X Marks The Spot (The Plundered Chronicles Book 6)

by Alex Westmore

  With Sayyida gone, Quinn wondered if she could keep a secret from Tavish, Fitz, and Maggie. Could she put her crew in harm’s way if they were ill-informed about why?

  Somehow, Quinn did not believe she could.

  At least… not now.

  The Sultan’s celebration was nothing like the revels she’d experienced. It was more than just drinking and dancing. There was a show put on by the palace concubines. The women in their colorful flowing garb wafting all around them danced with tiny bells on their fingers. There was poetry read, and a long speech by Suleiman where he praised Sayyida and Quinn for returning his precious granddaughters… the latter, of course, had to be translated for Quinn, but that didn’t matter. It was a very special celebration thrown by people who appreciate lavish parties.

  The food was tastier than anything she had ever eaten, and the company, sublime.

  For Quinn, it was the best celebration she’d ever attended, that was topped off by the Sultan giving her a Corsair ship and crew to return home, which stunned her.

  “I…I do not know what to say,” Quinn said, bowing at the waist. “It is an incredibly gracious gesture, your majesty.”

  “Yes, it is, but my granddaughters are worth every single coin. Now, be off. Enjoy the festivities!”

  Quinn and Sayyida obeyed the command and returned to their table. As they laughed and reminisced, Quinn drank some of the finest wine she’d ever tasted, and was only slightly shocked when the Sultan sent three women to their table to offer themselves to Quinn.

  “They want you,” Sayyida said in Quinn’s ear. “Little do they know you an opiate one cannot consume without longing for more. Shall I send them on their way?”

  Quinn turned, her face inches from Sayyida’s. “As if you would allow them to stay?”

  Sayyida threw her head back and laughed heartily. “You know me well, Callaghan. If you bed any woman tonight, it had better be me.”

  Quinn drank some more of the wine, but made sure she remained sober enough to ward off any advances. The last thing she needed was an angry Sayyida.

  Sayyida al Hurra was one of the most fascinating and exotically beautiful women Quinn had ever met. With smooth silky skin and deep brown eyes, Sayyida walked with the confidence of a woman who knew others stared at her.

  Quinn was staring at her now as she danced and drank and laughed with several of the concubines.

  Laughed.

  Quinn had rarely seen Sayyida laugh, and yet this odd sound felt forced and unnatural. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the circumstance. Whatever it was, the laughter didn’t sound quite right.

  Sliding next to her on the bench, Haseki kept her eyes on Sayyida as well. “You watch her too carefully, Captain. Is there, perhaps, still room in your heart for her?”

  Quinn did not turn her gaze from Sayyida as she seductively ground herself again everyone dancing near her. “I will always love and care about her, but we will never be lovers.”

  “Again.”

  Now Quinn turned to her. “Again?”

  “Why of course. You’ve been lovers before. She is far too familiar with you not to have shared your bed.”

  Quinn nodded. “Then yes. Again. It appears your husband rewarded her with some of his women.”

  Haseki threw her head back and laughed. “Isn’t it interesting how the eye perceives? You see her as flirting and enjoying their attention. I see her working her way toward obtaining information about Dragut.”

  Turning, Quinn made eye contact. “Dragut?”

  “Yes. His behavior in Vieste is not an action my husband can get behind, but Dragut is one who talks in his sleep. He has bedded all three of those women she is dancing with, so Suleiman is sending Sayyida back to deal with the situation.”

  As much as she wanted to ask what that meant, Quinn didn’t. “And those women are concubines of Dragut sent to him as gifts from your husband.”

  “I knew you were as astute as the reports have implied.”

  “There were reports?”

  “Why, of course. We’ve been watching you since you left Grace’s command.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Captain, you have done everything one of us would have done. You befriended a serving wench near the docks. Took her into your confidence. A woman like that is invisible, so she sees and hears everything.”

  “Becca isn’t—”

  “No, she is not, but she is a plethora of information and would be a valuable asset to you.”

  Quinn heaved a sigh, but said nothing. Using Becca was not something she would be willing to do for this women’s group or any other.

  “You now have access to Castle Blackrock, which gives you a marvelous base of operations from Ireland. Our collective could also give you a base of operations on the Moroccan coastline, in France, and even Greece.”

  “I’ve not said yes.”

  “Not yet, but I get feelings about people and I believe your days of just fighting and plundering are coming to an end. You seek a greater purpose. I’ve just offered one to you.”

  “And I am grateful.”

  “But?”

  “But I have a crew I care about and must take into consideration. I do not know that I can ask them to sail under dishonesty conditions.”

  “You must find a way around that.”

  Quinn nodded. “When does Sayyida leave?”

  “In the morning. My husband fears that Dragut, like a domesticated animal, has tasted blood and loves it. Once that happens, the beast will rarely listen to its master. My husband can ill afford to have his main Admiral beheading women and children on the Sultan’s income. It would not bode well across Europe.”

  “Understood. So I should be off as well. We can sail a ways together.”

  Haseki smiled slightly. “See? Every move you make, Captain, you do so taking others into consideration. That’s the mark of a true leader, of a woman who genuinely cares about her friends and allies.”

  Suddenly, Quinn whipped around to gaze at Sayyida. “My god. That’s why she didn’t kill me when she finally caught up with me after I stole her ship. You all would not let her.”

  “It was nothing so dramatic, no. She did not kill you because she loves you more than she cares about preserving her own reputation: a reputation, my dear, that you all but destroyed. The Scotsman saved the day and understood what Sayyida needed to do to repair it. But…yes…the other reason was because it was forbidden. Sometimes, we will be forced to step on another woman’s toes. When that happens, we must forgive the stepper and move forward. She forgave you, as is our way.”

  Quinn realized she was going to have to rewrite the story she thought she knew in her head. She’d dealt with so many women, that now she had to wonder how many of them were part of this underground collective.

  “You give it some thought on your voyage home, Captain. We will send someone to you for your answer before the end of the month.” Haseki rose. “For now, go enjoy the rest of the celebration. Your crew and ship will be ready to sail in the morning alongside Sayyida.”

  Rising, Quinn took Haseki’s hand. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “No, Captain. We should be thanking you. It was my distinct pleasure to meet you at long last, and I look forward to hearing about your future exploits for us.”

  When Haseki was gone, Sayyida stumbled over to the table, leaned over it to show an abundance of cleavage, and whispered into Quinn’s face, “Dance with me.”

  “Oh, I don’t kn–”

  “Wasn’t a request.” Sayyida pulled away so Quinn could see her face. “Come. I do not know when we will see each other again, and I want to remember how you feel… how your skin smells.”

  Quinn rose and came around to the front of the table where Sayyida roughly pulled her closer.

  Dancing with Sayyida was fun, seductive, erotic, and sensual. When Sayyida laced her arms around Quinn’s neck, she whispered, “You are the best lover I have ever had, but if I had to choose whether to be
your friend or your bedmate, I would choose friend every time.”

  Quinn pulled away slightly. “You aren’t the least bit drunk.”

  Sayyida tossed her head back and laughed. “No I am not. Are you?”

  “No. I’d prefer a clear head for tomorrow’s sailing.”

  “So you’re accompanying me then.”

  “I am, my crew will be worried sick. I need to go home to them.”

  “Always thinking of others, Callaghan That’s why the MFC needs you. Well then, let us dance, eat, and go to bed, for tomorrow we sail the love of our lives with a friendly wind and a warm sun.”

  Friendly winds and warm sun were just what Quinn needed.

  The Corsair was new, swift, and clipped along faster than any ship she’d been on. The crew, a solid bunch of Turks, were hardworking and serious about their jobs.

  She liked them.

  Her first mate was Abdullah, a man handpicked by Haseki Sultan because he could speak Latin and had been ruled by a woman before.

  She liked him, too.

  Abdullah explained that the Turkish men did not have such issues following the orders of a woman because Turks respected women more than European men did. Quinn was fascinated by his perception and decided she could learn a great deal from him.

  And she did.

  On the four day journey back to Ireland, Abdullah and the crew taught her the ins and outs of wielding a Saracen sword. They also gave her a half dozen throwing knives which were far more balanced than any she had ever had.

  And when it came time to wave goodbye to Sayyida over at the other ship, Quinn did so with a heavy heart.

  She knew what Suleiman had tasked Sayyida to do: Execute Dragut Reis and make it look like he lost his life in battle. It was a dangerous task given to a brave woman Quinn did not doubt would successfully complete it. Still, she hated the thought of a world without her, and had no idea whether Sayyida could manage to accomplish this without losing her own life in the process.

  “Captain Callaghan, we have a ship off the starboard side comin’ hard and fast.”

  Quinn pulled out her telescope and peered through it, a slow grin spreading across her face.

  There, in the crosshairs of the telescope, stood Tavish McGee. “Hold your fire men. That’s my ship!”

  The Corsairs were not typically fighting machines, though Quinn had fitted the Edge with cannons that could get the job done. They were sleek and fast, and could outrun even an empty Galleon.

  Quinn could not believe how elated she was to see her ship. Of course they hadn’t gone home. What a ridiculous notion that had been to think her men, her crew, her family would have just left her. No, they were out and about, as they probably had been for days on end, patrolling the seas, looking for any sign of their captain or Sayyida.

  Waving her arms overhead for five minutes, she finally lowered them and looked through the telescope at a much closer Tavish, who was grinning like a fool. When he lifted his ’scope to his face, he waved with his free hand.

  “They see us.” Quinn said excitedly. “They know it’s us.” She could not believe how happy she was to see his crusty old Scottish face.”

  Abdullah approached her from the side. “Captain, does that mean you’ll be leaving us?”

  Quinn turned. The look of hurt and disappointment on his face cut her to the core. “Uh…” She hadn’t really thought this out. “I will inform them of our plans and have a drink with them and then I shall return.”

  When she boarded the Edge, it took nearly ten minutes for her to hug everyone on board.

  “Have ya gone and left us fer the Corsairs, lad?” Tavish asked, smiling as he gazed over at the Corsair.

  “Not at all. The ship and crew were a gift from the Sultan to get me home.”

  “Hold on,” Fitz said. “The Sultan? As in Sultan Suleiman?”

  “Sultan Suleiman of Turkey, yes. It’s a long story, fellas, and one best told over whiskey and ale. I assume you seadogs didn’t drink it all.”

  “Not fer lacka tryin’!” Came a voice from the pack. Everyone laughed.

  “Alright then. I say we sail to Tangiers together, where we drop some coin at that little tavern…” Quinn looked up at the sky as she tried to remember the name.

  “Abadan el Youm,” Fitz said.

  Quinn and Tavish stared at him.

  “What? I pay attention.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “Never today,” Fitz said, grinning. “It is one of Sayyida’s favorite taverns at the port.”

  “Remind me to be nicer to you,” Quinn said, clapping him on the back. “Then you take the lead and we’ll follow.”

  Tavish and Fitz glanced at each other.

  “You’re not comin’ with us?”

  Quinn ran her hand over her face. “After Tangiers, guys. I cannot disrespect either the crew who got me here, nor the Sultan who loaned them to me. You’re big boys. You can manage a few more hours without me.”

  Tavish and Fitz walked her back to the plank. Abdullah stood on the other side, scimitar in hand.

  “Who’s that brooding fella?” Fitz asked.

  “You in a turban.”

  Tavish guffawed. “It’s good to have ya back in one piece, lad. Ya were sorely missed.”

  “We’ll talk later, old friend.” Quinn turned and saw the look of worry in his eyes. “I knew you’d never return home.”

  “Aye? Well lad, yer not the only one with stories to tell.”

  This surprised Quinn. “Really?”

  “Truly. Once See ya in Tangiers.”

  When Quinn returned to her Corsair, Abdullah sheathed his sword.

  “Did you say your goodbyes to them?” Abdullah asked as they made their way back to the captain’s deck.

  Quinn cocked her head in question. “I’m sorry. My goodbyes?”

  Abdullah nodded. “Yes, Önder. You are now our Önder. Our captain, yes?”

  “No. I mean. Yes. I am until Tangiers, and then you may all return home.”

  Abdullah scratched his head. “I do not think you understand the gift Sultan Suleiman has given to you. He has given you this ship and the crew. We are a gift. You mustn’t return a gift from the Sultan or he will feel greatly slighted.”

  Quinn held her hand up. “Wait. Whoa. What?”

  “Did you misunderstand our generous Sultan? We are your payment for helping return his beloved granddaughters.”

  “Payment? He gave me a ship and crew?”

  Abdullah nodded. “He is a very wealthy and generous ruler. He has given you a well-seasoned crew and a brand new ship. Now, you can fit in as a part of the Barbary Coast pirates. This is what you wished for, no?”

  It was. And it wasn’t. “No. I mean. I am releasing you of your obligation.”

  “Oh no, Önder, you cannot do that. We will be disgraced! The Sultan will believe we displeased you somehow and that will never do. Please. You cannot send us back. I beg you.”

  His passion and fear made strange bedfellows. “Easy, Abdullah. I’m caught a bit unaware that the Sultan actually gave you do me. It’s… well… it is unheard of. We are thieves, after all.”

  “Yes, but the Sultan would not appreciate having his gift returned.”

  “All right. All right. Let me discuss this with my advisors and then we can decide what to do.”

  Abdullah stared at her.

  “I do not run a dictatorship, Abdullah. I care what my crew wishes to do or not do.”

  His eyebrows rose. “That is very different for me. I apologize, Önder, for my lack of understanding of the situation.”

  Quinn patted his shoulder. “I will not put you or your men in a position that would bring disrespected to you – on that, you have my word.”

  “Ya gave him yer word?” Tavish asked when their ale and whiskey arrived at the table.

  The trip to Tangiers was uneventful and smooth, allowing Quinn to engage with her new crew on a more personal level. To her surprise, a good number of them
spoke another language, and half a dozen knew a smattering of Latin. They loved to gamble and a few were expert jugglers.

  In short, she really enjoyed these Turks with their raucous laughter and dark beards. They were nothing like Irishmen or even her favorite Scot. These men could drink hard, play hard, and laugh harder. They were a welcome change.

  “Tavish, I can’t just send them back.” Quinn said, dipping her finger in her whiskey and tasting it. “They’re good men, better than average sailors, and—”

  “And they were given to you by a Sultan who called himself magnificent. That makes ’em no better’n slaves, lad. Property as it were. We doona accept gifts of people.”

  Quinn sighed. “Aye. Their culture is very foreign to ours.”

  “It’s not their culture I’m concerned about, lad. It’s their loyalty.”

  “Well that’s not been disproven, has it?”

  “Not yet, no, but perhaps ya oughtta test it before ya go makin’ promises ya might not be able to keep.”

  “Test it?”

  Tavish nodded. “Their loyalty. Look, lad, plenty of other captains have more than one ship under their belts. Why can’t you?”

  That thought had never occurred to Quinn, especially since Grace O’Malley only had the one ship and Sayyida seldom sailed with more than one.

  “Drake does it. Raleigh does it. Why can’t you? It’s not like we’re sailin’ under the Irish flag enna more enna way.” Tavish tossed his whiskey back and waved the server over. “Two more, lass, if ya please, and keep ’em comin’,” he said in English.

  The dark haired, darker skinned Moroccan woman raised an eyebrow and held up two fingers.

  Tavish nodded and away she went. “Communication might be yer biggest problem, but if this Abdullah fella can speak Latin, that shouldn’t be an issue, aye?”

  Quinn wondered about the additional weight on her shoulders of adding on a second ship that might not even want to be added.

  “We ken the Corsairs can fight. Maybe havin’ a second ship is one way to protect yer first ship.” Rising, Tavish tugged at his pants. “I gotta piss. Ya think about it, Callaghan. When ya ken what ya wanna do, tell the crew. Doona ask them. You will appear weak and indecisive, and that will never do. It’s not their choice. It’s yers. Do what ya wanna. The rest will fall in line.”