Page 55 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
Captain Shaw tossed the key at her.
“This is your fault,” she muttered, unlatching the cuff. “Put the tray on the table. Put the tray on the desk. You kept changing the location on purpose.”
He didn’t speak, but the amusement that rippled across his face supported her argument. He strode over to the small cabinet and removed another bottle of whiskey. After uncorking the bottle, he took a deep swig, then leaned toward her, holding out the glass.
“You may need this.”
She snatched the bottle from his hand and lifted the rim to her mouth, taking several large swallows in a row. Tears streaming down her face, she held the bottle over her ankle, then exhaling slowly, tipped the liquor over the abrasion as curse words exploded from her mouth.
“I have mentioned my astonishment at your vocabulary,” Captain Shaw murmured, extracting the bottle from her trembling grasp.
“You bring out my worst manners.” Ripping a piece of cloth from her shirt, she wrapped the scrap around her ankle, wincing as she tied a knot in the cloth, then scowled at him.
“Don’t think I won’t attach the cannonball to the other ankle,” he said, holding out the bottle again.
“I would expect nothing less.” She saluted him, then drank deeply, the strong effects of the whiskey numbing the pain radiating through her ankle.
A bell rang, followed by two short clangs, and Captain Shaw’s head jerked to the window.
“That sound means the Navy is close by, doesn’t it?”
He turned, his eyes narrowing. “How do you know?”
“They have the fastest ships.”
A ghostly smile crossed Captain Shaw’s mouth.
“That is no longer true.” He jerked the bottle from her and slammed it on the table, nearly shattering the glass. “Would you like to know why the Navy won’t rescue you?”
He opened the door leading to the small corridor, and jerked his head toward the opening, waiting for her to climb to her feet and limp toward him.
She cringed, squishing herself as small as possible as she passed him, fearing he may punish her for not moving quick enough. However, he didn’t touch her, merely stared, his hard gaze following her into the hallway.
“They’ve found us!” Mr. Evans shouted the moment Captain Shaw opened the door leading to the main deck.
Men rushed about the deck, driven by the barking of Mr. Evans, who stood behind them, his hands on the ship’s wheel.
Abandoning her among the chaos, Captain Shaw scaled a ladder to his right. His strained voice floated down.
“Mr. Evans, are you certain it’s the same ship? It would be difficult for them to catch us.”
“You think we’re so unfortunate as to come across two different patrols?” His skepticism was undeniable.
“I hope this isn’t an indication of our luck, but yes, I think this is nothing more than a coincidence. However, we can easily outpace them. Release the men from the brig and have them assist Mr. Hayward.”
“Yes, Captain.” Mr. Evans descended the ladder, hissing at Alana as he passed.
She snapped her teeth at him.
If there was any breath in her body, she’d make sure he hung for murdering Mr. Parker.
Mr. Evans lifted his gaze to Captain Shaw and yelled, “I don’t think your new pet likes me.”
“I hate you,” she replied.
Mr. Evans blew her a kiss, then crossed the deck and disappeared down a hole near the center of the ship.
Alana craned her head, staring up at Captain Shaw. “You can’t escape the Navy.”
