Page 79 of An Imperfect Scoundrel

“I’m innocent,” she moaned, then unwound herself, agony coating each movement.

Rising to her feet, she swayed, unsteady, and Mr. Evans swung his arm, knocking her back against the ladder. The rungs dug into her back, bruising her spine, and her head snapped back, striking the wood. Stars exploded behind her eyes. Toppling forward, she fell into Mr. Hayward’s arms.

“Was that necessary?” Mr. Hayward asked, wrapping Alana’s arm over his broad shoulders and helping her regain her balance.

“Do you show mercy to a thief?” Mr. Evans’ fingers curled around the butt of his pistol.

“He claims he didn’t take the items,” Mr. Hayward replied, his manner calm despite the thinly veiled threat in Mr. Evans’ question. “Captain’s a just man. Dubois deserves to be heard.”

“I don’t care what he says. A sack of gold and some of the missing jewelry was recovered from his chest.” Mr. Evans pointed a grimy finger at Alana.

“Some, but not all?” There was a modicum of skepticism in Mr. Hayward’s question, as though he couldn’t quite comprehend why Alana would steal from pirates and then hide the items in various locations on the ship.

“One piece amongst his possessions is enough.”

“That doesn’t provehetook anything. He was shoveling coal at the time Mr. Northcott’s bracelet disappeared. We informed you of the times when the crew’s quarters were unattended.” Mr. Hayward smacked away Mr. Evans’ hand. “Did you forget to mention that to the captain?”

“Captain says he belongs in the brig for theft,” Mr. Evans said. “Take the matter up with him.”

He touched his hand to his forehead in a salute, shot a scowl at Alana, then climbed up the ladder.

With a sigh, Mr. Hayward turned and dragged Alana’s limp body down the corridor. Stopping just outside the cargo hold, he removed a ring from his waist, and sorted through the heavy keys, selecting the largest of the six.

Unlatching the lock, he shoved open the door, revealing four iron cages, reaching floor to ceiling, which lined the portside wall. He towed her toward the first one, unlocked the empty cage, and pulled the door open, jerking his head toward the inside.

“Please, Mr. Hayward.” She shook her head. “I didn’t take anything.”

“Don’t make me force you, Dubois. I’m not a violent man, but I will do what it takes to make my captain happy.”

“He’ll go without complaint,” a deep voice came from the shadows.

Alana’s head whipped up as Captain Shaw stepped through the open door, his face devoid of emotion.

How had he followed them here? She didn’t hear him use the ladder, which meant there had to be a second entrance on the opposite end of the ship.

She pursed her lips, nodded, and hobbled into the cage. The door slammed shut behind her, the key grinding in the lock.

“I’d like a moment with the prisoner.”

Spinning around, Mr. Hayward bobbed his head once, crossed the floor, wordlessly placed a hand on Captain Shaw’s shoulder, squeezing once, then exited the cargo hold. The door closed behind him.

Alana wrapped her hands around the metal slats, peering at Captain Shaw through the iron squares as he approached.

“I’m innocent. Please, Cedric,” —he flinched when she used his given name— “you have to believe me.”

“You’ve said this several times.” He dragged his hand through his hair, pacing in front of the cage. “The gold, the jewelry… they were found in your trunk.”

“Someone put them in there,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “Think about it. What need would I have for those things?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed and leaned his back against the cold metal, his eyes flicking over the prisoners locked in the far cage, the same two men she’d previously shoveled coal with. “I don’t know you, so I can’t trust you.”

“But youdoknow me. You know my brother.” Sticking her hand through one of the small openings, she touched his arm. “You know I didn’t do this.”

Ripping out from under her hand, he spun around. His face pinched.

“Do you have another suspect?”

She glanced down, twisting her hands in front of her. “No.”