Sarah's Pirate (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Rachel Clark

  He attacked the food with relish, savoring the mixture of flavors and textures and heartily enjoyed the captain’s privilege of choice. The mess hall was serving some type of pasta dish today and the rest of the crew had to like it or go hungry. A small niggle of guilt assailed him as he thought of Sarah sitting in his quarters going hungry, but there was no way he could let the crew see his ridiculous emotional attachment to her without putting her at risk. Several men in his employ wouldn’t think twice about using her to manipulate him.

  He finished his meal as he pondered his next move, realizing that the only choice he had was to pretend that she was his play thing and when he tired with her, he’d happily share her around. He shuddered at the thought of that happening to any woman, but the ruse just may buy them some time until he could find a safe spot close to civilization where he could help her to escape.

  He felt fairly certain that he could rely on G’ntriel's help and he figured that before this was over he was probably going to need it.

  He selected a drink from the cooler, downing the beer in just a few deep swallows. He’d really meant to savor it, being actual beer and not that synthetic crap the space ports sold, but he’d been too busy solidifying his plan. The wild woman in his quarters was not going to like it, but well she hadn’t liked anything thus far, so why should he fret over her reaction?

  His lips rose in a smirk as he envisioned the battle that was about to ensue.

  * * * *

  Sarah was almost asleep when the door to the cabin slid open. A huge, grossly overweight man ambled in carrying a tray of food and something blue and silky in his other hand. He tossed the scrap of fabric at her.

  “Cap’n says you gotta put it on before I lets ya eat,” he said amicably, turning his back politely so that she could change in relative privacy. “Oh and he saids I gotta make sure you take off the rest. Just the lingerie he saids. Nuthin’ else.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened in horror as she held up the scrap of fabric—barely enough material to cover her breasts and groin at the same time—and opened her mouth to argue, shaking her head in agitation.

  “Sorry, luv,” the man said as he set a plate of food on the desk next to the photo frame. “But he also saids that if ya wouldn't follow mys instructions that he’d send them guys from the cell to make you change.”

  Her blood ran hot and cold through her veins as memories of the pain from her dislocated shoulder assailed her. She fought back a whimper as she hurried to change. She pushed off the oversized jumpsuit she’d found in the footlocker and quickly removed her underwear. She pulled that scrap of silk and lace over her head and worked quickly to make sure she was covered in all the right areas.

  “That’s much better, luv,” he said approvingly as he turned and gathered her clothes from the floor. “That color really suits ya. Brings out the color of yer eyes.”

  Sarah blushed but was relieved to see him turn towards the doorway—even if he did carry her clothes under his arm. He was about to unlock the door when another thought occurred to him and he turned and waddled back into the room.

  “Almost forgot,” he said sheepishly as he removed a link of chain and an ancient looking lock from his pocket. Sarah held her breath, wanting to fight him but terrified of what could happen if she did and failed. Thankfully, he walked past her, awkwardly lowered himself to his knees, and locked the footlocker at the base of the bed.

  Sarah sighed in dejection. Her plan to pull on more clothes from the locker seemed quite successfully thwarted but at least he hadn’t chained her up and for that she was more than grateful. She watched him leave as she moved towards the food and lowered herself to the captain’s desk chair. She tried unsuccessfully to pull the scrap of fabric underneath her bottom but in the end she gave up the futile attempt and lowered her bare backside onto the seat. The cool fabric touched her flesh as heated thoughts danced through her head.

  Damn, she must be freaking crazy if she was entertaining erotic thoughts about the captain. The man was most likely going to use her and then discard her like yesterday’s garbage. Wasn’t that what the scrap of lace, the dressing her for his pleasure thing was all about?

  She ate the meal quickly and angrily pushed away any and all sexy thoughts, determined to be as strong as she could if and when an escape opportunity presented itself.

  * * * *

  Jordan checked the ship’s chronometer. He’d sent the cook over to his cabin almost an hour ago, a good long time for her to build up a really good temper. Not that the woman needed time. She could get good and mad with only a moment’s notice, but it worked into the ruse if she was spitting venom at him when he opened his cabin door. He’d made sure to have several witnesses on hand, so the crew could see that their captain was behaving as they expected.

  He keyed in the code and then changed the access numbers again since he’d given the last code to the cook. He doubted the guy was a danger to her, his advanced age and obese body probably a hindrance when it came to arousal, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

  The door slid open and quick as a flash, his cabin guest flew past him, using the element of surprise to push her way into the hall. He only just caught her wrist as she tried to slide by him, but barely managed to duck the fist that flew at his head. He twisted and deflected the viscous knee aimed at his groin as hauled her into his arms.

  Laughing loudly, he pulled her squirming body against his, flattened his hand against the side of her face as he pressed her head into his chest and tried to hide how close she’d almost come to escaping him. The spitfire in his arms growled and screamed defiance at him, managing to attract even more attention than he’d been hoping for. Several of the crewmen moved closer, their facial expressions clearly showing their enjoyment. This little stunt couldn’t have gone better if they’d choreographed the whole thing together. Well, except for the whole nearly besting him part. Hell, she moved faster than anyone he'd ever seen.

  He watched the faces of several of his men, and judged by their reactions that the scrap of lace she barely wore had ridden up her legs, exposing her ass to their salivating attention. One pirate even caressed his obvious erection as he slowly moved towards them. A little worried that the show was getting out of hand and would create the exact situation he was trying to avoid, he bent and hoisted her over his shoulder, her bare ass exposed to their audience. He slapped her hard, the noise reverberating around the hallway as she stopped wriggling and growled her annoyance. He slapped her again as he stepped into the room and quickly closed the door on their audience. Harsh male laughter flowed through the door as it slid across.

  He stalked to the bed and dropped her roughly onto the mattress, angry at her for attacking him, but more irate at himself for not anticipating it. He was truly pissed off, of course, that she’d moaned in arousal the second time he’d smacked her. Even now, her cream rolled down the smooth flesh of her thighs. The sweet scent of her arousal sure wasn’t helping his peace of mind.

  She scrambled to the other side of the bed and pressed herself against the wall, her anxiety seeming to override her body’s sensual reaction as he stood and glared at her.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he growled, annoyed at himself for caring how she looked at him. He’d set this up to protect her, but he didn’t expect a thank you.

  She watched him warily as her eyes darted around the room, no doubt selecting objects to brain him with. He released his breath with a loud whoosh, suddenly more tired than he could ever remember. He turned and walked over to his desk, loosened the top button of his jumpsuit and slid the zipper part way down. What he wanted was another cold beer and about twelve hours worth of solid sleep, but with his fiery house guest he wasn’t going to hold out too much hope.

  He heard her whimper behind him and he turned to see true fear flash across her face just before she managed to hide it behind a sarcastic sneer. Acting on instinct, he crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Sweetheart,” he sa
id softly. “I’m not going to attack you. I just had to make the crew believe that so that you’d be safe from them for a while. As long as they think they might get their chance later, they’ll leave you alone. I just haven’t figured out how to get you out of here yet.”

  She couldn’t hide the relief on her face and the tears that she’d held in check in the midst of her terror tipped over her eyelids and slid down her face.

  “I’m sorry if I scared you, but I was running out of time and had no way of telling you beforehand,” he said, stretching the truth just a little. It hadn’t really occurred to him that she would be genuinely frightened of him. He’d honestly expected her to kick him in the balls and laugh as they turned blue. He supposed that they’d both misread each other.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “Please don’t cry.” He reached over to her, breathing a relieved sigh when she didn’t flinch from his touch. He smoothed a callused finger carefully over her cheek. She whimpered again and gulped air into her lungs, words obviously impossible.

  Unable to control his protective instincts anymore, he grabbed her under the arms, hauled her onto his lap, and pressed her face against his heart as he rocked her back and forth. She clung to him as she slowly regained control, her tears no longer flowing quite so fast.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled as she burrowed deeper into his arms, her own slender arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

  “Sweetheart,” he said, “I’m the one who’s sorry. I wish I’d handled that very differently. I’m sorry for putting you through that.”

  She sagged against him, exhaustion seeming to claim her as she finished crying. He wriggled more fully onto the bed and lay back against the pillow so that he could pull her pliant body over his as she slipped into sleep. He held her close, willing his body not to react to her nearness. The last thing she needed was to wake up and feel his hard cock pushing against her exposed flesh.

  Jordan ground his teeth together trying to reign in his body’s reaction. Sure didn’t look like he’d be getting any sleep tonight. She snuggled closer and a small breath escaped from her tear swollen lips. Aw hell, sleeping was overrated anyway.

  Chapter Four

  Sarah woke as the man beneath her moved carefully, trying to slide out from under her without disturbing her. He kissed her forehead as he resettled her on the pillows.

  “Please, don’t go,” she said quietly. He smiled down at her, his hand smoothing an errant curl back behind her ear.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, a small smile on his face. “I’ll be back soon. I’ll lock the door so you’ll be safe.”

  “I don’t even know your name,” she said anxiously, as sudden, unexpected fear for his safety gripped her. What the hell was wrong with her? She should’ve been planning her escape, not worrying for this man's wellbeing.

  He sat back on the bed, gathered her into his arms, and kissed her gently.

  “My name is Jordan Bowman,” he said with a genuine smile on his face. “And I’m very glad I met you, Sarah Kaydel.”

  Her full name? G'ntriel had obviously been busy filling him in on all the details she'd garnered. Sarah knew she should still be pissed that the woman betrayed her, but instead she smiled at Jordan, enjoying the tender moment more than she would admit, even to herself. He bent once more and captured her lips with his own, kissed her sweetly—reverently—as if she were precious to him.

  “I’ll be back as fast as I can,” he whispered before he levered himself off the bed and headed to the door. She heard him punch in the unlock code and then the door closed behind him. The lock engaged a moment later.

  Sarah fell back onto the bed and took a moment to gather her wits. Being captured by pirates had been such an emotionally draining experience. She couldn’t honestly remember being so frightened for so long, despite her checkered history as an interplanetary courier or her life before that. She’d found herself in more than one dangerous situation, facing her own mortality, but on each occasion, she’d managed to extract herself without help, without having to rely on someone else.

  But this situation was so very different. Here, she faced something far more frightening than dying. She had zero chance of escape without help, and she really didn’t want to leave without her cargo. Damn. She'd nearly forgotten all about the medicine until now. Were children dying even as she lay here contemplating her unknown future? She felt tears well again. Hell, when had she turned into such a weepy mess? She wasn’t even sure if there were dying children. It was quite possible, considering G’ntriel’s involvement, that she’d been conned right from the beginning.

  Sarah closed her eyes against the headache that had begun to pound behind her forehead. She needed to ask Jordan about the medicine, and she should ask him about G’ntriel, and she really wanted to know how she’d ended up in the middle.

  Lost in her worry, Sarah was startled when the door slid open and Jordan stalked in, not bothering to lock the door behind him. He threw clothes at her and his eyes watched her intently as he tried to convey something she didn’t quite understand.

  “Get dressed, woman. Now!” He stood over her aggressively, raising his hand as if to strike her. Sarah flinched away as her mind whirled with confusion. They were alone in his cabin, why would he suddenly be this angry? Could she trust him or not? Was this the same man who’d held her while she slept?

  Her heart beat erratically, fear beginning to pound through her until she saw that several very large crew members stood at the door. Witnesses? Was he trying to protect her from them? Or was he about to prove that he was the last person in the universe she should ever have considered trusting? She nodded carefully. Did she really have a choice? She reached for the jumpsuit that he’d thrown at her and managed to pull the clothes on, not really caring if she exposed herself to the audience at the door.

  “Hurry up,” he said, grabbing her arm and dragging her to the door. “We haven’t got time for this. Grab your damn boots. You can put them on when we get there.”

  He shoved the boots into her arms, grabbed her upper arm again, and dragged her out the door.

  “Captain?” his first mate asked. “What if she blows your cover and tries to escape?”

  “Not a chance,” Jordan proclaimed arrogantly. “She does what she’s told or she gets punished. My belt stings against that pert little ass, doesn’t it woman?”

  She nodded warily, still trying to catch up with the situation. He was treating her like a possession, pushing her around as if he had a right to, but he was referring to punishment that had never actually happened. When he’d first opened the door her newfound trust in him had wavered, and the sight of all of those pirates on her doorstep brought back all the fear she’d felt just a few hours before. Still off balance, and fluctuating between abject terror and absolute trust in the man, Sarah sucked in a deep breath and fell back on her training. She quickly decided to play whatever game he was playing and see where it led. It sounded like they were getting off the ship and she was definitely all for that.

  They stepped through the door, Jordan’s grip on her arm punishingly tight, and headed away from the cabin and into the docking bay. She managed to mask the soft sound that she made when she saw her tiny vessel. It seemed that it hadn’t moved since they’d landed on board fewer than twenty-four hours ago.

  “Get in,” Jordan growled loudly, pushing her towards the open cargo door of her little ship. “Andrews,” he said, turning to his first mate. “Keep the ship out of sensor range of the planet. I’ll contact you as soon as I know more.”

  His first mate nodded his understanding and stood back as Jordan stepped into the ship. “Start the engines and close the damn door!”

  Sarah rushed to follow his orders, her hands shaking, either from fear or excitement or both. She was in her ship and she was leaving the pirates behind, so things were definitely looking up, but she was careful to hide her excitement, lest the man beside her wasn’t the honorable man she’d begun to believe him
to be.

  So many questions, so few answers. Geez, her head hurt.

  She started the ship, relief pouring through her when all systems registered as functional, and she was able to maneuver out of the larger ship’s cargo hold.

  “Where are we headed?” she asked him as she tried to swallow against her dry throat.

  “Heltor,” he said, looking at her calmly for the first time since they’d left his quarters. “Our buyer failed to make contact, so you and I need to find him.” She input their course into the helm and then turned to give him a quizzical look.

  “The medicine?” she asked, still confused. “Why not just give it to the children it was meant for?”

  “Sweetheart, that’s what I’m trying to do.”

  She shook her head, her confusion growing as she tried to understand what he was saying.

  “Sarah, the government on Heltor is corrupt. They’ll take the intergalactic aid and give it to a selected few and either stockpile or sell the rest. The children it’s meant for will never see it.”

  “So that’s what this is all about? You’re selling it on the black market so that it actually reaches those who need it.”

  “Something like that,” he hedged, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.

  She glared at him and held his gaze until he shrugged and told her the truth.

  “I’m not selling it. I'm giving it to them.”

  She shook her head in denial. Surely she must have heard wrong. Pirates don't give, they take.

  “But hang on,” she said, still trying to find her balance. “How do you make money, keep the ship running, and the crew fed if you give away your stolen booty?”