Wrong Kind of Paradise (22 page)

to steer in this storm and would drift until the rudder was fixed.

The winds picked up speed and blasted the side of the ship. Without sails, the Revenge was at the

mercy of God and Mother Nature. The wind bore no mercy on the Revenge and tore at the ship in a steady

rhythm.

Blac cursed. They were nearing the Frigate. He held firm to the wheel but luck wasn’t with him this

evening. Steering did little good as the force of the gale pushed them closer and closer to the crippled

vessel.

“Cap’n we’re gonna ram her!” Rigo shouted over the whine.

Sixteen

The impact sent Angel half-way across the cabin. Books tumbled to the floor, followed by the entire

bookcase. The dishes clattered against the planks and shattered to pieces. Angel crawled to her knees out

of the fallen debris and peered around. What the hell had they hit?

Blac!

Angel clambered to her feet and stumbled, her vision blackened and cleared. Dizziness washed

over her and she reached out to steady herself with a hand on the wall. Her other hand came away from

her forehead, covered in blood. She’d whacked her temple on something pretty good.

The crunch of her boots on the broken china pounded in her ears. She wrenched open the cabin door

that led out onto the weather deck.

Chaos ensued, and the hulking image of the Frigate loomed just yards off their bow. Men rushed to

cut any entangled lines and her heart faltered. Where was Blac? Her eyes swept the deck but she didn’t

see him.

Grappling hooks sailed across the way and bound the two ships together. A cry of battle ensued as

men leapt from the Frigate onto the decks of the Revenge. Wide-eyed, Angel ducked as someone swung

from a rope overhead and tumbled to the deck. The swarthy pirate flashed a toothless grin and she

reached for her cutlass.

The shock of contact as the cold steel clanged together vibrated through her arms. Angel gasped but

held firm.

“Yer afraid?”

Angel shook off her initial hesitation and slid the sword together until they stood nose to nose.

“Come, and see how afraid I am.”

She whirled and came about with shocking speed, sending the pirate back a step, protecting his

midsection. His dark eyes widened. He licked his filthy lips in what she guessed was anticipation.

They danced across the decks. She sidestepped the fallen lines and leapt to avoid the fallen bodies

littering the planks.

She swung and cleaved the fingers from his handle. His sword dropped uselessly. The decapitated

appendages flopped to the planks and the pirate lost his grin, clutching his wounded hand.

Someone’s hand tangled in her hair and yanked her back. She screamed. His hold went slack and he

toppled to the ground. Angel glanced behind her to see Bruno withdrawing his sword from the limp body.

Angel leapt forward and blocked the pirate to Bruno’s left, slicing through his gullet like a finger

through lard. A loud pop spliced through the air and a member of Blac’s crew crumbled. Just outside of a

cutlass’s reach, a pirate tossed the smoking musket aside and lifted the blunderbuss pistol at Bruno.

With a squeal, Angel seized her eight-inch dagger. With a flick of the wrist, the weapon sailed

through the air and embedded in the pirate’s neck, pinning him to mast behind him.

She dashed across the deck and picked up the blunderbuss, tucking it into her waistband before

retrieving her dagger. Wiping blood from the weapon, Angel ducked just in time as a sword hacked into

the mast next to her. She straightened and eyed her attacker. A large man by any standards, Angel skittered

out of reach around the mast, but he clomped after her. The behemoth laughed and slung the cutlass again.

She dodged and it cleaved into the wood. His blackened teeth flashed in another smile but it faded when

she pulled the pistol and squeezed the trigger.

Blood spattered across the deck and speckled across her face. Angel leaned back and panted. Her

heart thundered her chest.

Several of the pirates threw up their arms and dropped their weapons.

That’s when she saw him.

Max lay across the planks, blood smeared across his neck. “Max!” she cried and raced to his side.

Kneeling beside him, she clasped his hand. “Are you all right?”

An explosion rocked the vessel beneath her feet and threw her hard against the gun-wall. Startled,

Angel scrambled back onto her knees to check over him. His hazel eyes struggled to focus on her and he

attempted a smile. “Aye lass, I’ll be as right as rain soon enough.”

She spied a bullet lodged into his chest just above his heart. Blood gushed from the wound and

pooled on the deck. Tears burned her eyes but the rain washed them away. “Max! Max! No, you can’t

leave me!”

Angel dropped his hand and searched for something to plug the wound. Oh, please! She couldn’t

lose Max. He and Bruno had been her best friends for as long as she could remember. He’d been like a

second father to her.

She reached down tore a huge strip of fabric from the bottom of her shirt and packed the wound as

best she could. But even as she struggled to save his life she knew...it was too late.

He reached for her hand and squeezed. She cried helplessly, and held his weathered hand to her

mouth kissing his knuckles. “Max! Please don’t leave me.”

He smiled. “Aye lassie, it be my time. Don’t fret, my sweet, Blac will take care of ye’ now, and

Bruno.”

Her heart ripped in two. “Blac hates me,” she wailed.

He attempted a chuckle but it ended in a ravaged cough. “Ahh, nay lass. He denies what he feels is

all. All men go through that when they meet their luv.” He squeezed her hand again. “He will come

around, my sweet.”

He hacked and covered his mouth. The strip of cloth she’d put over the wound had already soaked

through. Angel sobbed against his shoulder. His hand patted her on the back before it fell uselessly by his

side. He wheezed into her hair. “Blac will rescue Logan fer ye, my sweet. Do not doubt that fer a second.

Trust in him.”

Tears streaked down her cheeks and soaked into his rough waistcoat. She felt him kiss the top of her

head. “Aye, I’ve luved ye like a daughter, Angel.”

Her fists clenched into the wool of his wet coat and a scream rose in the back of her throat.

Somehow, she managed to tamp it down but she couldn’t stop the wracking sobs that shook her body. The

wind whipped at her hair and she caressed his unshaven jaw as the strength left his grip.

She sat there until she calmed to a mere whimper. She peered up into his weathered features and

closed his gentle hazel eyes for the last time. She placed a kiss on his forehead and held his work-

roughened hand.

She said a silent goodbye to the man who’d held her all her life. Activity bustled around her but she

didn’t care.

“Angel.”

Her gaze found Blac as he bent next to her. His grey-blue eyes moved from her to Max’s body, then

back again. “Ahh hell,” he muttered and then gathered her into his arms where she wept on his shoulder.

What seemed like hours passed, and she realized she’d always depended on Blac to comfort her,

and he’d always been there for her when she’d needed him the most. Memories of the day she’d stowed

away on his ship and he’d cradled her until he could return her to her father. The day of her father’s

capture Blac had tried to keep her safe but she’d been too stubborn to listen.

Angel peered up into his eyes. Contentment spread through her and she squeezed him. Dropping a

kiss to her forehead, he squeezed her in return.

“I love you, Blac,” she whispered against his neck.

He sat back to look at her, shock registered on his face. She’d confessed her feelings but he said

nothing. Her heart seemed to freeze in place waiting on his reply, but none came forth.

Lowering her eyes, she was certain her nose and eyes were red and tear-streaked. She must look a

fright, but his gaze only softened before he lowered his mouth to hers in the gentlest kiss she’d ever

experienced. Warmth from his gentleness engulfed her, but disappointment crawled its way into her heart.

That one kiss said more to her than she could’ve ever imagined.

But, she recognized the fact that he refused to say it with words.

~*~

Blac carried his fallen Angel back to the cabin and laid her across the bed. “I’ll return in a few. I

need to take care of some things.” He peered down at her and brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Will

you be all right while I’m gone?”

Her lip trembled but she nodded.

He made his way back topside. The Frigate had sustained too much damage, and even now sank into

the waiting arms of the deep blue sea.

Blac’s crew scurried to repair the damage of the hull on the Revenge, tended to the injured, and

prepared to lay the dead to rest. All the while, he, Bruno and Rigo fished many of the Frigate’s crew from

the cold depths of water, including the captain.

The men who surrendered by laying down their arms were sent to the brig. Any others who

continued to fight were shot down. Bodies littered the decks, and clean up would take hours. He’d lost

more men than he’d counted on. Sadness settled in his chest and squeezed. These were good men, many

with families, and it would be up to him to face the widows. It was the hardest part of holding the title of

captain. A heartfelt burial would be organized for his men after they rid themselves of the garbage.

The wily, old Frigate captain scurried over the side of the rail and dropped like a dead fish to the

planks. Bruno grasped the soaked collar of his tattered, royal blue waistcoat and hauled him to his feet.

Sea water dripped from his overlong black beard onto the planks.

The man coughed and sputtered before he gave a mocking smile that revealed the two missing front

teeth. The loosened cravat hung around his neck and black hair plastered to his forehead in wet strands.

Blac raised his pistols and aimed directly at the captain’s chest. “Remove his weapons, Mr.

Santiago and take him to the hold with the others. I’ll be sure to save Bruno a spot while we ask the good

captain some questions.”

It took several hours to get the rest of the ship back in order. The men from the sunken Frigate were

stowed away in the hull with a guard, and repairs were underway for the Serpent. Hammers pounded

against wood and metal as the wind died down to a mere bluster of air. The men who were not captured

were left aboard the sinking vessel, as the Revenge couldn’t house them all.

Deciding to stop in the port of St. Kitts to make repairs on the hull and mast, Blac mapped out the

course before making his way to the hull of the ship. Bruno and two other crewmembers stood guard. The

myriad of prisoners languished in various positions across the deck. Only the captain stood. He leaned

casually against the bars and appeared to be cleaning under his nails, ignoring Bruno’s heated stares.

Blac motioned the guard and the man unlocked the cell door, calling out to the captain. The captain

took his time lowering his propped foot and stepping over his comrades’ prone’ forms before he reached

the opening.

“Well, well, Captain Barclay.”The decaying teeth flashed in a harsh grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet

such a fine privateer.”

Blac raised a single brow. “Indeed, then it won’t be too hard to persuade you to join me in my

cabin.”

Bruno accompanied them and entering, Blac shut the door softly behind them. “I’m at a

disadvantage since you know who I am and yet, I’ve no idea who you are. Why don’t help me remedy

this?”

Angel stirred and sat up on the bed, her eyes swollen and red from her tears. The old captain’s gaze

swung to her so briefly, Blac thought he had imagined it. But it was no figment of his imagination. Again,

those eyes sought and found Angel.

“My name is of no importance. What you should be interested in is why I am here.” He spoke with a

heavy French accent. He smiled. “But you may call Jacques if you wish.”

Blac settled in the chair opposite of the captain. “Feel free to fill us in at any time. I am eager to

hear your reasons.”

Jacques leaned back in the chair and rubbed two fingers down his thin, squared mustache. “I was

approached by an old man several days ago. He told me that should his assassins fail to kill the girl—” he

pointed at Angel— “and managed to board your ship, I was to make sure neither of you lived to tell the

tale.”

Angel stood and crossed to the table. “You mean my grandfather, Nigel Vancroft?”

Jacques shook his head. “No. Vancroft has funded many of my smuggling ventures over the years. I

know him well. ‘Zis man I have never met before, but he was definitely well-bred. Gentry.”

“You didn’t get a name?”Blac asked.

“He paid me beforehand. There was no need.”

“Then you won’t mind going on your merry little way once we reach St Kitts.” Blac stood and

crossed his arms.

Jacques tilted his head and examined his dirty nails. “I am not to return to England until the deed is