Chapter Twelve #2
Christian aimed a kick at the giant’s knee but his energy had waned and it glanced off. The room swam around him as rings of blackness grew larger in his vision. His hands fell from their struggle at his neck and his muscles slackened.
“Lieutenant!” Miss Warstein’s voice came from a long distance away, so faint he could barely hear it.
Damn pirates.
*
The clink of silverware brought Christian back to the present. His eyelids slit open and he bit back a groan. Fire burned through his throat. He tried to lift a hand but couldn’t.
He was bound to a chair.
His fingers flexed against the armrests and he opened his eyes. A man in a crimson jacket sat at a table. Thorne.
The captain faced away from him, cutting a piece of his meal. He lifted his fork to his mouth, then dipped his head.
“You’re awake.”
Christian didn’t answer and swept his gaze around the cabin. Immaculate. The floors shined and the shelves behind the desk were lined with neat rows of books. A captain’s bed was set with nary a rumpled sheet. It reminded him . . .
It reminded him of his own cabin.
“I was going to offer you dinner.” Thorne waved at an empty plate next to him. “But after hearing about your behavior, I don’t believe you deserve it.”
Christian pulled his brows together. The man’s smooth voice pulled at a memory. One from a long time ago. Too distant to fully remember. The hairs on his neck rose a fraction.
The room went silent, save for the captain’s fork and knife. Each bite was cut with precision and Thorne chewed slowly. Quiet minutes passed and Christian began to test his bonds. If he could get loose . . . but the knots were tied perfectly, without even a bit of give.
Picking up a silver goblet, Thorne drank deeply. Save for his dinner spread, the desk lay empty except for a map and compass. Christian’s eyes narrowed. His compass.
“Why am I here, Thorne?” He strained against the ropes at his wrist. “Why didn’t you kill me?”
The pirate pulled a napkin from his lap and wiped his mouth. He pushed his chair back and stood. Another minute dragged by. His fingers clenched and unclenched one time, a brief flash of hesitation. He reached out and picked up the compass, rolling it in his hand. And then he turned around.
Christian slammed back into his chair.
“What kind of father kills his only son?”
He was dreaming. This had to be a dream. A sick, twisted nightmare. It was the only explanation.
Other than the greying hair and weathered skin, the man standing in front of him could have walked straight out of his memories.
“You’re dead.” Christian’s words came out hollow, barely able to escape his rapidly tightening chest.
“Oh, I promise you I’m very much alive.” In two steps, the captain crossed the space between them.
Christian shook his head. This wasn’t happening.
He must have said the words aloud because his father laughed when he crouched down.
“You’ve grown into quite the man, Christian. Followed my footsteps, I see. I wish I could say I was proud, but alas, we stand on different sides of this war.”
He flipped open the compass and ran his thumb over it. “I’ve missed this. Thanks for bringing it back.”
Christian stared at the man who’d disappeared from his life twenty-four years before. He’d been five years old the last time he’d seen his father, drunk and insisting he would avenge his wife’s death. The next morning, he’d disappeared.
The stiff muscles in Christian’s back began to ache and he fought to relax. But his breaths came in ragged gasps. For an agonizing moment, he was transported back to the day the navy had called off the search for his father. Manner of death: lost at sea.
“I waited for you. They told me you were dead.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “How? How could you do this?”
“Ashamed to have a pirate for a father?”
“I don’t understand. You hate pirates. You said—”
“Trust me, I’ve killed plenty of pirates. Hunted them down like the scum they were. I still do. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.”
“But to become one?”
“One day, I looked into the mirror and saw a monster.” Thorne shrugged. “Grief will do funny things to a man, son. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
The chair rattled as Christian tried to lunge forward and a red-hot burst of heat slid through his veins. “Wouldn’t expect? Damn you, I lost my mother and father in the same year. Don’t tell me I don’t understand grief. It’s consumed my entire life. And yet I’m still on the right side of the law.”
His father stood, smoothing his coat. “For now.”
“I will always stand for what is good and right. That’s far more than you can say.”
“The problem, my boy, is that everyone’s vision of good and evil is different. And sometimes, there is no right or wrong.”
“What about all the innocents you’ve killed? All the ships you’ve sunk?” Bile burned a path up his throat. His men. His ship.
The smile slipped from his father’s face. “No one is innocent.”
“What would Mother think?” The words came out in a snarl.
Christian didn’t see the hand. But the impact sent his head snapping back. He kept his face twisted away as a sharp metallic taste filled his mouth.
“You will not speak of her.”
Christian spat out a mouthful of blood and faced his father. “I’ll speak of her whenever I want. How dare you try to justify becoming the very thing that killed her?”
A mottled flush crept above his father’s beard. “Perhaps I made a mistake in letting you live.”
Speaking of lives . . . “Where are my men?”
“They’re safe. For now.”
“How many?”
“Such concern for your crew, Lieutenant.” A greying brow arched. “It’s misplaced. I could turn every one of them against you by the time we anchor in Tortuga.”
Christian’s lip pulled back. “Never.”
His father chuckled. “I’ll give you the same advice I gave Miss Warstein: Never say never.”
What had she said never to? He tried to imagine her facing off with the feared captain. Poor thing. His pulse steadied. He needed to focus on getting her out of here. “What are you going to do with her?”
“I’ll wait until her uncle shows his face. I’ve got special plans for him.”
Christian remembered the elusive answers Warstein had given him. “What’s the history between you two?”
His father’s eyes darkened. “I think it’s time for you to leave.” He strode to the door and opened it. The giant entered immediately and crossed over to Christian.
Once his bonds were free, he jumped to his feet. “What about my crew? What is their fate?”
“For your sake, I will spare their lives. Think of it as a reuniting gift. I’ll sell them in Tortuga.”
“Slaves? You mean to make them slaves? They are members of the United States Navy.”
“Which means they will bring me a high price. Would you rather I killed them?”
Christian ground his teeth together. Choose your battles. “And me?”
His father leveled his gaze at him. “I’ve yet to decide.” He turned to his table and sank into the seat. “Take him away.”
The giant grabbed Christian’s shoulder and pulled him from the room. Before the door shut behind them, he twisted and faced his father’s back.
“I’ll tell you what Mother would think. She would hate you.”