At the end of the corridor, Alastair stopped while Teach and Benjamin placed the crate on the ground. The air here smelled musty, even more so than the rest of the fort. It clearly hadn’t seen as much use as other parts.
Teach’s pulse raced and he glanced over his shoulder, but there was no sign of any pursuit. Benjamin took the torch while Alastair fiddled with the lock. After only a moment, Alastair pulled the door open and Teach rushed into the cell toward a figure huddled in the corner. His chest turned painfully hollow and he was filled with a dull ache of horror when he saw Anne’s bloody and lacerated back through her shredded blouse. In one hand she clutched her gold pocket watch and in the other was a copy of a book.
Dropping to his knees, Teach hesitated, helpless to know where to touch her. “Anne,” he whispered hoarsely.
She moaned, but didn’t open her eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Teach ground out, giving Alastair a cold glare.
“What would you have done? When they brought me to her, this had already happened. They wanted to teach me a lesson.”
“Who?”
“Webb and his wife. If I’d told you Anne had been whipped, you would have charged in here and put all our lives at risk. I couldn’t let you do that. I know you’re upset, but as I’ve said, this affects more than the two of you.”
Fighting to remain calm, Teach closed his eyes and drew in a shuddering breath. Alastair was right. Even now, Teach wanted to find the governor and tear him limb from limb.
“We have to go,” Benjamin said.
Alastair nodded. “Aye. We have to put her in the crate like we planned.”
“Not like this,” Teach said, scowling.
“Aye, exactly like this. And we have to do it now. If you want to get her out of here alive, we can’t waste more time.”
Benjamin and Alastair moved to help Anne, but Teach pushed them aside. He pocketed the watch and the book before turning her gently. He laid her neck on one arm, scooping up her legs with his other.
Alastair arranged the canvas they’d brought in the bottom of the crate and Teach lowered her carefully on her side, praying fervently that she wouldn’t wake up. Placing the lid back on top, Teach caught Alastair’s wrist as he lifted the small mallet to nail it back into place.
“If we drop it, we can’t risk her falling out,” Alastair said.
“Then we won’t drop it. I won’t have her waking up and thinking she’s in a coffin.”
Alastair winced, but it was too late for Teach to take it back. Muttering beneath his breath, Alastair heaved one side of the crate in his hands, while Teach took the other side. Benjamin led the way with the torch, and together they walked toward the exit.
CHAPTER 22
Teach
Riding in the back of the wagon, Teach pulled the canvas taut over the crate, trying to protect Anne from the onslaught of rain pouring down from the black sky. A stray drop rolled down her arm and Teach gently brushed it away. He’d removed the lid as soon as they were clear of the fort, its thick walls growing smaller in the distance. Anne still hadn’t wakened.
Alastair flicked the reins, trying to get the horses to move faster, but the streets of Nassau were slick with mud, and the horses struggled to maintain their footing. Benjamin sat beside him, his shoulders hunched. He looked back every once in a while to make sure they weren’t being followed.
Anne groaned, and Teach’s soul staggered beneath the blow of seeing her this way. He’d felt helpless before, but never like this. The governor would pay. If his wife didn’t finish him off, Teach vowed he would do the job.
Alastair let loose a foul curse and Teach sat up, drawing his pistol. In the distance, an orange glow peeked through the night with several soldiers patrolling the docks.
“That’s my ship,” Alastair growled.
“Alastair! Alastair!”
Swinging around, Teach pointed the pistol, only to drop it when he saw Cara rushing out of the shadows to meet the wagon. She was soaked to the skin, and her blond hair hung limply to her shoulders. “Turn around. Now!” Teach helped her scramble into the back of the wagon. She gasped for breath.
“What happened? Where’s Coyle?” Alastair asked, turning the horses down a side alley. The wagon bumped along the rutted lane, and Teach gripped the sides of the crate, hating the fact that the quick movements jostled Anne.
“The soldiers took him. Somehow Webb knew we were leaving. Coyle fought with them so I could slip away. They burned the ship.”
“Blast!” Alastair turned down another road, bringing them parallel with the docks, but going in the opposite direction. “Pelham had a hand in this, but I don’t know how they found out.”
“Where are we going?” Teach asked.
“I’m taking you to the Triumph. Then I’ll go back for Coyle. We’ll have to find some other way off the island.”
“Do you think he knows I’m not going after Easton?”
“I don’t know.”
Teach’s hands tightened on the crate. “Anne comes with me.”
“No!” Cara said at the same time as Alastair spoke: “It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s even more dangerous if she stays here with you. You’ll have enough trouble going after Coyle. The more time that passes, the more likely they are to discover that Anne’s gone.”
Cara gazed down at her friend. Frowning, she leaned closer, sucking in a deep breath when she saw Anne’s back. “What happened? Who did this to her?” she asked, her expression horrified.
“Webb.”
“She can’t stay in those clothes. They’re filthy. Look how they’re sticking to her back.”
Teach didn’t have to look to know that the dried blood acted like a glue, adhering Anne’s shredded blouse to her skin. Although there were extra garments in the crate, he hadn’t wanted to remove Anne’s, for fear of hurting her even more.
Before Teach could stop her, Cara tipped one corner of the canvas inward, allowing the rain water to wash over Anne’s back. Anne winced, but did not wake.
Cara’s fingers shook as she gently pried the material away from the raw wounds. Teach took one of Anne’s fevered hands in his, watching as Cara continued to work. She gripped Anne’s sleeve and tried to rip it, but the material was wet and Cara was shivering. Teach slid a knife from his left boot and sliced through the fabric before handing it to Cara.
“How are we going to get Coyle back?” Cara asked her uncle as she exposed Anne’s injuries.
Teach looked away, his muscles tensed. The desire to find Webb pumped through his veins with a violent force.
Alastair stayed silent, his jaw clenched. Teach knew he was going over their options, but Teach also knew they were extremely limited.
“I wish I could help you somehow,” Teach offered, but Alastair was already shaking his head.
“No. You’re right. You need to get Anne and your men away from here. It won’t do us any good to be stuck here. I’m the one Pelham and Webb want.”
“I can take Cara with me if you like,” Teach said. “It won’t be easy for her, but it will get her away from Nassau.”