Page 30 of Storm over the Caribbean (Storm and Silence Saga #8)

Gaptooth smiled straight at me, his foul teeth on full display. For a moment, just a moment, I hoped that I was mistaken, that the bastard hadn’t really noticed me hiding behind the palisade—until, that is, he chuckled and gave a mocking salute in greeting.

Then he turned to Mr Ambrose. “Why don’t you invite your friend in? I’d love to meet him.”

I could hear Mr Ambrose’s teeth grind from where I stood.

“Aye aye…Sir.”

Then he whirled around and stalked towards the exit of the camp.

I’d love to meet him?

Meet him ?

Oh boy. Mr Pirate Leader was going to be in for a surprise.

Just then, I caught sight of Mr Rikkard Ambrose stepping out of the camp. His long legs ate up the distance and, in a blink, he had arrived in front of me.

“What now?” I hissed. “What are we going to do?”

“Now?” Keeping his voice low, Mr Rikkard Ambrose cocked his head. “Now you’ll come inside.”

“Are you insane ? Have you seen me?” I gestured to my very pregnant belly. “Excuse me if I missed it when reading history books, but last time I checked, I must have overlooked the adventures of all the pregnant pirate ladies!”

“Don’t worry.” Reaching out, he squeezed my shoulder. “I have everything in hand. Do you really think I would not have a plan B? A plan to safely get you accepted into the crew?”

“You…you do?” I blinked, taken aback. But then again, this was Mr Ambrose. He probably had a plan B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z, and Ω. “How? How can any plan possibly work while I’m pregnant?”

In answer, he gave my belly a scrutinizing look. It wasn’t the kind of look a loving man might give his wife. No, it was the kind of look a farmer might give a well-fattened pig. What the hell was he planning to…?

“No!” Raising both my hands to ward him off, I backed away. “Oh no!”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say, Mrs Ambrose.”

“I don’t need to! Not when you are looking at me like that! I know that look, and I’m saying no !”

In answer, he simply stepped forward, cocking his head predatorily.

“No! Nooo!”

***

The gate to the encampment stood wide open.

The whistling of the wind and the soft whisper of the waves were the only audible sounds as the pirates intently watched for the arrival of their new companions.

A moment later, the men’s anticipation was rewarded, when Mr Rikkard Ambrose stepped into the camp.

“Well?” Gaptooth barked. “Where is he?”

“Right here.”

And I stepped out from behind Mr Rikkard Ambrose, out into the open. “Um…Arrr, mateys? Let’s sink some virgins and ravish some ships!”

That’s how pirates talk, right?

Deadly silence greeted me.

“What,” Gaptooth asked, “is that ?”

“That’s my fellow castaway.” Mr Ambrose shrugged.

“You can see why I didn’t want to bring him in here.

The fellow isn’t exactly made for the rough life.

Freddy the Fatty here was the ship’s cook on the ship I boarded before I got shipwrecked.

And an amazing ship’s cook he is, even if he can’t stop sampling his own cooking. ”

I froze.

What did he just call me?

“Freddy the Fatty, eh?” The pirate leader scrutinized me, licking his thick lips. “Well, if his figure is anything to go by, the food should be really tasty.”

Was it possible to murder someone with your gaze? If so, Mr Ambrose and the pirates were going to be bloody stains on the sand in about five seconds.

“Oy, you! Fat little fellow!”

Scratch that. Three seconds.

Eyes glittering with the promise of death, I looked up at the beefy pirate leader. “Yes, oh lean, muscular leader?”

“Ha! So the little piggy has fire in his belly, does he?” His eyes narrowed. “Well…let’s see how long it lasts, shall we?”

Uh-oh…

“Volunteer!” Gaptooth snapped his fat fingers. “Now!”

Instantly, a figure stepped forward. He wasn’t nearly as big as Cyclops. No, he was tough and sinewy, with steely eyes, and, more importantly, steely knives in both hands.

“What?” The single word that escaped Mr Ambrose’s lips was a hiss. “But—”

“But what? Just because he can cook, you think he’ll get in scot-free?” Gaptooth smirked. “Not under my watch. Jack?”

The knife wielder stepped forward into the circle, displaying a grin that looked like he’d slashed his own face open with a blade. “My pleasure.”

“Jack? Just Jack?” I cocked a challenging eyebrow, trying to resist the urge to cross my arms protectively over my belly. “The others all got fancy nicknames, and you couldn’t find a better pirate name than Jack ?”

“Oh, I did.” He raised one knife, staring at me over the blade. “They call me the Jackal.”

“How…imaginative,” Mr Ambrose complimented, his voice as cold as ice. “Seems you are in dire need of someone beating some creativity into you.”

“Is that so?” Jackal smirked. “Come and try.”

Eyes narrowing infinitesimally, Mr Ambrose stepped towards the ring. “Gladly. I—”

“Stop!” Gaptooth barked.

Both men froze. Mr Ambrose’s head snapped up to stare at the pirate leader, his eyes filled with the promise of violence. “Stop? Why should I stop? I’ve hunted quite a few beasts in my life. I’ve yet to kill a jackal.”

He didn’t turn towards me. He didn’t even glance my way. But I didn’t need him to in order to understand what he really meant: I’m going to fight for you. You will not be harmed. The both of you.

I swallowed, hard.

“I said he will fight!” Gaptooth stabbed a finger straight at me. “And I bloody meant it! You…” He levelled a look at Mr Ambrose. “Get out of that ring before I put you down!”

Mr Ambrose gave a dismissive snort. “He’s just a bloody cook! He won’t even give him a decent fight. Let me—”

“No deal,” the pirate leader hissed. “Cook or no, either he fights, or he dies. Now!”

I felt dread settle into the dark pit that was my stomach.

From behind, I saw a muscle in my husband’s neck twitch.

There was a long moment of silence as he and the fat pirate stared at each other—then Mr Ambrose lowered his head and took a step back.

And another. And another. Every step he took was as if he were walking through molasses.

But he did take them. When he finally exited the ring and approached me, our eyes met.

I’m sorry. I couldn’t protect you.

How was it that, without a single sound leaving his mouth, I could so easily read the unspoken words in those deep, dark eyes of his?

I know , I told him. It’s not your fault.

He gave a brief, jerky nod as he brushed against me in passing—and suddenly, I felt something heavy settle into my hand. I jerked—then quickly slipped the thing into my sleeve, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Well, well, now…” Jackal stepped forward, twirling his blades, a smirk playing over his narrow face. “This is gonna be fun. What do you think, boys? When I cut some slabs of pork off the piggy, is he gonna squeal?”

Raucous laughter rose from the crowd. I made a mental note of the people who were laughing the loudest and tightened my fist around the object Mr Ambrose had slipped into my hand.

“ If you can cut me,” I hissed. “ If .”

“My, my…” The pirate cackled. “The piggy has fire in his belly, does he?”

With legs that, I told myself, were definitely not trembling, I stepped into the ring. “Why don’t you find out?”

The pirate smirked. “Aye.”

Then he dashed forward and, without hesitation, stabbed towards my unprotected belly.

***

A massive hand grabbed the wooden railing and pulled hard. A moment later, it was followed by a beard, and then by the man attached to it.

“Captain!”

In response to the barked command, the captain of the ship came quickly rushing over to the railing.

“Yes, Mr Karim! I’m here, Mr Karim!”

“We received your signal and came as soon as possible. What is the matter, Captain?”

“We sighted some pirate ships in the distance, Mr Karim.”

“Pirates!” The bodyguard spat out the word like it was a curse. “How many?”

“Quite a few, Sir, though they’re rather spread out. Mr Ambrose seems to have been correct. The whole region is infested by them.”

“What about the reinforcements?”

The captain swallowed. “They should be here in a few days.”

Karim’s beard bristled. “How many days?”

“Um…eight? Nine?”

“So, over a week.”

“Y-yes, Mr Karim, Sir.”

“Notify me the moment they arrive!”

“Yes, Mr Karim, Sir! I’ll do it right away, Mr Karim, Sir!”

With a growl, Karim whirled away from the man and stalked towards the railing, where he came to a halt and let his eyes sweep over the ocean.

“Pirates…” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Thrice-cursed pirates!”

***

Jackal moved so fast I hardly had time to blink. In a split second, he was in front of me, and his hand lashed out towards my belly, his knife glinting in the bright midday sun.

Clang!

The pirate’s eyes went wide when his blade slid off my own that had appeared out of my sleeve. But before he could make a move, I lunged forward, stabbing straight into his hand.

“Aaaagh!”

Jackal’s blood-stained knife dropped to the sand with a thud. Slamming my foot down on it, I kicked it out of the way and smirked up at my enemy smugly. There was a delicious amount of shock on his face, his eyes wide as dinner plates as he stared at my weapon.

“What did you expect? A fair fight?”

Jackal sent me a savage glair. “I’m gonna gut you, piggy!”

Wiping his bloody hand on his face, he sent me a blood-stained smirk that sent a chill down my spine. Then he simply extended his hand—and promptly, one of the other pirates standing in a circle around us deposited a knife in it.

No fair fight indeed.

I was screwed. I realized that. I considered myself a tough lady. But tough enough to win a knife fight with a pirate while several months pregnant? Ha! Keep dreaming, mate!

Not that I have time for dreams right now.

I had to come up with a plan, and fast. Because, guess what? To hell with me not having a chance! To hell with me being big as a balloon! I was not going to die today! I was not going to allow that piss-face of a pirate to hurt my baby!

Time to fight!