“Tha’s too bad.” Leaning back in her seat, Carky folded her arms over her chest, a sulky pout to her lips. “I were hopin’ we could settle this without blood.”
Kit narrowed her own eyes. “Are you threatening me?”
A half grin tilted the woman’s mouth. “Is it working?”
Pah! She’d be a fool not to take this lioness in a skirt seriously, but she’d be an even bigger fool if she admitted aloud the unease creeping up her spine.
Kit grabbed the wine bottle and broke it on the edge of the table, the sharp sound of shattered glass jagged on the air. Holding it up to eye level, she admired the serrated edges.
“I’m not afraid of you, Carky,” she murmured without pulling her gaze from the makeshift weapon. “The other girls were, but never me.”
“I suspected as much. But I reckon ye’ll change yer mind real fast about Coleman once those dear to ye start to bleed.”
A very real and present fear crept in like a burglar in the night, silent, dark, dangerous. But she’d be hog-tied if she’d show it. Lightly, she tapped her fingertip against a sharp spire of the glass, piercing a pinhole prick in her skin. Slowly she licked off the resultant red drop without once glancing at Carky. “So, the truce is over, I take it?”
“Unless yer handin’ me the man I want.”
Her sole reply was a steely look.
Carky’s jaw quivered for a moment, then hardened. “Ye know what I love about this grand city? The little urchins who’ll do just about anythin’ fer a crust o’ bread. Shine yer shoes. Sweep yer way clean to cross a street.” She dipped her chin, a bull about to charge. “Plant a bomb when no one’s lookin’. Oh, what’s that?” She craned her neck to look across the street and down a ways. “Could it be yer man is in danger, pet?”
Kit jerked her head to where Jackson stood, dread twisting her heart. He appeared whole and hale, newspapers in hand, angled for a good view of her—with a small keg a pace away, leaned up against the eel shop.
God, no!
Kit flew, chair banging to the ground behind her, sprinting as fast as her legs would pump. Dodging vendors. Skirting shoppers.
Instantly alert, Jackson pulled his gun. Women near him screamed, drowning out Kit’s own mad cries.
She pulled up in front of him, panting, shaking, stabbing her finger towards the keg so wickedly close to his legs. “There’s a bomb.”
“What?”
She sucked in a breath and yelled, “A bomb!”
He wheeled about, then flapped his hand back at her. “Get out of here,” he bellowed. “Get everyone out of the area!”
Kit snapped into action, flailing her arms like a crazed mother hen as she tore back and forth in front of the eel pie shop. “Move, people! Run to safety!”
More screaming. Some wailing. A few manly curses joined in as feet pounded and people scrambled. Kit shoved her head inside the pie shop, nearly choking on the fishy stink of brine and her own fear. “Everyone out! There’s a bomb outside.”
The bald man in an apron sullied with black and red smears shook a knife at her from behind the counter. “Ye can’t go scarin’ off my customers, missy!”
“This is no scare. This is real. Get out!”
The few women inside dropped their packages and scurried past her, shrieking all the way. Who knew if the owner left? Kit didn’t stick around to find out.
She whipped back to Jackson, now crouched on the pavement. “I’ve done what I can. Let’s go!”
“Get yourself out of here,” he growled.
She retreated a few steps as commanded but then stopped. There was no way she could flee only to hear a horrific explosion split the air at her back. She couldn’t live without this man, couldn’t live with the knowledge she’d left him behind.
But what about Bella? Was it fair for her little lamb to grow up without a mother and a father? She gritted her teeth, fearing to stay, hating to leave.
Oh, God, what should I do? I cannot live without Jackson. You know this! But Bella…sweet, sweet Bella. Please, God, have mercy.
Jackson reached for the keg, and still she stood immobile. His fingers trembled, and he flexed them to still his jitters. She should run now. Get out of here far and fast.
