Open Waters

by Valerie Mores

  There was no doubt now what he meant, but Jane was sure as hell not going to give up without a fight. What was left of her dignity and respect was at stake. Not to mention her virginity.

  "You won't get anything from me."

  "We shall see about that," he said. He nodded to the men nearest to him, and before Jane could react, Lock had released her into the grasp of two burly men, who began to drag her toward her captain's quarters.

  Toward the quarters where Cecily was currently hiding.

  Jane could hear the sounds of her crew once more protesting and fighting their captors, guns going off and grunts of pain and shouts of anger. But that was all background noise to her, barely decipherable as horror shot through her anew. This was the very last thing Jane wanted right now. A year ago, it would have been all about her and her own, but now, she was more fearful for Cecily's safety than her own.

  Immediately, she fell limp in her captors' hands, playing as though she had given up and forcing the two men holding her to adjust their grips. That's when she struck. With a few well-placed jabs and a twist of her body—she sent up a silent thank you to Thomas, wherever he resided, for those skills—she managed to step out of the two men's grasp, and pulled out the knife in her boot. She brandished it, showing the two men the business end as she placed herself between them and her quarters.

  A hearty laugh rose above the sound of the continued fighting behind the two men. "What, may I ask, do you plan to do with that little thing, love?"

  Lock.

  "Why don't you come over here and find out," Jane beckoned, hoping the invitation was enough an incentive for him to do just that. She couldn't wait to stick him with her knife. Any object would suffice, really, as long as he wasn't breathing when she was done.

  Lock tutted, clearly unimpressed with her bait. "You won't get far. Be dead before you can make a dent in our numbers."

  "Rather dead than rotten," Jane spat out, intending to fight her way through as many as she could before they felled her. She would die, she had no doubt about that, but by god if she didn't plan to take as many of his men down with her as she could.

  The sound of a door slamming back on wooden walls broke the tension of the stand-off. All eyes whipped around toward the captain's quarters, and Jane's heart sunk. No, no, no, not now, why couldn't she have just once done as she had been told?

  So caught up in Cecily, Jane barely had time to notice the two men spring into action before they were on her. She was able to hold off against them for a few seconds nonetheless. But another hard blow to the back of her head and the knife was knocked from her hands all too soon. She stumbled slightly, righting herself with a wave of dizziness, but not before the men had once again restrained her.

  She had been right: Cecily was really going to be the death of her.

  "Bloody pieces of—!" Cecily bellowed, stalking out of the quarters fuming, skirts flying as she raged. "I have had it with ya wretched lot! This—oh!"

  She broke off, seeming to notice the atmosphere and scene before her for the first time. The anger that had previously been bursting out of her before disappeared in an instant, replaced by confusion. A confusion that matched Jane's own. What on earth was Cecily doing? The woman clearly had a death wish to come bursting out here, unarmed and unprepared for what was occurring. Fear clamped around Jane's heart cold and restricting, her head ringing with more than just the effects of the blow.

  "Stay where you are," Lock commanded, stalking forward. He had his pistol at the ready, aimed directly at Cecily's head. Seemed the man wasn't taking any more chances with the surprises on this ship. As he damn well should.

  But Cecily didn't appear to be fearful or even shocked anymore. Instead, her eyes found Lock and it was like her whole persona had changed completely. Her eyes drank in his toned body and greasy hair like he was something she had been waiting for. Then she tilted her head slightly, a heated, sultry look washing over her face as she adjusted her body to play up her attributes the way Jane had seen her do before when trying to garner the attention of a potential client. The way she had done multiple times for Jane herself.

  Jane's heart sank even further.

  "Well, if ya say so, love," Cecily stated, giving Lock a wicked smile. She ignored Jane completely, not once glancing over at her. Was this a game? Was it a trick, a rouse? Jane wished the woman would give her a sign, anything to dispel her fears. But Cecily refused to take her eyes off Lock and dread and fear warred for dominance in Jane's heart.

  "And who might you be, missy?" Lock asked, licking his lips as his eyes roamed unashamed up and down Cecily's scantily-clad body.

  "Their fuckin' whore. Not tha' I ever got anythin' for it," she spat, glaring daggers at Jane. And Jane's heart broke. There was no hint of the love or humor that her eyes normally possessed. Only anger and disgust. The Cecily that Jane knew was gone and the whore they had originally thought her to be was all she was.

  It had all been a lie.

  Jane opened her mouth to call out, but hesitated, still hoping and praying that what she was seeing wasn't true, that she hadn't been played for a fool. An act, that's what it was. Cecily was just acting. She had to be.

  But nothing changed in Cecily's eyes, no spark of mischief or defiance or even a semblance of regret. There was only utter disgust as she grimaced at Jane before focusing once more on Lock.

  An act, that's all it was. Just an act. It had to be.

  "Ya don't want her," Cecily purred, sauntering up to Lock and pulling herself flush against him, running a finger down his chest teasingly. "She's not good for nothin', except bein' a fuckin' bitch. Put up one hell of a fight, she will, and after the day you've had, wha' with takin' this here screechin' board of a ship, it's sure ta be more of a pain than pleasure. But me, I'll take care of ya. Ya can just lie back and let me do all the work." She gazed up at him from beneath her eyelashes, flirting, teasing, giving.

  Just an act, just an act, just an act.

  Lock grinned down at Cecily, completely taken by her. Jane couldn't blame him. Cecily knew exactly how to make herself desirable.

  "That's quite an offer you're making there." Lock stated. His eyes hardened and his hand snatched Cecily's wrist tight. For her part, Cecily barely winced, just resumed looking at him with sultry eyes.

  It was then that Jane's conviction that Cecily was acting was renewed. The woman she knew would never have taken such abuse from anyone, not without a sarcastic comment or an insult to their person.

  But there was still a sliver of doubt in Jane, one she tried desperately to squash, but was having very little success.

  "But I'm familiar with ruses," Lock continued, "and know one when I see it."

  Cecily's smile just heated further. "Then ya should know my offer is genuine, Cap'ain."

  Lock paused at that, seeming to contemplate Cecily's subtle challenge. Doubt flickered across his face briefly before his arrogance won out once more and he grinned predatorily at her.

  "The following night, you will watch as your so-called Captain is ravaged to prove your intentions are, in fact, genuine. Until then, you shall not be let out of my sight."

  Cecily glanced over at Jane, her eyes full of hatred and a wicked grin on her face. "It would be my pleasure."

  Lock nodded in satisfaction. Without taking his eyes or his hands off Cecily, he addressed his crew, "Lock 'em in the brig!"

  She glanced up, seeing that her crew—no more than fifteen strong with the addition of the new recruits, who had been found and dragged up on deck—remained at gunpoint, all their weapons thrown into a pile on the port side of the main deck. All except Cooksley and his two supporters, who, when offered to join Lock's crew, had accepted readily and were now standing amongst them looking happier than they had even been under her command.

  "Traitorous bastards," Jane muttered under her breath.

  But she couldn't help feel a bit of warmth and pride seeping back into her soul. Most of her crew had stayed loyal to her, had refuse
d to join Lock's crew, even knowing they wouldn't live to see another sunrise should they choose to do so. She didn't delude herself into thinking that in any way gave her an advantage, but it did give her some comfort and strength. Jane shifted in the grip of the two men, earning her a growl and a painful squeeze to her upper arm from the one on her right.

  "Aye, Captain," one of Lock's men guarding Jane's crew stated, his tone betraying his confusion at the order, but his loyalty making him follow it nonetheless. Jane understood his confusion. Once offered a place in the victorious pirate's crew, the remaining members were killed and thrown overboard, or left to sink with the ship. For all intents and purposes, the brig should be emptying at this point, not filling.

  Lock tore his eyes from Cecily, who continued to pet him adoringly, and grinned at his men. "It's a long, arduous journey back home, and I think we've found our entertainment!"

  Cheers of "aye" answered Lock's proclamation, Cooksley and his mates the loudest of them all. And they began herding her crew toward the hatch and the brig below.

  Jane herself was propelled forward, the men restraining her walking her forward to join her crew in the hold.

  But Lock's voice rang out once more, stopping the three of them in their tracks. "Not that one," he commanded, his gaze glinting at Jane, as Cecily ignored her from his side. "She's coming with me."

  *~*~*

  Jane kicked at the floor with her heel in frustration. Of course, he would keep her in her own quarters. Because being humiliated, degraded, having her purity threatened, crew taken, and title stripped were not enough. No, she had to be locked up in her own quarters, too.

  Lock had produced shackles from somewhere—she'd be surprised if they weren't the ones she kept on board the Tantibus, because that just seemed fitting right about now—and secured her wrists to the bedpost of her own bed. It was done in such a way that she could neither stand properly nor get atop the bed, having to instead awkwardly sit on the floor, chained up like an animal. Just another cut to her pride and dignity.

  "Comfortable, Captain?" Lock sneered, crouching down in front of her, devoid of both his coat and hat, making himself at home in her quarters, the bilge rat.

  Jane spat at him, not daring to look at Cecily standing behind him, running her fingers through his hair. Though she still told herself it had to be an act, couldn't be anything but an act, it still hurt. It still tore at her heart to see the woman she cared about, the woman she thought cared for her, clamoring all over another as if Jane had never even mattered.

  Lock stood up, face set in a sneer as he wiped the spit from his cheek. The only thing she received for it was a hard kick to the ribs.

  Jane grunted, the air leaving her lungs in a swift exhalation as pain lanced up her side. She gasped for breath, feeling like there wasn't enough air in the room. Gasping, she glared up at Lock, refusing to let him think he had gotten the best of her, would ever get the best of her. Whether she died or lived through this whole ordeal, she would never let him win.

  Cecily stepped forward, sliding herself in front of Lock with the ease and grace of practice, her back to Jane. "Let me take care of ya, Cap'ain," she purred, capturing the man's attention immediately as she flaunted her breasts. "Let me make ya feel good."

  Lock slid his hands up her sides possessively, a feral grin spreading across his face. His gaze swept up momentarily and, noticing Jane watching, addressed her even as he continued to fondle Cecily. "Don't worry love," he mock-soothed her, "you'll get your turn tomorrow." If this was an act—an assumption that Jane was thinking was not true anymore, what with the current event—Cecily was being damn convincing. Jane didn't think that she would take it this far. And yet, here they were.

  Jane averted her eyes, ignoring Lock's comment and knowing exactly to where the event unfolding before her would lead, and having no desire to be any more a witness to it than she was already forced to be.

  But try as she might, she couldn't shut out the sounds.

  The rustle of clothing pushed aside, followed by strings of compliments and ribald comments hissed out between breathy pants. The squelch of lips and spit on skin was punctuated by moans or grunts until those took over entirely, filling up the room with their imagery and obvious manner as the bed frame rocked and bumped, taking Jane's iron-clamped wrists for a ride. Her head filled with scenarios without her consent, taunting and teasing her with what she and Cecily could have had, what they could have been, but might be no more, if the space between them was filled with lies and betrayal. Try as she might, Jane felt her heart ache as she was forced to bear witness, sitting there chained like a dog, listening to the reason why her world may very well shatter to pieces again. And it continued to shatter, over and over again, until she felt like she couldn't breathe, couldn't even draw a single breath, as tears slipped down her face unhindered and unwanted, but whether from anger or misery, she no longer knew.

  She sat there, hearing the sounds of their coupling replay over and over in her head even after they had smoothed out into even breaths and soft snores. Even after the sunlight had disappeared from beyond the window and darkness had taken its place.

  But though the sounds were on replay, Jane's mind was whirling, thinking, planning, going through scenarios and ways she could turn the tide in her favor. She would come out of this no less the woman she was, with her life intact or not.

  *~*~*

  "Rise and shine, poppet!"

  Jane awoke with a start, jumping as hands appeared in front of her, grabbing and hauling her to her feet, pawing at her unnecessarily as they unshackled her wrists. She didn't even remember that important detail occurring, but then again, such a rude awakening left little for her sleep-addled brain to digest.

  She was all but dragged from the captain's quarters—her own bloody quarters for fuck's sake—and out onto the main deck. The sun's rays pierced her eyes like daggers, forcing her to blink to allow her sight to adjust. By then, she and her unscheduled entourage had come to halt and she was finally able to take in her surroundings.

  The members of Lock's crew stood surrounding their captain on the main deck, all with various degrees of malignant anticipation and vengeful glee upon their faces. Jane could feel the rocking of the ship beneath her feet, so used to the movement that she hadn't noticed it before. They must have gotten underway sometime yesterday—Lock, obviously too lazy to unload his goods from her ship and onto his own, decided to just sail them both onward—while she was… indisposed. Jane forcefully pushed the memories from the day before from her mind, knowing that she needed a clear head today if she was to live to see tomorrow.

  She did, however, notice that Cecily seemed to be absent from what she could see of the crowd. A pang of worry shot through her before she could stop it, wondering for a second if Cecily was hurt, or worse. Lock had said that she was to remain in his sight at all times. But there were too many sweaty bodies around for Jane to get a good look, and she had more pressing matters to focus on at the moment.

  "Ah, there she is! The infamous Captain Avery," Lock crowed, spreading his arms wide. His attention on her drew that of his surrounding crew as well, all eyes finding her and the anticipation seeming to grow within the circle. It did not look promising.

  "I think the dear Captain here should show us her skills," Lock pressed on, striding toward her leisurely, arms still out in what could be construed as a friendly gesture, if not for the feral grin on his face. "Show us her worth and how she earned her title. What do ya say, boys?"

  A resounding "Aye!" sounded from the crew around her.

  Lock threw an arm around her shoulders, then the men who had brought her out released her into his care as he forcefully steered her forward and toward the middle of the circle of men.

  "You know, we've heard a lot about you," he intoned, lowering his voice in an exaggerated whisper. "About your aptitude with a sword, how you can kill a man dead with a single shot from a hundred yards away, about your tactics and inventive strategies that
usually end with you and your crew victorious."

  He stopped just at the last row of men, a pathway still open for him to continue on down, but he ignored it. Instead, he leaned in close until she could feel his breath on her ear.

  "Let's see if those other rumors are true," he sneered, before roughly shoving her into the center of the ring.

  The gap closed behind her as she stumbled on the deck. A clatter of metal followed close behind her, and she glanced toward the sound, noticing the sword at her feet just before she registered movement of someone else being thrown into the ring across from her.

  Dread filled her, knowing now exactly what she was being forced to do.

  "It's a fight to the death," Lock announced. "If either of you refuse, you will not only lose your life, but cause another of your crew to take your place sooner than they would otherwise. The reward for coming out victorious is a little more time with what remains of your life."

  Looking up, Jane immediately recognized the man who she was going to have to fight. A tall, willowy man—more of a boy, really, which was a shame—a sword held deftly, but not overly skillfully, in his hand. He had been amongst those who had been recruited from the Liberty. For a split second, Jane wondered if this boy was loyal to Lock. After all, the new recruits had been off a ship that had been carrying Lock's goods. But she dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came up. A merchant sailor was just that: a merchant. This boy was not loyal to Lock.

  But the fact still remained that the lad was just that. Jane would estimate he was no older than seventeen, eighteen at the most. Not uncommonly young to be aboard a ship, but still young. Not someone whose life should be taken away so frivolously.

  "Begin!" Lock shouted, breaking the silence that had settled over the deck.

  With a cry, the boy immediately launched toward Jane, sword poised to swipe at her middle. A poor first move, in her opinion. He was at her in a second, but it wasn't until he began sweeping the sword arm across to gut her that she moved.