Chapter Eighteen #2
“Stop!” Christian’s strangled cry broke through the buzzing in her ears. “I’ll give you your damned map.”
Thorne chuckled. “You’re making this too easy. Guess it’s true what they say, men will do anything for a pretty lady.” He strode to Christian and lifted his chin with the coiled whip. “I should have known you had it.”
One of the giants frisked the lieutenant and pulled the compass free. Thorne took it and tapped his fingers against the brass. He flipped it open and slid out the map.
“That’s better.”
He turned and walked to the gangplank. “Tie her next to him.”
Someone grabbed her arms and dragged her next to Christian. When the huge hands released their grip, her legs gave out and she sagged against him. The giant lashed her wrists to the foremast.
One by one, the pirates left the Raven. The gangplanks were removed and ropes untied. A group of the giants climbed up into the frigate’s rigging.
Once the last line had been cut, Thorne strode to the railing and faced Christian. “Don’t look so angry, boy. I’ll at least give you the pleasure of something I never had. Dying at your lover’s side.”
Before she could ponder what he meant, the world exploded. The cannons fired in perfect harmony, blasting through the Raven’s hull.
“No.” Samantha choked the word out as her beloved ship shuddered beneath the onslaught. She struggled to take her next breath and slumped forward while everything spun around her in a blur.
“Red.” Christian’s voice cut through the haze surrounding her. “Stay with me.”
His elbow nudged her side and she leaned into his steady weight. Another round of cannon fire brought splashing crashes below. They were firing below the waterline.
No.
She thrashed against her bonds, rubbing the skin at her wrists raw.
Christian braced his leg against hers, the solid touch bringing her back. Ceasing her struggle, she took a deep breath. And another. The movements of the ship were foreign to her. The Raven listed to her port and Samantha imagined the cargo holds filling with water below.
The grind of cannon wheels snapped her attention to Thorne’s deck, where a group of giants pushed a gun to the railing. Once in place, they swung the barrel to point at the group of captives. Sweat beaded on Samantha’s brow.
Thorne patted one of the men’s shoulders. “He’s an expert marksman.” His gaze narrowed on Christian. “I do say, Lieutenant, I wish we could have met under better circumstances.”
He flipped open the compass and strode to the quarterdeck while the man at the cannon grinned at their group. After several tense moments passed, he shrugged and swiveled the barrel toward the mainmast.
Her heart calmed, but only a little. If he took the mainmast down, he could still kill them all.
Between the mast itself and the yards, sails, and rigging, it could be as deadly—or worse—as a shot taken directly at them.
Christian had gone stiff at her side, angling himself between her and the mast.
As if he could save her from a thousand-pound piece of wood.
Her eyes alternated between the man at the gun and the mast. He took his time, sighting down the iron barrel and making minute corrections to his aim.
Without moving, he gave the order to light and the man behind him struck a flint next to the fuse.
The giant made one final adjustment and stepped away.
Boom!
A crack accompanied the thunderous blast and Samantha flinched. The impact traveled up her legs but not as violently as it should have. Her eyes flew to the mast, where a deep scar furrowed its side. It stood.
For now.
The cannonball had gouged itself nearly halfway through the mast. A few inches farther and it would have been brought down. The giant already fiddled with the smoking barrel and her heart clenched. Even if he didn’t hit it square on, the next shot would take it down.
Thorne set a hand on the man’s shoulder. “No need to waste any more lead. They’ll go down quickly. Set the sails.”
At his shout, the men up in the yards unfurled sails and the white canvas billowed out. Thorne stared straight ahead as his ship crawled forward, content to let the sea finish his job.
“Coward,” she whispered beneath her breath.
As soon as the Reckoning turned away from them, Christian began struggling. The Raven slanted hard now, and Samantha had to lean far back to stay upright.
“If anyone has a knife hidden on them, now’s the time to share.” Griff shot her a look and her eyes widened.
Of course.
“I have one.”
Christian jerked around to face her and she nodded toward the deck. “In my boot.”
She lifted her foot as the ship tilted even further. Balancing on one foot became impossible and she slipped. The ropes around her wrists yanked tight and she cried out at the wrenching pain in her shoulders as the weight of her body threatened to dislocate them.
“Lean on me.” Christian extended his leg until she was able to hook an elbow over it. “There you go. Easy now.”
He held his leg still as she righted herself inch by inch. The mainmast groaned and rigging slapped against the yards above. She faltered and slid back a bit.
“Ignore it.” His words held her steady and a moment later, she stood again.
“Turn to Griff. Use his body as support and see if you can lift your leg toward me.”
Griff twisted so she could use his back. Leaning into him, she swallowed and inched her foot toward Christian. He’d gotten his hands to one side and grunted as he strained against his bindings to reach her.
“That’s it. A little closer.”
Her leg began to shake. Could she even lift it that high? New tears pricked at her eyes as her muscles burned. And then his hand closed around her ankle. Pulled her leg the rest of the way up. A moment later, he released her and the soft slice of rope filled the air.
After he freed himself, he cut her loose. Once her hands were released, she grabbed the ropes binding Griff and worked at the knot. He and Christian began freeing the other men and several crewmates raced to ready the two longboats.
Christian paused mid-slice at another man and glanced at her. “Get in a boat.”
She took a step toward it and froze.
The map.
“I’ll be right back.” She turned and sprinted to her cabin, ignoring his curse. When she passed the mainmast on the way, little cracks filled the air. The strain on it at this angle had to be incredible. They had precious little time left.
Flinging her door open, she let out a sharp gasp.
Water poured into the cabin through broken windows in a dark torrent, frothing against the floor.
Her desk, fastened to the boards, hung suspended at an impossible angle.
Climbing in over the door frame, she half-slipped half-scrambled toward her shelves.
They lay empty. One shell had caught against a rumpled blanket above where the water circled in angry eddies. The rest . . .
Her gaze flew to the water, deepening by the second. They were down there somewhere. Splashing in, she dove under. Opening her eyes, she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.
Blast it.
She surfaced, sucking in a breath, and submerged again, her hands skimming across the tilted floor.
At this angle, all items would be against the far wall.
She came up once more, next to her floating chair.
One more deep breath and she went back down, kicking hard against the rush of water. There. The wall.
She ran her fingers to where it met the floor and across the rubble there. A few of her smaller shells. Her rapier. Clothing and blankets twisted around her arms like seaweed trying to drag her down. Her lungs burned as bubbles escaped her nose. A little further.
Pushing aside something, maybe a drawer, she felt beneath it.
Shapeless items. Her lack of oxygen made it too hard to focus on what she touched.
She drew her knees under her to push up off the floor.
And touched something hard. Something familiar.
Her fingers closed around it and she shot to the surface.
“Damn it, Red. What the hell are you doing?” Christian’s bellow echoed off the water as she tried to stand upright.
Glancing at the conch in her hand, Samantha grinned and took a step toward him.
She felt it before she heard it.
A little tremble ran through the ship before a massive pop rent the air. The floor shifted beneath her and she grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself as water swirled around her waist.
Time to get out.
She sloshed toward the door, where Christian frowned at her. “Don’t worry, I’m—”
A mighty groan filled the air followed by an earsplitting snap and her eyes widened. Not the—
Christian let out a shout and leaped backward. Something crashed against the door and slammed it shut. The jarring impact sent her reeling backward along with a torrent of wood shards and pain blazed across her back as the ceiling caved in.
The mainmast.