Page 128 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
“I could escape in a longboat,” Mr. Evans murmured to himself, his gaze jerking to the window.
“The longboats are gone.”
“What?” Frowning, Mr. Evans returned his eyes to Cedric. “What do you mean?”
“Mr. Hayward cut them loose.”
“Why?”
“Speed.”
“If I had known you intended to dump the cannons and all our supplies, I wouldn’t have tampered with the boiler pipes.”
“You damaged them? You nearly killed Mr. Hayward.”
“That’s a shame.” He shrugged. “I’d hope the blast would be strong enough to take his life.”
Mr. Evans glanced at the rope in his hand, indecision in his eyes. It wasn’t possible for him to keep the pistol aimed at Cedric and wind the rope around Cedric’s wrists. They both knew as soon as he lowered the gun, Cedric would charge him.
“There are easier ways to kill a man. How did you expect us to escape capture after destroying the furnace?”
“I assumed you’d fail.”
“That’s why you’ll never be a good captain. You don’t think about solutions. You only think of problems.”
“The rest of the jewelry was hidden in one of those barrels of gunpowder!” Mr. Evans snarled.
Cedric burst out laughing.
“I suppose that must have been quite disheartening to lose everything you’d worked so hard to steal, especially since it resulted in your plan failing.” He crossed one leg over the other, assuming a relaxed pose—as though he had not one concern in the world—and gestured toward a fragmented rafter stretching across the chamber. “I do hope the Navy is paying you well.”
“I get the ship and my life.”
“This ship?” Cedric pointed at the floorboards creaking beneath his feet and snorted. “There won’t be anything left worth salvaging. However, I’m worth fifty thousand. You should have demanded that as well.”
Mr. Evans stared at him, several thoughts flickering across his face.
“If you’d like proof, I have the reward notice.”
When Mr. Evans nodded, Cedric dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out the folded square of paper, which he handed to Mr. Evans.
Unfolding the page, Mr. Evans held the paper out in front of his face to keep his gaze on Cedric, shifting his eyes between the words and Cedric.
“They lied,” he growled, lowering the paper.
“Would you expect them to tell a pirate the truth?” Cedric tilted his head, catching a flutter of movement behind Mr. Evans.
Alana had woken, crawled noiselessly from the bed, and was creeping across the room, but she had no weapon with which to attack Mr. Evans. As her gaze slid over the chamber, a tiny grin appeared on her lips.
Curious, he followed the direction of her attention, and the corner of his mouth crooked.
Peeking out from behind the small chest stationed near the door was the cannonball, the same one she’d threatened to smash Cedric’s head in with, and Alana was heading straight for the heavy iron ball.
He needed to keep Mr. Evans’ attention until she collected the weapon, so he provoked the man’s ego.
“You expected them to keep their end of the bargain, did you?” Cedric taunted.
A cannon blast rocked the ship.
