Wrong Kind of Paradise (5 page)

twinkled with the first appearance of stars. Seagulls dipped and amassed at the edge of the cerulean

water. His men all sat about in various spots along the beach front in small groups, cleaning up debris.

The scent of charred wood carried on the breeze and a niggling warning showed its ugly face.

Something didn’t fit.
Where was his ship?

“Why aren’t they on the ship, Mr. Santiago?”

One of his crew tossed a burnt plank of wood into the sea. “Why the hell aren’t they readying the

ship—” His voice broke off. Realization dawned on him and his eyes widened.

The empty cove opened to a vast, blue blanket, and a tiny dot rode on its horizon. Waves broke on

the sand and washed up scorched wreckage.

Blac hung his head, clamping his jaw tight. “How?” His voice barely registered among the crowded

men. No one answered. Blac ticked the seconds by in his head. Someone cleared his throat nervously.

“How!”

“She set the barrels of rum waiting to be loaded on fire as a distraction, Cap’n. She and her men

had the sails raised before the smoke cleared enough for us to see her,” Rigo confessed.

Both fists clenched at Blac’s side. He imagined her little neck in them. “By God I’ll kill her! She

stole my ship!”

“And burned the rum!” One of his crewmen muttered.

But why? What the hell did she hope to accomplish?

Charles laughed behind him and he whipped around. One hand seized and clasped the man’s throat.

The lieutenant’s eyes widened just a fraction as he gripped Blac’s arm. His crooked grin wavered.

Fear flickered across lieutenant’s features. But it didn’t assuage Blac’s sudden need to thrash

someone. He tightened his hold for a mere second. “I’ve yet to give my word to you or the King on

anything thus far, Worthington, but I’ll give you my word on this.” He leaned closer. “By the year’s end, I

will have The Serpent back and I will personally hand you the girl.”

~*~

Stagnated air assaulted Charles as he climbed below decks into the darkness. Lieutenant Charles

Worthington ducked his head under the ship’s framework and moved further into the dank hull of the ship.

The brig at the rear of the hull was only a five-foot by four-foot cell but it would serve his purposes this

day.

Water dripped from the ceiling onto his waistcoat. He wiped it away, glad it hadn’t marred his

pristine white shirt. He avoided this part of the ship like the plague. It was too dirty, dank, and smelled of

unwashed bodies and disease.

A frown of distaste spread across his features. He would get done with this business as quickly as

he could. But he would enjoy every second. He smiled again. “Logan,” he said placing a single hand on

the iron bar and peering into the cell of the defeated man inside.

Charles almost clapped his hands in glee. But of course, he tapped down the ridiculous urge. Things

couldn’t have worked out any better for him — well unless of course both Logan and Angel had been

captured. At least he had Logan.

Logan appeared much older than Charles would’ve imagined. His black hair sported plenty of

white at the temples and streaked throughout his full beard. He sat on the floor, hanging his head between

his knees. Logan raised his head. There wasn’t a look of defeat in those stormy, blue eyes as Charles had

first imagined, but rather anger. Pure, unadulterated rage.

The pirate rose to his feet and Charles stepped back. Logan stood head and shoulders taller than he.

He was so broad of shoulder he almost filled the entire cell. Immense shoulders sloped to a massive

chest. Lines bracketed his mouth and fanned his eyes, and were the only signs of age on the man.

Charles lifted his chin. “So we finally meet at long last.” He smirked. “Can’t say as I’m really

honored though.”

“The English have no honor.” Even the timbre of his voice was colossal. Deeper than the average

man’s, it reverberated against the walls of the hull. A chill crept down Charles’s spine and he realized

now why this man’s career had been so successful. One look at this man and people surrendered.

Charles chuckled. “This, coming from a pirate?”

Logan moved with an easy grace despite his height. His moves were measured, concise. He gripped

the steel bars with both hands. “Honor among thieves. Even pirates can keep their word. It is the English

who mask their deceit behind polite fronts and stab you with trickery. I could’ve gone into politics and

done exactly the same things. But I prefer piracy; it’s more open. Honest. But I refuse to justify myself to

you.”

“Indeed.” Charles smiled and crossed his arms across his chest. “That’s why I prefer the way of the

soldier, I simply do as I’m told and leave the worrisome politics to others.”

“Do not delude yourself into believing you’re off the hook, Lieutenant. You may like to believe

you’re simply doing your job but you made the choice to become a pawn in a dangerous game. And

therefore, you have left yourself open to be used when and how
they
see fit. Forgive me, if I don’t find

that type of life appealing in the least. It’s the very reason I chose to leave that life behind, my friend. Any

mistakes I make now are mine and I have no one to answer to, save for the good man upstairs.”

Charles lifted a hand to his chin and pondered Logan’s words. “You are very articulate. I wouldn’t

have guessed that.”

“You’re assuming I’ve been a pirate all my life.”

Both of Charles’s brows lifted in surprise. “You’ve had a formal education?”

“I was known by a different name then. It is a name that will forever remain hidden, locked away in

some box till the day I die. Better men have tried to charm it out of me, tougher men have tried to beat it

out of me. Trust me, Lieutenant, when I say this...
You
will never know it.”

The pirate’s monster hand struck out and seized Charles by the collar pulling him forward. The

suddenness took him off guard and he gasped.

“Now you’re going to tell me why the King went against his word and broke our agreement.” Logan

whispered down at him, hauling him closer to the metal bars.

Charles slid the dagger under his sleeve down into his hand and raised it to just under the giants

chin. “You’ll release me, De’haviland, or you’ll find your blood spilled all over this deck.”

Charles made sure to prick the hair-roughened skin to get his point across. A drop of blood oozed

and trickled down the leathered neck. Seconds passed and silence descended.

The man released him with a shove. Charles stumbled. Regaining his balance, he kept out of the

man’s reach, dagger in hand. “You are either very brave or stupid, De’haviland. You’re certainly dancing

on either side of that line. We do things my way here and you’ll do well to remember that.”

Charles straightened his collar and re-tucked his shirt inside his pants with a wary eye on the

Logan. “Your daughter is very beautiful.”

Logan stiffened.

He must have hit a nerve.
Excellent
. He had the upper hand now. His surprise at the man’s size had

given him pause but he’d moved beyond that now.

“My daughter should be well away from here by now, on a ship.”

Charles saw through the bluff for what it was. “Indeed, she is. That much I can tell you is true.”

Logan’s eyes appeared to study him and Charles laughed. “Curiosity killed the cat.”

The meaty hands tightened on the bars and the blue eyes grew so intense they would’ve burned a

hole through him. Charles smirked. “She is safe at the moment if that is what you’re hoping to hear.”

The visible relief was exactly what he’d been looking for. So the man loved his daughter. Too

much. And that was ultimately what would be his downfall. And of course, it would be Charles’s

enjoyment.

“She’s quite wayward, I take it. Headstrong, much like her father is, I suspect. Especially now, after

having met you for the first time. I see now the similarities between the two. Although, I will tell you this,

I had not known a daughter had been born of the union between you and the viscount’s wife until today.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head slightly. “Do I know you?”

Charles chuckled and crossed the area with slow, measured steps. Those blue eyes followed him

step for step. “I do believe I just said we’ve met for the first time.”

“And I didn’t catch your name?”

Charles’s grin smoothed into a full smile as he paused to face the man. “Call me Charles, or

Lieutenant. I will answer to either.”

A sinister hardness appeared in the pirate’s eyes. “No last name? Or too afraid to tell me.”

Charles laughed enjoying himself. “Ahhh, all will be revealed in due time,
mon bon
pirate
ami
.”

“
Nous ne sommes pas d'ami
.”

“No, we are not friends.” So, the pirate was as well educated as he’d thought. Charles crossed his

arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. “All good things come to those who wait, mon ami.”

Charles pushed off the wall and headed toward the hatch. He turned back. “Although, I will tell you

this, De’haviland. Your daughter is a wanted woman now. She took up arms against the King and has

stolen an English vessel.”

“What vessel?”

Charles grinned. “Why, the Serpent if you must know. Poor Blac has made a vow to me this day. He

will get his ship back and bring the girl back to me himself. I am looking forward to seeing how this plays

out, and your delightful daughter provided me with the perfect form of torture. I plan to keep you around

long enough to watch your own daughter hang.”

The animal-like roar followed Charles out of the hull and echoed through the cove.

Four

Two years later

1691

The Serpent’s Lady.

The two-masted Brigantine floated in the harbor as gentle swells of water lapped at her bow. Her

tall, dual masts rose into the dimming light of the sunset like slender-fingered bones, rising out of the clear

water.

Blac stepped away from the dock rail and breathed in the salt air. An entire year since he’d last

seen the beauty of both the ship and the girl.

Several times, he’d come close to capturing Angel, but again and again, she had escaped, sailing

away with a wave and kiss blown across the wind. He could still feel the sting of it as if she’d slapped

his face. Her taunts inspired his rage and passion. He’d never been more determined to have something.

And soon, he would.

His eyes traced every sleek line of the boat. The vessel’s figurehead, once a serpent, had now been

carved into a bare-breasted woman with billowing hair. Her body was wrapped in the coils of a sea

serpent. The woman very much resembled Angel, and he wondered who had carved it. A sudden need to

throttle the man overcame him and he gritted his teeth.
Had she removed her clothes to pose for such a

thing?

He clasped and unclasped his fists.

Two men roamed the main deck, coiling ropes and securing rigging. A third man dangled from the

fore topmast yardarm as he secured the sails.

Four new bronzed cannons had been added to the main deck and a new heavily carved banister had

been added to the quarterdeck. The changes improved the Brigantine’s appearance. Though Blac hated to

admit it, she appeared well taken care of and clean.

He’d missed her. And her captain. He couldn’t wait to run his hands over her rails again, but he

would stay far away from her mistress.

The Hell's Angel, as Angel was now known, had become quite a name in the Caribbean. She

attacked every English vessel she crossed and every privateer flying under the English flag. He imagined

Angel was searching for her father still. Her fearsome reputation grew with every passing day. The

English captains had become afraid to set sail in the Caribbean for fear of running into her.

Blac wasn’t sure where the lieutenant had taken Logan, but, the lieutenant had kept his word. He

would not hang Logan until Blac managed to capture Angel. But Worthington was becoming impatient.

The question was why did the lieutenant want the pirate’s daughter? Why hold off the pirate’s trial and

hanging when that’s who he was after in the first place? Unless, he didn’t plan on going through with the

trial.

Suspicion kept Blac from overanalyzing the lieutenant’s motives – at least for now. His first goal

had always been to get Angel to her grandfather’s care as he’d promised Logan before his arrest.

Blood pulsed through his veins and he released his grip on the rail.
Soon, my angel, I will have you

under my hands.

Blac was uncertain whether he meant the ship or the woman.

Two hours later, Blac followed four dark figures down the boardwalk toward the U-shaped city.

Over the years, Port Royal had made a name for itself as the wickedest city in the New World.

Lights flickered across the waters as the port awoke, ready to sink into its nightly ritual of debauchery.

Despite the fact that the city had been claimed an area of anti-piracy the year Logan was captured, it still