“You can’t shoot a crate with a pistol.”
They stood there, staring at one another, breath coming hard for both of them, and Jonny was aware that most of it was due to the unsettling thought that they had just narrowly missed getting attacked by that crate full of what appeared to be a rather heavy shipment.
“Do you have enemies?” Jonny finally asked her.
“Not that I know of. Do you?”
“Far too many to count.”
“Then I’m sure that you were the target,” she said, far more accusatorially than he thought was necessary.
“Maybe it was an accident,” he attempted. Yes, he had refused Sharpe’s demands, but he had a feeling the man wouldn’t kill him for it. He still needed Jonny, otherwise he would never get the ledger that he wanted so desperately.
"You should never have come here,” he muttered, shaking his head, taking her arm again as he practically pulled her through the docks.
“Let go of me,” she shook him off. “And do not tell me what I should or should not have done. You are hardly one to talk.”
“Is this about the game today?”
“The team was counting on you,” she said, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “You show up halfway through, completely unprepared, expecting to what, hop onto the pitch as though it was no concern? Where were you?”
“Youareaware that I have no need to answer to you? If Rhys wants to talk to me, he can talk to me.”
“Hopefully, he’ll tell you not to come anywhere near the team.”
“What does this all matter to you?” he burst out, his words bouncing off the crates, the docks, the water around them. “You are friends with my teammates’ wives. That’s it.”
Her shoulders squared. “I know who you are, Jonny Tate. Where you come from. They don’t. They trust you when they shouldn’t, and nothing I say seems to make a difference.”
“So, you’ve come to warn me off?” He had no idea just what she thought she knew about him, but he was almost too afraid to ask.
“I’ve come to tell you that they are better off without you around. That you are putting them in danger.”
The weight of her words sunk into him, and as much as he wanted to rebuke her, to tell her what she could do with her opinions, he hated that, most of all, she was right. They probablywouldbe better off without him, especially now that Sharpe was back in town and Jonny was in his crosshairs.
“Fine,” he bit out. “If that’s what’s best, then so be it. Tell them they won’t see me again.”
She stopped, whirling on him. “Are you serious?”
“Is that not what you wanted to hear?” he asked, his hands flinging out to the side. “It’s hard to keep up with you.”
“What kept you away from the game today?” she asked in a somewhat milder tone as she stepped toward him. “What was so important?”
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“Was it your brother?”
“He had something to do with it,” he admitted. “Let’s just say that I would have been there if I could have, but I was caught in a circumstance beyond my control.” He stopped, no longer looking at her. “How do you know me so well, anyway?”
She stiffened, looking away, before returning her gaze to him.
“I know far more about Blackwood — and everyone associated with him — than I’d like to.”
But how? He stared at her, really studied her, more than he had before now, despite seeing her time and again. He had always thought there was something familiar about her, but he had never been able to put his finger on it. He had never considered that the friend of his teammates’ wives might not be someone from his present, but from his past. If she knew so much about Blackwood, however…
“What’s your connection?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her. “Have we met before?”
She stared at him, focusing in sharply. “It was a long time ago,” she finally confessed, her gaze flicking away.
