Chapter Eleven
A gentle rocking woke Samantha. She rolled to her side with a groan, taking a deep breath. The scent of stagnant water and mildew hung heavy in the damp air and her eyes watered. Darkness cloaked her and she blinked, trying to get her bearings.
The faint light from a lantern swinging in the corner of the small room reflected off the bars of a cell. She pushed to a sitting position. Good God, she was in a brig. Sucking in another breath, she choked on the pungent air.
She pulled herself up and shook the door. Locked. Her fingers trembled around the cold iron. Whose ship was she on?
Stumbling back, she looked around the cramped cell. Nothing but an empty bucket in the corner. Another cell connected to hers. Her chest constricted and she pressed her eyes shut. Don’t panic.
Exhaling slowly, she let the vibrations speak to her.
The ship cut through the waves with heavy confidence.
Each swell rolled straight up through her feet.
A subtle groan came from deep within the hull and she reckoned all the sails were set.
They were moving fast, and this was a big ship. Perhaps a frigate.
Her brow furrowed. Who else had frigates other than the navy? Had Christian’s men captured her? Perhaps he had guards on his property. But why take her to sea? It didn’t make sense.
And the man who had grabbed her, his voice had been coarse, thick with a West Indies accent. Doubtful the lieutenant would even be allowed to hire on foreign nationals with his government position.
Samantha skimmed her fingers over the side of her head and winced at the tender bump there. Whoever had her, they were not friends. Which meant she needed to get out. Her fingers continued into her hair and she frowned. They’d taken her hair pins. So much for picking the lock.
The thud of footsteps came from overhead and a trapdoor above a ladder swung open. Samantha swallowed and backed away from the bars, her heart slamming in her chest. A boot came into view, followed by a giant of a man.
“You’re awake.” His deep voice shook her.
She stared. How could she not? His head nearly hit the ceiling. And he was shirtless. The lantern light shone off the deeply bronzed skin covering one of the most heavily muscled torsos she’d ever seen.
When her gaze made it to his face, a gasp lodged itself in her throat. Pitch black lines snaked in heavy swirls over his cheek and forehead. The tattoo continued down his shoulder and ended wrapped around one huge bicep. A gold hoop shimmered from one ear.
“Capt’n wants to speak with you.”
Samantha’s throat had gone dry and she couldn’t form any words. The man shrugged and pulled out a ring with two keys. She shrank against the wall while he unlocked her door.
He swung it open and raised a black brow as she stood frozen in place. “I don’t mind throwing you over my shoulder if I must.”
His laugh boomed through the room and Samantha forced her feet into motion.
“Who is your captain?” Her voice didn’t waver and she drew strength from that. She was a pirate. Whatever this captain wanted with her, she could negotiate.
The man laughed again. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And what about you? What’s your name?”
His eyes darkened. “I have no name.”
“Surely—”
Without letting her finish, the giant turned and climbed the ladder. “This way.”
Samantha followed him through a narrow corridor past a kitchen and bunk quarters. Another ladder brought them to the cannon deck and this time, she couldn’t help her gasp when the men shining the great cast iron guns turned her way.
Each one sported similar tattoos and gold jewelry. Each one flexed great muscles. And each one scowled at her, white teeth flashing in the sunlight streaming through the open hatches.
Here was a crew that would strike fear into the heart of any man.
When they climbed onto the main deck, and she received the same reception, her blood began to go cold.
She spun around, taking in the lay of the ship, and her eyes settled on a huge black flag whipping from the mainmast. Only one man would be bold enough to fly a pirate flag in the open.
Her breath caught, sharp and shallow. She didn’t need to see the nameplate to know which ship she sailed on.
The Reckoning.
Her skirts billowed around her and she slid her stance a little wider to keep her balance.
She’d never felt a ship move so fast. Extra sails sang in the wind, the high-pitched whine buzzing in her ears.
The sun rose on their left and she pressed her lips together.
South. They sailed away from the United States.
Boot heels clicked on the deck behind her and Samantha swiveled.
She blinked and whatever preconceived picture of the dreaded captain she had imagined vanished.
He stood with his arms crossed and she took in his height, impressive, but nothing compared to the giant at her side.
A cocked hat perched atop dark brown hair shot through with silver.
“Captain Thorne.” She inclined her head, forcing herself to take even breaths. Losing her composure wouldn’t help her.
“I see my reputation precedes me.” He grinned, and for a moment, his face was transformed into that of a handsome rogue.
If one didn’t look into his eyes. A stark emptiness filled them and her skin went clammy.
No emotion. Some said he’d sold his soul to the devil.
Her throat went dry. They very well may be right.
He turned his face into the sun for a moment and a flash of recognition fluttered through her, there and gone again in an instant.
Best get straight to the point. “Why am I here?”
Not that she needed to ask. She’d heard enough outside her uncle’s meeting. Thorne wanted the map. Her map.
“Tell me, Miss Warstein, how much does your uncle value your life?”
Right now? Probably not very much. But he didn’t need to know that. “I’m his only niece, and he raised me as a daughter.” She shrugged. “Do you have children, Captain?”
His eyes went a shade darker. Interesting. Of course, with looks like his, he probably had a brat in every port.
Samantha let a smile play across her lips. “Then I’ll let you be the judge of how much my life is worth.”
He took a step closer. “You’ll find quite quickly, Miss Warstein, that life is of little value to me.”
His words rang with sincerity, and Samantha fought back a little shiver. Time to figure out his plan. “So then, what is it you want? I assume you took me for ransom.”
The captain walked a slow circle around her and she forced herself to remain still.
“Your uncle has something I require. I do believe he will bring it. When he does, I will kill him, and you.” He reached out and grazed his knuckles against her hair. “Too bad, really. I do hate wasting such beauty.”
Samantha reeled back. The man was mad.
“You don’t want to beg for your release?” He regarded her for another long moment. “It is, after all, more along the lines of what I’m used to. Perhaps you’d wish to bargain.”
Those dark eyes became predatory and she took a step back. No way she’d ever stoop that low.
“I will never beg.”
A dark brow rose. “Never say never. I will take great pleasure in proving you wrong.”
Samantha stiffened. Stop goading him. She turned and found his crew had gathered close.
“I will say, Miss Warstein, you’ve got your mother’s pride.”
She spun back to him as ice shot through her veins. “What did you say?”
But he didn’t need to repeat himself. The open deck around her suddenly seemed to close in and the wind became a roar in her ears.
Captain Thorne’s eyes gleamed. “She refused to cower to me, even in the end. You have her looks, you know.”
And then everything went silent, save for the heavy thump of her heartbeat.
He killed her parents.
For the map.
“You bastard,” she snarled, launching herself at him. Never mind she had no weapon. Her fingers curled, ready to swipe the smirk off his face.
But a huge hand clamped around one arm and yanked her back.
The captain barked out a hollow laugh. “Take Miss Warstein back to her quarters. I do believe she’s outstayed her welcome.”
The giant yanked her back toward the hatch and she twisted to face the captain. “He’ll never give it to you.”
He laughed again. “Oh, I think he will.”
*
Samantha stared at the uneven boards above her head and wiped her eyes. When she swallowed, a harsh burning filled her throat. Though she’d grown accustomed to the stench, the rancid air was taking a toll on her. She turned to the flickering lantern and sighed.
There was no good way to keep track of time down here with no view outside, but to the best of her knowledge, two days had passed. They could be as far as The Bahamas by now.
How much farther would they go? And what would her uncle do? He knew better than to believe Thorne would let her go if he turned the map over. Not that he even could. The map still lay curled in her conch, aboard the Hurricane. And no one knew.
The hatch lifted with a groan and she jumped to her feet. When the small boots of the cabin boy came into view, she breathed out. Most of the time he was the one who came to bring her meals. She preferred him to the giant, who checked on her periodically.
The boy jumped to the floor and held up a tray. “Brought yer dinner.”
He slid it under the bars and she pulled up her nose at the stale hunk of bread and dried fish. The exact same thing she’d been given for every meal.
She picked it up and asked him the same question she asked each time. “Where are we sailing?”
As always, he ignored her. After a moment, he pointed to the bucket in the corner. “I’m to grab yer piss bucket too.”
Thank God. She gingerly picked it up and brought it over. The boy pulled a key from his pocket and slipped it into the lock. When the door swung open, just wide enough to pass the bucket through, her muscles coiled.