Page 93 of An Imperfect Scoundrel

Loud shouts floated across the deck, crawling down the corridor and slithering under Cedric’s closed door.

“What are they saying?” he asked, tilting his head as he listened to the growing yells. His eyes widened at the same moment as Mr. Hayward’s.

Keelhaul!

There was only one person the crew would subject to that punishment, the person they thought was guilty of theft—Alana.

Leaping over the desk, Cedric crossed the floor before Mr. Hayward spun around. He grabbed hold of the door and yanked, but it didn’t open.

“What…” He added a second hand, pulling as hard as he could, but the door wouldn’t budge. “It’s stuck?”

He moved aside, and Mr. Hayward attempted to open the door, but his result matched Cedric’s. He glanced over at Cedric, his eyes widening.

“We’re trapped.”

“They’ll kill her! We need a way out of this room!”

Cedric’s gaze flew across the cabin and landed on the cannonball and chain. Racing over, he snatched them up and swung the ball over his head in a wide circle, then released the cannonball and threw the iron at the door, cracking the wood.

“They can’t touch her!” Mr. Hayward shrieked, dropping to the floor before being struck by the iron sphere. He glowered at Cedric, his hands curled over his head. “I took Mr. Johnson’s keys, too!”

“You took his keys?” Cedric repeated, dragging the cannonball toward his feet.

“Yes. I have his set as well as my own. There are only three rings. Not one man can get into her cage.” Mr. Hayward climbed to his feet.

Cedric waved his hand, gesturing for Mr. Hayward to move away from the door.

“After this is over, you’re going to be angry that you have no door,” Mr. Hayward muttered, taking a large step toward the bed.

“Thankfully, I have a first mate who knows how to fix them.”

“Just because I know how doesn’t mean I want to.” Grumbling, he sank onto the bed, then offered Cedric a ridiculous bow. “Go on.”

Whipping his wrist, Cedric flung the cannonball at the door a second time, striking the wood roughly one foot higher than the first hit.

“It’s going to take longer if you spread out the blows.”

“It’s not as easy as it looks.” Cedric twisted his head, glaring at Mr. Hayward and pulling the cannonball toward him.

“I certainly hope not.”

“You could help me.”

“Do you have a second cannonball?”

Mashing his lips together, Cedric threw the iron ball at the door again, splintering the wood.

“What do you intend to do once we’re free? The crew will still demand a sentence to be carried out.”

“We’ll let them watch her die,” he replied and glanced at Mr. Hayward. “We’ll use the same method we used tokillmy previous cabin boy.”

“How is Otis?”

“He’s been quite an excellent addition to the distillery.” Cedric lifted the cannonball, preparing the fourth strike. “Rowland loves him.”

“Where are your keys?” Mr. Hayward asked, appearing at his left shoulder.

“Hanging on the wall.” He jerked his head toward a small post hammered into the side near the door.