by Ellen Mint
CONTENTS
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Sneak Peek
About the Author
Title Page
Reefcake
by
Ellen Mint
Wild Ménage Series
Reefcake
Copyright © 2019 by Ellen Mint
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2019
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CHAPTER ONE
1647, CARIBBEAN
To whosoever finds this message, I beseech and pray for you to rescue me from the brigands aboard the San Estaban. My father, the governor of Havana, will reward you handsomely for your efforts in freeing me. Please! My life rests in your hands.
Lady J. Caballero
Even as the table pitched under her, Joanna rolled the stolen parchment into a tight coil and shoved it into a bottle. There were dozens of them strewn about the cabin reeking of beer and urine, the besotted sailors caring little for what went in or out of their bodies. The acrid stench of men left to their own keeping crinkled her nose, but she had no choice. With her last hope secured in the corked bottle, she turned to the porthole no bigger than a dinner plate.
Beyond its splintery frame, the tranquil waters of her home caressed the whole of the horizon. Of what should be her home until she was cruelly yanked from its welcoming shores. Her heart thundered as she glanced to the rack of bottles and the old map she commandeered to pieces for her messages. This was the second attempt as the ship cut a path from the warm, loving turquoise of the Caribbean to the choppy, unforgiving squalls of the Atlantic. If none found her bottles soon, there’d be no chance of a rescuer boarding them on the open ocean. She would be truly sunk.
Jo shook off the plummeting odds and launched the bottle out the window. It landed in the churning white waves of the ship’s aft, the amber glass vanishing below the surface. Maybe they didn’t even float. Maybe all her messages were sinking to the bottom of the ocean where only the crabs would read them.
A shudder rose up her spine as she stared forlornly at what could be her last view of home. Here it was glistening color, the blinding blues of the sky and waves claiming the unending curve of the world. The greens from the vines of jungles and palm trees perched upon sandbars were brighter than any garden she’d find when the ship docked. There it was drab smoke and the browns and grays of a weary world that cared only for propriety. Here was…
Something churned below the waves, a dark shadow rising below the sea foam. Jo wrapped her hands around the porthole, her head leaning further out to watch as what looked like a head rise from the ocean. A lone man this far from land would be nearing his death in the water. Never mind that those on deck would spot and keelhaul him in an instant. She was losing her faculties.
Joanna moved to wipe her eye, certain that the mahogany hair was naught but shadow and the stern visage above the waves a lost seal or dolphin. In that moment, the sun glinted against a streak of amber in the dolphin’s hand. Her bottle?
“Whatcha think you’re doing?” the braying voice bellowed as its owner hauled open the door to his cabin. In the first day, Joanna would have flipped around and tried to rush past him onto the deck. She did try once, which was why Miguel Esparza made certain to lock it shut behind him. With dark eyes burning into her stern countenance, he deliberately hid the key where she’d never dare look.
Rough as rawhide, his flesh was pickled from his briny years at sea. While appearing in his 50s or 60s on the surface, the piles of thick black hair tucked into a knot on the back of his head revealed his true, younger age. It was his chosen vocation, and the obvious cruelty in his heart, that weathered him to old leather.
Snickering, Esparza eyed up Jo still staring forlornly out the porthole. “Don’t matter how tight you cinch that corset, you ain’t fitting through there.”
The captain of her floating prison walked closer to her, his eyes sweeping across the claustrophobic cabin. Unable to stand the callow glare in his eye, Jo cast one last look to the sinking turquoise horizon. There was no sign of the imaginary man who snatched her bottle, only white foam tumbling behind the ship.
“What is this?” Esparza bent down to haul up one of the dozens of empty bottles. In an ungentlemanly turn, he yanked the cork out with his teeth and spat it on the floor. Tipping it back to his eye, he stared down the amber glass with nary a drop inside. “What have you done?!” he snarled, a hand lashing out. Fishhook fingers dug into Joanna’s arm, the cruel nails slicing deep through her velvet sleeve.
The stench of fermented algae rose from his breath, causing her to turn her head out the porthole where she’d dumped all his alcohol. Despite his predilections, the man wasn’t a complete moron, his dark eyes flashing as he whipped his mottled beard from her to the beery wake.
Steeling herself, Joanna turned directly to his face and said, “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“You whore-born, she-devil!” Captain Esparza cursed. Jo expected him to hurl her against the wall, but he dug his claws in and yanked her closer. “If it weren’t for your father’s coin, I’d have let my men have their fun with you and tossed the remains to the ocean floor.”
A dagger sliced from the sheath on his hip, Esparza drawing the edge to her neck. Joanna pulled in a breath and leaned closer to it. “Go ahead, kill me.”
Eyes that knew murder, rape, that delighted in every sin and broke every law while still skirting on the side of keeping the crown happy bored into hers. She felt the blade’s edge nipping into her dusty skin, the sting little more than a prick compared to what awaited her in the future. Kill her. Face the wrath of a man who ruled Havana as if he were its god. Joanna didn’t care what happened to Esparza or anyone else. If he made good on his threat, she’d be free.
“Ah!” the captain backed down, sheathing his dagger. He hurled her back against his desk. In the fall, Joanna uses the wide hips of her dress to hide what she did to the map. It was a foolish hope that he couldn’t find his way back to Spain without it, but fool was all she had left.
Cold eyes swept over the barely a woman left locked in his cabin. For her protection, he liked to claim. For her virginity, more like. He cared only for her protection in that if she wasn’t delivered to Señor Alvarez intact the captain wouldn’t receive his entire purse.
“I could cut you down where you stand, she-bitch,” Esparza began, drawing the sword on his left hip. Jo’s eyes darted to the one on the right, but she was too far from him to reach for it. And there was a blade’s point once again at her throat.
She met him, eye for eye. The high-seas mercenary with a lust for gold and the once pampered daughter of a Caribbean governor. It was the captain who blinked first. “I canna even look at you with that witch-cursed eye.” He jabbed the sword point towards her left eye which turned blue as the sea due to a punch to her head as a child. Both haunting blue and determined brown stared daggers at the man who paced about his cabin gathering up the bottles.
“What some Viscount wants with a demon-touched child such as you I’ll never understand,” the captain said as he hauled up all of Jo’s last hopes. He held the crate b
efore him, leaving her frozen in place as she snarled to herself. The bastard knew why his bottles were empty. Did he send someone to fetch her messages? Had that been one of the other sailors she spotted?
“Then let me go,” Jo tried to bargain with him. Her voice was raw from pleading, bargaining, begging men to not treat her like a piece of eight. It didn’t work with her father, and she foolishly waited too long before trying to flee from him. There was no chance it would work for him.
Captain Esparza snorted, his head tipped back. “Señorita, there is no amount of mischief you can cause that compares to the hell your father would unleash should I disobey him.” Joanna blinked her cursed eyes and shuddered at the forever shadow looming in her life.
“Now,” the bastard leaned towards her, a single hand holding up the crate so he could pat her cheek as if he was a beloved uncle. “Be a good little girl and stop fucking with my things.”
Joanna hissed, her hand rising to slap him, when the entire ship lurched hard to the right. The crate plummeted from Esparza’s hands, glass shattering as both Jo and Miguel skidded on the planks. “What the…?” Esparza shouted. “If those brain-dead slugs hit a reef, I’ll—”
Another blast sent the ship reeling to the left, Jo losing her grip. She tumbled over the desk and landed on the narrow bed. The captain, used to a constantly bucking ground, was able to hook a hand to the beam above. From beyond, they both heard the voice shouting clear as day, “Ship spotted!” It was answered by the crackle of cannons.
A ship? Was it her rescue? Had someone with real power found her?
“Fuck!” the captain snarled, stomping towards the door. Jo hooked a hand to the beam above her sliding to her feet to chase after. But the monster had enough brains to pause and turn to her. Wagging a finger, he ordered, “Remain here or I will lash you to the mast for the rest of this trip!”
The door slammed with his warning, Jo running over shattered glass. She wrapped her hands around the handle and pulled, but he’d already locked it. All around, the strike of cannons and splinter of wood cracked. This was it, her only chance to be free. She could sit in wait, hoping that her rescuers would board the ship and find her.
That was a fool’s errand.
Hefting up the massive bottle of rum by the neck, Joanna swung it at the lock. Glass shattered, shards splattering back to slit her hands and cheek, but she paid the pain no mind. She had to get out. The captain was busy, he’d never notice her slipping out, nor would the other sailors. Brute force wouldn’t work, she needed leverage.
Of course!
Nestled in the desk was an ornate letter opener. Gold, it was fashioned to mimic a toledo sword. No doubt it was a prize gifted to him for destroying the future of another young woman. Joanna gritted her teeth and jammed the letter opener into the jamb of the door. She pulled on the end, cursing under her breath while the screams of men-at-arms echoed from outside the door. Freedom waited just beyond. Not even two planks of wood away. All she had to do was…
The tiny gold sword snapped in her hands, Jo fumbling back as the broken hilt flung through the air. Screaming obscenities at the lock, she punched the door with her fist. While her knuckles ripped against the unhanded wood, it was enough to jar the blade into the jamb and unlock the door.
She was free!
Wiping her fist back against her cheek, Jo felt the sting of her blood welling off her ripped skin. But that could be fixed later. All of it. Gathering her skirt up, she raised her foot and kicked the door outward.
Smoke gushed from the deck, hot fires dancing on all sides, while demonic screams echoed from the smoggy depths. Joanna gasped, struggling to breathe as the acrid smoke swam down her lungs. Yanking her billowy sleeve lower, she wrapped it across her nose and dove forward.
At that moment, a cannonball burst from the side. It hurtled across the deck ripping a sailor’s leg clean off from the knee. Blood gushed over the planks, dousing a small fire as the man tumbled to the ground. His screams of agony curdled in Jo’s ears just as the blankets of smoke across the sea abetted.
With the setting sun cresting over the horizon, it was difficult to make out a ship’s colors, but there was no denying what frigate crested into the bay to blow them out of the water. “Pirates,” Jo whispered, her eyes widening at the men the devil would denounce. They weren’t here to save her. Doubtful they even knew she was here.
And if they did learn?
Run!
Get to a dinghy, now. It was her only hope of escape. The ship continued to rock under her, javelins impaling into masts and floorboards as the pirates began their next stage of attack. She was running out of time.
“Fire!” the captain shouted. A cacophony of gunshots shattered the air, the sound so loud for a brief moment only silence dampened the deck of the smoking ship under attack. Jo turned her back on them all as she unhooked the rigging and drew a foot up into the lifeboat.
Tar-soaked fingers grabbed onto her upper arm, a stench of rotting fish breathing into her face. “Where do you think you’re going?!” the sailor snarled.
All around was chaos, their fellow sailors dying, their ship boarded, but he wouldn’t let her flee. “Captain!” the man shouted to Esparza, drawing his attention to their lone captive.
“Haul her back!” Miguel shouted even while drawing his swords to defend against the oncoming assault.
The sailor nodded, tugging on Jo. Her back hand lashed out, fingers clinging to the gunwale of the lifeboat. No doubt he thought she’d give in and demure to his position, but Joanna was prepared to bite and claw to the very end. Straining as the man pulled harder, she felt the muscles along her shoulders stretch and pop, Joanna screaming for him to let go.
Her foot slid closer, dooming her to either whatever hell the pirates had in mind or the one her father planned for her. “Damn it!” she screamed, tears rising in her smoke-stained eyes, when a shot rang out from the crowd.
Blood sprayed across her sleeve, the sailor glancing down at the splattered meat where his forearm had been. With no force pulling against her, Jo’s body crumpled against the gunwale. The lifeboat swung outward on its tender tether, Joanna scrabbling to try and sit down.
At that moment, the haphazard fires found the barrel of gunpowder. The explosion ripped the lifeboat from its locks. As it plummeted to the churning depths, Joanna flipped over backward. She struck the water face first, the air forced from her lungs as she sunk deeper under the waves. Darkness enveloped her, her eyes slamming shut to avoid the burn of salt and the pain wracking her.
Swim.
You have to swim.
Jo forced her eyes open and a rictus of horror sent the last of the air bubbling from her lips. Bodies hung suspended in swirling pools of pinking water. Debris ripped from the two ships tumbled deeper to the ocean floor, chunks of cannon and sailor both striking against her limbs as she swam. She didn’t know where she was going, only away.
Away from the screams. Away from the fires. Away from the death.
Burning churned up her lungs, her arms paddling to try and breach the surface. One breath. That was all she needed, then she could dive back down and escape. A single breath.
Ripped planks transformed into a macabre ceiling on the sea’s surface above her. It was right there, two or three kicks away. She tried to paddle, to put the last of her waning energy into her swimming. A great splash shattered the surface as a fallen cannon kicked over the edge. Sinking fast, the wave dragged Joanna down with.
Her brain fogged over, the dampened sounds of battle pitching to a whine. She scrabbled at her throat as if that could bring air to it, but there was naught to be found. Give in. Give up. It was the last option afforded to her, after all.
On the edge of darkness, as the shadow of death crept over her stilling limbs, she felt a hand grab her shoulder. A face stern as a mountain drifted into hers. She felt a touch of lips to hers and then nothing.
CHAPTER TWO
COLD GRIT SEEPED into her pores, the stench of bu
rning driftwood shattering through the shades of hell. Joanna pulled in a breath, prepared to shout for the devil’s attention, when pain rattled in her lungs and she opened her eyes.
First, there was fire, puny flames dancing on a stack of bone-white wood. It’d been dug into the sand which was what she was laying upon. Pressing a hand under her, Jo rose off the chilled beach to watch the shadows chase away from the light. They danced against rocky cave walls. Its four sides twisted around the tiny grotto until they rose to an opening above her head. Starlight glittered through the hole, a hint of the moon waxing behind clouds.
Night had already fallen?
A sound drew her to the last section of the cave. While the rock walls opened wider to the South, it was only to embrace a pool of seawater as dark as the backside of the moon. Who knew how deep it was. Jo stared at her only potential exit, trying to calculate her escape, when she watched a form rise from the sand.
She’d dismissed it as a rock, the flesh grey by the darkened sky, but as it stood to a six-foot height above her she knew it to be a man. The face was all edges, chiseled and hewn as if the sculptor couldn’t be bothered to smooth down a nose or brow. It was the jawline in particular that caused her to gulp, its flat and wide form putting her in mind of a shark. The eyes gleamed even in the darkness, a hot-white grey that felt colder than ice.
Unable to take the force of the glare, her gaze darted down his body. His chest was naked, unsurprising on a sailor or…pirate. Jo swallowed, her heart thrumming at the muscles carved into him. She’d never seen ones so prominent, not even in any of the church’s statuary that were declared heretical and covered up. There was no hair to his chest, not even a line of belly fur leading to…
