Wrong Kind of Paradise (26 page)

Rigo retrieved one and read the label. “At least we won’t go thirsty.”

Bruno glanced down at him and glared. Rigo shrugged. “What? What happened to your sense of

humor anyway?”

Bruno growled. The violent motions of his hands confused him until Bruno held his hands up above

his head as if in a halo. “Ahh you’re worried about Angel?”

Bruno nodded and slapped a fist into one palm.

“Don’t worry, Blac will take care of her. He won’t let anything happen to the chit, especially since

he’s half in love with her.”

“What’s this about my daughter and Blac?” The booming voice came from across the room.

Rigo’s eyes widened as he searched for an explanation. Was it too late to retract the ill-timed

statement? Rigo cringed at his mistake. “Uh...well...Logan you see—”

“Spit it out, Santiago.” Why did he sound so much like Blac at this moment?

And then the words tumbled from his mouth, in half Spanish and half English. Unfortunately, Logan

being the world traveler that he was, understood every word. Interestingly enough, he didn’t yell or roar

down the rafters as Rigo had imagined he would. Instead, he grew quiet. Frighteningly so.

A loud thunk sounded, followed by another as the guard tumbled down the steps and then a wisp of

canary yellow damask fabric drew Rigo’s eye as Eliza knelt to check the soldier’s pulse.

“Would it really have been such a bad thing if the man had broken his neck?” Rigo drawled.

Her head swiveled to face him. “Yes! I will not have a man’s death on my conscience just because I

am crazy enough to save a stupid pirate’s life.”

He grinned. “Because you like me.”

“I loathe you. But I feel sorry for the big man over there since his only rescue got captured

themselves. It is up to someone a little more competent to save him.”

Rigo frowned at the insult. “Oh? Who do you suggest then?”

She gave an irritated growl and crossed the room to release Logan first. The large man dominated

her, as she barely reached his chest. He thanked her and nodded, rubbing his bruised wrists. The yellow

confection moved toward Bruno next.

Of course, she was going to make him wait — punishing him. He deserved it, but that didn’t mean

he liked it.

When she finally stood before him, she hesitated and frowned. He grinned. “Having second

thoughts?”

“I should just leave you here.”

“But you won’t.”

She glared at him. “No, I won’t.” She released the shackles and they clanged to the ground. “But

that doesn’t mean I don’t hope you trip and fall flat on your face.”

He laughed. She was delightful. Sinfully so. She leaned forward to release the chains around his

wrist and a whiff of lavender assaulted him. Rigo breathed it in, savoring the scent of a woman. It’d been

a mighty long time since he’d had one. Perhaps fate had dropped little miss prudent in his lap for a reason.

“Come, we must go out the tunnel,” she whispered.

“What tunnel?” Logan asked. “I’ve been here three years. I’ve yet to see a tunnel.”

She chuckled. “And here it’s been right under your nose. It was placed here in case there was an

attack from one of the local tribes. The Indians can be very unpredictable.” She crossed to the back of the

cellar and pushed against a large bookshelf.

At her gasp, Rigo rolled his eyes and urged her aside. “Never let it be said that I am unkind.”

Eliza huffed. “And arrogant as well.”

The bookshelf gave way to reveal a dark passage filled with cobwebs. Rigo stepped back with a

grin and said, “Lead the way.”

She drew back in horror which made him laugh again. He was really enjoying her discomfort, and

he didn’t know what the devil had gotten into him since meeting her, but he liked it.

Logan rushed by him and through the cobwebs at an almost dead run. Bruno and Eliza followed,

with Rigo bringing up the rear. Darkness enclosed them, and the scuffle of their boots echoed in the tunnel

as a rat scurried out of the way making Eliza gasp.

When she eased back and bumped into him, he wrapped his hands around her waist. “Are you

afraid,
mi amor
?”

She swiveled to glare at him over her shoulder. “Heaven’s, no! And do be so kind as to remove

your hands from me this instant.”

Rigo grinned but stepped away. She continued down the narrow corridor at a quicker pace to catch

up. Obviously she didn’t want to stand next to him in the dark. Rigo rubbed his hands together. Or maybe

she did and just didn’t want to admit it.

Ahead, the tunnel ended and Logan shoved through the opening in the ceiling. Light spilled across

the dirt floor and blinded them. Logan climbed up the ladder first and peered out. “We’re in the back yard

still.”

“Yes, you’ll need to cross the yard to the north. There’s a gate at the rear.”Eliza followed him up

and Rigo shoved past Bruno just so he could be the one to stand below her.

“And stop peering up my dress, you disgusting pig.”

Bruno slapped him on the back of the head as he grasped the rungs. “What? I didn’t look...or at least

I couldn’t see anything anyway. She’s wearing too many blasted skirts.”

Rigo emerged from the opening and hauled himself out. Nothing stirred in the back yard except the

leaves on the trees. And they clambered to their feet and headed for the rear gate.

“It’s just beyond the well there.”

Musket fire exploded the silence and flock of birds burst into flight above them. “There they are.

Get them!”

~*~

Movement slowed to a standstill, or perhaps it just seemed that way as Logan De’Haviland

whipped around. Six English soldiers sprinted after them. Rigo grabbed the young woman’s wrist and

yanked her toward the exit. Bruno had reached the stone wall. The scrape of his boots sounded loud in the

eerie silence as he scrambled over it.

Only Logan stood in the way of the soldiers and the rest of the crew. Being captain was ingrained in

him and he braced to face the assault. He would give the others enough time to get away. Besides, he had

a suspicion about the coming events.

One of the soldiers tackled him and he fought back – only for effect because while they struggled to

subdue him, Rigo and the rest could get away.

The weight of so many soldiers finally toppled him and he landed with a thud. They wrenched his

arms behind his back.

Escaping wasn’t an option at this point.

He had an upcoming reunion to look forward to, and he needed to be available when it occurred.

Twenty

Angel followed Blac down Queen Street toward the Market Exchange. She had to double her stride

to keep up. A drunken seaman sprawled just outside one of the taverns and she stepped over his legs just

as the empty rum bottle in his hand dropped and rolled across the ground.

She’d worn her knee breeches and boots, tucking her hair up under a cap, although several strands

had escaped to tickle her neck. They neared the tip of the port at the intersection of Lime Street and Queen

Street. They rounded the corner by one of the two-story wood structures, past the Customs House toward

the north docks.

Barrels of liquid, what she assumed was ale, lined the side of a building beside a large stack of

wood. Trash littered the street and the stench of refuse and rotten food permeated the back alleys. The

forest of masts rose out of the harbor mouth and the salty breeze whipped her face, cooling the

perspiration beading on her skin.

They passed several storage buildings, warehouses, and stores until they cut down an alley. The

passageway widened and was cornered by four large buildings. The two-story structures blocked all the

light, and shadows danced amongst the alcoves. An eerie shiver danced along her spine and she tightened

her grip on his hand. The alley was littered with boxes, filth, empty bottles, and trash. The smell of rot

and age seemed trapped by the overlarge structures surrounding them.

Blac glanced around. “This is the address.”

He tugged her through a gate and into the rear yard of the brick A-frame shop. The building

appeared abandoned and empty. Two dark windows stared down at them from above and she detected no

movement within. A hearth was built into the back corner of the building and the discarded pieces of

broken pewter plates and bowls indicated this had once been a pewter smithy.

“Why are we here?” she whispered.

“I don’t know but stay close by.” Blac seemed to be examining the area, scanning for exits, and

Angel figured she probably should too. But the wooden door swung opened like a wide, gaping mouth and

for long moments no one appeared.

Angel tensed and kept her eyes trained on that door.

The slight breeze wafted through her hair and it seemed even nature held its breath. Waiting.

Blac eased her behind him and moved toward the door, drawing his sword as they walked. Angel

wanted to grab him back.
Make him stay put
. The urge to scream almost overwhelmed her.

They reached the doorway, and her fists tightened until her nails bit into her palms. Unease slid

down her spine. Her hands reached for his waist as he entered, and he stiffened under her hands.

Angel peered over his shoulder. Red-coated soldiers lined the walls with guns aimed in their

direction. The lieutenant stood in the room’s center.

His short, frail frame seemed dominated by the rest of the soldiers in the room. Not a single dark

hair surrounding the narrow face was out of place.

“Charles.” Blac crossed his arms across his chest.

The lieutenant finished straightening his cuffs, making them wait for a response. “Blac. We meet

again. And I see you’ve kept your word and brought me the girl.”

“I have the commander. I’ll hand him over as soon as I get what I want.”

Charles laughed. “You sound like you think you’re in the position to bargain, Blac. Let me remind

you. You are not.”

Blac shrugged. “Then you don’t wish to have your commanding officer returned to you? Interesting.

I had always taken you for a man who cared about his reputation. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that’s

perhaps all you care about.”

“Indeed,” Charles replied. “You would be right, for the most part. Although, there are one or two

other things I care about. But let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about you!”

Charles stepped toward them, and his hand snaked out to seize Angel by the arm. He dragged her

away. Blac reached for her, but the sound of multiple triggers being cocked stopped him.

Angel’s heart raced as the slightest tick in Blac’s jaw started in earnest. He hadn’t planned on this.

She shifted uneasily and waited to see what happened next. Hopefully, Bruno and Rigo had managed to

get her father free. Now if only she and Blac could escape.

Charles’s hand tightened on her upper arm until she grimaced and pulled away from him. He turned

in her direction. “Where do you think you’re going?” He chuckled. “Don’t worry. You’ll be with your

father soon enough.”

He shoved her toward his guards and she landed hard at their feet hard. Someone hauled her to feet,

but at least their hold wasn’t near as brutal as the lieutenant’s.

“Now, Blac, where were we? Oh yes, my commander.” Charles waved a hand. Footsteps sounded

and the overweight commander paused on the last step. Angel gasped and clamped both of her hands over

her mouth.

“You’re wondering how he got free?” Charles said. “Well, you see Blac, you’re not the only one

with well paid informants.” The sea of red-coated lackeys parted at the rear of the room. Her newest

crewman, Harry, hung by his jacket over a hook on the door. His face was battered and bruised, with a

swollen nose and lip. His eyes blackened and an egg-sized knot had formed on his left temple with a cut

dribbling blood to his chin.

Angel gasped.

“Foolish boy. He thought he could change his mind. I made sure to teach him the lesson that once

you set things in motion, you cannot renege on your word.” The lieutenant chuckled. “Funny how quick we

learn life’s little lessons.”

“You bastard! He was just a boy!” Angel cried and lunged at Charles. The soldier behind her

grabbed her by the collar of her shirt like he would a dog and chuckled as she struggled, arms flailing.

“I’m sure you were wondering if your plan had worked to free Logan. Well, I thought I’d be

generous today and provide you with the answer.”

Charles laughed at the open-jawed expression on her face. “Oh, don’t cry, my dear. Would you like

to see your father now?”

Angel shook with rage. Her hands fisted, and her jaw clenched until her teeth ached. But then her

father stumbled through the door and everything else faded away. His tall frame barely fit through the

opening, and he had to duck his great head. His gaze met hers as tears scalded a path down her cheeks.

His bruised and battered face softened when he saw her, and he sent her a tiny smile. Angel choked

back a sob. She wanted to run into his arms. She wanted everything to go back to the way it used to be,

when she’d been safe. On her island. Once upon a time...