Wrong Kind of Paradise (6 page)

held its aura of decadence along the wharves.

Blac strode down the boardwalk, headed for the town’s tip. Fishermen hawked their wares, and a

drunken seaman bumped into his shoulder, before collapsing to the ground. Blac chuckled and helped the

man to his feet once more, keeping an eye on the gathered group across the wharves.

More than a hundred ships were docked in the harbor. Their tips stretched into the sky above, and

the hulls bobbed across the ocean’s surface, like dancers in the night.

The constant lapping of waves against the boardwalk and the whine of the wind were broken by the

sounds of crashing bottles and drunken laughter. Damp moisture made the fabric of his shirt stick to his

back, and sweat beaded across his brow from the humidity.

Blac blended in to the crowd of seamen, passing by the crates and barrels being loaded and

unloaded. He stopped beneath the balcony of the hastily built brothel, next to a two-storied red brick

structure. The sign read simply: The Cat and The Fiddle, established 1675. Two scantily-clad prostitutes

giggled and shouted out lewd invitations to the men below.

Blac shoved his wide-brimmed hat lower over his features and followed the foursome down High

Street. Dusk disappeared and the black cloak of sin settled over the town. Several of the locals closed up

shop and headed for home. Blac tipped his hat at the lady and gentlemen exiting Simon Benning’s pewter

shop and crossed the street.

The four heavily armed men joined up with a shorter, dark-cloaked figure and headed down an

alley headed toward Queen Street. They disappeared through a heavy, oak-arched doorway.

Blac entered The Black Dog, a rundown hovel. The group sat at the rear of the building. He took a

seat on the bench and table in the opposite corner, ducking his head to hide his features. The low murmur

of voices droned on and for several hours; the five companions continued to drink.

A buxom blonde ambled up to his table and perched one hip on its edge. “Anything else I can get

ye’ handsome?”

Blac shook his head and leaned forward to see around her. “Not tonight, Jezel.”

The bright red lips pursed to make a moue beneath the penciled in mole in the right corner of her

mouth. “Zhat ‘es too bad,
mon ami
, I’d hoped you would come to see me. I have missed you zees last

months.”

Blac reached up a hand to her knee and squeezed. “And I you, but I’ve work to do.”

“Perhaps I can be of help?”

Blac glanced up to her. “Perhaps you can.” He dropped his hand and crossed his arms across the

tabletop. “Do you see those five sailors in the corner?”

“Of course,” she said with wicked grin. “’Ze young one is right handsome and has been eyeing me

all evening.”

“Good.” Blac ordered another glass of rum. “Get his attention and find out what they’re up to.”

She nodded and moved to stand. His hand shot out and seized her leg again. “And Jezel...” She

raised a single blonde brow. “You will be rewarded.”

A slow smile spread across her features. “I’ve got plenty of gold,
mon ami
. Unless it’s you in my

bed this eve, don’t even bother.”

She walked away with a swing in her hips and, had the object of his current fascination not been

more than five feet away from him, he may have been more than interested. As it were, Jezel held no

appeal to him. Not after the way his blood had been set afire by one rebellious female pirate.

The tavern had long since cleared. Blac held back as the last occupant exited the building. He

slipped from the shadows and stole into the alley beside the establishment until he reached the rear door.

He knocked three times and seconds later, the door opened an inch.

Jezel’s voice came to him through the partial opening. “I ‘ave news. They plan to kidnap the

lieutenant commander tomorrow night. A girl...a prostitute, she works in the Red Garter. Her name is

Gretchen. She is supposed to drug his ‘ordship.”

Kidnap the commander? Charles’s superior officer? Did Angel plan to exchange him for her

father’s life?

Blac reached into his pocket and retrieved the small bag of coins. He handed them inside the door.

Jezel hesitated. “I take it you won’t be coming to me tonight?”

“Not this time, Jezel.”

A soft sigh sounded from the other side. “Aye, I wilz take the coin but you must promise to return to

me after this ‘es all over.”

Blac frowned. “I’m not sure I can promise anything, but I will try.”

Another sigh.

“All right zen, good luck with yer mission, Capi’tan.”

Blac strode down the alley onto Queen Street. He headed for the pier. Now that he knew Angel’s

plans, he had one of his own.

~*~

No one could duplicate what God had created, a temptress cast upon men from the sins of Eden.

Blac’s eyes took in the naked flesh a little too eagerly. He’d followed Angel back to the tiny inn on

High Street. It couldn’t house more than six rooms. She stayed on the second story, far left corner room.

He’d climbed the trellis without breaking his neck and stepped over the railing on the balcony to get a

better view.

The crickets chirped their melody in the night and masked the sound of his heavy feet on the

wrought-iron plates beneath him. Stars glimmered in brilliant profusion against the black blanket of night

and offered little light to reveal him.

He’d been lucky enough to catch her at her bath and unlucky enough to suffer the consequences of

watching her.

Firelight flickered off the walls and cast shadows of her lush curves across the walls as she stood

to her full height. Water sluiced over the sides of the tub to puddle onto the wooden planks. He

swallowed. Droplets trickled down her flat stomach and hips. Each bead of moisture slid against her

flesh and he imagined drying the moisture with his tongue.

Meager light from the fire gleamed against her skin. Long arms reached high to wring out her wet

hair, water droplets scattered, and a tempting line of the liquid coasted down so beautifully against the

sweet curve of her shoulder to her breast.

Heat engulfed every inch of his body. His attention could no longer focus on anything but the woman

on the other side of the windowpane. How had this one female tilted his entire being on its axis, and now

he sat here on this balcony staring at her like a lovesick fool? Blac couldn’t be sure if this opportunity

were a gift or curse.

Heaven or hell
.

His breath fogged the glass as he leaned closer. A rush of adrenaline filled his blood. Anticipation

coursed a path through his veins. How could he not look forward to the outcome of this game they played?

The end neared and expectancy lingered in the air around him. His breath hushed, his heart pounded

inside his chest, and his palms moistened.

He had her finally, exactly where he wanted her. And for once, he wouldn’t rush in to claim the

prize. Instead, he would savor the victory.

She walked toward the window and dropped the towel she’d been holding. With only the glass

separating them, Blac traced her figure with a single digit.

A deep sense of satisfaction welled inside him. He’d won.

The prize would be one of the greatest he’d ever taken. A prize that was well worth the wait.

You’re mine
. After all these years...heaven would be his in the arms of the Hell’s Angel.

~*~

Angel had never kidnapped a man before. Until tonight.

Exhilaration flowed through her veins and she couldn’t quite keep the grin from her face. She

peered around the corner and searched the alley. “All clear,” she mouthed to her men, and one by one,

they filtered past into the darkness.

Their plan was to kidnap the commander and trade him for her father. She didn’t know if it would

work, but it was worth a try. The prostitute had said the commander came every Friday evening to The

Red Garter to visit Gretchen. And this time, they would be there to greet him.

The group of them skulked through the shadows until they reached the last window on the building

to the left. She nodded, and Harry gave a soft birdcall. The window eased open and the brunette slipped

her head out. “Do I still git me gold?”

Angel grinned and held up a bag of Spanish doubloons. The coins jingled as she slipped the bag

back into her pocket.

The prostitute glanced over her shoulder. “Aye, well, he be snuffed out like a flame. C’mon up.”

Two of her newest crew members jostled each other. Bruno boxed their ears and the two stood at

attention. If they didn’t straighten up, they would all be caught and hung at Gallows Point. Harry had the

grace to blush.

Angel sighed. She must be mad for attempting a stunt like this.

Bruno stepped forward under the window and threaded his fingers together for her to slip her foot

into. Angel paused and held a hand up to his dark cheek. “Bruno, make me a promise, will you?”

He nodded, the light from an above window reflected off the dark, bald head. His chocolate brown

eyes narrowed. He shook his head, telling her with his eyes he didn’t want to hear it.

She frowned. “You have to promise me, whatever happens...” She bit her lip. “Get my father out of

that English prison. I don’t care about myself. Just keep him safe for me.”

He shook his head.

“Do it. It’s an order.” She dropped her hand.

Bruno frowned and dropped his gaze on a sigh. He nodded and then reformed his fingers so she

could climb up to the second story window.

She slipped her foot into his clasped hands and he lifted her. She grasped hold of the window ledge

and heaved herself up. Swinging one leg up, she pulled her body inside and flopped to the floor.
So much

for grace
.

Darkness encased the room. The only source of light poured from outside. It was too meager to do

her any good, creating shadows in every corner. Where was the commander? Where was Gretchen, and

why had she left before she’d taken her gold?

Tiny hairs prickled at the back of Angel’s neck and a chill raced along her spine. Harry sent a

birdcall up waiting for her response to let them know she was safe. She didn’t send it. For whatever

reason, something didn’t feel right.

Shadows danced along the walls and she studied each one. She waited with bated breath for

something to happen, some movement or sound to alert her to the sign of an intruder.

Awareness raced over her flesh. She grabbed the hilt of her sword and reached for her musket with

the other. Easing over into the dark corner out of the light, she moved along the wall. Watching the

shadows skip across the room, she felt the presence of someone watching her. She melted back into the

dark and held her breath.

Her heart pummeled her ribs and her palms grew moist.

The second birdcall drifted up from below.

A shuffling of movement sounded from the alleyway as her men prepared to come up. Then she saw

the commander lying in the middle of the ragged mattress in the opposite corner of the room asleep, and

she let out a deep sigh. She’d been searching for ghosts and ghouls where there were none.

Angel stepped forward to cross the room and bind the commander in ropes. A set of hands seized

her from the shadows, knocking the musket from her hand. Her stomach heaved. A hand clamped over her

mouth as an arm wrapped around her waist in a vise, dragging her against the large frame of a man.

She’d been duped.

She’d kill Gretchen for setting her up like this.

Her fingers clawed at the forearm, since her arms were pinned to her sides and movement was

limited. Damn. Her sword merely swung harmlessly back and forth as the odd position prevented her

from using it.

Was this where she would die?

A breath rushed across her ear. “Call them down, Angel.”

She relaxed. Her breath whooshed from her but her heart tripped in her chest. Blac. He’d come for

her. Somehow she’d known he would.

The hand eased the severe hold but didn’t move away. “I’m going to free your mouth, and I want

you to call to Bruno and let him know you’re safe. Understand?” The hand tightened once more. “My men

are scattered all over this room, the brothel, even in the streets. The four of you are outnumbered. It would

be a foolish mistake to resist. You’d hate to be the cause of their deaths, wouldn’t you?”

Would he really kill men he’d known for years? Could she really risk it? Bruno and her father’s

men were all she had left in life. She would never risk their lives.

Angel nodded. He released her mouth but not his hold around her waist. Instead the arm tightened,

and the length of him pressed against her backside, igniting a spark of heat. The strength of his body

scattered tingles along her skin. She tilted her head to the side to view him from the corner of her eye.

“You would kill the men you’ve known half your life, Captain Barclay?”

He stared down at her. “Yes, to prevent you from committing this foolish mistake. I would.” He