his automatically and for a brief instant, she saw her own desire and confusion mirrored in his gaze too. Then he blinked, and it was as if a wall had fallen across his face, his inscrutable stare now peering back at her again.
“A plausible story, but I’m not buying it,” his deep voice rumbled.
Her confusion was replaced by annoyance. It was a perfect cover story and one he should have accepted instantly. This man was far too intelligent for her liking. “I… I don’t know what you mean.” She pretended to trip over her words. She just had to keep him talking for only a moment more.
“No one wearing custom leather boots as you do would have any need to be paid a tuppence from a reporter.”
She was impressed despite herself. He had noticed, but he’d also filled the time she’d needed him to.
Exactly as planned, as the clock struck the hour of four, chaos broke out in the main room. Men began shouting as a loud bell began to sound a shrill alarm throughout the building. Perfect timing, just as she’d planned.
The inspector glanced quickly over his shoulder towards the sound of pandemonium from the main room, then quickly turned back to her. His momentary distraction had been all she needed.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his voice raised as he tried to be heard over the alarm while he reached down towards where his handcuffs had been nestled in their pouch looped onto his belt.
For the first time, he seemed slightly rattled when he realized his cuffs were no longer there.
“Looking for these?” Jack smiled, and before the inspector knew what had hit him, she’d clapped one side of the cuffs onto his wrist and the other onto the handle of the locked filing cabinet, trapping him in place as she danced out of his reach.
All done in less than two seconds. She was that good.
“What the Devil…?” He looked down at his wrist and the handle in confusion and then quickly put his hand into his jacket pocket.
“I have that too.” A genuine grin filled her face as she smiled at him, holding up the key to his cuffs. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Inspector, this distraction won’t last long, so I must be going.” She strode over to the door.
“Damn it, get back here!” he yelled, his voice no match for the sound of the alarm. “Who are you?”
She only just heard him, then spun around. “A ghost, Inspector, and one you won’t be able to find again. So, goodbye.”
The frustration and fury on the man’s face was enough for her to send him a wink.
And with that, she slipped out the door, ignoring the man’s yells as she very firmly closed his office door shut.
As expected, the main area was now empty of officers, given they would have all rushed over to the distraction Cordy had unleashed at the other end of the building.
Timing was everything in magic, and in life, especially for those required to take risks.
And both timing and mitigating risks were two things Jack was very good at. Though she had no wish to ever take a risk against that inspector again. She had a feeling that he wouldn’t easily fall for her pickpocketing skills again. Not that she had any intention of ever seeing him again.
Oddly, a part of her felt slightly disappointed at the thought. She shook her head free of her musings, and without wasting another moment, deftly navigated the corridors around to the back stairs, where she hurried down heading towards the loading dock. where Cordy was waiting.
Along the way, she removed the cleaning apron with one hand, while she used her other hand to wrench open the fastenings at the waist of her skirt to reveal the brown pants she was wearing underneath.
She flung both the skirt and the apron behind her in the stairwell as she continued her descent, then she quickly unbuttoned her black blouse, revealing the white shirt she was wearing underneath it.
Flinging the black shirt to the ground, Jack grabbed the white cap on her head, turning it inside out to reveal a black cap, which she then put back on.
She’d made the change from a cleaning lady into a young man who was wearing the same outfit as the other young men painting the outside of the building in the space of five seconds.
As Jack pushed through the door at the bottom of the stairwell, Cordy stepped out from the shadows, wearing the same brown pants, white shirt, and black cap and holding two tins of paint. She also had a thin beard over her jaw, making her appear as if she were a young man.
“I’m glad to see you got away unscathed,” Cordy said by way of greeting as she handed Jack one of the tins and then pulled out a fake beard from her pocket.
“Mostly unscathed,” Jack replied, taking the tin from Cordy before her friend quickly pulled out some resin glue from her other pocket. She expertly applied some to the lower half of Jack’s face before sticking the fake beard across Jack’s jaw.
“What does ‘mostly unscathed’ mean?” Cordy asked as she quickly pressed her fingers against the short beard, making sure it was stuck firmly down before stepping back to assess her work.
“I’ll tell you later,” Jack replied. “Do I look all right?”
“You’ll pass as a man to a casual observer,” Cordy said with a nod before picking up her own tin of paint and thankfully saying nothing more on the subject of Jack’s mission as they made their way to the back entrance of the loading dock.
“What are you two up to?” the officer who was manning the entrance asked them as they approached.
“Getting supplies,” Jack said with a cockney accent, her voice dropping a register to sound much like a young man would as she waved the paint tin to capture the man’s attention.
Far better for the man to focus on the tin than on Cordy or her.
And, as anticipated, the constable looked at the tin, and seeing what he expected to, waved them through.
It really was far too easy.
But then an image of the inspector flashed across her mind.
She got the sense that such a man would not take kindly to being locked to his own filing cabinet drawers with his own handcuffs.
The man gave the impression of being thorough, methodical, and both proud and arrogant.
Though Jack doubted he would find her, a part of her was certain he would not let it rest and would be determined to discover who she was.
The fact itself didn’t surprise her. What did surprise her, though, was that she was hoping he would…
She nearly groaned aloud. What was wrong with her?
Everyone knew you didn’t court the Devil, and this man, with his sinfully wicked gray eyes, was presenting her with a temptation she didn’t know if she’d be able to refuse.
God help her. And she meant that to the bottom of her soul.
Because she had a feeling that when it came to the inspector, she would need all of the divine help she could get.