Page 4 of Stilettos & Secrets on the 7 Seas

“Like a king?” the parrot mimicked.

Marco gave a chuckle that meant he already conquered that realm.

“They’ll bring ye luck.” The leathery skin at the corners of the gypsy’s eyes crinkled at Marco.

Marco looked down at the twigs. “I make my own luck.”

“He’s good. Thank you.” I returned the twigs.

“Bilge sucker.” The parrot squawked at me.

I looked at the gypsy. She lifted her shoulder indicating she might agree with the parrot.

“Let’s go.” Marco clasped my elbow and steered me away.

I shuffled down the long, sloping road. My pointy-toed shoes pinched, and I counted the minutes until I’d leave them in the past.

As we turned toward the beach, my ESP went berserk. I stopped short and rode the wave of someone else’s excitement.

“What’s up?” Marco nudged me. “I don’t need the twiggy thing.”

“I got a read on Sasha.” I paused a minute to confirm. “At least I think it’s her and not the potty-mouthed parrot or the twig-toting gypsy. Let’s hope neither one of them has the gift.”

Marco looked down at the beach. A few men stood next to a beached rowboat. No Sasha. “Tell me.”

“I wasn’t even trying. It hit me like a bag of seashells. Excitement, anxiety, and—” I paused to let the full depth of emotion wash over me. “And satisfaction. She’s made headway in her quest.”

“Where is she?”

And just like that, it stopped. Sasha slammed the window on her emotions. My shoulders slumped. “She blocked me. Maybe she realized she’d let her guard down.”

“Let’s walk down to the water. Check out the men getting on that boat. One of them could be Sasha.”

“Marco, the time.” I tapped my naked wrist.

“Minutes. That’s all I need to confirm.” He stalked off toward the beach.

“Geesh.” I speed-walked to catch up to Marco. Not an easy feat in the dress my outhouse had provided for me. My stomach jostled like the ships floating in an unsettled harbor, warning me it was jump time. The cobblestones turned into a rutted, sandy path.

We drew closer, using a stack of fallen timber as a barrier between us and the beach. Four men, possibly pirates, waited by the rowboat, their faces hidden in shadow.

I squinted at the slim man on the left. He was shorter than the others, wore his hair tucked under his cap, and kept looking around as if he expected someone to sneak up on him.

A few minutes later, two more men joined them. They seemed to be making introductions. One of them was Calico Jack.

I glanced over at Marco. “The one on the left is a possibility. He’s shorter than the others.”

The men pushed the boat into the water and climbed aboard. The slim man cut his eyes in our direction.

“It’s her.” Marco started toward the boat. I grabbed his arm.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

Marco increased his pace. I lost hold of his arm, so I tugged at his coattails instead. “You can’t go after her. There’s six of them. I’m not even sure it’s her.”

His momentum tore the coat from my fingers as he sprinted down the beach.

“Marco!” I chased after him, grasping my skirts and lifting them to run across the sand in these piss-poor, painful, pointy-toed shoes. He was gaining ground, and I was losing it. He was unarmed, heading straight into a band of possible pirates.

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