Open Waters (3 page)

Jane watched with amusement as various emotions flashed across the man's face in quick succession, from calculating to confusion to disbelief, before finally settling on hard anger.

In the next moment, he snarled and shoved the knife he was holding closer to the whore, nicking the skin on her neck in the process. Jane rolled her eyes. She could see that the man wouldn't kill the only hostage he had, the only thing that he believed, however foolishly, was his ticket out of here with his life still intact. He was but a greedy merchant sailor playing at a Navy ship captain. There was no way he would be able to kill her. He didn't have the stomach for it.

"The way I see it, you have two choices," Jane sighed, stepping back and folding her arms across her chest. "One: you release the whore and join your fellow sailors out on the main deck for a little… chat, where you may just get out of this alive. That remains to be determined, as you have now not only offended and annoyed me, but also delayed my voyage. Or two: you could continue to stand there, naively thinking I'm going to let you go simply because I wish to spare the life of this woman—whom I do not know or care about—and know that your life is forfeit. Your choice, sailor. But at the moment, the whore has a better chance of living than you do, and she currently has a knife to her throat."

The captain's eyes flickered between Jane, Worth, and Millett uncertainly, his face a mix of hatred and disbelief. A moment passed, then two, in this fashion until Jane was at the end of her patience.

"I don't have time for this," she huffed in annoyance. Before the galleon captain could even register Jane's words, she pulled her pistol from her belt, aimed, and shot the man in the head in one fluid motion, the bullet missing the whore's temple by a hair's breadth.

The knife clattered to the floor, the sound ominous after the great reverberation of the pistol as the captain's body followed with a thud. The smell of gunpowder filled the room.

"Right then," Millett proclaimed, looking slightly shocked, but masking it well enough. Jane just shrugged and stashed her pistol back into her belt.

Movement by the body caught all three pirates' eyes and glanced over toward where the whore still stood. The woman straightened from her forced hunch, brushing her revealing dress out and then stepped over the outstretched arm of the now-dead captain. She could see Worth and Millett staring at the whore with equal measures of shock and confusion.

Jane just snorted in amusement.

The whore glanced up, her eyes displaying her continued boredom even as she took note of the three pirates currently staring at her. "Wha'?" she asked, a slight accent in her voice. She crossed her arms over her chest as her eyes flitted over each of them in turn.

Worth was the first to react, brow pinched. "Well, I was expecting more of a reaction, to be honest."

The whore just cocked an eyebrow, shifting her weight suggestively. "Sorry ta disappoint, love," she responded coolly, voice low and sultry. "I can put on quite a performance, though, if ya'd rather." A mask of pure seduction dropped over her features in an instant, her body language following not far behind.

Jane found herself staring at the whore with wonder. The way she seemed unfazed by the threat on her life, how she showed very little interest in the danger she was in, or the sort of people surrounding her, was surprising. And yes, very impressive, for lack of a better word. Any other person—any other
woman
—would have shown at least an ounce of fear or horror at what had just occurred. Instead, the whore just slipped back into her promiscuous persona, hooding her eyes and canting her hips and inviting all with her voluptuous bosom.

Jane shook her head, clearing her thoughts. That wasn't the point. The point was this whore went about like nothing had happened, like a man didn't just die right beside her. She was just a
whore.
Jane was immediately wary, and made a mental note to keep an eye on the seductive woman.

But a part of her couldn't help but see the parallels of their two very different lives, and wondered if the whore too had unknowingly entered her profession. And she pitied the poor creature before her.

Well, not that much.

"Enough," Jane commanded. They had wasted more than their allotted time already. Every second they wasted aboard this ship was another second added to their travels and another second they risked getting apprehended by the Royal Navy. Jane looked over the whore once more before making a split-second decision. "She's coming with us. Bring her out." With that, Jane left the captain's quarters, not bothering to glance back to ensure her orders were followed. She knew they would be.

The remaining crew of the galleon were still kneeling where Jane had seen them last, though there were now only nine captive men instead of the twelve that were there previously. That didn't concern her much, nor surprise her, upon seeing that Cooksley was one of the guards, a wicked smile playing over his face as he caressed one of the men with the blade of his sword.

"I'm sure you lot know how this goes," Jane spoke to the kneeling men, letting a bit of arrogance slip into her tone. "You can either join up with my crew, or take a little swim, like a few of your mates have already experienced, I assume." She looked pointedly at Cooksley.

Cooksley just flashed her a smirk. "They were being… troublesome."

"Yes, I'm sure they were."

Suddenly, the smirk upon Cooksley's face morphed, becoming more hostile, more… predatory, she realized, as his eyes locked onto something just over Jane's shoulder. A chill ran down her spine at that look. It was the same look the man had gotten when he had first laid eyes on her, when he had tried to coerce her into… unsavory acts. A wave of protective anger washed over Jane so strongly that it took her by surprise. It was a feeling she hadn't felt in years, a feeling she hadn't
let
herself feel. But this one had come on much stronger than ever before. She pushed it back forcefully, burying it under a layer of indifference, logic, and tactic. But Jane knew immediately the reason behind it, a reason that now stood next to her, held firmly, but not roughly, in Worth's grasp. The whore.

"Well, now, what do we have here?" Cooksley purred, his eyes glinting with desire as they roved over the newest arrival. He took a step closer. Anger built up in Jane again and she had to forcefully restrain herself from stepping between Cooksley and the woman. She was just a whore. Why should Jane care?

Ignoring the way Cooksley kept staring at the whore—and with a quick glance, Jane noticed the whore displaying the same disgust she had toward the Liberty's captain—Jane strode up to the first man in the line, a thin, lean thing with a mop of deep black hair and a cut upon his forehead that was bleeding profusely. "Name?" she demanded.

"Isaac Demply," the wisp of a man responded with a sneer as he stared at her with steel in his eyes. Jane just raised her eyebrows.

"Well, what'll it be, Mr. Demply?" Jane asked haughtily. Though from the man's cold answer of his name, she could gather what his response would be already. It was the usual with most of the crew they captured. Most, even if they were not completely averse to switching sides, were neither too keen on sailing with nor taking orders from a woman. Most would rather take their chances in the cold waters below and hope for a passing ship or uncharted island. It was absurd, really. Like she would let them go that easily.

Unsurprisingly, Demply spat at her feet. "You can go to hell."

Jane sighed, glancing over at Mundy and upon catching his eye, jerking her head toward the open sea. She watched as Mundy hauled the thin man to his feet and dragged him over to the edge. She turned back to the rest of the captured crew and, hearing the sound of steel slicing through flesh and a splash off to the side a second later, flashed them all a smile.

"Anyone else?"

As it turned out, indeed, four others opted to join their fellow crew member overboard—whether it was truly their choice or not—rather than subject themselves to a woman's leadership and a life of pirating, while the remaining four swore their loyalty. Jane doubted they meant it. Most who did would try to escape the second the
Tantibus
docked ashore. And most who attempted such a thing were killed not long afterwards. Her crew was observant and knew when a new member was itching to flee. They took care of traitors quickly. She had taught them well.

"Captain," a voice sounded behind her and she turned to face the new arrival. Coll stood before her, slightly out of breath, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. "The last of the goods are being loaded as we speak. She's set."

"Brilliant. Poke some holes in her hull before you leave," she grinned at him. Coll nodded and disappeared back below the Liberty's deck as Jane turned away, addressing the men around her at large. "Let's go home, boys!"

A cheer answered her announcement and the crew, including the newest members, made their way back aboard the
Tantibus
. Jane watched with a frown as Cooksley's eyes wandered over the whore, having never left her striking form once since she had emerged on deck. It caused another wave of rage to build up in Jane's gut, which she tried unsuccessfully to ignore. What the hell was wrong with her?

Worth guided the whore before him across the plank between the two ships, keeping hold of her arm as both a stabilizer and a prevention technique. They still didn't know the whore or her intentions. For all they knew, she was just as spiteful as the other recruited crew members and just managed to mask it well. What made Jane spare her life, she herself didn't even know. She hadn't even offered the woman a choice.

Jane frowned, stroking her ring absentmindedly as she stared after the woman. What was it about this whore that made Jane act so irrationally? Innocent life or not, Jane never extended them the same treatment she did the other members of the captured ship's crew. Was it perhaps the fact that she was a woman? That must have been it, for what else could it be? Until they made it to the next port, she would just have to ignore the whore's gender and treat her like the prisoner she now was.

That thought however flew out of Jane's mind as, once she reached the
Tantibus
, the whore was pulled from Worth's grasp by Cooksley, that predatory glint in his eye once more.

"What a pretty little thing you are," Jane heard Cooksley growl, as he pulled her flush against him "What's your name, sweetheart?"

The whore glared up at him, the fire of defiance ablaze in her eyes. "None of ya concern, ya rat." She growled.

"It's Cecily, and she is a feisty one, I tell ya," spoke a short, pudgy man from the new recruits, the grin on his face telling all he knew this fact firsthand. The crew laughed, the sound making Jane's blood boil and with hurried steps, she closed the gap and gracefully leaped down upon the deck of her ship.

"Cecily," Cooksley hummed, running his hands along her hips in an exceedingly inappropriate manner.

And for the first time, the whore—Cecily, the man had said her name was—displayed the defiance that Jane had thought she had seen bubbling just under the surface when they were in the captain's quarters. She slapped Cooksley's hands away with anger, no longer trying to mask her disgust. But whether it was disgust for Cooksley himself or for being brought aboard the
Tantibus
against her will, Jane didn't know. She didn't much care, either, for she was feeling that overwhelming anger and protectiveness at the former.

Her hand automatically strayed to the hilt of her sword as she planted her feet in a clear challenge a few paces away from where Cooksley was petting and smirking down at a struggling Cecily. The slither of metal against leather brought silence down upon the crew and all eyes found Jane as she leveled her sword toward Cooksley. "Unhand her immediately or I shall slit your throat and wash the deck in your blood."

"Captain…" Worth warned, and she saw him glance at her uncertainly in her periphery. She could only imagine how it must look, the captain threatening the life of one of her own crew over the well-being of some whore. He must think her mad, they all must. Jane just wished she would allow herself to give a fuck.

"Aw, come on, Captain," Cooksley purred, brushing Cecily's hair aside to get to her neck. Cecily tried to pull away again, a look of loathing on her face. But there was nowhere to go, not with a meaty arm wrapped across her chest. She only managed to flinch away, which just bared her neck further. "We've been at sea for weeks now. And we have so graciously saved this woman's life. I think she owes us."

"I don't owe ya anythin'," Cecily spat. Then she rammed her elbow hard into Cooksley's stomach. The breath left him in a forceful exhale, but he didn't release his hold on her, even as she squirmed in his arms, practically growling in her frustration.

Jane just squared her shoulders and glared hard at Cooksley. "Do not make me repeat myself, Cooksley," she threatened, her voice low and cold: a warning. One that all her men knew was foolish to challenge. She had never lost one, not yet, and she damn well didn't plan to start now.

There was a moment, just a moment where Jane was sure he was going to continue on and do something rash all in the name of defiance. But then he relaxed, shoving Cecily away from him with a shrug and a flippant gesture, as though he couldn't care less about some whore. Like she wasn't worth it. Just that gesture alone almost caused Jane to run him through right then and there, damn the consequences.

"Take her to my quarters," she ordered Worth, without taking her eyes off of Cooksley. When Worth, with Cecily now safely in his grasp, had been swallowed up in the throng of crew, Jane relaxed her stance and sheathed her sword. She looked about, glaring at her men with all the authority she could muster. "As for the rest of you, this woman is not to be harmed in anyway whilst aboard this ship. Is that understood?"

Nods and "ayes" sounded in answer from the men before her, but she took note that Cooksley did neither and his features remained coolly detached. He was going to continue to be a problem, she could tell. "If any of you so much as touch her, you will be taking a little trip down to Davy Jones for a permanent stay."