“Oh, did you now?” he practically purred. “I have so many questions. What could be so important that you wouldseek me out tonight? And why did you think to look for me here?”
“This is where associates of Blackwood’s can always be found,” she said, feeling him go rigid before her. “And I came to talk to you about what you have done to my friends.”
“To your friends,” he repeated. “Besides saving your friend’s life and putting myself at risk?”
"You’ve broken every promise you’ve made to them,” she argued. “I told you not to. I told you I didn’t trust you. I’m not happy that you proved me right. That you’re even here now.”
“Good thing I am,” he said, a bite to his tone as he finally released her and she stepped back, blinking at him in surprise at the abrupt change. She had seen him often enough, and yet up close, he was unfamiliar, and she had to fight the strange urge to run her finger over the scar that cut through his brow. “Do you know who that is?” he gestured to a man across the tavern, who was still staring at them with some suspicion in his gaze as Jonny pulled her close.
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
“I do,” he said. “I knew him as a child. He has a thing for redheads, and trust me, you don’t want him to be interested in you. He likes things rough.”
Ada couldn’t help the shiver that coursed through her.
“We should go,” Jonny said. “I’ll see you home. You can curse me out as we walk.”
“I am perfectly fine seeing myself home,” she said. “I can look after myself.”
“Oh, I know you can,” he said, his eyes darting down to the pocket of her cloak, where he must have felt the pistol when he had her caught in his embrace. “I’ve seen your work.”
Ada swallowed, remembering the comment Jonny had made to her that night, about her missing a spot on her hands. He had recognized the gunpowder.
She stared at him, ignoring the people that pushed by them, the smell of ale that permeated the air, the crashing of glass as someone dropped a pitcher.
“Why haven’t you said anything?” she asked, and he only shrugged, the corner of one lip curling slightly.
“Why haven’t you told them about my connection to Blackwood?”
She nodded slowly, understanding the unspoken agreement they were making to keep their secrets where they belonged.
“Come,” he said. “Trent is making his way over again.”
“Trent is his name?” Ada said, startled enough that she let Jonny lead her toward the door.
“His last name. I can’t even remember his first,” Jonny said, and when they stepped into the night, the fresh air washed over them both like an incoming wave.
He dropped her elbow as they walked through the docks, weaving their way among the quieter side, where all the freight was held, ready for shipping the next morning.
“What—” Ada began, but a small rumbling noise stopped her. She stopped walking, looking around, trying to see where it was coming from. Then there was a scraping noise that seemed to be coming from?—
“Look out!”
It was the last thing she was aware of before she was flying through the air.
Jonny sat up, breathing hard as he looked around them, torn between wanting to chase after whoever might have tried to hurt them and making sure Ada was all right.
He finally settled on the latter, only realizing then that he was lying half on top of her, covering her with his body. Hetook a moment to recognize the soft curves beneath him before he pushed himself up and off of her, scrambling back before he allowed himself to feel anything. It wasn’t a privilege he allowed himself. He reached his hand down to help her, but she was already sitting up, dusting herself off as she got to her feet.
“What the hell was that?” she threw at him, causing him to place his hands on his hips and stare her down.
“I saved you.”
“I never asked you to!”
“So, you would prefer to be lying here right now, crushed by the crate that would have fallen on top of you?”
“I would have jumped out of the way.”
