Pirate Wolf Trilogy (134 page)

The knife came up again
and was used like a hand to caress her. It skimmed down the side of
her neck and onto her chest following the stretched curve of her
breast to push aside the tangled waves of her hair. A speculative
grunt saw the point rest against the raised peak of one puckered
nipple and, with a slight tilt of his head, he pressed the steel
inward, dimpling the flesh until there was no more give.

Despite her resolve, a
faint sound escaped her lips as the tip of the knife pressed again
and the skin gave with a small pop. Almost instantly a small bead
of blood welled and parted in twin rivulets to trickle down either
side of the knife point.

"A pity to damage such
perfection," he murmured. "Are you certain you have nothing you
wish to tell me?"

Muertraigo’s voice was
smooth as silk, almost paternal in its concern, while hers came out
a dry, scratchy whisper. "I know nothing more than what I have
already told you. No matter how many times you ask, I cannot tell
you what I do not know."

He smiled and leaned
close, hissing softly against her ear. "How I wish I believed
you,
puta
,
for it will be a shame to destroy something so...
magnificent."

He straightened and nodded
to someone in the gloom. An iron rod had been placed in the fire,
the tip glowing red. As the man lifted the rod from the flames and
walked slowly forward, the silence became so ominous she could hear
the tiny grains of sand beneath his boots cracking and
grinding.

Muertraigo took the rod
and brought the tip close enough to her cheek that the fine blonde
hairs at her temple sizzled and melted.

“I am told your father
only has one eye. Is it the left?” He moved the glowing rod to the
other cheek. “Or is it the right?”

“No,” she whispered, her
voice shaking as badly as her body.

Muertraigo smiled… and
brought the iron closer. Eva leaned back as far as the ropes would
permit and gasped again when she caught a glimpse of the man who
had handed Muertraigo the heated iron.

“Lawrence!”

“Hello Eva.” He moved
around in front, pressing his thin lips into an even thinner smile.
“You are looking fetching, my dear, as always.”

“How—? Why—?”

“The how is anchored in a
small inlet a few miles from here. The why… I am sure you are
clever enough to have figured that out already. I would recommend
you save the few breaths you have remaining to answer Captain
Muertraigo’s questions.”

“Father trusted you. I
trusted you.”

“My dear mother trusted me
too but she’s locked away in an attic somewhere in the north of
Ireland. Now do be a good girl and tell us what we want to know.
Where is the
Nuestro Santisimo
Victorio
?”

“Where you will never find
it,” she said, her eyes flaring with hatred.

“Mmm. And your
father?”

She answered Ross with a
mouthful of spittle, landing it squarely on the bridge of his
nose.

Ross cursed and wiped the
oozing wetness off his face. He grabbed the still-glowing iron out
of Muertraigo’s hand and thrust it close enough to her breast that
the pink skin of her nipple began to bubble and blister.

“Where is your lover,
whore? Where is Gabriel Dante?”

Eva had just enough
courage left to smile her widest, most dazzling smile as she
whispered, “He is standing right behind you.”

CHAPTER THIRTY
TWO

Ross and Muertraigo
whirled around. Gabriel Dante, a cocked pistol in each hand,
emerged from the shadows, flanked by a dozen armed crewmen. The
pirates who had become more interested in the pale, nude body of
Eva Chandler, paid for their distraction now as each found
themselves with the cold barrel of a gun pressed to the backs of
their necks. The few who stood closer to the fire reached for their
weapons but an iron crossbow bolt hissed swiftly out of the
darkness and struck the first man squarely between the eyes, the
force splitting his skull open like a ripe melon.

The sight unnerved
Muertraigo’s men enough to send their hands reaching, empty, up in
the air.

“Nice shooting,” Dante
murmured.

Eduardo stepped forward
holding Billy Crab’s formidable weapon. “I was aiming for his
heart, sir.”

“Nonetheless Billy would
have been proud.”

“Yes, sir.” There was a
quiver in Eduardo’s voice for he had become close friends with the
giant baker’s son over the past two weeks.

Dante had not taken his
eyes, or the aim of his pistols, off Muertraigo. “And so we meet
again,
Capitan
.”

“You have lived up to your
reputation, Gabriel Dante, as someone not to be
underestimated.”

Dante’s gaze touched
briefly on Lawrence Ross, who was still holding the iron rod
dangerously close to Eva’s eye. “You must be Ross. I will give you
two seconds to step aside and drop the iron.”

Ross’s lips started to
curl in a sneer and his hand wavered toward, not away from Eva’s
cheek. A roared curse, followed by the distinctive snick and
pooffft
of a
hammer striking sparks off flint was followed instantly by an
explosion of powder. The lead ball struck Ross’s wrist, shattering
the bone into fragments that tore through the skin. The iron rod
jerked back and struck him in the face before it fell to the
ground. Howling in pain, he staggered back, clutching the bleeding
shreds of his wrist against his chest.

William Chandler strode
forward, his pistol smoking. “I never was good at
counting.”

With the swiftness of a
cobra, Muertraigo moved behind Eva and grabbed a fistful of her
hair, yanking her head back to bare the arch of her throat to his
knife.

“Stand back! Stand back or
she dies!”

William stopped in his
tracks. Gabriel’s fingers tensed on the triggers of his pistols, as
did those of every one of his crewmen.

“Now then, senor Dante,”
Muertraigo’s voice quivered with triumph. “I would suggest you and
your men lower your weapons… unless you wish to see your whore die
before your eyes.”

“With her would die any
hope you and your men might have of walking away alive,” Dante
countered quietly. “Or winning a share of the treasure.”

Thus far they had spoken
in Spanish but as some of Muertraigo’s men looked around and
murmured, he switched to English.

“Do not try any of your
tricks, senor. They hear your words but they know them to be
lies.”

Dante’s guns did not waver
by a hair’s breadth. Nothing in his expression changed apart from
the fine white lines that appeared around the rims of his nostrils
as he continued to address Muertraigo’s men in loud, clear Spanish.
“We have the treasure from the
Nuestro
Santisimo Victorio.
There is enough
gold and silver and jewels to make every man on this island richer
than he could ever dream of being. Barrels full of pearls, and
emeralds, bars of bullion stacked higher than the tallest man here.
You can lay down your weapons now and return to your ship with your
pockets bulging with gold… or you can die where you stand fighting
for the greed of men who will reward your loyalty and blood with a
handful of tarnished silver ducats. The choice is yours. Make it
now or we will make it for you.”

“He lies,” Muertraigo
spat. “The only thing you will share is the same fate as your
shipmates who were slaughtered on the beach! He has no proof he has
even found La Fantasma!”

Rowly stepped forward with
a smirk and tossed a canvas sack across the clearing. It tipped in
mid-air, spilling a shower of gold coins onto the dirt. “There’s
ye’re proof, ye hoary arsed bastard. An’ we’ve a thousand more
sacks just like it.”

The Spanish pirates were
all former soldiers, accustomed to obeying and not questioning, but
their eyes all followed the golden glitter. There were some
Englishmen among them from the crew of the
Cormorant
, most of whom did not
understand Spanish, but they all spoke the language of gold.
Murmurs were exchanged and they began to unbuckle belts and
bandoliers and cast their weapons to the ground.

Enraged, Muertraigo
pressed the edge of the blade deeper into Eva’s throat, splitting
the skin enough to send a ribbon of blood sliding down her neck.
“You care so little for the whore that you would watch her
die?”

Dante saw the blood and
felt such a rush of rage and fear he thought his heart would burst
out of his chest.

“I care enough,” he said,
his voice a cold, dry rasp, “to offer you a chance to save your own
life. Let her go. This is between you and me. We can settle this
right now, right here, one on one. You win, you walk away with your
life, my word on it. Not only that but you walk away with my full
share of the gold.”

It was Dante’s men who
began to murmur this time, for they could scarcely believe he would
be willing to let Muertraigo walk away alive. One cold glance
around the circle silenced them. “He has my word on it, gentlemen.
He wins, he lives. Master Rowlandson?”

The quartermaster took a
long moment before he could snarl and spit his assent. “Aye,
Captain. Though I’ll not give my word we won’t pursue him to the
gates of hell if need be.”

“Fair enough.
Chandler?”

William’s gaze had not
left his daughter’s stricken face. “Aye. My word. And my share of
the gold as well.”

“Gabriel… Father… please…
no.” Eva’s neck was held in such a taut arch she could barely
speak. Her eyes flooded with tears and she knew the only way she
could remove any need for Gabriel to put his life at risk to save
her… again!... was to plunge her head forward.

Muertraigo, sensing the
sacrifice she was prepared to make, lowered the blade and stepped
aside. “I have heard that the word of a Dante is his sacred bond.
Before witnesses then, I accept your terms.”

Eduardo and William both
rushed forward to loosen the ropes around Eva’s wrists and ankles.
Doc Podd stripped out of his leather jerkin and wrapped it around
her shoulders as she was hustled out of Muertraigo’s
reach.

To a man, every one of
Dante’s crew aimed their guns at the Spaniard and waited for the
word to fire.

The Spaniard’s dark eyes
drilled into Gabriel’s even as his lips curled into a sneer. “Is
your word worth so little, senor?”

Gabriel lowered his
pistols and uncocked them.

Eva tried to touch his arm
as she was shuffled past. “Gabriel… no! Shoot him! Just shoot him!
He doesn’t deserve to be treated with honor.”

Dante looked away from
Muertraigo long enough to see that the cut on her neck was not
deep. He reached out and touched her cheek and for the first time
she saw every emotion she had ever hoped to see in his eyes. His
smile, as his finger brushed across her lips, was warm and gentle
and special, for her alone.

“Go with your father,
Mermaid,” he said softly.

“No! No…
please
! Don’t do
this! He doesn’t deserve to be treated with honor.”

“Get her away from here,”
he commanded Chandler. “And keep her away.”

William looked as torn as
his daughter but in the end he nodded. “God be with you,lad.” In a
lower tone he thought to add, “Have a mind, he favors the
left.”

But as he took Eva by the
arm and forced her away from the sudden roar of voices he could not
be sure the younger man had even heard him.

~~

Before her father had
dragged her a hundred yards Eva shook off his grip on her arm and
stopped, nearly causing Eduardo and Podd to run up her
heels.

“Daughter,” William
warned. “You’re neither wanted nor needed back there. The captain
has enough on his mind without you sobbing and wailing to break his
focus.”

“You can’t expect me to
just walk away!”

“That is exactly what I
expect you to do. And so does he, or he would not have ordered it.
If there was ever a time you needed to obey him, this is it. Show
him, if nothing else, that you have faith and trust in
him.”

“I do have faith and
trust. I love him, Father!
I love
him!
But I can no more walk away now,
than I could believe it and walk away when Ross told me you were
dead.”

William muttered a stream
of inaudible oaths and shoved both hands into the twisted mane of
his hair. Podd and Eduardo both looked at him expectantly until he
expelled one final curse and took her by the arm again.

This time he led her to the
deepest, darkest shadows he could find where the four could watch
through the trees. As insurance he kept his hand firmly at her
elbow but he need not have worried. At the first flash of steel,
she was too frozen by fear to move.

~~

Blinded by the blood he had
seen flowing down Eva’s neck, Gabriel had not noticed that
Muertraigo had been holding the knife in his left hand. It was an
error that could have proved costly… and fatal in the uncertain
light. It also explained why the Spaniard looked so smug and
confident as he removed his heavy doublet and unsheathed his sword.
Left handed men fought with the Devil in their corner. It was
likened to fighting against one’s own reflection in a mirror, with
none of the usual moves or counter-moves applying to attack and
parry.