Page 44 of The Swan Syndicate #1

The man looked terrified. That didn’t lessen the jackhammer that had moved from her head to her chest.

Cheval pulled the man’s head back and slowly sliced her dagger across the man’s neck.

It wasn’t deep, but the man flinched as a line of crimson formed.

“I’d considered torture to see how long it would take before you gave up a name.

” He used the blood-stained dagger to point a finger at his men who stood several feet away.

“You see, I have a crew of betting men. Risk takers. They like making bets on how long a prisoner will last before giving up information. They even place bets on how long before one dies.”

His men chuckled and nodded.

Good grief. He should change the name of his ship to the Ship of Horrors .

“The men would have had a good time betting on you, but you provide a unique opportunity. The current bet is how long before I convince you to work for me. It can be quite simple and relatively painless.”

He strode back to her and pulled her head back by her hair as the dagger sliced in front of her face. It didn’t touch her, but she understood his point.

“You can become richer than you thought possible working for me. I have my own network. Not nearly as large as MacDuff’s.” He bent closer. “But everything he has will one day be mine. All you have to do is partner with me. You get your contact to trade with me and you get a nice fat share.”

She swallowed hard and considered how Beckworth would play this. He’d tell her to play along. Stay alive as long as she could until help arrived.

She squared her shoulders and ignored the ripples of pain along her spine.

“So rather than work a deal with MacDuff, I trade with you.” The men always promised she’d get a nice share of the profits.

Like she was supposed to believe that. She’d laugh in his face if she wasn’t concerned about her dagger still gripped in his fist. So, she appeared to consider it.

“I’d have to discuss it with the captain of my ship. ”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Consider your ship a loss.”

What did that mean? Had they done something to the Daphne ?

“Your men have no idea where you went. This is your new home—by my side.” That ugly grin was back. “And in my bed.”

“Not likely.”

“You see, I had a feeling you’d be stubborn.

A woman trying to barter with men is always like that—at first.” He walked to a table on the far side of the hold.

He pocketed her dagger and picked up a crossbow.

It was a smaller version, maybe eighteen inches long. Any other day she’d consider it cute.

“I find examples are the best form of persuasion.” Cheval selected a crossbow bolt. She knew the general idea of how they worked but never paid attention to the mechanics. Now, she followed every step he took in loading the bolt.

Cheval pointed it at the man tied in the chair. The shot was quick, and the man grunted as the bolt pierced his right shoulder.

Her eyes snapped wide. Was he going to use that on her? She wanted to struggle against the ropes but that would only show weakness—and her terror. Her gaze flashed to Cheval.

“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t intend to use this on you.

This is a teaching moment.” He picked up another bolt and rolled it around in his fingers.

“I’ve found that my most loyal men remain loyal because they know the penalty for crossing me.

Yet, the promise of riches from others sometimes makes them forget. ”

He set the string and bolt in place, and as horrified as she was to what would happen next, she watched each movement he made.

The second bolt hit the man in his upper thigh and this time he screamed. She expected a huge spurt of blood, and while the wound bled, the crimson drops seeping into the wood floor, he’d missed the femoral artery. Did he know if he’d hit the right spot the man could have bled out in minutes?

“I trusted this man. He’d found someone on MacDuff’s ship willing to share a bit of news for a few crowns.

That’s how I found out about you. But MacDuff found out and paid my man more—” he nodded to the man bleeding from two bolts, “—in an attempt to give me false information. It would have worked.”

He picked up another bolt, and she glanced at the injured man.

His grimace of pain had morphed into terror with his widening gaze, and then he closed his eyes in acceptance as his ragged breaths slowed.

He knew he was going to die. The question was how many more bolts he would suffer before that happened.

One. Two. Or would Cheval fill him with several then leave him to bleed out on his own?

“Do you know why it didn’t work?” His gaze bored into hers as he rolled the next bolt in his fingers. He was apparently going to hold off until she answered, which only built the horrid tension to an excruciating level.

“No.” It was all the words she had strength for.

He smiled. “See how quickly you’re learning?” He slid the bolt in but held the crossbow so it pointed to the ceiling. “I don’t trust my men.”

She snorted. She couldn’t help it.

He grinned. “It’s the business, I’m afraid.

If you haven’t had that problem yet it would only have been a matter of time.

” He scratched his stubbled jaw. “I never send one spy. I always send two. The second is to spy on the first. See? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve caught my men trying to double-cross me.

You’d think the rumors of torture and death alone would deter them.

But they’re greedy men.” He shrugged. “That’s why they’re smugglers. ”

This time the bolt struck the man’s chest. His gaze went wide before his body slumped the few inches his restraints allowed. His eyes never closed as his face slackened. It wasn’t the first time she’d watched someone die, and it didn’t get any easier.

Cheval dropped the crossbow to his side and marched toward her. It required every last bit of strength not to flinch. He bent to her ear. “Remember this. Not that you’ll be leaving this ship anytime soon. But if you think you can talk any of my men into helping you, remember the punishment.”

He pulled her head back and studied her.

She tried to reflect both understanding and fearful respect. Whatever he read in her expression seemed to satisfy him.

He turned to his men. “Cut her loose. She won’t be causing any problems.” He turned back and considered her. “Take her to the hold next to my cabin.” He grinned. “Tomorrow you’ll be put to work scrubbing the deck. Everyone works on this ship.” Before he left, he added one last order.

“Put a blanket or two on the floor of my cabin. Let’s see how long she’ll sleep on a hard floor after a long day of work. I’ll wager two crowns she’ll willingly come to my bed in three days.”

The men laughed as they began placing their own bets.

One strode toward her, removing a knife from his belt to cut her free.

She glanced at the other man. Their belts were adorned with a sheathed dagger and gunpowder cartridges.

Their pistols were stored in holsters either on their thigh or underneath their jackets.

Weapons within easy reach. She just needed the right moment. A single question made her smile.

What would Beckworth do?