“A vase?” Insides going cold, I turned away from her. “With Greek marks?”
“Yes. How did you—oh no. It’s not in the Pit anymore, is it?”
“I don’t know where it is.” Peering over my shoulder to her, I shrugged. “Somewhere in a motel lost and found, I would imagine.”
With a confused expression on her face, Sam waited for me to expound, but the realization hit her before I was able to gather the words.
“You had the vase and opened it,” she breathed. “And it found you worthy enough to save, too. What question were you trying to find the answer to?”
Laughing, I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. All these years, I’d tried to think of how a dust storm could be a time portal and it had never occurred to me that the sand had nothing to do with it. “I was wondering what happened to you. They never found your body and I felt like I was seeing your ghost everywhere. It was like a nightmare. I would sleep and you would be there, saying my name. I wasn’t even in Maine anymore; I was running, trying to get away from the past. Apparently, I just wasn’t going far enough into it to figure anything out.”
Sighing, she stood again and walked over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t think about it too much,” she said gently. “If I’ve learned anything while I’ve been here, it’s that everything happens for a reason. And if I really was haunting you . . .” Her words trailed off and she squeezed me, stepping away.
“If we could find the vase again, we could go home,” I mused, feeling a little of the desperation I was always pushing away bubble up. “Wait a minute, you said you helped build the Pit. If you found it in the bottom, you must know where it is now.”
Her stare told me that she did, but that it wasn’t going to be any help.
“The Pit is closed off. The vase is in the bottom. No one else will get to it until I climb back down in the future.” She smiled, small and apologetic, wincing as a small cut on her lip tore open.
“What else was down there? Is that it?” I needed something, anything to keep the anxiety away. It wasn’t possible for me to accept I was never going home, not yet.
“It’s the treasure of the Knights Templar, just like Dad thought.” She sounded like the old, excited Sam I’d known, the girl who helped me search the swamp and scan the beach every day for months.
“What?” All of her talk about Randall, and the fact that her husband was a pirate, had made me sure that my theory was the correct one. “It wasn’t a pirate bank?”
“It was.” She laughed at my confusion, holding a hand up to stop me from speaking. “Tristan is a pirate, yes. But he’s also a Knight, and he was hiding their treasure on the island there. Randall was part of his team.” Her face grew dark then and she looked toward the door, pausing as if she were listening for someone. After a moment, she continued, a serious tone to her quick speech. “He joined the Black Knights, Mark. They’re horrible people and they want the treasure. Tristan and Thomas have a personal feud, though. We have to get off this ship as soon as possible. If Tristan is alive, I promise, he will come for me, and when he finds us, it will be a bloodbath.” She shuddered, a memory that was lost to me flashing across her face. “There won’t be anything I can do to stop him from killing every single member of the crew.”
An icy finger of fear brushed against me. Her face held all the promise it needed to; she loved her husband, but he was a man who should be feared by his enemies. The talk I’d heard about him here had made him sound like he was someone who would easily be taken care of. Now I wondered how many of those statements had been made to try and calm those who were told they would be facing him someday.
“Sam, I—”
The door flew open, halting my questions, and we both jumped, caught off guard by the man in the doorway.
“Legion,” I breathed, using the nickname the one eyed pirate had given himself. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I heard you had a woman in ‘ere,” the old, stick thin man said, scratching his leathery skin. “Looks like it’s true.”
“Bugger off,” I said sharply, stepping in front of Sam protectively. “Captain said I’m supposed to fix her up and keep her alive. I don’t want your dirty hands touching her.”
“I wasn’t plannin’ on touching ‘er with me hands, savvy?” Laughing, he rubbed his glass eye, the pupil rolling around in an unpleasant manner.
“Back off,” I warned again, putting a hand on the pistol in my belt.
“Lighten up, Snake Eyes.”
His use of my Apache name made my skin prickle. When I’d been pressed into service, I’d refused to share my real name, just as I’d had when I joined the merchant business. As far as anyone was concerned, I was a white man who’d grown up among Indians.
Taking a step forward, he all but leered at Sam behind me, licking his lips in anticipation.
“Take one more step and you’ll be missing both eyes.” I’d whispered, but the fierceness in my tone made him pause, looking at me with greater caution as I pulled the gun out and pointed the barrel right at his head.
“You’d deny your mate the lovin’ comfort of a woman’s breast?” he asked in surprise.
“I’ll deny you anything that could cost me my own life.”
A stare down commenced, my finger itching to pull the trigger. There were always fights on this pirate ship, none of which were ever settled by lawful means. The crew thought they were their own masters and I’d been in more than my share of arguments, as had everyone else. It seemed that Legion was remembering this as well, a hint of anger passing through his eyes. I’d cut off the finger of his cousin not three weeks earlier, and it seemed like justice was coming to call.
I didn’t know how, but I could always tell the instant a conversation became a fight. It was as if the air changed, red filling my vision, or if someone had whispered to me when something was coming. As it was, I easily dodged the knife that was pulled on me, the tip skipping over my shoulder and tearing my white shirt.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, looking at it. I’d just spent a good portion of my money I’d saved up to buy the damn thing when we were in London.
Scurrying out of the way, Sam shoved herself into a corner as I lunged forward, clocking the man over the head with the butt of my weapon. She was unusually quiet, and I soon forgot she was there altogether, focusing on the task at hand.
Legion, stumbling under the blow I’d given him, fell to the floor, grabbing my ankles and taking me down with him. His nails dug into my legs as he struggled to climb on top of me, his fist punching me soundly in the stomach.
Grunting, I jerked my leg up, laughing in satisfaction as my knee connected with his face in a magnificent spray of blood. Screaming, he released me, his hands grasping at the broken nose in fury.
Seizing the moment, I got my feet under me again, lurching toward him and pinning him on the ground. His jaw cracked when my knuckles met it, then a barely audible grunt escaped through his thin lips as I punched him in the chest. His hands were fumbling, reaching for something, anything, and I crushed one under my knee when it came close enough.
Obscenities flew from him, murder in his good eye, and I instantly realized he’d managed to pull another knife from his boot. Grabbing him by the wrist, we wrestled over the blade for a second, life and death hanging in the balance.
Unable to get a good enough grip to make him drop the blade, I resorted to another trick—twisting his arm as hard as I could, I didn’t stop until I heard another crack, his wrist shattering under my touch. The knife fell to the floor, his howls rising even more.
Blood pounded in my ears, my vision blurry with the adrenaline from fighting, every nerve calling out to finish the deed. The hunger for death overtook me, my fingers wrapping around the blade.
Legion could see it in my eyes. His face went dark, a hiss surging from him, his undamaged arm holding me back the best it could.
The knife slid across his throat easily, exactly as I remem
bered from the last time I’d cut a man’s neck, when we’d attacked a ship a month ago. Warm blood washed my hand, his body going limp beneath me.
It was done.
Breathing heavily, I stood up, hovering over him as I watched what was left of his life flee. A puddle was forming underneath him, but I couldn’t seem to care in that moment. All that mattered was that I’d won. I’d lived to fight another day, in a world where you had to kill or be killed.
“Oh, Mark,” Sam’s voice said from behind me, full of fear.
Turning, I saw her, staring at the body with a blank expression. When her gaze moved to me, though, it held more pity than I could handle.
“You’ve become just as much a pirate as the rest of them,” she said, sadly.
Breathing heavily, I looked down at the body beneath me, the gory blade still clutched tightly in my fingers. Red liquid dripped from my knuckles, softly splattering on its host’s unmoving form. Vaguely, I was aware of more people joining us, shouts falling on my deaf ears. All I could see or hear was the blood, the very thing that had burned so hot in myself, now shed by the man before me.
Life is the greatest gift we have. Do not take it unnecessarily.
Grey One’s words echoed in my mind. Was Sam right? She hadn’t sounded like she blamed me, but there was a condemnation to her words that stung. Had I taken a life just because I could, or had it been truly necessary? Would Legion have left after only being roughed up? Now I would never know.
I thought I was protecting her, but going over the fight in my mind, it was easy to see that wasn’t true; I’d let the blood lust overtake me. Hadn’t the same sense been in Legion’s eye as well, though? If I hadn’t have killed him, surely it would be me bleeding out on the floor right now.
The noises around me seemed to pop and fizzle back into existence as I blinked, glancing up from the corpse. The brown walls faded into nothing as I stared at the group of men who had shoved their way through the door, more that I couldn’t see still shouting for details from outside. Some of them wore expressions of shock and boredom, others rage. Eyes were either trained on me, or the not-so-dearly departed lying on the planks beneath me.
“What have you done?” It was the dead man’s cousin, his stump of a finger still crudely bandaged up and wrapped around his drawn knife. Face contorted into a mix of anger and grief, his dirt streaked form glared up at me, inches from his relative. A pang of guilt washed over me, but I stood my ground.
This was no time for apologies.
Those who had found Legion a friend or ally were obviously readying themselves to fight for him, swords being drawn as they stepped forward, growls resonating in their throats. Defensively, I held my blade out, refusing to move even an inch and show them the terror they wanted from me.
“What’s going on down here?” Captain Randall’s voice boomed over the crowd, his form shoving through the throng. The men fell silent and darted to either side to make way; he was the only person we all truly feared. When he reached the front, he paused, taking in the scene. His gaze traveled over his captive once, slowly, before moving on to me. He then glared at the floor, lips pursed, before straightening to his full height and sneering at me. “You’ve made quite the mess here, Snake Eyes. Do you care to enlighten the crew as to why?”
I’d seen him use this type of interrogation before. His easy manner made the victim think they were safe from harm. It was how he’d convinced Bobby Jones to confess that he’d stolen extra rations.
Bobby was gone now, beaten to death after Randall had left him to his fellow shipmates, who were extra hungry after we’d skipped a port to make it to England in the time frame Randall wanted.
“He attacked me first, Captain,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’d be dead if I hadn’t defended myself.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied me. Distinctly, I had the impression that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. It was as if I was part of some game, only no one had told me about it.
Steeling myself, I waited for him to question me further. Instead, I watched as he turned toward Sam, his expression turning to that of mild glee.
“Missus O’Rourke,” he said, his voice dripping with sticky sweetness. “Would you be a dear and tell me what happened here?”
Glancing back at her, I could see Sam glaring at him, her arms folded and stance strong. She looked like she’d been through hell and back, and yet, she still wasn’t going to take any shit from him. She seemed stronger than when I’d last seen her, and I found myself wondering exactly what she’d been through in the past two years.
“They fought. He won.” Well, that was gruff and to the point. She really didn’t like him.
“Yes, but what were they fighting about?” There was an edge to his tone, an unspoken threat that we all heard. It was never a good sign when the captain used that tone. Behind him, the crew shifted uncomfortably, the sound of it enough to make them dread him more.
“Legion wanted—how did he put it—the comfort of a woman’s breast.” Her own voice was tight and full of hate, the answer coming from barely moving lips.
Captain Randall laughed, the sound booming in the space as he faced the men behind him. Joining in, his crew forced out a chuckle, not wanting his wrath to turn on them.
“And Snake Eyes, why was this arrangement not satisfactory to you? Did you want her for yourself?” His cold gaze of pretend merriment moved to me and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Snake Eyes has never touched a woman in all the time we’ve known him!” The shout came from the back of the group, causing real laughter to break out as Randall watched me, his mean smile still in place.
“I know.” The quality to his voice now held a death threat and I felt my face whiten. He continued to grin, the situation not dire to anyone who was watching from the outside, but everyone in the room seemed to know that I was seconds away from being shot.
My initial assessment of his appearance had been wrong. This wasn’t just a fight between mates to the captain—it was a fight over Samantha, and that was something I suddenly realized he would not tolerate. If I didn’t have a good enough reason for killing a man in her defense, I would be dead before we even left port.
“She’s pregnant,” I blurted out, hearing her gasp behind me. “You told me to keep her alive and I thought Legion might put too much stress on her. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I did what I had to.” Holding my breath, I waited to see if the partial truth would be enough.
He froze for only a second, betraying his shock, but then recovered, slipping into his friendly demeanor. “Pregnant? Why, Sam, is that true?” Striding over to her, he pinned her against the wall, standing just close enough that she couldn’t move anywhere else. “Who’s the baby’s father?”
Sam spit in his face before I even knew what was happening. “Tristan will come for me,” she hissed, shoving him away. “And when he does, you’ll all be dead.”
Randall wiped the spittle from his face, glowering at her. All traces of the friendly show he’d been putting on vanished. “I know he will,” he whispered back. “In fact, I’m counting on it.”
I saw the slap coming, turning away in pain and anger for her just before she was hit. The sound echoed through the cabin and I flinched, hearing her fall to the floor with a small yelp.
“However, I don’t plan on doing any dying, and neither do my men.”
Afraid that if I looked in their direction my face would betray my feelings, I stared forward, jaw clenched.
“There will be no sex with this woman,” Randall said loudly, coming into view as he headed for the door, the crew parting to let him through again. “Anyone who tries will be shot, if Snake Eyes doesn’t kill you first. Do you understand?”
“Aye!”
The rousing chorus of agreement followed him out onto the deck, no one wanting to question his reasoning as they slowly shuffled away, until only Legion’s cousin and close friends remained. Without saying a
word, they took the body, glaring at me and making intermittent hissing sounds. Finally, only Sam and I were left.
Turning around, guilt grabbed hold of me again as I watched her sit on the ground, cradling her face in her hand. Randall’s slap had split her lip open even more, the tears in her eyes revealing to me just how much it had hurt.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly, offering a hand to her.
“Fine. I’ve had worse than a slap.” Ignoring my help, she shoved to her feet, as if she were trying to prove that she could take care of herself, no matter the circumstance. Looking at the puddle of gore on the ground she nodded toward me. “Are you going to clean that up?”
“Hmm? Oh.” Staring at the spot, I suddenly realized I was still clutching the blade, clenching it so tightly in fact that my fingers ached.
Without another word, she crossed to me, laying her hand on top of mine. “Let it go,” she said softly. “It will be okay.”
Surprised, I nodded, struggling to relax my grip. After a few seconds, the hilt slid from my hand, clattering on the floor. A rush of air moved through me and I staggered somewhat, the adrenaline high I’d been experiencing coming to an instant stop. Guilt spread through me once more, aided by the tender way she continued to hold my hand.
“You’re okay,” she kept saying, coaching me.
It felt like I was coming undone. Whether she knew it or not, it wasn’t just the feelings I’d suppressed during the last few minutes that were coming up. It was everything; all of the things I’d shared with her and the moments I’d kept for myself. Each pain and fear, every hatred and love I’d felt since traveling to this time gushed from me, leaving me a shaking mess.
Her arms wrapped around me, her tone that of a soothing parent as she stroked my hair, apparently knowing that I needed that right now for some reason.
“You’re not alone,” she said firmly, her touch strong and reassuring.
And then I understood. She may not have known everything, but she knew the feeling. It wasn’t just me that was finding comfort; she was with someone from her own time as well.
Carried Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book Two) Page 18
