Chapter Twenty-One
“Isaac?”
The voice came from far away. He cracked his eyes open and winced as pain sliced through his head. Planting his hands on the floor, he slowly lifted himself to a sitting position and the form in front of him came into focus.
A frowning Samantha came into focus while the rest of the room swirled at the edges of his vision.
He tried to shake the fog from his head and a fresh burst of throbbing pain flooded his skull. “What the hell happened?”
“I could ask you the same.” She reached out and touched his temple, yanking her hand back when he let out a curse. “Looks like you took a blow to your head.”
He blinked, trying to remember. “How’d you find me?”
“Your first officer told me the address.”
He groaned and pressed his fingers to his head. “It wasn’t the right address though.”
“Yes, that was a hurdle. But I asked one of the old timers down at the docks and he told me where it used to be.”
“Wish I’d thought like that. We wasted over an hour going to the courthouse and looking at the old maps.”
“We?”
“Jo—Miss Montclair.” He swiveled his head around the room, willing all the blurred lines to come together. “Where is she?”
Samantha’s face paled. “I thought she was on the ship.”
The room snapped into focus and he sat straighter. “Son-of-a-bitch.”
She stood and offered her hand but he ignored it and jumped to his feet. He pushed past the lightheadedness that rushed through him and scanned the floor. No box. A single ribbon lay there, minus the key.
“He took her.” The chill rushing through his extremities had nothing to do with his injury. His hand curled into a fist. “You were right to be suspicious of that shipwrecked sailor. I believe he was planted.”
Samantha’s eyes pressed together. She didn’t need to ask him who the sailor worked for. “Let’s get back to your ship.”
He staggered to the door. “Where the hell is Christian?”
“He stayed in Wilmington.”
A growl left him as they walked outside, the sun searing his eyes, sending fresh pain blinding through him. “Explain.”
“Your sailor wasn’t the only one. Another of the rescued men turned out to be one of Thorne’s who had fallen overboard during the battle.
He was pulled from the water and decided to try and blend in with the survivors.
Christian thought it would be worth staying and pressuring the man for information. ”
Pressuring. She almost made it sound pleasant. Isaac pressed his eyes shut. No longer in the Navy, his friend didn’t have to honor any unspoken rules. “Why are you here, then?”
Samantha set her hand on his forearm. “He found out what Thorne was looking for and told me to come ahead and tell you. Isaac, he’s hunting for naval orders from the war. Specifically, ones from before the kidnapping. That’s what the ship carried.”
“I know. We found the ones he wanted.”
She jerked her gaze to his, her mouth opening, then closing on unspoken words.
They crossed to a waiting wagon. Isaac lifted a hand to the rough wood and turned.
“Samantha, these orders… they’re worse than any of us could have imagined.
And when Thorne gets his eyes on them, all hell’s going to break loose. ”
With tight lips, she vaulted to her seat. “Do they have to do with Christian’s mother?”
He nodded and climbed next to her. “It was an inside job.”
She stared straight ahead as the wagon lurched into motion. A full minute passed in silence. Finally, her shoulders dropped. “We’ve little time to spare if we hope to catch up with Thorne.”
He stared ahead. She hadn’t asked for more information. And for now, he was glad to not have to tell her that her best friend was about to become Thorne’s next target. If Ross truly was the one to give the order to kidnap Thorne’s wife, there would be no mercy for his daughter, Abigail.
She snapped the reins, urging the mule faster, and the wagon rattled over the cobblestones, each bump driving spears of pain through his head. He gritted his teeth and tried to take even breaths as buildings passed by in a blur, a single word ringing through him. How?
Ross had been a senior commander in the Navy. He had retired years ago, a decorated war hero. Respected. It didn’t make sense.
They turned off the road to the docks, and he frowned. The Tempest sat alone at the main dock. “How did you get here?”
“I caught a ride on a merchant ship.”
He nodded, lips tight as the wagon pulled to a stop. It would have been nice to have the support of the Siren and her men. They raced up the gangplank and onto the main deck. Silas jogged down from the forecastle, concern in his eyes. “What’s happened?”
“Never mind that. Cast off the bowlines—now!” Ignoring the pain, he barked orders for the sails to be set, then turned back to his first officer. “You’ll take first turn at the helm. We sail for Savannah.”
Silas nodded and climbed up to the forecastle. Sailors rushed into action around him as they prepared the ship. Samantha stood in the center of the main deck, arms crossed as she stared out to sea. With a sigh, Isaac strode to her.
“You don’t need to come.”
She shook her head. “Of course I do. Besides, I’m hopeful we can intercept Christian before we catch up to Thorne.”
“Lieutenant?” Silas frowned from the wheel. “She’s not responding.”
Isaac’s jaw clenched. He charged up the stairs and wrapped his hands around the spokes. Sure enough, the wheel spun freely, as if detached from the ship.
“Son-of-a-bitch.” He twisted, dragging a hand through his hair, wincing when he hit the raised bump there. “The rudder’s been sabotaged.”
He strode to the railing. “All hands, BELAY! BELAY!”
Samantha’s face had tightened with unease when she caught his eye. “Repairs will take hours. We’ll never catch up to him with that kind of lead.”
“We need another ship.” Mind racing, he gazed down the docks. Of course, no suitable warships were docked.
“There.” Samantha pointed to a patrol schooner.
He squinted. Smaller than he would have preferred.
At least she had a row of cannons gleaming on the main deck.
Her size would make her agile and give them the speed they needed to overtake Thorne.
At the same time, he would be able to fit fewer than half his men.
Would it be enough to win a skirmish with the pirate?
Doubtful. But it might be their only chance. So, he would take it.
“Silas, I need a lean and capable crew. Only the best and most experienced. Quickly.” He pointed to the schooner and his first officer nodded.
A few minutes later, they filed from the Tempest and made their way down the dock.
Isaac’s boots clicked along the dock’s weathered oak planks, his stride purposeful as Samantha broke into a jog to keep up.
As they approached the schooner, a man wearing a crisp navy jacket strolled to the railing and crossed his arms as the group approached.
Isaac didn’t stop at the bottom of the gangplank. He boarded the vessel, Samantha and Silas flanking him.
Now, the man frowned. “What’s all this?”
Isaac extended his hand. “Lieutenant Caldwell. Commander, I need this ship.”
The man glanced between Isaac and Samantha, his brows lifted. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Lieutenant. This schooner is on patrol duty. She’s not yours to take.”
Isaac’s hands curled into fists. “I’m not asking.”
The commander laughed. “And I guess you’re expecting I’ll just hand it over?”
“I’ve been tasked with capturing Captain Thorne. He’s just left Norfolk, and sabotaged my sloop-of-war. Time is of the essence. He’s kidnapped the daughter of a foreign national as well.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’ll still need to get it approved. You can’t just take any boat you please from the yard. Until you produce orders, you’re not taking this vessel anywhere.” With chest puffed, the commander looked down his nose at them.
Isaac groaned. That could take longer than repairing the Tempest. “You don’t understand—”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “I understand you don’t seem to be capable of listening to a superior.”
He grimaced. “I didn’t—”
A flash of blue skirts passed him and before he could react, Samantha held her dagger to the Commander’s throat. “We don’t have time for approval.” Her voice rang with authority.
Oh God. He should have known she’d do something reckless. The sailors around them jumped to attention, drawing swords and Isaac’s men responded with their own weapons.
Shit.
“Call your men off, Commander.” She lifted the blade until it dug into the soft skin below his jaw.
Sweat beaded on his forehead and a few tense seconds passed before he nodded. “Arms down.”
The sailors backed away, but Samantha kept her dagger pressed to his skin. “Lieutenant, make sure your men are ready to board.”
The commander frowned at her as Isaac gave the order. “Who the hell are you?”
She gave him a cheerful smile. “Someone you don’t want to cross. Now, get your men off this ship.”
He grimaced, but gave the order. Once his crew vacated the schooner, Isaac’s men raced up the gangplank. His heart swelled as they clambered up the rigging and began unfurling the sails. Not a single one questioned this insanity. Loyal to a fault.
Samantha waited until the last of the sailors from the Tempest had boarded before loosening her dagger’s deadly grip on the commander’s throat. She guided him to the gangplank. “Go on.”
He took a step, but once free of her blade, he spun with flared nostrils. “How dare you!”
She nodded to the men holding the lines and they tossed them free. The ship began to pull away, the gangplank sliding along the dock as the commander swung his arms for balance. “You won’t get away with this!”
A grin spread across her face as the sails billowed in the breeze and the schooner surged forward. “I just did.”
His eyes widened and he turned toward the dock. It was too late. The gangplank clattered off the thick boards and dropped from below his feet. With a high-pitched scream, the commander splashed into the water.