Page 15 of Crossbones
Fox has the audacity to shrug and give me a slightly lopsided grin. “I suppose anything is possible.”
Anger rushes through me and I step back, raising my pistol I suddenly find in my hand. I level it at his face.
“I think it’s more than that,” I say. “Unfortunately, that means I have to kill you.”
There’s no fear in his eyes. In fact, if anything he still looks amused.
“If you must,” he shrugs again. “Seems like a waste of money though.”
I must be looking at him like he’s crazy because he adopts the most condescending look I’ve ever seen on a man and folds his arms across hischest showing off defined muscles underneath.
“Regardless if I’m a De’Vero or not, a noble of the Five Houses would bring a hefty ransom. Especially if I happen to be from Draevorn. Seeing as they’re exiled and all.” He looks me up and down again. “But, carry on, I’m sure you already knew that.”
His flippant attitude is provoking irrational rage to bubble up. I turn the gun on one of the three kneeling men and pull the trigger, hardly bothering to make sure my aim is correct.
Is that a flinch?I draw my other pistol and point it at the second man, barely sparing a glance before I pull the trigger again. Besides a tightening of his jaw, Fox shows no sign of distress, fear, or anything other than that infuriating aloofness. The last man kneeling is now thoroughly terrified and shaking on his knees so hard I can almost hear his bones rattle from here. I nod to Lan who removes his mark from Fox.
“Wait—no—” The man’s pleas are silenced as the pistol goes off and he falls to the deck, dead.
I hold out my hand, and without breaking my glare at Fox, Harrison places a pistol in my grasp. I level it once more at his head. He’s right, he would fetch a good price either at the slave auctions or ransomed to the King of De’Vero—hell, even the Seat of the Seven in Saltmere would probably pay a nice sum. Especially if he’s a Draevorn, although I don’t think he is. No one’s heard from that house in over a decade. Regardless, I’m loath to admit he’s right—the extra money is not necessarily something I can pass up at the moment.
I lower the pistol. “Take him back to theTempest.” I turn away and head back to the railing. “Throw him in the brig.”
Back on theTempest, I’m sitting in my cabin, nursing a glass of rum with my boots on my desk, when Harrison barges in, anger written on every inch of his face. I nod to the bottle before he can speak, hoping he can drown some of his anger first before he unleashes on me. He fills a glass with rum, throws it back and repeats the process once more before he turns to me.
“Why isn’t he dead?”
“I don’t know you to get your pride hurt, Harrison.” I turn my gaze on my glass, swirling the liquid.
“He’s a De’Vero,” Harrison growls, ignoring the comment. “Even if he won’t admitit—”
“I know.” And I did. Call it instinct or whatever, but I just know in my bones he’s one of them.
“Well?” Harrison leans over the desk, palms pressing hard into the wood and looking inches away from losing it again.
“Well, what?” I take a sip of rum and look up at him.
“Why didn’t you kill him? I thought you wanted them all dead?”
I let my feet drop and throw back the rest of my rum before standing. I lean over the desk, bringing my face close to Harrison’s.
“While I don’t often mind the counter viewpoint to my decisions, this one is not helpful.” Harrison picks up on the dangerous undercurrent of my words and stiffens. “Your pride is hurt because somehow Fox came out on top—he’s right, you do look like he kicked your ass—” His jaw tightens and a growl escapes him. My lip curls in displeasure and I straighten. “Get your pride under control, man. We’ll doublecross the ransom and kill him then—but the bottom line is: we need the money.”
I pour another bit of rum and sit back down. I lean back and look up at Harrison again. “We’ll have plenty of opportunity to ruin him—I need you to exercise some patience. And some restraint.” I add for good measure. “See what you can find out but no mutilating and no killing…for now.”
Harrison scoffs but his anger has simmered down to displeasure. “That’s rich coming from you.”
I cock an eyebrow at him and sarcasm drips heavily from my words. “You know, I think there’s a saying for that…”
CASPIAN
Chains hang heavy around my wrists as I struggle into a seated position. I’m in a cell in the brig, the dim light barely enough to see anything but the faint outlines of the worst part of a ship one could find themselves in. The floor beneath me is wet, the air thick with rot, mildew and death.
Fuck.The Stormbreaker.
Yeah, I knew who he was the minute I saw him. While I didn’t show any signs of distress when Blackwell killed my men, it wasn’t easy to watch them take a bullet. Unfortunately, there isn’t much I could have done. I’d held my own when the two first attacked me but we’d been sorely outnumbered with most of my crew on shore in Verdun.
The trap door opens and boots descend, bringing with them the glow of a lantern. The first pirate is one I don’t recognize, but following him is the blond man I fought andhim—the infamous James Blackwell.
