Jack nodded. “One of his men tossed him a blade. If I hadn’t moved when I did, he would have driven it deep into my back. But I side-stepped his death blow, which made him even madder. He was no longer smiling and his eyes were black—”

“Your eyes get black when you’re killing mad.” My voice was a whisper. Immediately, I regretted saying anything. Jack, thankfully, ignored me. It seemed the more he talked, the more he wanted—no needed—to finish this story.

“I knew this was the end. One of us would leave, the other would be buried at sea, the loser of this familial duel. I stabbed my blade into his dueling arm and asked him the question I had been dying to know the answer to. Why, Father? Why?”

“Why?” I leaned forward. “Why what?”

“Why all of it. Why did he leave me mother, why did he leave me. Why did he make promises and not follow through, why weren’t we good enough for even a letter.” Jack picked up his black britches and held them there. “Why did my mother die loving a good for nothing son-of-a-bitch like him.”

He gave his britches a shake. “He knew what I was asking. And he answered me, too. Why, he said, would I want to recognize a whelp like you, a son of a good for nothing whore.”

The pain in Jack’s words was almost tangible and his voice had started to shake. Still, he continued, his words coming faster and louder. “I made those promises to a dumb whore, he said, and he smiled as it said it. If they think you love them, they don’t mind fucking you for free.”

I exhaled the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

Jack exhaled, too. “When he said that, I knew he was no man. Certainly not my father. Not worth killing, not even worth a second look. But, I knew he wouldn’t let me live. So, I said, for my mother’s honor, and plunged my steel through his heart. Or, where his heart would have been, had he had one.” Jack slid his legs into his britches and pulled them up, but didn’t button them. “He work a look of surprise, as he bled out his lifeblood all over my boots. It took him a moment to die, so I asked him one last question. One he could carry with him into eternity. ‘Who is the dumb whore now?’”

I stood, still stark naked, and went to my husband. I wrapped my arms around his middle and pressed my head to his chest. “Jacky, I—”

He stroked my hair a moment. “Now you know the story of my sordid past, Back from the Dead Red.”

“What happened after you killed him?”

He twirled his fingers in my hair. “Vane and I extended an offer to the men on Vladimir’s ship—join us or go down with your ship.”

“That’s a kind offer, I would think.”

“Would you believe every one of those Russians joined our ranks? And just in time before we sunk my late father’s ship, with his sorry body aboard.” Jack pulled back from our embrace. “Tell me something, Red.”

He cupped my face in his hands.

“Anything.”

He pressed his lips to mine. Our mouths worked against each other, eliciting fiery passion that sparked to life once again. Our breath, coming faster, intermingled in the muggy cabin air when Jack pulled away.

“Do we have to go up on deck now, or do you have a few moments to spend in the arms of your husband?”

“A few moments?” Without hesitation, I began to work the button’s on Jack’s shirt. “You have all my moments for the rest of my life, my love.”

•

“See that ship there?” Jack’s easy tone matched that of the calm evening. Days at sea were my favorite of all the days. With frothy grog, sea breezes, and Jack instructing me on this or on that, I preferred these days to the adrenaline-filled ones that came with taking ships.

Besides a few pelicans and a pod of dolphins, we’d been completely alone on the Caribbean Sea. Until Jack spotted the wayward ship.

“Notice the flag.” His hands tightened around my waist. Memories of our rough love that played out in the confines of our cabin this morning flamed within me. Aches from forgotten muscles only Jack could stretch made me shiver.

“It’s a Spanish flag.” My voice was sultrier than I intended. Still, I was powerless to look away from Jack’s chiseled jaw. Had he not spotted this ship, I would have been inclined to pull him below decks to continue what we’d started earlier.

Jack, though, was oblivious to my want. “Yes, it’s Spanish. But it’s no ordinary ship.” He looked down at me, his eyes sparkling anew. “It’s a rum ship.”

•

Those aboard the Spanish rum ship stood on the deck, all smiles, and waved as we sailed alongside them. As Charles Swan pulled down our English flag and ran up Jack’s flag Jolly Roger, however, the waving slowly stopped.

Jack’s flag was quite foreboding, even to me. A solid black flag boasting a white outline, much like The Molly Maiden, except Jack’s white outline was a grinning skull over a pair of crossed swords. Rightly so, fear shrouded the Spanish faces that had moments before been welcoming and friendly.

“I am Russian Jack of The Black Otter fleet. There’s nowhere to hide, nowhere to go,” my husband shouted. “Throw down your anchor and let us board.”

A bearded man with a young redheaded woman clinging to him nodded. He waved to his men who tossed the anchor overboard.

“Good,” Jack said. “We’re coming over.”

Jack nodded to Poison Lightning, who drew his dagger and nodded in return. The tall African waved his arm. Dark Water, Tommy, and Charles followed him as he stepped from the side of The Black Otter onto the captured ship. Red Legs dashed up from below decks and tossed a sword to Solo and kept one for himself.

My heart thumped in my chest as Poison Lightning stepped up to the big, bearded man in charge. He held out his black hand and accepted the man’s sword without uttering a word. The others aboard the rum ship followed suit and surrendered their arms.

Solo stepped up beside us. “Always nice when it goes down easy, ain’t it Cap.” He glanced at me and winked. “There’s a time for bloodshed, and then, there’s a time for just stealing some rum.”

“Agreed, Prince,” Jack said. His chest puffed with pride. “Looks like the boys will have it handled before we go over and finish the deal.”

The redheaded girl, who couldn’t have been that far out of her teenage years still clung to the old man. She glanced from face to pirate face and showed no fear Still, something about her body movements wasn’t natural. I furrowed my brow and studied her until her nervous gaze met mine.

“Jack.” I tugged at his waistcoat. “Something’s not right.”

Jack turned his beaming face down to me. Slowly, his smile faded. “What is it?”

“I don’t rightly know—” I studied the girl. Her long red hair flowed with reckless abandon over her shoulders and her young face was shadowed with fear.

Her arms were wrapped about the big man as though she meant to meld right to him. But her hands—

Wait! Her arms!

“Jack, she is tied to that old man!”

“What? Surely—” Jack let his words trail off as he struggled to see what I was seeing.

“Look at her hands! She’s trying to get away.”

Solo, who’d been listening as Jack and I spoke, nodded. “She’s right, Cap. I see it.”

Jack and Solo shared a look so bold that even I heard the unspoken word.

Headhunters.

Jack drew his cutlass and marched all the way to the edge of The Black Otter’s deck before he turned around.

“Come on, Red. Time to see if your hunch is right.”