Page 2 of Crossbones
“Is he here?” I demand.
The wind catches Harrison’s long, viking braided hair and he shoves it out of the way before giving me a look. A look that means he doesn’t want to tell me and needs to make that clear.
“Where?” I press.
“Man, we’re just coming into port with a vengeance today,” he mutters.
“Harrison—” I growl.
I’m impatient and not in the mood. I just want to find the other name on my list—who I know is here—kill him, and get back to my ship. Harrison sighs heavily and I have to take a breath and remind myself he’s the closest thing I have to a friend. I allow him to get away with a lot because I’ll admit, sometimes I do need someone to rein me in a little.Sometimes.
“He’s with Anders,” he answers.
“Anders?” I stop and look over at him in confusion.
“Aye, apparently they’ve been sailing together for a few months now.”
My jaw ticks in irritation. This will complicate things. Only because Anders and I have a tentative truce of sorts going on right now.
“Are you sure you need to kill—what’s his name?” Harrison squints at me as he tries to remember.
“Jensen,” I supply.
“Jensen. Yes, well, do we need to kill him today? Or can this wait for a more opportune moment?”
“He’s on the list,” I state and continue walking towards the beach.
“He’s on the list,” Harrison mutters. “He’s on the motherfucking list.”
A shake of his head and another resigned sigh later, he’s fallen back into step with me. We hit the sand and I navigate between the tents erected above the tide line. Some of the pirates don’t have homes in town so over the decades the structures have spilled out across the beach. Many are permanent, made of nothing more complicated than canvas and driftwood, while others camp under the stars.
It’s obvious someone whispered in Anders’ ear about me because he’s waiting outside his tent as I walk up. He’s a massive man towering over everyone. Probably somewhere in his late forties, his long beard is braided with beads and shells, making him look every inch the pirate he is.
He walks up to greet me. “Blackwell.”
“Anders.”
Around the time I’d been fighting my way out of the bowels of a slave ship, Anders had been making a name for himself in the pirate underworld. No one knew where he came from—just that he appeared one day with a mean streak and enough money to back it up. We generally stay out of each other’s way, except recently he’s been a little bit more ambitious which is what caused the flare up between us and the resulting truce.
“To what do I owe the pleasure? Have you come to break our truce?” The gleam in his eyes makes me think he wouldn’t mind if that’s why I’m here.
“Not today,” I nod my chin towards his tents behind him. “Although I suppose it depends on how the next few minutes go. You’re harboring someone I’m interested in speaking to.”
Anders smirks. “I know what talking to you often entails. Who is it?”
“Jensen.”
Anders doesn’t look surprised in the slightest. He simply nods. “That must be why he won’t shut up about you. Something about how he used toownyou?”
My jaw ticks and I feel Harrison shift at my shoulder, sensing the change in my energy.Own me?No. Jensen used to be a De’Vero soldier, now turned pirate, who had been a crew member on one of the ships I’d been sold to. He’d owned nothing, but walked around with an ego like he did. Many of the marks on my back are because of his attention.
“Is he here or not?”
Anders studies me, growing serious. “I can’t have you dragging men out of my tents, Blackwell…ex-De’Vero or not,” he says with a pointed look. He pitches his voice low, conscious of the audience we are amassing. “However, the man runs his mouth enough, trouble is bound to find him.” The pirate shrugs, looking at me with a gleam in his eyes. “If his stories are true—well, let’s just say we might have finally found some common ground.”
I share a long look with him. It has become common knowledge over the last few years that I have a vendetta against the De’Vero house, but teaming up with people is not in the cards for me. I nod and catch Anders smile to himself and shake his head as he returns to his own tent.
He knows I’m not one to mince words or stick around for small talk. I don’t doubt we have something in common; hating the De’Vero family is not unique to me. Especially around here. But Anders just needs to stay out of my way.
