Black Wolf

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Black Wolf Page 16

by Lori Ann Robinson


  Merri reached over and swatted Demona on the arse.

  “Fetch me some rum, wench. You’ve dried me out and I’m parched.”

  The woman rose from the bed, donning a robe that showed more than it covered. Belting it, she brushed past Michaels on her way out, slamming the door behind her.

  “Now, out with it, man,” Captain Mayweather said. “You’re costing me precious time that could spent with my face in Demona’s sweet cunt.”

  “What do you know of Adrienne, Captain, aside from her running away from a badly arranged marriage?”

  Merri shrugged. “Not much else. If you’re thinking of going there, my friend, do not. She is far too good for the likes of any of us.”

  “Aye, I don’t disagree,” Michaels said with a nod of his head, “but from what I gather her husband is a Puritan, was he not?”

  “He is,” Merri confirmed. “English, I believe, though I didn’t ask. Most of those venturing to the new world are. Why do you ask?”

  Michael’s pulled at his upper lip as he paced the length of the room.

  “Well, incidentally, you left her a drunk sodden mess. I stayed to watch over her as you asked. When she’d clearly had enough rum to fell a horse, I attempted to help her to her quarters. She called out for a man and it certainly wasn’t an English one.”

  “Your point?” His captain asked, impatiently rolling her eyes.

  Michaels leveled a look on the woman. “The name she called out was Nicolai and being our line of work is what it is, there is only person I can think of with that name.”

  “The Black Wolf,” Merri answered for him. “Are you sure she said the name Nicolai?”

  “Aye, Captain. I am. Has she mentioned a past that didn’t include the man she ran from?”

  Merri nodded. “Yes, several times though she never told me his name just that…” the woman trialed off as the pieces clicked into place. “God’s rood.”

  “Captain?” Michaels questioned.

  Merri stood from the bed, dropping the sheet without a care to her naked state. Hurriedly she pulled on her clothing, hopping on one foot as she secured her boot.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t piece this together before,” she told her Sailing Master as she dressed. “She told me her lover lived in a manor on Nassau.” Their eyes met as understanding flashed between them.

  “Shit,” Michaels uttered.

  “At the very least. If she’s Nicolai Mikhalovic’s woman, we’d do well to send word to him that we have her. She was abducted from his home while he was voyaging. I’ll be surprised if there isn’t a trail of bodies across the Atlantic as well as the Caribbean by now.”

  Fully dressed, she pulled several sheets of vellum from a box. Dipping a quill in ink, Captain Mayweather began to scribe a letter to the Black Wolf, informing the pirate that both his woman and his ward were in her care.

  Painstakingly, she copied the letter four more times before folding each piece separately and sealing the ends together with wax. Handing him the stack, her instructions were implicit.

  “Take this down to port. Find four ships going in all four cardinal directions. Give them orders to flag down the Chameleon on sight and deliver this missive to its captain. Send some men around Tortuga also. Ask if anyone has information on where Mikhalovic may be located and what direction he’s sailing in.”

  “Aye, m’lady,” Michaels said, tucking the sealed letters into his surcoat.

  “Michaels,” his captain called after him. He stopped in the doorway, turning.

  “For God’s sake do not tell anyone why you inquire about the Black Wolf. If it becomes known we have his woman, there’ll be a siege on our ship and one of these black hearted bastards with more daring than brains will attempt to ransom her and get us all killed in the doing.”

  Michaels nodded in grave understanding before setting off to carry out his task.

  Captain Mayweather sat heavily on the bed, all thoughts of the long night of passion she’d planned, dismissed.

  Demona had yet to return. Merri knew the woman had the attention span of a goat and would likely be gone for a while. It was why she sent her to fetch rum when Michaels had busted in on their tryst.

  Looking about the room she paid for in order to keep Demona free of servicing other customers for the night, she sighed. Scrubbing a hand over her face before dropping it down to her own neck, she realized the added importance of keeping Adrienne safe. Before it had mainly been that she simply liked the woman; enjoyed their friendship. But now… it was so much more than that. If something befell the woman or the boy in her care, Nicolai Mikhalovic would have her head in the very most literal of ways.

  Sitting up with a hand to her head, Adrienne groaned. Sunlight filtered in through the tall windows of the room. Feeling bile rise in her throat, she scurried to a basin and vomited the contents of her stomach into the enamel bowl. It was nothing but foul smelling liquid, which gave testament to the fact that she’d drank her supper the previous night.

  “Perhaps a pirate’s life is not for me,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of a shaking hand. “I shall never touch rum again.”

  Groaning a second time, she half crawled, half dragged herself across the floor and climbed back into the bed, covering her head with the blanket as she attempted to breathe through the lingering nausea.

  She closed her eyes as she remembered the last time she’d drank herself into stupor. It was when Nicolai rescued her from that lump of sand called Serranilla Bank. She’d been miserable that morning as well.

  Behind her closed lids, she conjured Nicolai’s face. It’d been months since she’d seen him last but she could remember him clearly; the way the dimple in his cheek flashed when he smiled, how his green eyes heated as they looked at her. Her mind also remembered the feel of his hands as they stroked her. A single tear slid from her eye.

  She hadn’t cried since the day Miles had caused her to lose the baby. On the day her would-be child died, Adrienne had learned tears were a wasted effort and the only thing which would serve her from that point forward was action.

  From there on, she locked away the emotions she felt made her weak. Rather than crying, she’d focused on putting one foot in front of the other with the purpose of keeping both she and Raul safe.

  Dashing that stray tear away, she resolved there would be no more to follow in its wake. A light knock sounded on the opposite side of the door, drawing her attention away from her thoughts. She wasn’t in the mood or the condition for company.

  “Go away,” she called out.

  Captain Mayweather entered regardless of Adrienne’s non-permissive order. Glancing around the room, looking for the source of the voice, her eyes fell on the slight lump under the covers on the bed. She smirked, knowingly.

  Striding to the side of the mattress, she peeled the blankets back, smirk turning into a full out evil grin as the woman huddled beneath, covering her face with her hands in an attempt to shield her bleary eyes from the bright light.

  “Heard you had a banner night, St. John,” the Captain said, settling herself on the edge of the bed. “Had enough rum to, and I quote, ‘fell a horse’. What have you to say for yourself?”

  “That I’m never touching rum again. By the blood of Christ, this I swear,” Adrienne croaked as she moved into a semi-reclining position. Cradling her forehead in her palm, she winced painfully.

  “Aye, we’ve all been there and swore the same, yet return to the cask time and again,” Merri said, nudging against her.

  “What hour is it?” Adrienne asked.

  “Past noon meal. You should dress and we should talk.” Merri stood and Adrienne peeked through her hand to see her friend’s somber expression.

  “You’re troubled?” Adrienne asked, her brow wrinkling in concern. Since making Merri’s acquaintance, the female captain had been nothing short of happy in her countenance, which Merri wholly attributed to the amount of rum she drank daily.

  “Aye, my friend.
I am.”

  Merri didn’t elaborate but instead moved around the room as Adrienne rose and rebound her breasts before drawing on her clothing.

  The female captain opened the door and the wench from the previous night entered with a tray covered in food. Wordlessly the woman sat the platter on a low table before taking her leave and Captain Mayweather gestured toward it.

  “Eat. You need something other than rum in your stomach, though by the hideous smell coming from the basin, you’ve lost most of that as well.”

  Eagerly, Adrienne sat down and picked up a buttery sweet roll, sinking her teeth into it. Merri took the opposite chair, watching while she ate. Adrienne noted the captain’s eyes seemed guarded and suspicious.

  “Will you tell me what ails you or will you continue to stare broodily in my direction?” Adrienne said around a mouthful of yeasty bread.

  “The man- your lover,” she began and watched Adrienne’s head come up, eyes also becoming guarded. “Who is he?”

  Adrienne’s throat worked in an attempt to swallow the food in her mouth.

  “Why?” Adrienne asked, once her mouth was vacant.

  Merri sighed. “I cannot help you if you don’t tell me the truth, Adrienne.”

  “I haven’t lied to you,” she protested, appetite now gone.

  “Nay,” the other woman replied in acknowledgement, “But you haven’t been forthcoming either.”

  “I’ve been as forthcoming as I’ve felt comfortable,” she hedged.

  Merri’s eyes appeared sad. “Have I given you any reason to distrust me?”

  “Nay, you haven’t. You’ve been a true friend to me, Merri. I’m grateful for both your friendship as well as the sanctuary you’ve provided for Raul and myself.” Adrienne crumbled the roll she still held as she failed to meet the other woman’s eyes.

  “Then why keep pertinent information from me?”

  “I haven’t,” she cried out but was cut off as Merri’s voice rose sharply.

  “Do not continue this line of rebuttal, Adrienne. Our very lives may depend on your honesty.” Merri sat ramrod straight in the chair, her face a mask of irritation.

  “Now, I’ll ask again. Who is the man you were living with in Nassau?”

  Adrienne felt tears shimmer on her lashes and she blinked them back. She would not cower nor would she fear repercussions for her actions. The sigh left her mouth on a trembling breath.

  “Nicolai Mikhalovic.”

  “Aye,” Merri nodded, her suspicions confirmed. “T’was as I thought. Are you aware that you are hunted? By both the Black Wolf and your husband?”

  When Michaels had returned after delivering the missives to the four ships and asking around, he’d informed his captain there was indeed a manhunt for a lost colonial wife. Several sailors had encountered men inquiring at different ports recently as well as the fact that the Black Wolf was on voyage also hunting for a particular woman.

  “I-“ she stammered. “I’d hoped Nicolai would come for me when I was living in my husband’s house but I didn’t dare believe he would. I feared Miles would search for me when I escaped, though again, I’d begun to hope he’d let me go.”

  Merri took a roll from the tray and broke it open, placing a slice of ham on it. Biting into it, she chewed for several seconds silently before swallowing.

  “Rest assured that both men are actively seeking you. You realize that had something happened to you while under my care, your beloved Black Wolf would give me a second smile?”

  At Adrienne’s confused look, Merri used her index finger and made a slicing motion across her own neck, driving the point home.

  “Nay,” Adrienne protested, her face paling at the thought. “Nicolai would do no such thing. He would never harm a woman.”

  Merri laughed though there was no humor in it.

  “Madam, I assure you that while your Black Wolf may treat you gently, he is no gentleman. He’s laid waste to more men than any other pirate in these parts and he’d not hesitate to do so again, especially if he believes those he cares for are in danger. He did not earn his reputation because he is kindhearted. Only the foolish or suicidal dare to touch that which belongs to Nicolai Mikhalovic. I am neither of those things.”

  Adrienne gave a movement of her shoulders. “We will simply explain to him that you assisted me and all will be well, Merri.”

  Again the captain laughed. “You do not understand the ways of this world, Adrienne. You are so innocent still, even after everything you’ve been through. The Black Wolf won’t give anyone an opportunity to explain when he’s on the rampage. He’ll kill first and inquire later.

  “You, m’lady, better start praying that no one catches wind of your affiliation with Mikhalovic or there will be a kidnapping attempt twice every hour in the hope to ransom your return. While I have no claim to such foolish behavior, there are many out there who do. Nicolai is a legend. There are a lot of younger, less known pirates out there looking to make a name for themselves by bringing him down.”

  “Surely if his reputation is as you’ve described, they’d think better of provoking his rage,” Adrienne countered.

  “Aye,” the other woman said, with a curt nod. “You’d think, but you’d be wrong. At any rate, if it’s known that you’re the same woman the Black Wolf and the Puritan are searching for, it’d be twice as dangerous for you here.”

  “How so?”

  Merri leaned forward. “Pirates aren’t a picky lot when it comes to money and its source, as you well know. Should any of what I said happen, they will turn you over to whomever agrees to pay first, be it Nicolai or your husband and they’ll give no thought to the condition in which you arrive to either man. You’ll remain in this room for the duration so that we may both keep our lives intact.”

  The fear in Adrienne’s eyes gave testimony that her point was well made; Merri tore another bite from the roll before standing and stomping from the room.

  Captain Mayweather’s Sailing Master came by shortly afterward to inform Adrienne that missives had been sent to intercept Nicolai’s ship with arrangements for him to retrieve Adrienne and the boy from Tortuga. She felt a mixture of both anxiety and relief at his words, hoping true safety may finally lie on the horizon outside her window.

  Chapter 16

  The spotter in the crow’s nest called down. “Ship a’hoy. She’s signaling us, Captain.”

  Nicolai took up his spyglass and pointed it in the direction of the ship, which gained on them. Between the distances separating their vessels, he saw the inverted flag signaling the need for assistance.

  “What do you think?” Nicolai asked, passing the glass to Cooper. When his quartermaster had a look, he then passed it to the Sailing Master. Damon lowered the telescopic lens and raised a brow.

  “I recognize the ship. It’s the Heron out of Port Royal. She was out on voyage when we stopped for supplies before continuing onward toward Tortuga. Her captain is friendly with us,” Damon said with a shrug.

  “Aye, and they’re watching us watching them. I can see several of the men waving their arms,” Cooper said, looking through the spyglass once more.”

  “Prepare to come about,” Nicolai shouted as he took up the helm. He heard the order echoed through out the men as they prepared the rigging for the maneuver.

  A quarter of an hour later, they were coasting up to the port-side of the vessel as grappling hooks were deployed from both sides. The ships shuddered to a stop when anchors were dropped and gangplanks were lowered over the edges.

  Captain Haverty of The Heron crossed the bridge created between the vessels. The man brought with him no crewmember or means of protection other than the cutlass and blunderbluss at his side. This spoke volumes to Nicolai. It told him there was no ill intention whatsoever towards his own vessel or person.

  “Mikhalovic, by your leave?” The man asked, seeking permission to come aboard the Chameleon.

  “Aye,” Nicolai gestured to the man. “What’s this about?”
/>   The other captain dropped to the deck with a grace that belied his advanced years, clasping Nicolai’s arm in a warrior’s handshake.

  “I have a missive for you from Tortuga.” He pulled a folded and sealed piece of vellum from his jacket and handed it over.

  The letter had been handed about quite a few times, judging from the condition of it, but had not been violated by curious eyes.

  Nicolai broke the seal and scanned the contents of the document. He looked up from the paper.

  “How long have you possessed message,” Nicolai asked.

  The captain shrugged. “Only a few days time. We were flagged down by another ship that carried it. The directive was to pass it forward to any outlaw ship traveling in this direction until it reached yours.”

  “Thank you,” he said, addressing Haverty with sincerity. “I’m in your debt.”

  Those words were no small thing in their line of work and both captains understood the leverage Nicolai had just awarded the other man.

  “Whatever it is, I hope it brings you good news, Mikhalovic,” Haverty replied, gesturing to the missive Nicolai kept reading and rereading.

  Nicolai nodded in affirmation as he turned to his crew, handing the letter to Cooper.

  “Disengage the grappling hooks and remove the gangplanks once Captain Haverty is aboard the Heron. Prepare to come about. We’ll continue on to Tortuga with haste.”

  Turning back to Haverty, Nicolai solidified his earlier debt to the man. “Again, I thank you. If there is ever anything you may need, my crew and I are at your disposal.”

  Captain Haverty bowed low at the Black Wolf’s words before climbing back up onto the rail of the ship. He returned to his own vessel as the hooks and gangplanks were removed and stowed.

  Taking up the helm once more, Nicolai turned the boat a second time, pointing the bow toward Haiti and Adrienne.

  Soon he’d have both his woman and his boy returned to him. Nicolai cast his eyes skyward, smiling for the first time in months as the wind gusted and sails billowed out. The bow of the ship lifted in response as if the gods themselves were assisting him on this mission.

 

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