Page 18 of Taken by the Ripper (Time for Monsters #9)

She playfully smacked his shoulder, which elicited a tired smile from his lips. “I was talking about the corpses. They’re delightful company, so I hear.”

By the stars, she had to stop flirting and end whatever this was. She’d made her choice.

She cleared her throat and reached for her basket to pack supplies. But too late, she realized it was the same basket she hadn’t touched since her visit to Claude’s office. The same basket where she had hidden his case files. The same basket in which they still hid.

And too late, she was unable to correct herself as the basket tipped off balance with the odd distribution of weight, and the files spilled out of the basket and fluttered to the floor.

All over Claude’s feet.

They both stared at the files, shock in each of their expressions. And then he slowly lifted his gaze, his eyes searching hers as if looking for innocence he was not going to find.

“I-I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, the words inadequate on her tongue. She was sorry for so many things, but by now the list had grown too long to conceal.

“You were the one who took my files,” he accused in a disbelieving, husky tone. “I’ve spent weeks on this case. Months! And here you were buttering me up so I would never suspect you.”

She ran her hands over her hair and locked her fingers behind her neck as the stress of the entire situation came tumbling down like a pile of boulders crashing down a mountain. “It’s not what it looks like, Claude. I swear!”

“Not what it looks like?” he said, raising his voice as he gestured to the loose papers scattered over the floor. “It was you! You lied. You…you… kissed me! It all makes sense now, and it makes me sick to my stomach.”

One of her patients stuck his head out of the curtain concealing him, unabashedly watching their argument unfold.

She dropped her hands to her side and spun to face him, ignoring the several pairs of eyes watching them. She was eighty percent sure one of them was Norma hiding behind the corner. “This case is a very bad idea. I’ve been telling you this for weeks.”

“That’s not for you to decide. This is my occupation, Clara. This is my livelihood. Besides, what gives you the right to do something like this?”

“You don’t know what you’re mixed up in!”

“And you do?”

She clamped her mouth shut, but her silence was enough to incriminate her. His jaw became slack. His eyes stared back at her in disbelief. The weight of the hurt and betrayal in his expression was enough to nearly crumple her.

“What do you know?” He grabbed her wrist and held on tight, leading her away from watchful eyes and listening ears, stopping only when they reached the middle of the hallway.

When she tried to pull away, his grip only tightened.

“Tell me what you know. Are you involved? Who did you steal the files for? Are you the Ripper’s accomplice? ”

“At least bribe me with a night on the town before throwing all your questions at me,” she jested feebly, her stomach on the verge of heaving.

This was not what she’d wanted. Surely, she was going to jail.

And for what? Had Jack used her? Showered her with kisses and sweet words until she was head over heels and committed to him?

She had helped him slow down the detective’s case, and she would be the one to pay for it.

Although she still didn’t want to betray the Ripper despite everything, she had to give Claude something. Anything. Even a portion of the truth.

“I had to pick up a shipment from the post office at night,” she said in a shaky tone. “I-I-I was followed by vampires. They tried to infect me with…with…”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and only then did Claude’s grip on her relax. However, he didn’t release her.

“With what?” he asked softly, the hardness in his eyes melting to something kinder and more human. “And you should have told me. You knew you could trust me with this. I’m trying to help.”

Shaking her head, she took a step back, and this time, he allowed her to take her wrist back. “This is bigger than you, Claude. You’ll get yourself killed, and I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.”

A storm of emotion erupted in the blue of his eyes. Betrayal. Passion. A spark of determination. “What are you infected with? Vampirism?”

She pressed her lips together and stared at the floor rather than the tempest in his eyes. “I’m not infected with anything. I was saved from the vampires before they managed to do anything.”

“Saved by whom?” Then he gasped, and she glanced up to find his eyes widening. “The Ripper. And now you’re in his debt.”

Even the smallest bits of information clearly allowed him to connect the strings between his unknowns. He was too intelligent. No wonder Jack didn’t want her to tell him anything.

“I am not indebted to anyone.”

“I don’t believe that. You are too smart to help a killer.”

“He’s not a killer. It’s not what you think, Claude.”

He gripped either of her shoulders and squeezed gently. “Then tell me what it is. Tell me so I might understand.” When she didn’t answer, he gave her a desperate, pleading look. “What sort of creature is he?”

Clara was torn between telling Claude everything and keeping silent. No matter what she did, it would put either him or Jack in danger. What was the right thing to do? Who could she trust?

“How long have you been involved?” he asked when her mouth remained closed. But this time, the tips of his fingers brushed tenderly against her cheek. She couldn’t stand it. She enjoyed the tender touch far too much. However, she’d made her choice.

Claude sighed and dropped his hand in her silence. “I’ll give you a couple hours to get your story straight. Because…because I care about you. But I can’t ignore this. Not even for you. I’ll bring the police by, some of my colleagues, and we’ll question you then.”

“Why do you like me?” she blurted, her gaze darting from the coffee canister to the hand he’d touched her with so gently to his crazed yet passionate expression.

“I don’t know!” He clutched his head, his eyes wild.

“I mean, I do know. But I feel something deeper that shouldn’t be there.

Something I don’t remember. Like a dream I cannot recall when I wake.

” He spun to face her. “But what I do know is that when I look at you…” He swallowed.

“When I look at you, Clara, I want to stay by your side. I want to protect you.”

She pointed an accusatory finger at his chest. “This is not protecting me. You are turning me in for the crime of keeping you safe.”

“You stole evidence for my case. No, you stole my case entirely! And two people died because of it.”

“Don’t pin their deaths on me. All I did was hinder your investigation.”

“To stall me. Why?”

“I’m not sure.” She closed her eyes and rubbed a finger over the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know, Claude. I know I’m foolish for trusting blindly, but I believe this is the right thing to do.”

“How is this possibly the right thing to do? You are working against me.”

The ache in her head only seemed to grow. “What am I supposed to do? Allow you to walk into a den of vampires on your own?”

He swore under his breath. “There is an entire den here? By the holy shadows of our maker, what am I up against? I wasn’t even supposed to be hunting vampires.”

“You cannot hunt him!” she rasped, clinging onto his arms in desperation. “He’s innocent. I swear.”

“Then it wasn’t the Ripper tearing apart these women?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and hung her head. No matter what she said, it would vilify the Ripper. And to say anything more might tip Claude off that Jack was a ghoul, which would give him an idea of how to hunt him.

What could she possibly say that wouldn’t hurt Jack?

Therefore, she said nothing.

“Your silence is all the answer I need,” he murmured, extracting his arms from beneath her hands.

“I’m sorry, Clara. I need more information to prevent further deaths.

I never wished for you to get caught in the crossfire.

” He started down the hallway but stopped for a moment without turning to face her.

“I will return soon with my team. If you will not give me anything, then we will need to conduct a thorough search of your home.”

She balled her hands into fists, her arms shaking at the thought of anything bad happening to Jack. “If you kill him, I will never forgive you.”

He hung his head, remaining in the hallway for several beats of silence before continuing on his way and exiting the estate. She had to warn Jack. But how? She only ever saw him at night, which was still several hours away.

But still, she waited, hardly able to pay attention to her patients as she bit her nails, pulled out her pocket watch every five minutes, and glanced toward the window to wait for darkness to fall over Whitechapel.

And finally, it did. But neither Claude nor Jack returned to the estate. At least not yet.

A knock sounded on the front door, spiking her pulse to her neck.

Jack wouldn’t have knocked. It was Claude to come search the house.

Instinct told her to conceal any traces of Jack, but no matter what she attempted to hide, she was certain Claude could find it.

Her involvement with the ghoul would be exposed, surely.

There was nothing she could do but watch as her secrets unraveled to his observant eye.

She wiped her sweaty palms on her apron, her heart racing as she strode down the hallway and stood in front of the door without opening it.

Someone knocked a second time, and she knew she couldn’t ignore it.

Claude usually walked right in. He was offering her more time, more warning. It was all he seemed willing to give.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the door handle and turned.

However, when she opened the door, it wasn’t Claude and his team on the other side but the regular police on her doorstep.

And each wore grim expressions.

The room spun around her. Her mind buzzed with dizziness. For a moment, she could hear nothing other than the roaring in her veins and the pulse in her ears. A chill climbed over her spine, down her arms, and to the very tips of her fingers.

No, no, no. Please, no.

“I’m sorry,” one of the officers said as he took off his hat and held it to his chest. “Your sister… Mazie…”

Her head spun. Breaths became shallow and rapid. Nothing could have affected her so much. Not blood, death, or the macabre. But the thought of anything terrible happening to her sisters was enough for her to lose all sense of control.

The world spun, and the last thing she saw with clarity was the officer’s look of regret on his face before she tipped precariously to the side and her surroundings turned dark.