Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
The Jolly Roger was wrapped in the blanket of night, through which no sound from her could have reached the shore.
“You’re looking better.” Widow circles around me as the Jolly Roger coasts through the waves.
Neverland rises ahead of us, the great golden tree glinting in the moonglow. We’re moving closer to Peter, to my freedom, and hopefully to my return home.
“I slept well.” The cannonball warmed me for hours, and when I woke, I found a breakfast already laid out for me on the table. I didn’t see Hook, though. In fact, I haven’t seen him at all today.
“Me too. I guess I missed my time on a rocking boat surrounded by slovenly assholes.” She glances around at the pirates.
“Slovenly?” Starkey drops down from a rope, some sort of metal crank in his hand. “Absolutely not, Widow. I’m the best dressed on the ocean.”
She looks at him over her shoulder. “With the biggest ego.”
“Not the only thing about me that’s big, but you already know that, don’t you?” He grins at her.
My eyes are probably as big as saucers.
Widow tosses her dark hair over her shoulder. “We all make mistakes.”
“Shall we make it again when the moon is high?” He sweeps up behind her. “We’ll be at the hideaway by then.”
“I’ve raised my standards.” She sidesteps him. “No more pirates for me.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m Gentleman Starkey.” He gives her a practiced bow, his eyes eating up her curves.
She turns her back on him. “Isn’t there a deck needs swabbing?”
“If I recall you’re the newest boatswain onboard. You should be bent over … a mop.” He leans against the railing.
“I have orders.” She draws her cutlass and tosses me a wooden one.
I catch it. Barely.
He looks at me. “A stiff wind could knock you over, darling. You sure you’re up to this?”
“Quit pestering them.” Hook’s voice comes from somewhere above.
I crane my head back and see him leaning out of the crow’s nest.
“Aye, Captain.” Starkey stops gawking and takes his metal crank somewhere up to the front of the ship.
The other sailors get to work, some mopping the deck, others coiling rope, while a few others are working on repairing the sail that was ripped when they fought the Ranger.
“Don’t worry about them. Hook runs a tight ship.”
I hoist the wooden sword. “How can I not worry? They’re pirates.”
“So am I.”
“But you’re different.”
“No. I’m a pirate. Same as them. Bound to the Jolly Roger and sailing under the command of James Hook. His word is law, and you’re his guest. They won’t touch you.”
“I don’t know about that.” I shoot a look at the large one—the man with all the tattoos—then jerk my chin at him. “See?”
She raises a brow. “Bill, step up.”
“Oh my god.” I want to sink beneath the ship deck when he stomps over.
“I’ve got a mast to tar. What is it you’re wanting?” He wipes his forearm across his sweaty forehead, all the muscles in his body flexing as he does it. He’s absolutely massive.
“What would happen to you if you were to lay a finger on Moira?”
He glances up at the crow’s nest. “I reckon I won’t have any guts left in my body if I were to do that.”
I swear I can hear Hook snort a laugh. I might sag a little in relief. Of all the men on this ship, Bill’s the scariest after Hook. He’s just so big, and all that ink—it must’ve hurt like hell. If he can take that kind of pain, how much can he dish out?
“That all?” he asks.
Widow taps the flat of her blade on her palm. “Wait, if I remember right, you’re amazing in hand-to-hand. I saw you fighting at Blackbeard’s contest a little while ago. You won the prize money.”
He draws himself up, pride in his chest. “I did.”
“Could you show Moira some moves, maybe teach her how to defend herself if—”
“Not a chance. Captain would—” He drags his thumb across his neck.
“Captain!” Widow yells.
“Oh my god, Widow, don’t!” I grab her forearm.
“What?” Hook leans out of the nest again, his black hair blowing in the breeze.
That’s when I notice he isn’t wearing a shirt.
My mouth goes dry.
“Can Bill show Moira some hand-to-hand when I’m done with her sword lesson?”
Hook stares down at us, then in a lithe move, he grabs a rope swinging beside the crow’s nest and slides down.
His feet hit the deck, and then he’s standing only a few feet away.
Scars litter his torso, a particularly nasty one along his left side.
His tanned skin is dusted with dark hair, and underneath he’s solid, his muscles undeniable.
My mouth was dry before. Now it’s a desert.
“Bill?” Hook gestures toward me.
Bill sizes me up.
I try to stand a little straighter.
“No.” Bill crosses his arms over his wall of a chest.
“What?” I glare at him. “I can fight!”
Bill doesn’t blink.
Hook faces him, giving me a view of his back.
I lean on the railing as I stare at every bare inch of him.
Is there a weight room on board? Is that what’s happening?
Because, jeez, he looks like he’s carved from stone.
Chiseled, tanned, and with more scars, some matching the ones on his front. He’s been through hell.
“Close your mouth,” Widow whispers.
I do as she says, and I can feel my face going hot with embarrassment.
The last thing I need is to be checking out my captor, especially when his goal is my murder.
I don’t care what he says; I know what he’s capable of.
I’ve seen it. I shouldn’t have to keep reminding myself that Hook is an evil man.
Not after what he did to Coy. It’s just so jarring—he’s taken care of me, and now he’s letting me learn to fight.
I have no illusions about his power on this ship and over everyone around him.
If he said the word, I’d be tossed below decks somewhere and chained to the wall.
But he hasn’t done that. His kindness is a pebble in my shoe, and I feel it with every step I take.
The men are in terse conversation, their voices low and impossible to make out over the hiss of the wind and water.
When they finally seem to come to some sort of agreement, Hook steps back and turns to me. “He’ll spar with you.”
“Good.” I look up at the now scowling Bill Jukes. “I think.”
“He won’t go easy on you, lass.” Hook scratches the ever-present 5 o’clock shadow on his cheek. “I told him you’re fair game during sparring.”
My insides twist at that. Maybe I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. In fact, I know I have. I’m not athletic. I get winded when I have to climb the stairs in the dorm quickly—which I only do when a regularly athletic person is behind me, and I’m trying not to embarrass myself.
Hook smirks. “No going back now, lass. After all, you’ll need to defend yourself when I come for your head. Isn’t that right?” He strides away and barks orders at two of the deckhands.
“Did … Did he just tease me about my eventual murder?” I ask Widow.
She shrugs. “Pirates live on gallows humor. Don’t worry … too much.” Then she moves more quickly than I ever have in my entire life and knocks me on my ass with a sweep of her leg.
“Hey! I wasn’t ready!” I reach for the wooden sword I dropped.
“Stay on your feet.” She hauls me up. “That’s the most important lesson of all the ones you’ll learn from me. If you’re on your feet, you have a chance. If he gets you on the ground, your options narrow.”
“You didn’t even give me a chance to get set.”
“You think Hook will give you a chance to get set if he’s coming for your life?” She tsks. “Think again.” She whirls, knocking me on my ass yet again. “I’ve seen him kill half a ship full of pirates. Alone. Just him and his sword.”
“Really?” I swallow hard and get back to my feet.
“Really.” She nods. “And if he so much as thinks there’s a Lost Boy nearby …” She whistles and swings her sword at me.
I fling my wooden blade up and block her strike, the impact vibrating down my fingers and into my wrist. “I know what he does to Lost Boys,” I say quietly. God, I wish I didn’t. But I can’t say that out loud.
She steps back and lowers her blade, her gaze softening. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I clear my throat. “No. Just teach me how not to die.”
“I can do that.” She thrusts her blade toward me, and I stumble backward, trip over my own feet, and wind up on the deck yet again. It hurts. But I can take it. I have to, because I’ve decided I’m going to survive this nightmare.
I refuse to end up staring at that goddamn cinderblock wall. If I have to fight my way out of this delusion, then I will.
Climbing to my feet, I wave Widow toward me. “I want all the smoke.”
She smiles and raises her sword. “Then let’s go, little darling.”
I spend much of the next hour on my ass or on the way to being on my ass.
Widow is skilled in all sorts of combat, not just the sword.
She’s lethal and clever, and I’m … well, I’m slow and somewhat bumbling.
But when we’re done, Widow pulls me to my feet again and pats me on the back.
“Well done for your first day. We’ll practice more tomorrow. ”
“Bill!” she yells.
“Hang on.” I gulp in the salty air. “Hang on a second. I just need to catch my breath is all.”
“You’ve got this.”
The large pirate climbs up from below decks and gives me a long-suffering look. “You’re already beaten.”
“I saved some for you.” I hold my sword in front of me the way Widow taught me, while also trying not to breathe as loudly as a wounded wildebeest.
“Good. Always keep them guessing. Maybe you look fuck-all tired, but they don’t know you’ve still got some pep left underneath.” She leans back on the ship’s rail, the island looming large behind her.
We seem to be skirting the coast and heading inland between two cliffs.
Widow said we’re going to Hook’s Hideaway.
Catchy. All I know is that I’ll be back on Neverland, which means I’m close to Peter.
He has to know by now that his plan with Calico Jack didn’t work out.
Will he find out I’m at the hideaway and come find me?
A lot of raw emotions wrap around that question.