Bring Me the Horizon (2 page)

His eyes darkened and she realized all too late the innuendo. “You will not let harm come to me,” she said. Her shaky words stumbled upon one another.

“Oh?”

“They say you and your ilk,” she passed a glance to Fox and Tyburn, “are dangerous, but honorable.”

The captain snorted. “Lies.”

Gracie didn’t think so. The brethren sacked and pillaged, but only the most greedy and often politically bound suffered complete devastation. Those who gave or did not resist were spared their homes, any valuables they might have, and their livelihoods, when possible. ’Twas as if war was waged against governments rather than the simple folks. She’d heard tale of Captain Banning tossing fistfuls of silver coins to a group of starving beggar boys. Uncharacteristic of a pirate, she’d say.

But ’twas rumors and a pirate was a pirate.

Perhaps she needed to approach the matter as she first intended. With a little push on his vanity. “If you are not up to the task, ’tis just as well. The Bobadilla nugget is cursed. It bestows wealth, but demands life. Not your own, instead one close to you.”

“And now we are cursed?” Captain Banning said dryly, waving his hand over the gold glinting in the middle of the table.

“Not when the gold is a gift.”

“A gift cursed by your pagan sister?”

The insult jarred her. Too often people judged, people feared, people cast slurs and called for imprisonment or death to those they didn’t understand. Sarah had deserved none of that. The hurt in Sarah’s eyes as people slandered her stabbed deep into Gracie’s heart. Until one day, Sarah’s hurt turned into bitter anger and she had sworn she’d accept no more. Gracie sometimes feared what her sister was capable of doing with her herbs and chants, more so after certain mouthy townsfolk became ill.

“You are partially right, Captain.” Gracie clasped her hands together on the table, gripping harder than necessary. Would they believe the cautionary tale her grandmother repeated time and again over the cooking fire? “The curse was placed by my family, but long ago when Bobadilla stole it. Over time the gold had been chipped and melted. ’Twas only in matters that benefited others. Never out of greed or vanity for fear the curse would ricochet back as it had to our ancestors. My father’s great-grandfather was shot in the head as his brother showed off his fine new silver pistol. The accident sent the brother into such deep grief, he hung himself. My mother didn’t believe in the curse. She had a piece of the gold made into an amulet. As she waited outside the jeweler’s shop for my father to meet her, he was trampled crossing the street by a runaway carriage. So despondent by the passing of her husband, she poisoned herself, leaving her two young girls in the care of her elderly mother.” Aye, the curse did not discriminate. No one was safe, not even the family who created it. She shifted in her seat, the mundane action was used to deflect thoughts of her beloved parents.

“And you are a witch?” He took a sip, staring at her over the rim of his mug.

“Nay. I am not special.”

“Special. Interesting choice of words.” His lip curled into another smile, like a flame coiling around a pitch-soaked torch. She suspected he had her fate sealed.

Gracie stood. “I’ve made a grave error,” she said. “I have wasted your time as you have mine. I will seek out another captain. One without a tendency toward verbal games, and a willingness to bargain.” She looked to each of the men and tipped her head. “Good day, sirs.”

She plucked the nugget off the table and turned on her heel to take her leave. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Was Captain Banning going to let her walk out the door?

“You are right, Ms. DuBois,” he said. “You have made a grave error.”

She stopped and held her breath. Did she fool him into believing she was taking her business elsewhere?

“You are brazen for coming to me, I’ll grant you that,” Captain Banning said. “But you assume too much.”

A small huff of disappointment escaped, but she held firm to the rest of her breath. Waiting. She turned her head sideways, not quite looking over her shoulder to him.

“I will send someone for you at daybreak.”

Gracie spun around a bit too eagerly. “Thank you, Captain Banning.”

He chuckled. “You thank me? Nay, lass. If you are lying to me about any of this, I will maroon you on a spit of land. This you can be sure. Heed well, I will take you to Carrion. I will get your sister. And you, Ms. DuBois, you will uphold both ends of the bargain.” A promise of trouble glinted in his eyes, his tongue slowly rolled over his bottom lip. “Starting tomorrow night.”

Cutler Banning poured himself another tankard of ale—his fifth. He was beginning to think the brew was watered down. That would not do.

“Maria.” He caught the attention of a passing serving wench. “Bring us a bottle of your strongest rum. And tell Tomas he is never to serve us small beer again. ’Tis an insult I will not ignore.”

“Yes, sir.”

Maria scurried to the bar. Without hesitation, Tomas handed her a bottle. His small eyes wide, he nodded toward Cutler in apology.

“You’re looking for any excuse to go after Carrion,” Zane said.

“Aren’t we all?” Cutler blew out an annoyed breath and poured each of them a fresh drink.

“The bastard tears down all our alliances with his reckless, greedy, murderous raids,” Blade said.

“Aye,” Cutler said. “He makes it damn hard for a pirate to make an honest living.”

The three of them had a good laugh. But in an odd twist of irony, ’twas the truth. The brethren did very well filling their strongboxes with riches by honoring long-standing, delicately stable relationships with various proprietors and highest bidding government administrators throughout the Caribbean. For a price and an occasional pardon, they took care of the enemy—a rival landowner or merchant, a gluttonous governor, a sinful priest, a fleet or two, whoever they may be.

A powder keg like Carrion tilted the scales of an already precarious balance. Any one of the pirate league would be well within reason to kill him. But they had rules to follow. Though Carrion’s allegiance was always in question, he had yet been proven guilty of violating the brethren codes.

The stout rum burned down Cutler’s gullet. Just like he liked it, singeing his throat, fueling his scavenging heart.

“Come brother,” Tyburn said. “That is not the only reason you agreed to take this commission.”

“Possession of the legendary nugget is enticing. More than enough to acquire new guns for both our ships,” Cutler said. “We could commission new ships, buy our own port, hell, build an empire.”

Zane chuckled. “I do not think that is what Blade is speaking of, mate.”

“Aye, surely the lass is as alluring as the gold.”

Blade, a notorious libertine the seas over, never let an opportunity pass. Especially when she was as lovely as Graciela DuBois.

“I’ll not deny it.” The lass was a beauty, all right. Perhaps not as a refined lady, but as a beguiling girl. Dark eyebrows arched over almond-shaped brown eyes, eyes that held something exotic, something mysterious, in them. Rosy lips were perfectly shaped as a pouting bow. The way she held her back straight did nothing for her short, tiny frame. Dark brown hair, the color of soft leather, pulled high atop her head revealed a slender neck. And her breasts... ’Twas a feat to keep from staring at the small mounds swelling over the white trim of her yellow bodice. Christ, staring at her too long had caused his trousers to grow uncomfortably tight.

The woman was completely mad. Seeking out pirates to interfere with another pirate’s bounty was dangerous, fantastically insane. And she knew it. Bargaining with treasure that many would kill for was equally crazy. But offering her body, that disturbed Cutler. The lass wasn’t a strumpet. Otherwise her wares would have been presented first, before the gold. ’Twas how shrewd business women worked.

Nay, she was desperate. If he hadn’t agreed to get back her sister, she would have gone elsewhere. Frankly, there were very few pirates still roaming the seas that could even moderately be considered honorable jacks. Even less who could take on Carrion. He couldn’t explain why, but he didn’t want the puss looking for help elsewhere. Or some bugger taking advantage of such a striking jewel.

That did not mean he didn’t fully intend to explore her offer. He was, after all, a pirate—pillage and plunder, yo ho ho.

“’Twill be a dangerous mission, my friend,” Zane said. “Carrion will not like you meddling in his affairs.”

Cutler waved off the statement.

“
Triumph
could accompany you. The boys have been itching for adventure.”

“You mean
you
have been itching for adventure, Zane,” Cutler said.

“Perhaps.”

“All of us on
Triumph
have been going out our bloody minds with idleness,” Blade said, swirling the liquid in his mug.

Cutler nodded. “’Twould send a message to the bastard should both our ships corner him. He drops anchor in St. Augustine this time of year. We go there.”

Blade raised his mug in a toast. “To a hot fight and success in our venture.”

“Hear, hear!” Cutler and Zane said in unison.

With any luck, Cutler would rid himself of a barnacle, have riches weighing down his pockets, and a slip of a beauty warming his bed.

CHAPTER 2

“Capt’n. You need to come take a look at this.”

Cutler groaned at the voice outside his cabin door and finished splashing water onto his face. The crisp water was invigorating, especially after such a sleepless night. The dainty bit, Dubois, trounced through his restless mind long after the middle watch bells.

He toweled off his mug and opened the door. “What is it Mister Kipp?”

A frown cut deep into Kipp’s brow. Cutler’s first mate and quartermaster shook his head and led the way topside. “I ain’t seen the likes of it ’fore.”

“Well, speak plain. What’s got you all excitable?”

“Best ya see yerself, Capt’n.”

Kipp opened the hatchway and they stepped out onto the deck still shrouded in the deep blues of morning. Though the sun had surely risen, it had not yet crested the hills of southern Hispaniola. No wind skimmed the bay and the docks were quiet—both waiting for the day to start.

“There.” Kipp pointed to a trio of barrels on the pier.

Perched upon one of the barrels with her legs crossed at the ankles and a bag in her lap, Graciela DuBois patiently waited. Her back was to the ship and her eye on the quay, watching, guarding herself. Laughable, as her tiny shoes didn’t even touch the wooden pier.

“Blazes! How long has she been there?”

“Don’t know. None of the lads saw her come. ’Twas as if she just...appeared.”

“Nonsense. Who was on watch?”

“Edward, Robin, and Cocklyn.”

“They’re slacking duties if they didn’t see someone, a woman no less, walk up the pier.”

“That’s what I said, but they swears a Bible oath, they did.”

Cutler studied her for a moment. She wore a brown dress much simpler than the yellow one she wore the evening before. But from his vantage, this one hugged tighter to her curves in all the right places. Damn, he was in trouble.

She slowly turned her head and locked gazes with him, as if she knew he had been watching. Her confidence was unsettling.

Kipp must have felt the same. He shifted his weight on his feet. “The lads are frightened to have a witch on board.”

Cutler looked to Kipp. He never mentioned her comments about her pagan family. “Where’d they get such buffoonery?”

“Word on the docks,” Kipp said. “Folks here keep a wide berth of her. ’Fraid she’ll curse ’em.”

Shit. Jack tars were a superstitious lot. ’Twas considered unlucky to have a woman on board. Women were a distraction to sailors, keeping them from their duties. This but angered the seas, inciting storms. ’Twould not be easy convincing the boys they were not inviting doom having Miss DuBois on board. Less so if they believed she was a witch. He was going to have to put an end to unfounded rumors.

“She is not a witch. Let it be known extra duties will be given to any man who speaks more of it.”

“Aye, Capt’n.”

“But first, Kipp, go fetch Miss DuBois.”

“Mornin’, Miss DuBois.”

Gracie hopped off the barrel to face the shaggy-haired blond not much taller than herself.

“Name’s Gabriel Kipp.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Capt’n Banning will have you on board now.”

She glanced up at the ship. Men bustled about pulling ropes and readying to sail—a drove of workers. Captain Banning, a stone hard man with a formidable stare, still stood at the railing. Good. She wanted more words with him. She tried to tell herself ’twas to talk over the plans and not to stare into his mesmerizing eyes, or hear the rich timbre of his voice.

Gracie followed Mister Kipp up the boarding plank. Though he was a pleasant enough man, other crewmen eyed her with suspicion, even contempt. This was nothing unusual. She witnessed the same snarls and same avoidance from the people in town. Her family’s reputation shadowing her had mostly kept her from danger. But often left her lonely. More so now without Sarah.

She could still hear her sister’s words warning her to not invite trouble. To keep to herself and others would leave her be. But look what that did for Sarah. Now every breath Gracie took was to find the bastard who took Sarah away.

“Welcome aboard
Rissa
.”

By God, Captain Banning was striking. The sun rising just behind him darkened his features. But his eyes were clear and bright, as if they absorbed all the light from his face.

“Thank you, Captain.” She could not let a pretty face fluster her.

“How long have you been waiting?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Aye. ’Tis dangerous, I think, for a wee puss to be alone on the docks. Many a bad thing happens down there.”

“But as you can see, I am fine and quite capable of handling myself.” While ’twas mostly true, she was still scared someone would see straight through her hard-bitten guise. Some may think her too small to fend off an attacker. If they dared to try, they would find they were right. But only after she put up a hell of a fight. Never mind that. No one ever dared.