by Lora Thomas
As he watched her anger, he kept his plan in mind, even though it was tearing him apart. He forced an evil smirk to cross his face. “You are my wife and I will touch you as often as I see fit,” he needled, knowing it would fuel her temper like whale oil does a fire.
“I am not a piece of property to be used at your disposal. I am flesh and blood and will not be treated with anything but respect!”
“As I recall, you were a sex slave that escaped.”
He heard her quick intake of breath. He watched as her mouth dropped open and daggers shot from her eyes. A burning sensation struck his chest with the force of a cannon ball as he witnessed her fury. It felt like his soul was being torn out of his body. A hateful look crossed her face.
“Well, if I’m a slave, I had better start acting like one. Would you like me to begin with scrubbing the floors or mucking the stalls, Master!” she said, the hatred apparent in her voice.
He grabbed her by her upper arms. She knew the look in his eyes and she jerked away. “Oh, no, you don’t! Last night was the last time you enjoy my body!”
“I believe you were the one begging.”
She turned and stormed out the door, slamming it with such force a painting was knocked from the wall and crashed to the floor. As he watched her storm away, guilt overwhelmed him and he silently cursed.
“Kristina!” he yelled after her.
She ran to the staircase and could sense him closing the distance between them. She quickly straddled the banister and slid down, knowing this was the fastest descent from the upstairs landing. Remembering her lesson from the other day she jumped off right before she reached the end of the banister. She heard him yell her name again as she ran past James and out the door.
James was in the foyer, having just returned from escorting Alex to the docks. He watched with amusement as Max ran down the stairs yelling his wife’s name. “Pissed her off, did ya?”
“Shut up, James,” Max growled as he stormed past the bos’n after his wife.
He darted towards the door Kristina had exited. He ran outside and scanned the area. Walking around to the back of the house, he looked to the left, but didn’t see her. Looking to the right, he caught a glimpse of her tan day gown as she ran past several palm trees that lined the path to the beach. He walked with determined strides after her. A pained expression crossed his face as his bare foot stepped on a twig. As he neared the trees, he heard her scream of terror. His gait increased to a run, panic setting in.
Easing around the trees, he observed the scene before him. He could make out several men and one was holding Kristina. He didn’t recognize any of the men who held his wife hostage. He fought the desire to race towards her. He had no weapons, nothing to defend himself with, but his fists. Kneeling down he inched his way behind several fallen trees. He was several meters away from the group. He picked up a large branch and was about to jump out when he heard the cocking noise of a pistol behind him.
“Stand up nice and slow like,” the voice said behind him.
A deep growl exited Max as he stood and turned. His eyes narrowed as he took in the image of the portly man. “Jimmie,” he stated with hatred in his deep voice.
“Drop the club unless ya want to see how bulletproof ya are.” Max reluctantly obeyed, not wanting to get himself killed before he could rescue Kristina. “Go on now,” Jimmie said as he motioned towards the group.
Max grudgingly turned and headed towards the beach. He looked around and counted seven men. He could see their horses tied up at the edge of the beach. There were no signs of their tracks in the sand, leaving Max to conclude the group had ridden in late last night during the tide. He could feel the barrel of Jimmie’s gun pressing into his back.
“You are truly courageous against an unarmed man, aren’t you, Jimmie?” Max needled.
“Nope. Just smart enough to know not to tackle you without one.”
Max could hear Kristina telling off her captors in Spanish. He wished he could understand her. He would have loved to know what she was saying. Apparently one of the pirates did for he slapped her. Max felt his body tense and he started towards the man.
“I wouldn’t,” stated another man who approached. Max turned to find Edwin Hawkins. Max lowered his gaze to a slit.
“What are you doing here, Hawkins?”
An evil expression crossed Hawkins’s face. “I’ve come to collect what belongs to me,” he said as he looked towards Kristina. “Seems my client’s property escaped and took advantage of your … hospitality.”
Kristina never mentioned the name of the man who had sold her to that tavern, but Hawkins’s comment was Max’s answer. Max knew what Hawkins intended to do and he was not about to let that happen. Alarm set in. “Let her go, Hawkins.”
“No, I think not. You see, she is worth entirely too much money,” he said as he walked over to Kristina and picked up a lock of her hair. She spit in his face and her defiance was met with another slap to her cheek, knocking her to the ground.
Max rushed towards the man who had hit his wife. Before he reached her, he felt a searing pain surged through his right arm as the bullet from Jimmie’s pistol tore through his shoulder. He kept charging, but stopped when Hawkins drew his pistol and pointed it at Kristina.
Horror crossed Kristina’s face as she looked at Max. He was bleeding profusely from the gunshot that had torn into the shoulder of his already injured arm. She crawled towards him in the sand, but felt her hair being pulled back, stopping her.
“Get up, you worthless bitch.”
She cried out as she felt her body being lifted off the ground by her hair. Her hands instinctively reached up to stop the assault and were quickly bound behind her.
“Let me go!” she yelled.
“Don’t think so, love,” Tucker said as he tied a gag into her mouth.
Kristina took advantage of Tucker’s distraction and kicked his left knee, causing it to buckle. He let go of her and she turned to run only be stopped by the smelly fat pirate, Jimmie. He wrapped his short arms around her waist and held fast.
“Bind her feet!” Hawkins ordered.
Kristina felt herself being tackled to the ground. She heard Max yell and then all was quiet. She turned to find him lying unconscious on the sand, Hawkins standing above him with the butt of his gun still facing Max.
“Should we kill him?” Jimmie asked as he over to Max.
“No,” Hawkins said, shaking his head. “I don’t want to deal with Xavier coming after me. Bind him to the tree there on the beach.” He pointed to a leafless palm log. “Let the tide do what it will to him.” Jimmie nodded his head as he and Tucker dragged Max’s body over to the fallen tree on the beach.
Kristina knew it would be pointless to struggle against the binds that held her. Her struggles would only make her grow tired and weak. She needed to save her strength for escape. She felt her body being lifted off the ground and tossed over the front of the horse Hawkins was riding. As they rode away, she watched Max’s body slowly disappeared from her view as a feeling of hopelessness invaded her.
Max awoke lying on his side to find the tide coming in. It splashed against his feet. He tried to sit up, but the bindings held him fast. He pulled against the ropes hoping to loosen them, but it was useless. The waves crashed against his feet again. He knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the crashing surf would cover him. He was too far from the house for anyone to hear his cry for help. He strained against the rope again. If he had been facing the bindings, he still would not have been able to untie the ropes that held him. Apparently, Jimmie had grown a brain and tied Max’s hands behind him before he had secured him to the fallen tree.
He strained against the ropes and could feel them tearing into his flesh. A pained expression crossed his face as the discomfort from the bullet wound reminded him of his injury. He looked around desperately. He had to get free; those bastards had Kristina!
Another wave crashed against Max, hitting him in the face
. He shook his head in an attempt to remove the water from his eyes. Max looked down and could see the water line at his waist. Hope grew as he felt the ropes begin to give. He attempted to lean forward, but the pain in his shoulder stopped him again. He let out a loud curse.
“He’s over here!” he heard a voice yell behind him.
Max heard the sounds of footsteps running towards him. Slim reached him as another wave crashed into his face. Max spit out the salty water.
“Hurry up before I drown!” Max yelled
Slim took the knife out of his belt and quickly cut the bindings holding Max. Max rolled over face down onto the wet sand so Slim could cut the rope from his hands. Pain shot through his body as he attempted to push himself upright. He didn’t know how long he had been tied to that tree, but his body rejected the newfound freedom. James and Slim slipped their arms around Max and helped the quartermaster stand. Max grabbed Slim’s arm and looked frantically around.
“Kristina?!” Max asked, hoping that she had somehow managed to escape.
“I hav no seen her.”
“Hawkins,” Max gritted out. “The bastard kidnapped her. We have to go after him!”
“You are in no condition to go after her,” James said.
Max glared at him. “Like hell I’m not. I’ve been shot before.” He turned back to face Slim. “Go to the docks and get The Abyss ready to sail.”
“Where are ya goin’?” Slim asked Max.
“My weapons are in the house. I’m going to retrieve those and make sure Samuel doesn’t follow.” Max knew the young boy would want to help with the rescue. The hell he would receive from Alex if he took Samuel out to sea without him would be worth it, but Max did not want to have to contend with protecting the boy when his mind would be on rescuing Kristina.
Slim nodded his head and ran quickly back to the house. He saddled a horse and headed towards the docks, James following close behind.
When Max entered the house several minutes later, Mrs. Potts darted frantically to him. A worried look came over her face as she spied his injury. “What happened?” she asked as she looked around him for Kristina. “Where’s your wife?”
Max looked at Mrs. Potts. “She’s been taken,” he said as he walked past her.
“By whom?” she yelled after him.
Max did not answer. He climbed the steps two at a time. He entered his chambers and collected his weapons. He walked to the wardrobe and pulled out a thin black belt. As he was leaving, Samuel appeared.
“I’m going with you,” the boy said.
Max shook his head. “Not this time, boy.” In one quick move Max pressed Samuel’s lanky frame against the wall and bound his hands behind him with the black belt.
“You can’t do this!” Samuel protested. Max shoved Samuel into a vacant room, pushed him onto the bed and rolled him up in the white quilt, leaving his head exposed, but hindering the boy’s movements. “I can help!” the boy cried, struggling against the cocoon.
“No. You cannot go. Alex would kill me. Besides, you do not need to witness what I am going to do to those bastards.” With that Max left the room. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he looked at Mrs. Potts. “Leave the boy restrained until you know for certain that The Abyss will no longer be in port. Understand?”
Mrs. Potts nodded her head and gave Max a worried look. She had never seen such a cold expression in his eyes. He was a man with murder on his mind. She could sense what he was about to do to the men who took his wife and it frightened her.
She had an herbal paste in her hands and pressed it into Max’s wound to stop the bleeding. Max winced as she tightly packed the wound.
Once finished, Mrs. Potts said, “Go. I will take care of the boy.” She watched Max race to the barn. In an instant, he was on his way to the docks in Nassau. She watched as the stallion he rented raced past the house with the devil himself sitting on its back.
Max reached Nassau in record time. Slim was only minutes in front of him. As Max hurried to the docks, he ran into Slim along with the other crew. Max said nothing as he walked straight to The Abyss. Once on board he bellowed, “Smitty!”
The old man had been watching Max and the crew coming to the ship. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but Max’s movements told him something was amiss.
“Yes, Mr. Hart,” Smitty answered.
“Is she ready to sail?”
“Always.”
“Which way did Hawkins go?”
Smitty shook his head. “I don’t rightly know. I wasn’t here when he left.” He could tell by the way Max looked at him that this was not the answer he wanted to hear. “I’ll find out. Wait here.” Smitty walked down the gangplank and returned several minutes later. “He headed south ‘bout an hour ago.”
“Slim, are the crew all aboard?”
Slim nodded his head. “All but da capt’n.”
“Make ready to sail!” Max ordered.
“What’s goin’ on?” Smitty asked. “You know I’ll folla yer orders, Max, but where is the capt’n?”
“He’s already departed for Governor’s Harbour. Hawkins took Kristina and I don’t plan on waiting for Alex’s return to go find her.”
Smitty pressed his lips together as he looked at the quartermaster and a sense of doom came over him. In the ten years he had known Max, never had he witnessed the man in his present state. Max normally had a dangerous aura about him, but this was different. There was an unusual eeriness to him. He was deathly calm. Smitty could tell someone was about to die at Max’s hand and he pitied the bastard for he knew it was going to be a painful death.
The Abyss popped and creaked as the warm breeze caught all of its gray sails. The ship sped quickly out of the harbor. Max took hold of the helm and turned the ship in the direction of The Revenge’s heading.
Hawkins had a good two hours head start. Smitty insisted that supplies be brought aboard just in case it was a while before they caught up with The Revenge. With the heavy cargo unloaded from The Abyss’s prior hauls, her speed increased substantially. The bow of the ship rose up and down as it crashed into the waves of the incoming tide.
Smitty approached Max. “Did Mrs. Potts put her concoction on yer wound?”
“Yes,” Max replied. Whatever Mrs. Potts put in her herbal remedies always helped. The paste she used to pack wounds with had a numbing agent. Max’s gunshot still ached, but not as badly.
He stood at the helm looking straight ahead, his eyes scanning the seas. He looked at Smitty. “Have someone climb to the crow’s nest with Alex’s long spyglass. I want to know the second The Revenge is spotted.”
Smitty nodded his head. Max’s actions concerned him. He had never witnessed Max so obsessed with a woman. Sure, the younger man had women waiting for him at every port they docked at, but he never took interest in them except to meet his sexual desires. Kristina had somehow gotten to Max. She had broken that invincible barrier he had surrounding his heart.
“Go below and rest. I’ll let you know when Hawkins is spotted,” Smitty told Max. He could see the wound was beginning to take its toll on Max’s strength.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
“And that’s what you’ll be if we catch up to Hawkins in yer present state. There’s no need fer ya not ta rest and regain yer strength.” Smitty could tell Max wanted to refuse. “I’ll take the helm. Go on now, pup. I’ll put Uveah in the nest, and James and Slim can handle the crew. Rest yerself now sa ya can rescue yer wife.”
Max reluctantly agreed and headed towards his quarters. He sat down in the chair and grabbed a bottle of rum. Taking a long, slow drink he closed his eyes. Despite Mrs. Potts herbal packing, his shoulder had started to severely ache again. He knew the bullet was still lodged deep in his arm and needed to be removed, but now was not the time. He needed to focus all his energy on rescuing Kristina.
Max leaned back in the chair and allowed his head to rest on the wall behind him. He closed his eyes in an attempt to rest,
but the image of Kristina being struck kept running over and over in his mind. He must have drifted off to sleep for when he raised his head up, an hour had passed. There was a knock on his door and Smitty entered.
“No sign of The Revenge yet,” Smitty informed Max.
Max just nodded his head and said nothing. He placed the bottle back to his lips and took another drink.
Smitty eyed the younger man. He did not look good. His color had paled substantially since they left. “Ya need doctorin’.”
“I’m fine.”
Smitty walked over to Max and pulled the back of Max’s shirt down and shook his head. “That bullet’s gotta come out.”
“No, it can wait,” Max insisted.
“Slim’s at the helm. This ship ain’t gonna catch her any faster with a bullet in yer shoulder. And ya won’t be any help ta her if yer eat up with a fever er dead.” Max nodded his head in agreement. “Take yer shirt off.”
Max stripped out of his blouse. He watched as Smitty pulled the long knife from his belt and held it over the open flame of the lantern. Smitty took the bottle of rum from Max and poured it over the front of Max’s shoulder and then on the blade of the knife. The heated blade hissed in protest of the cool liquid. A swirl of steam emitted from the blade as Smitty walked over to Max.
“Grit yer teeth,” Smitty informed Max as he placed the tip of the hot blade to Max’s shoulder. He could feel Max’s muscles tense up as the blade pierced the younger man’s flesh. Beads of perspiration dotted Max’s forehead from the pain. Max’s jaw clenched tightly and a deep groan emitted from his chest as Smitty pierced his flesh with the hot knife.
Smitty made a deep cut into the shoulder and dug around the opening with the tip of the blade until he felt the hardness of the bullet. He took his fingers and began digging around in the opened area to retrieve the bullet. He heard the younger man whisper a curse word as his fingers prodded the wound. Smitty grasped the metal projectile and pulled it out of the opening.
