Chapter Sixteen
Christian banged his head against the cell door.
His eyes scanned the floor in the dark corner for the hundredth time. Somewhere over there lay the wire. His chance of getting free. That he had thrown away.
He’d made a right mess of things. The scrawny little brat was smarter than he seemed and had refused to give Christian his bucket back.
And made sure to push his meals just within reach instead of below the door.
Not to mention that even if Christian did get a chance to overpower the boy, one of his father’s giants always stood guard at the top of the hatch.
He glared at the plate still lying outside the cell. Damn the brat. Damn his father.
And damn Red.
His teeth ground together at the thought of her. He still couldn’t believe it. Shy Miss Warstein. A pirate.
All this time, she’d played him for a fool. His hand curled into a fist, but he refrained from smashing it into the bars. He ran a thumb across his bloodied knuckles. He’d done enough of that.
So many questions crowded for attention in his head.
Did her uncle know? No, he would never allow such a thing.
But most importantly, how? All along Red and Miss Warstein had been one and the same.
All the clues had been right in front of his face the entire time.
How had he missed them? Her hair. Her lemon scent.
Finding her outside a pirate meeting at the ball.
The way she’d fucking kissed him yesterday before the old man had shown up and whisked her away.
His traitorous cock twitched and he fought the urge to slap it. No more self-harm.
A bitter laugh broke free. He’d been right after all. No coincidences.
Perhaps somewhere far back in his mind he had wondered all along.
Knew that something wasn’t quite right. But he’d let the perfectly cultivated image of Miss Warstein cloud his reasoning.
In his mind, a high-bred young lady couldn’t possibly be connected to pirates—to Thorne—so he refused to give even a moment’s entertainment to the thought.
A fucking mistake.
He couldn’t help the fleeting vision of taking his full pleasure with her that first night—assuming she was an experienced lover—and raked both hands through his hair. “Fuck.” The word echoed through the cell as the seriousness of her inexperience hit him like a cannon ball.
He began to pace. One thing was certain. There would be hell to pay when he got out of here and caught up with her.
If he got out.
The thought sobered him and he sagged against the iron bars. Prisoner of his own father.
Captain Thorne.
If the navy found out . . . his blood chilled. He could be dismissed just for being related to the notorious pirate.
How ironic.
The chain above rustled and Christian snapped to attention. No reason anyone would be coming back so soon. It couldn’t have been more than a quarter-hour since the boy left.
But small boots and slender legs came into view.
Christian leaned into the bars. Damned if he was letting the brat stay out of reach this time.
“Forget some . . .” Christian trailed off as the boy descended.
Not the same boy.
His eyes narrowed at the rounded bottom on display.
Not a boy at all.
Had he summoned her with his thoughts?
“Red.”
She jerked around, losing her grip on the ladder, and said bottom landed on the floor with a thump. He stood perfectly still as she jumped to her feet. After a hesitant step his way, she came to a stop and adjusted her cap.
“How’d you know?”
Something hot blazed through his veins and his fists began to tremble where he gripped the bars.
“Why are you here?” The words came out soft. Deadly soft.
With a shaky smile, she approached. “To get you out of here.”
She said it so matter-of-factly. Like it was a perfectly normal thing for her to be here. He frowned when she unclipped the keys from her belt. How the hell had she gotten them?
She inserted the key into the lock and turned it.
Click.
Before she could move, he flung the door open, knocking her back. Jumping out, he grabbed her arm and tugged her his way. The rough movement made her stumble and her bottom brushed against his thighs. He sucked in a breath at the contact and shoved her into the cell.
Ripping the keys from her hand, he slammed the door shut. His pulse pounded in his ears as she turned and stared at him with wide eyes.
Wide eyes filled with betrayal.
“Christian, what—”
“Don’t call me that.” He forced his gaze from her face.
“Lieutenant, have you lost your mind?”
Perhaps he had. His mind raced. This turn of events may work in his favor. “I could trade you to Thorne for the release of my crew.”
Her hand settled over his and he yanked away from the contact.
“Your crew are no longer on board.”
He met her earnest gaze. She wasn’t lying. Damn it.
“Lieutenant, I know you’re upset . . .”
He snorted. Upset didn’t even begin to cover it.
“But we need to move quickly.” She pushed on the cell door, but he didn’t budge.
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.
Son of a . . . he raked his free hand through his hair. He couldn’t leave her.
“You can shout at me later, do whatever you want to me later. But we need to get off this ship.”
A whole other type of heat slid through him. Whatever he wanted. Even disguised as a boy, he wanted to throw her down and—good God. He needed to get far away from her. That was what he needed.
He released his hold on the door and she pushed past him. “Follow me.”
Before he could protest, she scrambled up the ladder and disappeared. If this was another trap . . . He climbed slowly and peered through the hatch. No one but her, and she stood with her hand extended.
He brushed it away. “I’m fi—”
She shushed him and pressed a finger to her lips. Right. Escape.
Senses heightened, he started down the hallway after her. A clatter came from a room ahead and she jumped past the open door and motioned for him to follow. He slid against the wall and breathed out when he cleared it with no one the wiser.
She started up the ladder to the gun deck and he couldn’t help letting his eyes wander over her bottom, inches from his face. No man could resist that.
“It’s clear,” she whispered. He climbed onto the shadowed gun deck. Only a few lanterns had been lit and he followed Red to a dark space between two cannons.
“Now what?”
She lifted her finger to her lips again and pointed to a group of pirates sitting on crates farther down the deck.
Directly beneath the hatch to the main deck.
If Red distracted them and he could get a weapon from one, there was a chance he could take them.
He turned to tell her his plan. And found himself staring into empty space.
A creak came from his side. She’d unlatched one of the port hatches and pointed out. His brows rose. No way he was fitting through there.
He shook his head, but she reached out and grabbed his hand. Her fingers were cold and trembled over his. And then she was touching his shoulders.
He stepped forward, pinning her between him and the hull, and lowered his mouth to her ear. Her breath caught and his pulse jumped in response.
“That opening is half the size of me.” He whispered the words and her hands tightened on his shoulders.
She turned her face into his and her lips brushed his cheek. “Try.”
Now, his pulse roared in his ears.
They stood still for a moment until Red started and pulled away.
She gave him a little push toward the hatch.
Christian stuck his head out into the night and took a deep breath, clearing his mind.
He ran his hands over the wood frame and pressed his lips together. If he turned sideways, it might work.
But first . . . He stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head. “Hold this.”
Red took it with wide eyes and he bit back a smile at her discomfort. Served her right. Stepping through, he dropped his feet to the little ledge beneath the hatch. Now the hard part.
He twisted his shoulders together and began to wiggle.
Halfway through, he had to stop. He couldn’t move any farther.
The sensation of being stuck half in one place, and half in another squeezed around him and his breaths came fast. Too fast. His vision swam as darkness closed around him. If he couldn’t get through . . .
He jerked against the frame until his shoulders burned. Red appeared above him, her cool fingers cupping his cheeks. She rubbed her thumbs in slow circles and stared into his eyes until he stopped his struggle.
“Let me help,” she whispered.
He nodded and she slipped a hand down to one shoulder, pressing and pulling back at the same time. Her other hand pushed against his bottom shoulder and a moment later, he popped out.
Thank God.
He swallowed and looked down. About twice his height down to the water.
Not far. Still, his muscles refused to move, his pulse still roaring in his ears from his near slide into panic.
He took a deep breath. It had been years since he’d had an episode like that.
Avoiding small, dark places was key. Jaw clamped, he forced his foot forward a smidge.
No time for this. Before he could jump, Red’s feet connected with his back and he tumbled forward.
He hit the water with a hard smack and sank into the darkness.
As he swam toward the surface, another splash and Red’s body slid past him. He thrust his head up into the air and sucked in a breath before she surfaced next to him.
“You almost landed on me.”
She grinned. “Sorry. You were moving too slowly.”
He shook his head and kicked away from the ship, but she grabbed him and dragged him against the hull.
“What now?”
She pointed up and sure enough, a voice floated down. “Did you hear that?”
Red motioned with her head and they eased along the ship toward the bow. Once they bobbed beneath the figurehead, she glanced over at him. “How far can you swim underwater?”
“Far enough.”
She nodded and disappeared.