A Bullet Or Two

Chapter 2.1: A Robbery in Transit

It was not long until the morning crowds and chatter of Central East Station were left miles behind in the dust from the tracks. The steel wheels clattered against the steel lines, and the carriage shook from side to side. Delilah sat opposite Jonnie on a cushioned seat in a private cabin. No other passenger could access their quarters.

Jonnie shuffled a deck of cards, placed them in a row of seven, and added more beneath each card. The game of logic was always his favourite on long journeys, and Delilah would occasionally intrude in his thinking. Seven of hearts here. Two of clubs there. She liked the logic of Solitaire, the solitude, but patience for it often averted her. That journey, however, she had chosen to leave him be and resorted to reading a novel. 

A tale of passion, romance, and adventure had enraptured her for the past couple of hours as she engorged herself in the fantastical world shared by the written word. A Lord saved by a woman willing to brave the most dangerous and impossible of trials, only to find her love was for another. How scandalous. How utterly unreal. It truly was something that would only occur in the mind of a writer.

Baron had disapproved of her reading hobby, especially when he discovered the books were works of fiction. He had told her time and time again that her efforts were better spent on philosophy, law, finance, etiquette books, or even just practicing her gunmanship. Not wasted away on the fiction shelves of the townhouse's library. Delilah remembered how in her youth he would snatch her books and take them, hide them in his own study until she left for the gardens. She remembered how he only stopped when she pulled a pistol out and told him to leave her be. Her heart had thundered in her chest as she pushed the safety off. It was an extreme response, but she felt it necessary. The smirk that crinkled his face had eroded itself in her memory, along with a deep-rooted disgust.

Jonnie pulled an ace of hearts from his deck and placed it above his row.

They were traveling to Cornswald, a farming town out to the west. By coach, it would have taken them upwards of a day, a round journey through numerous other unimportant towns. Baron had emphasized how urgent the visit was, and demanded Delilah to travel by train, going so far as to pay for the outward trip himself. Yet, he was never so charitable; not once had he wasted his money on her trips. She knew it must be urgent. But not so urgent as to waste time while one of his guards was sent to fetch Jonnie, her forever bodyguard.

She did not mind his presence - to be honest, she quite enjoyed it. As she peered above her clothbound book towards him, she observed his thoughtful expression. His green eyes were unblinking as they contemplated the cards. His hand pulled at his lips, brushing against the dark stubble growing across his chin and along his jawline. 

The last time she saw him shave had been in Bourgerdown. They had made it back to their room after the job was completed. Left the bag filled with Baron's guns near the door and prepared themselves for sleep. He had nicked his cheek, right on the jawline and a small blotch of blood had dribbled out. Without a second thought, Delilah wiped it with a cloth and offered to finish off the rest of his face. "You don't have to. I'm sure I'll be fine," he said. But she insisted, and he let her. Delilah worked with precision. Blade against his skin, slicing hairs. A needed distraction from the lingering clamminess where the gunsmith's touch still stained her.

"Is there something on my face?" Jonnie snapped Delilah back to the train, back to the rattling carriage where she sat opposite him. A slyness was present in his expression.

Heat crept to her cheeks. "Only defeat. The game seems to be beating you."

"Really? I thought I was beating it."

"No, not at all. You are rushing. You placed that king too early." The smirk now lay on her face as Delilah reached over to tap the King of Spades alone in its own column. "You have too many reds at the column bases and your only blacks are clubs. You should have waited for the King of Hearts." She continued her explanation without much interruption from the blond, scalding him for bad placements, thoughtless moves, and his neglect of the deck. He had been playing well, just not well enough. 

"Then once you have all the cards revealed, lined up in columns, you can move them into the foundation. See?"

Had it been anyone else, she would have stopped after giving the lecture, let them carry on with the game themselves, but this was Jonnie. He had had a year to play while guarding her for hours as she stayed in the townhouse. He had good knowledge of the game, even if he made mistakes every now and then that Delilah chose not to mention. He had never objected to letting her join in, sometimes he had even let her teach him some tricks. And like all of those previous games, he had not objected to her intervening.

It was a thrill for her. Solving something he could not.

And with that thought, another entered her mind. Something that had idly waited behind her fiction and solitaire - a card misplaced in her own mind, desperate to be noticed.

"May I suggest another...thing?" 

Delilah looked up to find his gaze was already on her. Although, his eyes did not match hers. Rather, they were very much set elsewhere on her face - to which she did not know -  and were lost in soft thought. His thin lips curved at the edges. And it took the passing of a few seconds for him to notice her attention. Only then did his mossy greens meet her own stone-grey eyes. Grey so cold and lightless as the Baron had often described the colour when she was young. "You may." His lips curved into a smirk,  a rarity upon her guard's features amongst any other's presence.

Considering her words carefully, Delilah leaned back into her seat, distancing herself from her protector, ready for his answer that she already knew.

"I want to be the marksman for this assignment."

His smirk dissipated. "No." 

A chuckle was all Delilah could muster. Of course, it was no. 

"What about my reasoning?"

"Regardless, no."

Her chest twinged at the rejection, hurt that he would dismiss her so quickly. "Do I not need the experience?" Jonnie's brows crumpled at the question and the softness that previously cloaked his face faded. "Would my abilities not benefit from the pressure?"

"You do and they would, but..."

"Then, surely this is the perfect chance for me to improve?"

"Lady Franklyn, I must refuse." Jonnie did not need to raise his voice or speak harshly, his formality carved a harsher wound in her than neither his volume nor tone could. It scratched at her inhibition and reminded her of their roles. She was not his employer, nor his friend. No, he was just her bodyguard.  She was just his job. Delilah chewed at her cheek before speaking again. Any consideration of her words was gone. Any familiarity between them was gone too.

"Mr. Hackett, must I remind you..."

"No need to remind me as you do every time. My job is to protect you. I cannot do that if you are confined to a cart."

"Do you think so little of me that I cannot protect myself?" The two glared at one another across the table. The game of solitaire was long forgotten. "Because I can assure you, I do not need the loyalty and protection of a man only here for the money." Somehow, they always ended up in disagreements. Not for one job had they remained intimate the entire time. Somehow, Delilah pruned any sign of it before they had even exited the train. "Must you do this again?"

A high whistle interrupted them, announcing their arrival at their destination. Jonnie swept his hand across the cards, dragging them to his palm. Delilah stood to gather her things as she spoke. "Yes. I must. I need to be the marksman. I must." She pulled her case from beneath her seat and moved to grab the gun cases from the overhang. Yet, as she reached for them, Delilah felt the warm chest of her companion against her back and watched as he instead curled his fingers around the handles. 

A sigh passed her ear as they moved to leave. "If you must, then you can. Just...be careful."