The Devil's Tide (24 page)

She looked to Jenkins. "You do it."

The light of the dying torch did little to soften the white sheet that passed over Jenkins' pretty face. His Adam's apple bobbed in his thick neck as he swallowed. "Do what, miss?"

"Take out your pistol and put a bullet in your friend's skull."

Lively loosed a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a snivel. "This is a joke. Yes, it's a joke. I get it now. Very funny. You made your point. Let me go and I'll mind me tongue. It gets away from me sometimes."

"Yes," Annabelle said. "That's what concerns me."

"It need concern you no more," Lively assured her.

She moved closer, looking into his eyes. "I believe you," she said. "But I need to know that your friends will do what I command."

"They will," Lively bleated. "I know they will."

"I'm not convinced," she said. "Right now I think your friends are considering shooting me instead."

Ogle confirmed her suspicion with a keen nod. "I can't say I fancy a bitch telling me who I can or can't kill."

A surge of adrenaline filled Annabelle's chest. She was acutely aware that she was enjoying the imminent danger of the situation. She advanced on Ogle, knowing it might be the last move she ever made. "And you'd get away with it." She cocked her head, allowing herself a sly smile. "At least, you'd
think
you got away with it. And then one day, when you least expected it, maybe a month from now or maybe even a year, he would come for you, just as he came for Benjamin Hornigold. He specifically named you four men. Do you honestly think he'll let you get away with murdering me? I think a part of him wants you to do it."

Ogle's eyelids fluttered uncertainly.

She called over her shoulder, "Jenkins! Why haven't you shot this man yet?"

Stone-faced, Jenkins drew a pistol from his navy blue sash.

Ogle looked down at the floor.

Red Devil was grinning, rows of white teeth splitting his crimson face.

Lively started to sob desperately. "No, Gabe."

Jenkins leveled the pistol at Lively's temple. Lively tried to twist out of the barrel's line of sight, but Red Devil clutched a handful of his hair and held him in place.

"Gabe," Lively sniveled, snot dribbling out of his nose. "Gabe, no. Remember that time we—"

The shot brightened the cave and cracked in Annabelle's ears. For an instant she saw Lively's face frozen in the flash, a small red dot in his temple, mouth drooping open, and one eye closed. Annabelle squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them, a cloud of smoke roiled toward her. She clenched her teeth and struggled not to cough, but a muffled choke belched from her throat. She waved the smoke away. The three men were staring down at Lively's limp body. The shot was clean, with no exit wound. Just a hole in his temple, with a thin line of blood streaming into his hair.

Ogle seemed to have no trouble breaking awkward silences. "'Remember that time' you what?" he asked. When Jenkins didn't respond, Ogle palmed him on the back of his head. Jenkins shook violently, staring at him. "'Remember that time' you what?" Ogle demanded. "He didn't get to finish."

"I dunno," Jenkins barked defensively. "Could've been anything. What's it matter?"

Ogle looked flustered. "Shoulda let him finish. Now I'll be wondering at it all night!"

Red Devil retrieved the torch and held it aloft. "There's a stream down there," he said. "We'll put the body in the water."

"Someone will miss him," Jenkins muttered, knuckles white as he tightly gripped the smoking gun.

"Not enough to wait for him," Annabelle said.

"She has a point," Ogle said. "The men are aching for Tortuga. All that coin won't spend itself."

"They wouldn't be so eager if they knew it's all going to Blackbeard," Jenkins sulked.

"Teach is a fair man," Ogle replied. "So long as he's not crossed. I don't want to be looking over my shoulder the rest of my life. We've more than enough coin to split. We'll deliver him his share and be on our way."

"That's the plan," said Annabelle.

"What of Adams?" Jenkins said. "He's been a good captain. Surprised us all, to be honest."

Red Devil scowled at Jenkins in disgust.

Annabelle smiled sadly. "Adams made his choice when he didn't tell Teach about the treasure. He'll die with the rest."

"And who gets to kill him?" Red Devil said, looking hopeful.

"I do," Annabelle replied easily.

Ogle looked skeptical. "Have you ever killed a man? With your own two hands?"

"No," she said with a shrug. "But Adams is as good a place to start as any. Teach knows our course. Failure will mean the death of everyone on that ship." She pointed at Lively's corpse. "If a few must die to save the rest, that is far less a cruelty than the alternative." She looked at Jenkins. "Yes?"

Jenkins nodded somberly and slipped his gun back in his sash. "Suppose so."

She turned to Ogle. "Sway those that you can, but do not bother with those that remain fiercely loyal to Dillahunt or Adams."

"No one's loyal to Dillahunt," Jenkins said. "Their eyes all lit up when they saw the first of that treasure. Just today Adams told us he plans on keeping Dillahunt under lock and key until such time as he can set him loose and be quit of him."

Annabelle smirked.
Just today, eh?
Her presence had nudged him back to piracy. Otherwise, he probably would have carried out Dillahunt's mission and sailed back to Nassau with Hornigold as his prisoner.
Silly boy.

"Fine," she said. "But now they're loyal to Adams, who earned them their fortune. You must dispose of those who cannot be swayed. You have five days, and then we take the ship for ourselves. Spend those days wisely, gathering allies, and then strike. Teach wants no resistance."

"Why not?" Jenkins asked. "
Queen Anne
could take us."

"Use your head, boy," Ogle growled. "
Crusader
would go down, sure enough, but she'd also take Teach's share of the treasure with her. Why risk that?"

"There's a smart man," Annabelle said.

"What of the redhead and the girl?" Ogle wondered with a sadistic gleam in his eye.

Annabelle shoved a finger in his face. "No raping," she sneered. "Or you'll answer to Blackbeard."

Red Devil laughed. "Because he cares?"

"The women are valuable," said Annabelle.

"Lindsay is," Ogle agreed, "but no one will miss the black-haired girl. She tried to kill Blackbeard."

"All the more reason to leave her intact. Teach will decide how he wants to handle her."

Ogle giggled like a little boy. "I've been wanting to handle her since I found out she was a she."

Annabelle advanced on him. She would not have any of the women assaulted while she was in charge. "Touch her and Blackbeard will hear of it."

The big man backed off, nodding submissively. "Fine, fine."

She looked around, realizing she had nothing left to say. Jenkins was still staring at Lively. She had half a mind to ease his troubled mind.
Maybe later.

"I'll leave you boys to clean this up. Don't speak to me again unless I speak to you first." With that, she started back for the beach, leaving them there to dispose of Peter Lively. She could only imagine what they were saying about her. She didn't care, so long as they remained in check.

The journey back seemed quicker than the journey there. She heard a rise of boisterous laughter before she came upon the beach. When she exited the woods, the crew were dancing and singing around a huge bonfire, and the smell of roast pig and sizzling chicken teased her nostrils. Her mouth watered, but she didn't know who she could trust yet, nor did she feel like making friends with someone who might be dead in five days. All of them were clearly very drunk. Katherine Lindsay was sitting close to the fire, chatting with a group of them, who looked enthralled with whatever she was saying. Surely they were more enthralled with her casually laced shirt, which did little to conceal her cleavage. Her red hair blazed in the glow of the flames. She didn't appear to be lamenting the absence of Benjamin Hornigold. Lindsay was clearly a survivor, and Annabelle suspected she would fall to the winning side when the time came.

And if she is truly responsible for sinking Harbinger, I must remember to thank her.
Who knows what horrors Lindsay had suffered at the hands of Edward Livingston. The man had uprooted Annabelle's life in but a few minutes. Lindsay had been at his mercy for a year. If she could survive a man like Livingston, she could survive anything.

Annabelle skirted the edges of the camp, remaining in the shadows until she reached the big tent. She ducked inside and found the room dark, save for a lone candle at the corner of the desk across the room, where Nathan sat hunched over a map, with a mostly neglected plate of chicken next to his lone hand. Dillahunt had been removed to a smaller tent, presumably under guard along with the young woman who had attempted to murder Blackbeard. Nathan glanced up at her, a distinct flutter of irritation passing over his face.

"I was worried," he said.

"I've been cooped up on a pirate ship for too long," she replied. "I needed a walk."

"Long walk."

She took a seat across from him, setting her elbows on the desk and resting her chin on her knuckles. He looked up, found her staring at him, and looked away quickly. His eyes slowly trailed back to meet hers. A little smile played at the edges of his lips. She returned it.

He is so easy.

She looked at the chicken, hoping he would take the hint. He slid the plate across to her. "Go ahead."

"You're not hungry?"

"Not especially."

She picked up a plump chicken leg and sank her teeth into it. Her eyes closed, and she smiled happily as she swallowed the first piece of juicy meat. She quickly stripped the leg to the bone, tossed it back onto the plate, and licked her fingers. Nathan stared at her, eyes widening. She cocked her head, sliding a finger from her mouth. "What're you staring at?"

"A woman I feared I'd never see again."

"Yet now that you have me, you avoid me."

"I'm trying to get us out of here," he said, jutting his chin at the map indicatively. "There'll be time enough for us later. When we're safe."

"When do we leave?"

"At first light."

She let her smile grow suggestively. "Then there's time enough for us now."

He lowered his head, focusing on the map. "I should really—"

"Who knows what time we really have?" She stood, slowly rounding the desk. His eyes lifted, following her hips. She sat on the desk and nudged his leg with her own. He set his hand on her thigh. She placed her hand atop his, sliding it up her midriff, into a gap where her shirt had come untucked. The shirt lifted as she continued to slide his hand upward. His calloused palm was like gravel running over her smooth skin. He stood, lips drawing near, his breath heavy on her face. He looked horrified and excited all at once, as he had during their first encounter. His fingers grazed the underside of her right breast and hesitated there, tickling her flesh. She jerked his hand upward to cup her, and he squeezed eagerly. He lifted her shirt over her head, freeing her large breasts and mashing his face against them. She held his head there, spreading her fingers through his sandy blonde hair. She slid her other hand into his breeches and curled her fingers around his hardening manhood. She felt his tongue circling an areola, his teeth lightly pinching the nipple. His hand fell to the small of her back, pulling her to him as she stroked him fiercely.

He kissed her neck, and she let her head fall back, wincing pleasurably as his mouth drew in her skin. He was going to leave raw marks on her throat, but she supposed that was only fair.

She was on the last boat that ferried back to
Crusader
. When she was standing on the beach with the midday sun beating down, she had been nervous that Nathan would leave her on the island and sail away without looking back. Her anxiety increased when he ferried the prisoners over before her, but she was determined not to let him know. At the last minute, he snapped his fingers at Candler and said, "Bring Lindsay." She would have thanked him, but she suspected he had deliberately withheld his intent in order to worry her. If so, it had worked.

Candler placed Kate in the back and took a seat beside her. The trip over seemed long. The boat was crammed with the last of the crew. Everyone was sweating heavily, and before long the stench of body odor was difficult to ignore. The sun was unbearably hot, and there was no breeze to soften it. Kate leaned over and trailed her fingers in the water, but that provided little relief.

She made three attempts at conversing with Candler, but each time he replied only in frenetic grunts, angling his head toward the sea and stroking his golden goatee. She gave up on Candler and turned to a muscular young man with thick black locks. He was wearing a navy blue sash. His handsome brow was pinched at the middle, and his eyes were distant, as though something was worrying him. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Gabe Jenkins," he muttered sullenly. "You are Kate, yes?"

Her belly fluttered.
The gorgeous boy knows my name.
She scowled at her sudden girlishness.
Of course he knows your name, you silly woman. Everyone knows the name of a woman with a high reward on her head. Don't be daft.

He was staring at her curiously. "Are you alright? Your face is doing funny things."

"No it's not," she scoffed defensively. "
Your
face is funny."

"What?"

"I don't know," she said, looking away and withering with embarrassment. After her experience aboard
Harbinger
, she honestly wasn't sure she could ever be attracted to men again. Now that she found herself undeniably attracted to someone, she had no idea how to act. Part of her wanted to die for being so silly, while another part was giddy just to realize she could still feel that way.

He frowned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She cleared her throat, banishing the silliness, and casually asked, "Do you know where we're going?"