Page 19

Nineteen

I t didn’t take long before Ace and I stood outside the same tavern I’d been in with Marco on my last visit to 1718 Nassau.

Due to our hurried exit from GITMO, I didn’t have time to plan my outfit. I’d made a mental picture of a male pirate and hoped for the best. My outhouse didn’t comply.

I was back in a dress similar to the one I wore last jump, except with less cleavage, more lace, and lots of white ruffled skirts. I looked like Mary Poppins out for an adventure in Never-never Land.

Ace curled his lips. “Blimey. That crispy white linen won’t last a minute dragging on these filthy floors.”

“This isn’t the outfit I planned. My outhouse chose this dress.”

“It’s quite the frilly frock.” At the top of the steps, he put his hand on the scarred wood door. I gathered my skirts and, to my surprise, my red stilettos were still on my feet. Music, laughter, and the scruff of chairs against wood carried through the windows.

I followed Ace inside. He’d done better than me, although he could be Jack Sparrow’s gay twin. At least he looked piratey in his ivory shirt, brocade vest, and gray pants tucked into leather boots. Woven into his long brown hair was a scatter of braids and wooden beads. The sword sheath, double-waist belts, patterned sash, radish-red head scarf, and the official pirate hat were a bit overkill.

I understood why Caiyan was worried for Ace as my wingman. He’d blend like a circus clown at a mafia funeral.

“Don’t you think you overdid it a bit?” I motioned at his clothing.

“This is pirate chic. And, I’m wearin’ me lucky undies. Of course, I’ll need to get me grip on a sword.” Ace’s eyes roamed the length of my dress. “You, on the other hand, should be sipping sweet tea on a Georgia plantation.”

I heaved out a sigh. He was right. What had my outhouse been thinking? My plan to disguise myself as a man needed a reboot. “Let’s find a table. We need a new plan.”

Two small lanais flanked the entry of the tavern. I followed Ace into the main room that opened into the double-level courtyard. Patrons crowded inside cheek to jowl. A sordid-looking bunch sat playing cards in the center of the room. The hopeful prostitutes hovered around them.

Ace tugged me farther inside. I ignored the smells of salty sweat, stewed meat, and stale bread. We snagged one end of a long wooden trestle table. Years of knife marks were carved into the grain along with the name Lola.

I glanced around this den full of petty thieves, their minds filled with delusions of grandeur. They stole for a living, pitted against each other on ships captained by the most fearless of their kind. But they seemed to come together at this place and obeyed tavern rules.

“That’s the owner of the tavern.” I lifted my chin toward a wiry man with beady eyes and a receding hairline. “Marco questioned him last time we were here.”

“Better him than the man with one eye stationed at the door. He seems rather scary.”

I stole a glance toward the door. “He’s there to take out the unruly.”

“A pirate bouncer. You don’t say?” Ace got that mischievous tick to his lips that spelled trouble. “Order us some food. I’m going to circle the rooms. Do a deep dive for our precious Sasha and secure our wellbeing.”

“Ace, I mean it. Keep clean. I’d rather not find out one-eye’s skill level.”

Ace motioned toward his pants. “Lucky undies, remember?”

* * *

As Ace walked the front rooms of the tavern, I scanned the crowd for Sasha, searching for anyone even remotely resembling her petite frame. Most of the men were either too lean or too tall. If they were Sasha’s height, they were more on the pudgy side, with thick Popeye arms and tree trunk legs. Sasha could use her gift to manipulate her face, but not her body type.

I tried to read the room and got nothing.

I ordered food from the server. We had no money, so the meal would be a dine-and-dash. I didn’t want to board a ship hungry, if that’s where we were headed, but as one-eye tossed out an overzealous patron, I decided escaping him might prove trickier than expected.

Ace returned to his chair and frowned as our server delivered two mugs of the brown icky stuff along with a plate of bread and some kind of meat, that I convinced myself was chicken, mixed with cabbage and slices of pineapple.

“That’ll be two shillings.” She held out her chubby hand toward Ace. My heart stalled. I glanced at the exit. One-eye guarded the door. I was sure Marco paid at the end of the meal the last time I was here.

Ace pulled a small leather pouch from his pocket and handed her two coins. After she left, he removed a small dagger from his waist belt and stabbed a slice of pineapple. “No luck in my search. Sasha’s not here.”

“Where did you get that?” I pointed at the knife. “And the pouch of coins?”

“I borrowed them from a preoccupied pirate.” He glanced at a man across the room currently enjoying a skin-on-skin lap dance from a busty brunette.

“Jeeze.” I averted my eyes and focused back on Ace. “I tried to read for Sasha and got nada.”

“Then why are we still sitting in this natty Tavern?” Ace swatted at an insect that had landed on his forearm.

“We need to refuel, make a new plan to find Marco. Gertie discovered that before Silver became a famous pirate, he was the ship’s cook.”

“A cook?” Ace laughed. “At least he’s following the plot of Treasure Island.”

“Silver wasn’t hung in Treasure Island.”

“Isn’t that how he got the nickname Long?” Ace snickered at his own joke.

I hadn’t seen Marco naked, but the joke made something south of my belly heat.

“Focus.” I leaned closer so Ace could hear me over the increasing bustle of the tavern. “According to the intel that Gertie found, Silver was a cook on the Sea Storm .”

“ Sea Storm ? Bloody ’ell. That was the name on the torn paper in the chest.”

“Marco’s probably on that ship, but this is the only place I know to find out if the Sea Storm is still in the bay. Marco brought me here last jump. It’s a hotbed of information.”

A voluptuous woman strutted by wearing heels, a sheer wrap, and nothing else. Ace glanced around the room, took in the women, some clothed, some not. “It’s certainly hot, hon, and it smells. Are you sure this is the place for the intel?”

“Yes.” I ate more meat and fruit, filling my tank and boosting my bravado for our possible pirate ship excursion. My eyebrows winged up when Ace nodded appreciatively at a slim woman in a red veil.

“Although they’re not my type, I always appreciate a good nude.” He sighed at the slender man refilling a mug at the next table.

I washed down the fruit with the ale and scanned the room for a possible contact. Any of these men could know about Marco, a.k.a. John Silver. “If we can figure out which ship is the Sea Storm , we can row out to it.”

“Row out?” Ace made a guttural noise, like I might have drunk too much of the brown goo, and it warped my common sense. “Agent McCoy told us to wait in port and follow Mortas.”

“That was before General Potts locked us in a cell. It’s up to us to find Marco.” I picked at the chicken with my fingers and ate a bite.

“What about the eye?” Ace sipped his drink, almost choked. “Gads, who drinks this stuff?” He made a face and pushed it away.

“It takes some getting used to.” I took a sip. “Marco is my priority. Then the eye, then Sasha. And capturing Mortas committing a crime wouldn’t be left off my list either.”

“Fancy that.” Ace leaned back and tilted his chin like a proud papa peacock. “Little Miss Fashionista has moved into defender territory, but the WTF would say your priorities are topsy-turvy.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but the man at the next table spilled his drink, splashing it on the hem of my skirt.

“Pardon me, miss.” His arm was bound in a makeshift sling and not a clean one. It gave me an idea. One that Gertie had mentioned during our late-night research binges. I wasn’t sure if he was a pirate, but we needed to ask around. Time was ticking.

“No bother.” I turned toward him. “Do you know a pirate named John Silver?”

“He’s cunning, that one. Crews with the Sea Storm . Met ’im when we took on a frigate. We was only hours upon it. Came out of nowhere, Sea Storm did, and it had the wind. Beat us to it, they did. Me cap’n thought they’d steal the booty right out from under us. We was ready to fight, but Sea Storm’s quartermaster, he’s a big’n, he is, informed us they was only smugglers.”

“Smugglers?” Ace pushed away a strand of braided hair that had fallen across his forehead, and our eyes met with that invisible connection that meant Ace also recalled Alexander Hamilton’s inheritance came from a smuggler.

“Ya. The skirmish with the frigate was a bloody one. A few of their crew got injured. Ours as well.” The man pointed at his sling. “Silver bargained for the tobacco and sugar, and we kept the rest.”

I let go of the breath I held. Marco wasn’t injured. “Do you know where I can find Silver?”

“Last I ’eard he was lookin’ for the Ranger . That’d be the sloop belonging to Captain Vane.” The man took a slobbery sip of his mug. “Don’t know if’n he’s looking to kill Vane or join him.”

“Is Vane here?” I glanced around, not seeing anyone who looked the part.

“No. He’s been out roun’ a week, I’d imagine. He’s holding up at the Fort. Rumor has it the new govn’r is heading this way wit’ pardons for us.”

“We’re looking to join Sea Storm ’s crew.” I sat ramrod straight, shoulders back, trying to look menacing.

“We are?” Ace’s voice went just shy of a shriek.

I whipped my head around and sent him an angry, arched brow.

His face wrinkled in a forced smile. “I am, I mean, we are.”

The guy’s eyebrows shot up under his cap. “Don’t reckon you’ll be part of any of those crews. They don’t take women. And iffn’ they do, the sea ’tis no place for a lady.”

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “But I have something to offer.”

He stared directly at my chest and frowned. I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or thankful the high-necked dress concealed my breasts. Compared to the plump, melon-chested seductresses flitting about the tavern, I didn’t advertise any goodies, making me less of a target for a drunken deckhand.

“Nay. Me mates can get that on land. They didnae take it on the ship with them. ’Tis bad luck.”

“Not that.” I windshield-wipered my finger at him like a disciplining schoolteacher. “I’m a healer. I’m looking for a ship that needs a doctor.”

I felt Ace straighten beside me. I hadn’t told him of my plan because I didn’t want him to talk me out of it.

The guy scratched the scrawny beard covering his pockmarked cheeks. “There’s been word the cap’n of Sea Storm had a bout of ill after the attack.”

Bingo. I sent Ace a small, smug smile.

“Mayhaps his quartermaster’ll take you aboard, but only until he breaks masts. If’n you could heal his captain.” The man eyed my platter of food, and I handed it over. He stuffed a slice of meat in his mouth and washed it down with the ale.

“Is Sea Storm in the harbor?”

“Aye, but—” The man turned at a sudden commotion at a nearby table. One man was accusing the other of cheating him at checkers. The men circled each other. One held a knife and took a few air jabs at his opponent.

“Ye stole me bag of coin, ye salty son of a biscuit eater!” knife jabber shouted. “Ye was bettin’ wit’ me own coin.”

His rival held a club. I realized he’d broken off the leg of a chair. He swatted the air at the man. “I took not a thing from yer stinkin’ corpse.”

“Perhaps we should go.” Ace tucked the leather pouch filled with coins back into his jacket. I assumed this was the money the two men fought over.

I stepped toward the exit as fists began flying from more than the two men. Ace caught a right hook to his jaw and joined the ridiculousness. The brawl escalated. Push came to shove, and I got caught in the vortex.

A man missed his mark and rammed into me. I fell backward, closing my eyes and waiting for the hard floor to knock the air out of me. But it never happened. Instead, I was scooped up by muscular arms and held close to a broad chest.

I opened my eyes and looked into crystal blue eyes, the pupil ringed in gold.

He didn’t speak but righted me on my feet.

“Thank you.” I began, but he ignored me and shoved his way into the fighting. He towered above them. His dark hair, streaked with a touch of sun, swung at his shoulders as he pulled men apart like grapes plucked from the vine and tossed in the dirt.

As soon as the men realized this surefooted Aquaman stood in their midst, they cowered toward the walls.

“My crew willnae be part of yer squabble.” He glared at the men. Coin was tossed on the table, and some fled the tavern. Others stayed stiff against the walls until this giant of Nassau left the room with one of the men from the checkers battle in tow.

“Hon, did you see that side of beef?” Ace rubbed his reddening jaw.

“He caught me.”

“He’s wit’ the Sea Storm .” The man we had spoken to earlier had hid under the stairwell, nursing his drink. He nodded toward a stocky man with unruly red hair and a thick red beard speaking to the proprietor. “That’s his boatswain there, taking care of the damage. You’ll be needn’ ta see him aboot the healin’.”

I pulled Ace out of the tavern. “Where are we going, love?”

“I’m waiting on the boat—whatever. I need to get on that ship.”

“This is a bad idea.”

A parrot landed on Ace’s hat and squawked, “Bad idea.”

“Who said that?” Ace rolled his eyes upward.

“You have a friend.” I pointed at the parrot.

Behind Ace, the boatswain stepped out of the tavern. “And I’m about to make one.”