CHAPTER ONE

He wasn’t here.

For the first game of the season in Manchester Central’s next bid for the FA Cup, Jonny Tate wasn’t here. 

Ada watched Rhys fume on the sidelines, and could feel Rhys’s wife, Emmaline, tense beside her. 

“This isn’t good,” Emmaline muttered. “Their substitute is Mack Cook, and he’s a nice enough man, but not the half-back Jonny is. Where could he be?”

Ada had some ideas, but she wasn’t about to voice them aloud.

For doing so would reveal all too much about just how she could know such things. 

Murmurs began to spread through the stands as the rest of the fans finally started to realize that something was amiss. 

“Where’s Tate?” a man shouted, another one joining, making their discontent audible to the players gathered around the bench as Colin, husband of Ada’s friend Lily and Rhys’s unofficial second-in-command on the football pitch, spoke with the captain of the other team, likely trying to stall for time for Cook to arrive.

Emmaline stood and pointed her finger at the jeering fan as she hollered, “They’ve enough to deal with at the moment without needing to answer to you!”

Chagrined, the man sat, although Emmaline appeared far from satisfied as she retook her seat.

“If only Rhys had agreed to leave my name on the roster as a substitute,” she grumbled, and Ada couldn’t help a small laugh. 

Emmaline was right. She would fit with the team far better than anyone else, having played with them — disguised — a season herself, but she could hardly do so again with everyone now knowing her identity.

“You could play as well, Ada,” Emmaline said, her eyes gleaming as she leaned over. “You’ve come a long way since we began.”

When Emmaline had first put together her women’s football team, Ada had joined in support of her friend, but she had been shocked to discover just how much she loved playing the game. The women’s sport was still slowly growing; the team only played a few matches a season when they could find an opponent, but Ada still loved the opportunity. 

“Thank you, Emmaline. I will take that as a compliment,” she responded wryly. 

“You should. That’s how I meant it.”

Their friend Lily laughed at them, while Minnie, the fourth in their little group of friends, rolled her eyes with a smile. 

“At least this season, so far, a missing player is our largest concern,” Minnie murmured. “No more looking over our shoulders, wondering if someone is coming after us — me, specifically.”

Last season, Minnie’s father had gotten involved with a man far more sinister than anyone had ever realized — anyone except Ada.

For Ada knew Barker Blackwood’s reputation all too well. Had been raised with the name swirling around her in the shadows, a name that had grown her family’s wealth as well as their complicity in Blackwood’s schemes. 

Ada had a feeling she knew exactly what had kept Jonny Tate away from a game that was important to his team — a game that should have taken priority for him. 

“He must have a good reason,” Lily said, ever the optimist. “Do you think all is well?”

“All is just fine,” Ada bit out. “He just doesn’t care enough.”

Emmaline peeled her eyes away from the pitch to take a long look at her. “What is it about him that gets to you? I know you don’t trust anyone easily, but you really don’t trust Jonny.”

“I know him,” she said before amending at their surprised glances, “his type, that is. He’s looking out for himself, and everyone else just comes second.”

“He saved us last year when my father tried to barter my hand away,” Minnie said. “If Jonny hadn’t brought us Blackwood’s ledger, who knows where we would be now.”

“And where was he at the end, when you really needed him?” Ada snapped back, remembering the scene on the docks, when Minnie and Tommy had been surrounded, Colin and Rhys had been discovered, and Jonny was nowhere to be found. It had looked dire for Minnie, until— well, Ada was trying to forget about just how they had gotten out of it.

“He explained himself,” Minnie said softly. “His brother arrived, although why that caused such a distraction, I have no idea.”

Ada did. It was because Jonny hadn’t seen his brother in years, because whatever had happened between them had caused repercussions that still rippled through Manchester today. At least, the side of Manchester that she, unfortunately, was all too familiar with.

“Here we go,” Emmaline said, abandoning their conversation as she gripped Ada’s leg. “They’re starting. Oh, thank goodness, Cook’s here.”

“Do we think Rhys will win a coin toss?” Lily asked with a smile, all of them bursting into laughter when he lost. 

“I think at this point, winning it would be bad luck,” Ada commented before the Athletics, Manchester’s other team, brought the ball down the pitch, the Central players swarming, but their captain, Oliver Harrington, got through on Mack’s side. 

“Jonny wouldn’t have let that happen,” Emmaline muttered, before Minnie leaned forward and said softly, “Jonny isn’t here. I think we need to let that go and enjoy the game with the players who are out there.”

“Do you think they’ll let him play again?” Lily asked.

“He’d better have a damn good explanation for where he is,” Emmaline said. “Then maybe.”

Ada didn’t want to think about where he might be. The truth was, as much as she voiced the blame against him, she knew what it meant to have family drag you down. With his brother having reappeared and Blackwood gone, she had a feeling that there was disarray in Manchester’s underworld, and she feared that Jonny was right in the thick of it.

Even if she hadn’t been memorable enough for him to recognize her, she knew exactly who he was.

And what he was the most? Trouble.

~~~~~

It was eleven o’clock. 

Damn it. 

The first match of Manchester Central’s season was starting, and Jonny was so far from the pitch that he’d never make it in time.

Rhys was going to have his hide.

But he could handle Rhys.

What he couldn’t handle was leaving all that he had built for himself in the hands of the man he was currently staring down.

“So, Jonny Tate, what will it be?” 

Gideon Sharpe’s harsh, cruel mouth turned up at the corners. It was a face that Jonny had hoped to never see again. When Sharpe had left for London some years ago, Jonny had been more relieved than anyone that Blackwood’s favorite enforcer would no longer be lurking behind any corners. 

But it was like anytime the head of a snake was cut off — another simply grew back. With Blackwood out of the way, Sharpe had, apparently, returned to take over, and Jonny had a feeling that he would be even worse than Blackwood had ever been.

And there was Will, his brother, standing at Sharpe’s side, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for Jonny to go along with Sharpe’s orders. 

“I don’t answer to you,” Jonny said, hoping he appeared disinterested. “Take your merry men and be on your way.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Sharpe said. “You don’t have much of a choice here. You alter those shipping routes, or my friends here will show you what happens when you don’t listen.”

Jonny leaned forward, refusing to be intimidated. “I don’t think you understand. I left this life years ago. Said goodbye to it.” And received a beating from the man in front of him for it. Was left for dead. With his brother watching on. Before he vowed to never let it happen again. “The last time you saw me, I was a scared kid. I’m not that kid anymore. We’re standing in the middle of a respectable business, and people aren’t afraid of Blackwood anymore. He was taken down, and you can be too.”

He stared Sharpe in the eye, looked around him to prove his point.

“You have something I need,” Sharpe said, lowering his voice and leaning in.

“And what’s that?” Jonny lifted a brow, wondering if Sharpe knew he was the one who had caused the scar that sliced through it. 

“You stole a ledger. I need it back.”

“A ledger,” Jonny scoffed as he returned to the work in front of him as though he had no concern over what Sharpe was saying. “What would a ledger matter to me?”

“There is no use denying it,” Sharpe said. “All who were in Blackwood’s pay know it was you who stole it. You entered through the secret entrance that only a few knew about and took the ledger that your little friends used to try to blackmail Blackwood. I need it back.”

“You left Blackwood years ago,” Jonny said. “What would you need a ledger for?”

“Why, to start my new business,” Sharpe said with a self-satisfied smile. “Haven’t you heard? I’m in charge now.”

Jonny had heard all right, but he had no desire to acknowledge that fact. He was leaving this all behind him.

At least, he had been.

“Anything the matter here?” Jonny looked up to see the clerk manager, Percy Fawkes, walking up to them, his posture perfect, his suit immaculate. Jonny had no desire to emulate a man like this, who cared only for appearances and perfection, but nor did he want to be sucked down to the life he had come from, the one they had found themselves in when they were too young to have a choice, after their father had succumbed to Blackwood’s threats.

Jonny refused to repeat past mistakes.

“Nothing at all,” Jonny said. “In fact, I must be going.”

Fawkes looked at his pocketwatch. “You were set to be relieved an hour ago,” he said, frowning. “Where is Richter?”

“He’s here,” Jonny said. He had sent his replacement away, needing to deal with this himself. “He’s around back.”

“You will not be receiving extra pay for this,” Fawkes said, straightening his jacket. “I will stay until Richter returns.”

“Fine,” Jonny said, turning with an eye upon Sharpe. “These gentlemen were simply lost. Wrong place, wrong time. They won’t be returning.”

He turned and walked out the door, feeling Sharpe’s eyes on his back the entire time. 

The moment Jonny hit the docks, he broke out into a run. If he were quick enough, he might be able to make it in time for the second half of the game. That was, if they hadn’t called the substitute in time. Perhaps the Athletics and the umpire would allow him to finish the match.

By the time he made it to Pomona Park, where they played a great deal of their games, he was so out of breath he wondered if he would be able to play. But as he stood near the fence and took in the football grounds before him, he knew he was too late. 

There was Mack, in Jonny’s position, looking as confused as he should be, for he hadn’t practiced with the team in months. It was where Jonny belonged, out there with his teammates. 

He pulled his hat low over his face as he called out to a spectator standing near the fence, “Hey, what’s the score?”

“2-0 Athletics,” the man said, and Jonny bit out a curse. This was just an exhibition game, didn’t mean anything in their Cup bid, but it would mean something to Rhys and his teammates. 

He might just have thrown away his chances to continue playing with the team that meant so much to him. 

“Come on, Tommy,” he muttered under his breath as he watched his friend deke around two of the Athletics defenders. Just when he pulled back to kick, however, the ball was stolen from him, and Harrington went thundering down the field, dribbling around Mack before he stole in and scored again on Hardy. 

“Fuck,” Jonny muttered. 

A loss would make his situation all the worse — of that he was sure. 

He took a step back, unsure of whether he should stay and watch this continue to unfold or whether he was only torturing himself and putting him at risk of being discovered.

He decided he couldn’t stomach it any longer and was about to turn away when his gaze was drawn into the stands. For what reason, he couldn’t have said, but his eyes caught on one figure. She was dressed in a deep violet, a hue that shouldn’t have stood out. 

But it was her piercing gaze, one he could just see from this distance. 

She was watching him, and he knew that any judgment she was bestowing upon him was well earned. 

He was in trouble. 

And not just from Rhys and the team. 

But from Ada Jones. 

Which would only make things all the worse, of that, he was sure.