She found herself dumped into a chair and wrapped her arms tight around herself. It took a moment to realise he was angry with her and she blinked at him, trying to understand. Jeremy leaned back against the kitchen door, arms folded as he surveyed her coldly. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me what the hell you thought you were doing trying to tackle an armed man with your shoes?” Incomprehension flared to anger. “What do you think? I was trying to help you, you schmuck.” “And you thought that was a good way to do so. Unbelievable.” “What’s unbelievable is that you’d have a go at me for trying to help you.” “It would not have helped for you to be injured.” “It was two against one, and how exactly would it have helped if you’d got yourself stabbed? How was I to get help to you when I don’t have any freaking signal on my mobile in that field? If Martin had stabbed you, you’d have bled out before anyone got there, always supposing that he didn’t finish me off first.”
