By The Assassin's Side (Daggers 0f Desire Book 3)

by Katherine Hastings

  Simon nodded. He had survived. His will to save her, to be with her, had forced his body to endure... to fight and push back against death itself, rallying in the battle of his life. Now that he knew the true worth of his feelings, not even death could rip her from his grasp.

  He started to sit up. Pain tore at his chest, forcing him back down.

  “Rest, Simon. We have nothing but open ocean for days on either side. You need to heal so you are ready when the time comes to go get our girl. I’ll have food and water sent in. Soon you’ll be back on your feet and ready to put an end to that treacherous arse. But first... rest.”

  Sully was right. If he was to be fit to fight, rest and recuperation were a necessary evil. Settling back into his pillow, he turned to look at his old friend. “Thank you, Sully. I knew I could trust you to see to her rescue.”

  “We will do whatever it takes to get her back. I will say nothing of the treasure. I think it’s best we leave out that information lest the rest of the crew get any ideas.”

  “Thank you, Sully. You are a trusted friend. Once we get Vivian to safety, we’ll see about retrieving that treasure.”

  “That sounds like a plan,” Sully said, smiling. “Now rest.”

  With the knowledge they hunted Cyrus and Vivian would soon be recovered, Simon let the exhaustion flow back over his battered body. Where they were heading he didn’t know, but George was a master navigator and would see to it they never lost sight while remaining undetected themselves. They would wait for the right moment and when it arrived, she would be back safe in his arms.

  “HOW ARE YOU FEELING, Captain?” Sully asked, joining Simon on his walk around the deck. Four more days of rest and he was finally feeling like himself again.

  “My wound heals quickly and I’ve almost regained all my strength. Peter worked nothing short of a miracle. His sutures are holding strong and every day the range of motion in my shoulder improves.” He rolled his shoulder around to show the progress he’d made.

  “Glad to hear it. You gave us quite a scare.”

  Simon tossed an arm around Sully’s shoulder. “You won’t be rid of me that easily, old friend. Now, let us find George and get our bearings on where the Riptide sails.”

  The two men crossed the deck to where George peered through his monocular into the orange and pink horizon to the south. Squinting, he twisted the metal tube and pointed it toward the tiny dot just beside the lush green mass of land.

  “Hello, George,” Simon said.

  George pulled the monocular from his eye, rubbing it before sliding his glasses back on. “Captain! Good to see you up and about.”

  “I feel like a new man,” Simon said, grinning. “Tell me, how goes the chase?”

  “They can run, but they cannot hide.” George returned the smile.

  “Have they spotted us?”

  “Not that I can tell. They’ve been making good time, but they haven’t run yet. Thanks to this little beauty Viktor sent me as a gift, I can see three times farther than any monocular out there. I can see them... but they can’t see me.” He waggled his eyebrows and looked down at the shiny copper tube.

  “Thank you, Viktor,” Sully said, joining in the grins.

  “It seems as if they have stopped. They haven’t moved in an hour. Either they have reached their destination, or they seek refuge for a night. That island there is Gran Canaria.”

  “I’ve heard of it but I’ve never been,” Simon said, staring out at the small island in the distance.

  “Las Palmas is the major city on the northern end. They’re anchored to the southwest... a largely uninhabited piece of tropical forest and volcanic rock. What they would seek in such uncharted territory is beyond me. Perhaps they have damage and seek shelter while they repair.”

  Bury the treasure. That was the first thought in Simon’s mind and without George sharing in the knowledge of the loot that left with Vivian, it wouldn’t cross his mind. What better place to move the treasure to, taking only some at a time and leaving the rest hidden in the forests of Gran Canaria.

  “Yes, perhaps they seek refuge from the winds while they make repairs,” Simon lied.

  “This could be our best chance to take them out and get the girl,” Sully said.

  George nodded his agreement. “He’s right. We could slip up close to them in the dark and take the skiffs and grab her in the night.”

  The thought of her freedom pulsed through his veins. “I’ll go alone.”

  “What?” both men said in unison.

  “I’ll be far less likely to be seen if I travel solo. These thick clouds will cover the moonlight, which means we can go dark and get fairly close. I’ll slide off in a skiff and you guys keep going. I can slip in undetected, find Vivian, and get her back off the ship without being seen. Once I have her, we’ll row around to the west side of the island where you’ll be waiting out of sight.”

  “I don’t know, Simon.” Sully shook his head. “You’re still wounded. If they see you and you need to fight, it will be you against all of them. He travels with almost one hundred crew. You’re talented, but with those odds my money is on Cyrus.”

  “They won’t see me.” The skills he gained as an assassin gave him confidence in his answer. “I can find her and get her free. Just get me as close as you safely can tonight then get the ship far away to the west side of the island unseen.”

  George started, “Captain—”

  “This is not open for discussion,” Simon warned. “If they spot us, he will likely kill her. One man is far less likely to be seen than a dozen. I will do this. Alone.”

  “Aye, Captain,” George answered.

  “I’ll tell the men we go dark,” Sully said, unease thick in his voice. “You go prepare yourself.”

  Simon nodded and headed back to his chambers. The minutes ticked by while the great ship sailed into the darkening skies. He sat in darkness for hours, his mind preparing for the task at hand. After enough time passed he dressed, grabbed his weapons, and headed back out on deck. The crew worked in complete darkness, silently guiding the ship closer and closer to the Riptide. No glimmer of light shone on their ship; nothing but never-ending darkness surrounded them. The sailors worked from memory, years of experience guiding their hands absent sight.

  Simon stopped on the bow, his eyes drawn to the faint glow of the lanterns on the Riptide; the only light that broke the never-ending wall of darkness.

  “This is as close as I dare get,” George whispered, stepping up beside him. “Are you sure about this?”

  Simon pulled his leather cloaked hood over his head, shadowing his face. “I’m sure. Thank you, George. Stay dark. Stay silent. Not a whisper from the crew until you’re far away. See to it the Dark Shark waits out of sight on the west side of the island. I’ll find you.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Simon made his way to the skiff dangling from the side of the ship. Sully met him there, Edgar shifting nervously at his side. “Be careful, Captain,” Sully whispered, woeful eyes doing little to conceal his worry.

  “I’ll be in and out with her. Just have the ship ready.”

  Edgar stepped forward. “James Lanster sailed with Cyrus on the Riptide several years ago. He said she’s likely held on the bridge. There is a room off the Captain’s quarters they hold prisoners in for questioning.”

  The thought of her being questioned... those vile hands on her. His stomach clenched in a knot, his fist following suit.

  “I’m ready,” he growled.

  Edgar held the skiff steady while Simon climbed in. Together they hoisted him down into the dark waters below. Unclipping the line, he pushed himself away from the ship. He pulled the oars from the floor and slid them into the outriggers, dipping them into the rolling waves. Pulling hard, he pushed them through the water. Pain ripped through the wound in his chest with each pull, but he paddled on. The lights of the Riptide floating nearby guided his way.

  Turning back to the Dark Shark, he couldn’t beli
eve it was already gone. With no lights, the ship, already black as coal, was consumed by the night and wrapped in her protective arms. Like the faint memory of a ghost, only the quiet push from the waters on her hull could be heard as she sailed away.

  With only one chance at getting this right, Simon dug deep into his resolve. He pushed through the ache in his chest with each row, the pull of Vivian overshadowing the pain. Like a silent predator, he glided through the water toward the bow of the Riptide. It was the tallest point on the ship and the easiest place to slide in, tie his boat and make it onboard undetected.

  Lanterns scattered throughout the ship cast a soft glow on the surrounding water. There were a dozen yards where he would be visible as he finished his rowing to the ship. With a steeling breath, he slid into the warm light and pushed himself quietly toward the bow. If a watchmen was looking in his direction, they would spot him and foil his plan... and Vivian would be dead. If she wasn’t already. Normally, he would have ditched the skiff and swam the extra distance, but not knowing if she could swim or plagued by illness or injury, having the getaway boat was necessary. It was a calculated risk he needed to take.

  Simon let out a breath ripe with relief when the skiff slid into the shadow of the bow. He’d made it. He caught the edge of the Riptide and guided his boat to the side. Hidden beneath the bow, he secured his boat to the jutted piece of wood and placed the straw pillows tied to the sides between the boat and the ship. While his boat remained tied here in his absence, they would eliminate any bumping sounds that would rouse suspicion. With his boat secured, he grabbed hold of the wooden plank and hoisted himself up the side of the imposing ship.

  His chest screamed in agony as he climbed along. Forcing the pain from his mind, he slid along the length of the ship to the gun port propped open on the side. He hung in silence for several minutes, listening for movements of the crew on the ship. Most would be sleeping at this hour, leaving only a skeleton crew to avoid. When he was certain the coast was clear, he hoisted himself up through the gun port and landed like a silent ghost inside the ship.

  Crouching low, he listened for any sign the night watch had heard him. No footsteps rumbled his way, no voices shouted, breaking the silence of the night. Confident his presence was still unknown, he crept across the upper gun deck, heading for the ladder that would lead to the main deck above. A snore rippled through the hull and stopped him in his tracks. Simon peered around, blinking hard against the darkness until his eyes adjusted. Row after row of hammocks with sleeping sailors dangled between the poles and cannons surrounding him. The sight of them punched him in the gut. They completely surrounded him.

  Dropping to the floor, he crawled toward the glow that marked the opening to the deck above. He slid beneath the hammocks, each movement slow and deliberate, careful not to wake them. A man above him grunted, his hammock swinging just overhead as he rolled over. Flattening to the ground, he waited for the soft rhythm of his snores to resume before he started crawling again. Inch by inch he slithered to the hallway near the galley. Once safely out of sight and against the wall, he rose behind a stack of barrels and crates. The thumping of approaching footsteps froze every muscle in his body. He pressed back against the wall in wait.

  The sailor came around the corner and turned toward the hammocks, passing just inches from where Simon stood frozen. Taking his final step past, he slowed to a stop. Simon’s muscles twitched in anticipation. The man’s head turned around, eyes wide as they locked with Simon’s. He gasped, opening his mouth to shout.

  Simon reached out and snatched him by the throat. His other hand covered the man’s mouth as he struggled against him. Eyes filled with terror locked with his as the squeeze of his hands escalated until the familiar pop told him the struggle was nearly over. Simon’s hand cupped over the man’s mouth trapped the gurgles he choked out as the life faded from the sailor’s eyes. When the last of life left him, Simon pulled his limp body behind the barrels and placed a bag of flour atop him. If anyone discovered a body, the search for him would begin and the chances of saving Vivian would dwindle to nothing.

  With the body hidden away, he listened for any other incoming sailors. With no sounds around him, he started toward the ladder to the top deck. Vivian, if Edgar’s information was correct, would be just across the deck on the bridge. Nearing the ladder he paused again. Footsteps drummed above his head when a patrolling sailor passed over. When the footsteps faded away, he swung up the ladder and landed crouched on the deck. Only the open air surrounded him. A quick scan showed the crates to his left as the best hiding spot. Simon darted to them, soft feet leaving no sounds of his arrival.

  Sailing over the crates, he landed silently behind them. Crouching low, he awaited any sign the enemy detected his presence. A bird from the nearby shore shrieked, the only sound he could hear absent the lapping of the waves on the hull. Peering up from his hiding place, he scanned the upper deck until he found the bridge illuminated in the warm lantern light. Two doors stood side by side, one leading to the Captain’s quarters, and the other to Vivian. Which one held her behind it would be a guess.

  He crept out from behind the crates and made his way across the deck, sticking low to the rail of the ship. Halfway to his mark, two sailors walked side by side around the corner. He crouched down and tried to fade away into the wooden railing behind him. With nowhere to hide and no time to slip over the rail, all he could do was hope they passed by. They grew closer and closer, each man walking in silence as they patrolled the deck.

  Only several feet separated them now. Simon held his breath waiting for them to pass by. A pair of eyes turned to meet his.

  Shit!

  With deft hands, he slipped his daggers from his chest and sent them slicing side by side through the air. Each dagger landed with precision deep in the throats of the two sailors, instantly silencing them forever. Simon launched forward, catching the two men in his arms and lowering them to the ground, preventing the thud of their bodies from waking the others. He worked with speed dragging each man into the shadows and tucking both bodies away from patrolling eyes.

  That was close... too close. There was no time to dawdle. Any moment and someone could discover one of the mounting bodies. He needed to get Vivian. Now.

  Ducking through the shadows he arrived at the two doors. Which one held Vivian was any man’s guess. Closing his eyes, he grabbed a golden knob and twisted it. The door creaked open. He paused, pushing it even more slowly. Inch by inch he opened it, stepping into the dimly lit room with daggers readied. The air escaped his lungs, his heart pounded in his chest.

  Vivian.

  A ball of black leather curled up tight in a corner of the floor, she lay with her head resting on her black cloak. Her silky mane of black hair, once flowing with soft curls, was matted and snarled. Dirt was visible on her soft, delicate skin. The small lantern next to the burlap sack she lay on was the only other item in the room. Simon stepped toward her, his heart shattering at the sight of his wildcat robbed of the fire usually exploding from within her.

  “What the hell?” a voice from the corner startled him.

  Simon snapped his head to see a man propped in a chair in the corner. The sight of Vivian had robbed him of his senses and caused him to forget a proper assessment of the room. It was an amateurish mistake, and one he would see remedied immediately.

  One leap took him across the room. The man pushed up from his chair, causing it to crash to the ground. Simon ducked his swing and slid his dagger into the man’s chest, covering his mouth with his hand while he twisted the blade, ending his life in mere moments. Guiding the lifeless body to the floor he crouched over him, checking him again for breath.

  “Simon?” Her voice cracked.

  He spun to see her standing, her body pressed into the corner. Eyes once filled with a ferocity now looked at him with fear and disbelief.

  “Is... is it really you?” she whispered.

  “Vivian,” he breathed. In two steps he crossed t
he room and pulled her into his arms. “It’s me. I’m here for you. You’re safe.” Her body stiffened for a moment in his embrace. Squeezing her tighter he pressed his lips to her forehead. “You’re safe, Vivian. You’re safe.”

  Feeling her in his arms, the warmth of her skin pressed against him, sent a surge snaking down his spine. The emotions he felt for her exploded to the surface and washed over him in waves.

  She slowly lifted her arms and slid them around his waist. He tipped her chin up and stared down into eyes filled with disbelief.

  “I thought you were dead,” she breathed. A single tear slipped down her cheek and she dissolved into his embrace.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  HE WAS HERE. EVEN THOUGH she could feel his arms wrapped tightly around her and see the fire burning in his azure eyes, she still couldn’t believe it. “You came for me,” she whispered.

  “I’ll always come for you,” Simon said, slipping his hand along her face and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

  His touch left a trail of heat in its path. A shudder moved through her body. When she’d watched him die, or what she thought was him dying, the intensity of her feelings for him had ripped through the walls she’d erected with such meticulous care. They crumbled like old ruins beneath a hurricane, the walls shattering and exploding into rubble around her. Seeing him alive... knowing he came for her. Those feelings multiplied and shook her to the core. All she wanted was to close her eyes and disappear into the safety of his arms.

  “I’m so happy you’re alive, Viv. I was so worried. Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m okay. I showed them a thing or two involving my new training that a talented assassin taught me.” She waggled her brows.

  “That’s my girl.” His dimples deepened with his grin.