Page 26

Twenty-Six

V ane punched the table with his fist. The resounding thwack made me jump. “Leave this room all ye who have no vote. I weel verify Rogers has taken the harbor and return to finish our business.”

Rowan gave Max’s shoulder a gentle warning squeeze like he worried about leaving Max alone with Vane.

“Rowan will stay.” Max stood. “He’s been a part of the crew since my da, and he’s as much right to a say.”

“He can stay, but he willnae vote.” Vane lifted a chin toward me. Time for the witch to leave the room.

Vane left the room with Black Bard and two of his men on his heels.

Max moved quickly to my side. “Ye must take yer leave. Wait in the courtyard. Shrug will be outside to escort ye.”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

“Dinnae worry, Captain Smith,” Caiyan butted in. “I’ll escort yer betrothed until ye return.”

“I’d be in yer debt, Captain Kirk.”

Caiyan placed his hand on my elbow, steering me toward the door.

“Captain Kirk?” I lifted a brow.

“Kirk led his crew into the unknown and kicked its ass, aye?”

I couldn’t argue with that. Caiyan marched me outside. I stopped short when the bright sunlight pierced my eyeballs and had me blinking like a genie stuck on replay. Once I gained my sight, Caiyan urged me forward.

Shrug huff-shuffled a few paces behind us. “Where are ye goin’ wit’ the healer?”

“Healer?” Caiyan chuckled under his breath. “Jen, ye faint at the sight of blood.”

“I’ve gotten over that.” Sort of.

We walked toward the parapet at the outer edge of the fort for a gander at the British fleet. Men worked in the open courtyard beneath us, reinforcing crumbling walls that had seen a cannonball or ten.

Vane balanced on the bastion, one foot propped on the ledge, spyglass to his eye, scanning the harbor. A flurry of motion filled the beach below. Most of those pirates would take the pardon.

At least I wasn’t getting married tonight. There were more pressing issues at hand.

Vane’s merry men stood behind him, jaws clenched, staring out at the fleet of navy ships spread bow to aft across the mouth of the harbor.

Vane looked down at me. It creeped me out the way he stared at me before speaking, like he could see right through my frilly dress. Right through my petticoats. Right to my naked lady parts.

“I thought in yer vision ’twas nightfall.” Vane’s voice, rough and harsh, gravel on sandpaper, startled me.

“Uhm, my visions aren’t always timely.”

“Their gun cabinets are open, threatening immediate retaliation for any ship who tries to pass.” Caiyan pointed at the small openings lined up like square portholes along the ship’s flank. Each with its small flap hinged open and the nose of a cannon barrel visible.

“I can see wit’ my own eyes.” Vane pushed the spyglass into Caiyan’s chest and headed back to secure his votes.

“Why doesn’t Vane fire these cannons at them?” I motioned toward the cannons lined up like waiting soldiers.

“’Tis too far. The shot willnae reach the ships.”

This was a British standoff. It would hold until someone tried to pass or took the first shot. No wonder Vane wanted those votes.

The wind whipped at my hair, causing tendrils to yank free from my braid. Caiyan’s dreadlocks barely moved.

His leather pants fit snugly, reminding me of a crocodile and emphasizing my favorite part. Leather ropes decorated his wrist and around his neck sat braided strands that met at his throat in a seashell—a hidey-hole for his key.

“This is a good look for you.” I wanded my finger up and down at him. “Very sexy pirate.”

His eyes went smokey, sensual. A deep green I can only describe as carnal jungle. I knew what followed that smolder, so I took a step back.

“I see you felt safe to keep your key on this trip.” I tapped the shell at his throat. My illusions that he wasn’t responsible for the Gitmo lockup vanished like a top-rated beach resort after a tsunami.

He raked a hand over a day’s stubble growing thick on his jaw. His way to take a minute. “What aboot the kid?”

I reminded myself to focus on rescuing Marco, not on the black shirt open to mid-six-pack, exposed tanned skin, and dark curly chest hair.

I lifted a shoulder. “I’m quite taken with Captain Smith. He’ll make a fine husband.” One day. To someone else.

“Taken, are ye?” Caiyan’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Ye could teach him a thing or two. I’ll give ye that.”

My inner voice thought about all the many things Caiyan was good at, and my southern area lit up like a flamethrower. She went giddy that he thought I was good, too.

I changed the subject to distract my inner goddess. “Why does Mortas have a vote and you don’t?”

“Mortas has a ship. Dinnae ask me how he commandeered that ship in such a short amount of time.” Caiyan reached up and secured a strand of hair behind my ear. It was an unconscious movement done so many times between us it was like foreplay muscle memory.

My heart melted.

A dark shadow joined mine and Caiyan’s on the stone floor. “You’d better quit with your flirting, or you’ll blow the deal.” Mortas grumbled at Caiyan.

His long leather vest made him seem more like a gunslinger in an old Western movie than a captain of a pirate ship. The wind lifted his tricorn hat, and he snagged it off his head, showing dark, slicked-back hair.

I never realized he had a sprinkle of freckles across his nose. Of course, it had been a while since I’d been this close to him and at that time, he had a gun on me.

“Captain Crunch. Seriously?” I gave a moronic huh-ha . “Aren’t you more of a Captain Hook type?”

He looked down his nose at me. “Disney doesn’t like infringements on its intellectual property, and it’s my favorite breakfast cereal.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Searching for someone.”

“Aren’t we all?” I sounded flippant, then recalled Mortas referring to a deal. I glanced between the two men, caught Caiyan’s eyes dropping to his shoes, and went all saucer-eyed.

“Jen…” Caiyan’s lips pulled into a grim line.

“Are you helping this bastard?” Caiyan helping Mortas was inconceivable. I turned back to Mortas. “Are you the reason General Potts tried to lock me in the dungeon and throw away the key?”

His lips ticked up at the edges. “Picturing you locked up in a dungeon only happens in my dreams.”

Caiyan positioned himself between us. “In return for my help, Mortas weel demand his ‘family’ induct Toches as a made-man. Tell the world that Mahlia lies about the baby and ’tis naugh mine. Toches deserves to be the father to his bairn.”

“I see.” I couldn’t deny I wanted those things too, but I didn’t see Mortas doing any of them. I leaned back and glared at Caiyan. “It’s hard to believe General Potts is backing you up to turn against your friends.”

“I dinnae turn on anyone. This has nothing to do with my friends…or you.” He narrowed his eyes at me. Another reminder I wasn’t supposed to be here.

“You’re just going to turn over the King’s eye to the Mafusos.” I spread my arms wide in a frustrated how-stupid-can-you-get motion.

“The King’s eye ’tis naugh part of the agreement.”

Mortas stared out toward a ship in the harbor. “At least, not yet.”

I didn’t believe a word of it. “Then what’s the bargaining chip?”

“Sasha.” Mortas spoke her name like a desired scoop of ice cream. “She has information I need.”

I had an idea what information he wanted. The same information I saw on the map hidden in Sasha’s room, but I wasn’t telling. “I haven’t found her. Maybe she’s not here.”

“She’s here, but she’s hiding.” Caiyan extended the spyglass and held it to his eye. “Weel find her.”

So much for the scout Max had sent. He’d met them too close to Nassau to have time for the Sea Storm to escape. We’d have to go to plan B.

Caiyan frowned at me. “Yer thoughts are clicking so loud I can hear them.”

“When Vane sets the Sea Storm on fire, we’ll have to rescue Marco before Vane sails him out of here.”

Caiyan and Mortas stared at me with brows raised.

Caiyan leaned in. “Ye dinnae study yer history, Sunshine.”

Mortas reveled in my lack of knowledge with an irritated huff. “I’m commanding the Lark. ” When I didn’t immediately acknowledge recognition of the Lark , he ticked his tongue.

“The Lark is the French ship Vane sets afire.” Caiyan filled my gap in pirate history with an accusatory tone. Another indicator that my presence was a pitfall.

A big whoosh of relief left my chest. The Sea Storm wasn’t the fire ship. “If you captain the Lark , why are you persuading Vane to take the pardon?”

“Easier to find the mark if she’s locked in the harbor, not sailing the seas with Charles Vane. And I rather like that ship. Hate to see it burn. Unless, of course, you were strapped to the mast.”

“I’ll ignore your rude remark and remind you that you’d be changing history, a big Gian-Carlo no-no.”

Mortas stiffened and turned an icy glare at me. “My grandfather is no longer in charge. My father has taken over as the Godfather in our family.”

“Your father doesn’t know about the jumping through time thing, right?” I’d only seen his father, Dominick, once. He looked like an older version of Mortas. Dark hair, evil eyes, and a stature that said he’d made a lot of offers that couldn’t be refused.

“That’s where I’m in charge.” His tone teetered on the edge of danger. “Besides, Ferrari already changed history with his tales of Long John Silver and buried treasure.”

True. Marco had screwed up history, but I wasn’t going to agree with my enemy. False that Mortas was in charge, with power-hungry Mahlia barking at his heels. And another false that he’d follow through with his promises to Caiyan.

“What about the Sea Storm ? What happens to her?” I asked.

“There is no recounting of the ship.” Mortas looked out at the ship anchored closest to us.

“’Tis possible the Sea Storm took a hit from one of Rogers’ cannons and sank in the harbor,” Caiyan mused.

After Marco stayed behind and changed the past, I’d read Vane’s new curriculum vitae. Instead of being left on a deserted island by a mutinous crew, he made his fortune in treasure, gave it all away to the Jacobites in their support of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s return to the throne, slept with some governor’s wife, and lost his head.

My problem was even in Vane’s new days of disrepute, he still refused the pardon, set the Lark on fire, and escaped from Woodes Rogers. Now, Mortas was trying to change the screwed-up history by convincing Vane to take the pardon, and Caiyan was helping him do it.

“Why is Charles Vane involved in this?” I turned toward both men, trying to read their poker faces, knowing neither would allow me access to their emotions.

“As you know”—Mortas wrinkled his nose at me—“Sasha was last seen boarding his ship.”

I remembered. It was the last time I saw Marco.

Noise scuffled behind us. Shrug, stationed nearby to prevent my getaway, moved aside, allowing entrance to Vane and the men from the meeting.

Vane snatched the spyglass from Caiyan and held it up for a second look, as if he needed it. You could see Rogers’ ships with the naked eye. “Rogers is sending a skiff to the shore.” He collapsed the spyglass with a forceful smack. “Make haste.”

Hornigold muscled me out of the way, speaking to Vane. “Captain Vane, yer outnumbered. There is no way to win against four man-o’-wars. Rogers has the upper hand. He’s got ye by yer loins. We must take the pardon.”

“Our council has voted. The decision stands. My fleet willnae take the pardon.”

Yay! Victory for history.

Mortas scowled at me. “I suggest a battle from the fort and the ships. You can outgun them.”

Bullshit. No way would Vane beat the Royal Navy with his twelve-gun sloop. And during the chaos, Mortas would tear Vane’s ship apart looking for Sasha. Of course, I’d be doing the same looking for Marco.

Vane turned. “We’ll fire against them until they stand down.” He reached a hand to Hornigold’s shoulder. “I know ye wanted to take the pardon. Ye can man the fort. Protect us from above. Weel take back our island.”

Jeez. We’d be lucky if Hornigold didn’t blast a cannonball at Vane’s main mast.

“Captains, man yer ships. Crew, prepare for battle.” Vane shouted orders at anyone in his vicinity. “Fill ’em English full’ah day light!”

Battle? Where was the fire ship and the sneaky exit? Isn’t this the moment he has an epiphany? Maybe he needed a little help. I glanced at Caiyan.

He mouthed the word “no.”

I opened my mouth to enlighten Vane, but Max pulled me aside. “I’ll have Shrug take ye to my plantation. To safety.”

I saw Vane dash down the stairs from the corner of my eye.

“But—” Before I could finish, Max planted a big, mushy kiss right on my unsuspecting and open mouth.

“Go now, before ’tis too late.” A pink-faced Max turned on his heel and left me standing speechless.

One of Vane’s messenger boys motioned to Caiyan. “Captain Vane wishes for ye to accompany him.”

“I was wrong,” Caiyan said in my ear. “Maybe Max could teach ye a few things.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Shrug was instantly by my side, pushing me with his rifle.

“’Twas a pleasure meeting ye, Miss Jennifer.” Caiyan lifted my hand and kissed the back of it. “Go home,” he growled in a low, gruff tone. “’Tis an order, no’ an option.”

Caiyan left me with Shrug and disappeared down the stairs.

“Over my dead body.” Which it might be if I ditched Shrug and went poking around the Ranger .

Rowan waited for Max by the stairs. A troubled look had his brows drawn together. I followed his gaze to Max and Mortas standing face to face, their profiles silhouetted by the setting sun. By the looks of it, they were discussing gunning maneuvers. My gut clenched, and I sucked in some air. “Oh my god. It can’t be.”

“Max!” I called out. Rowan frowned. “I mean, Captain Smith.”

Both men turned toward me, and my presumption was undeniable. How could I have been so blind?

Max hurried over to me and gathered my hands in his. “Dinnae fret. We shall be together soon, mon bel ange .”

My beautiful angel? This guy had game, but I kept some space between us. No need for any more lip-locking.

He motioned toward the stairs. A signal for Shrug to escort me from the fort.

“Move, witch.” Shrug stabbed me in the back with the butt of the rifle.

Had the man not learned from our last rumble? I swallowed hard and placed one foot in front of the other, queasy with the feeling that Mortas was here for something other than the eye.