Cameron caught the woman’s wrist again and reminded herself to toughen her voice and lower it an octave. “Not interested, me sweet. You’re not me type.” She cast her gaze meaningfully toward the three men.
The prostitute laughed. “Ah … can’t says I blame you there. They each be so fine you can’t help but crave a bite of those backsides and pray for lockjaw.” With another winsome smile, she sighed. “Best of luck to you, mate. Way I hear tell it, though, you don’t got a chance with none of them.”
And with that, she left Cameron’s lap to pursue another, more probable client.
Taking a deep breath, Cameron debated the sanity of seeing this mission through. It was obvious that the three men had no desire to be approached by a stranger.
In fact, they appeared to be arguing.
Heatedly.
This is all kinds of insanity.…
But Cameron Jack was not a coward.
Maybe a little?
She shushed the voice of reason in her head that told her to run for the door before they gutted her. Jacks aren’t craven. Now get in there, me girl.
Scared and breathless, she forced herself to her feet and crossed the room, trying to exude a confidence she definitely didn’t feel. Her legs trembled as sweat beaded on her forehead and upper lip.
For a moment, she feared she’d faint.
You can do this. Don’t you dare back out now. Patrick needs you. You’re all he has in this world.…
The moment she neared them, they fell silent and all three pairs of eyes pierced her with a malevolent glare she was sure had turned lesser beings into stone.
Or, at the very least, caused them to soil their breeches.
Captain Bane took a drink of his ale before he spoke in a voice so deep, it rolled out like thunder over a dark, stormy cove. “May I help you?”
She took a nervous step forward.
The brown-haired man pulled his sword and angled it at her neck. “That be close enough, lad. Declare yourself.”
She cleared her throat and met the captain’s gaze levelly. “I was told that you’re Captain Bane?”
Without confirming it, the one she was sure was he brushed his thumb over his bottom lip. “Why do you seek the good captain?”
“I was told that he … or you, rather, were part of the salvage for the Plate Fleet that went down?”
His mate stood and, with his sword, forced her to step back. “We know nothing of what you speak.”
Too late, she realized that they probably mistook her for one of the king’s pirate hunters who’d been tasked with going after the raiders of the sunken ships and their cargos. “It’s not what you’re thinking. Me brother was on one of the ships.”
Bane reached out to touch the man’s hand and force the point of his companion’s sword toward the floor. “And?”
“I was told he went down with his ship.” She choked on her tears that threatened to overwhelm her. Ever since she’d heard about her brother’s fate, she’d been unable to cope. Unable to breathe. Not after all the two of them had been through together. “Please. I have to know the truth.”
The wigged man spoke with a degree of sympathy in his voice. “Only one ship made it out.”
“Aye,” she whispered. “The Griffon. He wasn’t on that one. His ship was the San Miguel. He was the captain of it … Patrick Jack.”
Bane’s gaze softened. “Sorry. The captain didn’t make it out.”
As they began to ignore her, it angered her to be dismissed so casually, and Cameron stepped forward again. “If what you say is true, then can you explain this to me.” She tossed the bit of salvage that had been delivered to her door with a note from her brother.
It skidded across the table to land beneath the candle in front of Bane.
He and his companions froze for a full minute as she held her breath, waiting.
It was a worthless trinket that made no sense whatsoever. A strange bit of a charm designed in the shape of an ornate cup, with a pair of wings rising over the rim and a stake with ribbons that fell from the bottom of it. And marked with a fleur-de-lis in the center of its bowl. While it was pretty enough, she had no idea why her brother would have sent such to her. Why he would even bother.
Never mind anyone else. It would be all kinds of cruel were it a hoax.
The captain scowled at the necklace charm, but made no move to touch it. “Is this supposed to mean something to me?”
She shrugged. “No idea.” Slowly, she approached the table and held out the note that had been wrapped and sealed around the item. “This was what he used to hold it and send it to me.”
Bane took the crumpled parchment from her hand and read it. The letter was simple and heartbreaking. One she’d committed to memory.
Cam,
Forgive me for leaving you as I have. Know that me loyalty is with you. Always. Listen not to anyone. Keep your weather eye to the horizon and this to your bosom. Tell no one that you have it. Not even Lettice. Trust none at your back.
Ever yours,
P.J.
With a gruff countenance, Bane returned it to her. Again without touching her or the necklace charm. “And so what’s the first thing you do with this?” he mocked.
He was right. She’d done exactly what her brother had instructed her not to do—she’d handed it over to someone she didn’t know. “True, but I have to find me brother, sir.” She turned the letter around and pointed to the top of it. “Note the date. It’s months after they went down, and he supposedly drowned by all accounts. Yet if he drowned, how did he send it to me?”
A peculiar light flickered in Bane’s dark eyes. One that made them appear almost red in the candlelight. Surely an optical illusion of some kind. “Who told you to come here?”
“A witch-woman named Menyara. She said that you’d be able to help me find me brother.”
He let out a fetid curse under his breath. It was so foul and guttural that it caused the man on his left to snap to his feet and step away from him, as if fearing an imminent attack of some sort from his captain.
“Who’s Menyara?” the man asked.
A tic started in Bane’s jaw. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered, Will. And pray to your God that you never meet that bitch.” With a dark, deadly grimace, he finally took her trinket into his hand to examine it more closely.
His expression unreadable, Bane met her gaze. “Did she see this?”
“Nay. Only the letter.”
“Why did you show it to me, then?”
“I … I’m not sure.”
He flipped the trinket through his fingers several times while Will slowly returned to his seat.
“What are you thinking, Captain?” the one in the wig asked.
“All kinds of folly.” He paused to meet the man’s curious gaze. “I commend her to you, Mr. Meers. Take her to the ship.”
“Beg pardon?” He scowled fiercely. “What she be this?”
The captain screwed his face up at him. “Are you dafter than a doornail, son? Our little Cameron Jack here be a lass as sure as I be your devil’s bastard seed.”