by Lisa Kessler
Keegan rapped his knuckles on the door before stepping inside. “Colton, I need a few words.”
Caleb looked up from his GPS chart-plotter device. The ship’s navigator using a computerized gadget, instead of a metal compass, made the lifetimes that had passed by impossible for Keegan to miss.
Colton stood behind Caleb. He was a head taller than their navigator, so he had no trouble seeing Keegan. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing yet. But I want it to stay that way.” Keegan glanced at Skye and back to Colton. “Did John tell you I’m bringing a guest today?”
Colton nodded. “The historian, right?”
“Aye.” Keegan rushed on, hoping to avoid any more unsolicited advice. “He said Drake’s on board and no word on Flynn yet, but if the captain does show up and insults Char in any way, I want your word you’ll keep Drake out of the mix.”
The first mate was a mountain of a man, by far the bulkiest of the entire crew, and in this century, Duke Proctor had discovered protein powder and personal gyms. He’d never been stronger.
Colton chuckled. “I thought tonight was about making a plan to snag the Grail, not to impress your lady.”
An unexpected grin crept up on Keegan. “Why can’t it be both, mate?”
Skye bumped the quartermaster with her hip. “We can handle Duke and Flynn.” She looked at Keegan. “Does Dr. Sinclair know you’re trying to get the Grail without the government agent’s…assistance?”
Keegan sobered. “Her loyalty is to the crew.”
Colton came forward, clasping Keegan’s shoulder. “You like this one.”
“Aye.” Keegan shrugged free of Colton’s grip. He wasn’t ready to dive into the emotions Char conjured again, and he damn well wasn’t about to discuss it with his quartermaster. “The captain might not show anyway.”
…
Agent Bale jogged up the stairs to Heather’s place. The drapes fluttered on the side window, catching his eye. She opened the door with no trace of a smile and gestured for him to come inside. He stepped in, taking a seat in her wingback chair.
Before he could speak, Heather’s ethereal voice filled the space. “David, what are you doing?”
He frowned. “Was this your chair?”
She pulled her long white hair behind her shoulder. “Don’t be coy. I know you too well.”
“This case is unraveling fast.” He sighed, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m this close to recovering the relic Pokey died trying to help me find, but King is sneaking around behind my back, and it turns out the historian I brought in to consult is more powerful than I want to believe.”
Heather shook her head slowly. “Pokey gave me a message for you. He thinks you need to forget about King’s daughter and look into the Brotherhood Apartments. He’s been inside. They’re recruiting.”
David sighed, straightening in his chair. “If the historian’s powers are as strong as I suspect, she could take out the Serpent Society without ever physically leaving this room.”
Heather’s expression softened as she rose from her perch on the sofa. She knelt beside him, placing her cool porcelain hand over his. “I know you’re trying to honor your oath to protect Americans, but you came here because in your heart, you know this is wrong.”
He met her eyes. “This woman could commit atrocities the police would never be able to solve.”
“Could.” Heather raised a brow. “That’s worlds apart from would.”
Was she right? God, he wanted her to be right, but Kingsley Pratt’s daughter had a power that needed to be monitored and controlled.
As if Heather could hear his thoughts, she murmured, “It’s not a crime until it’s committed. Being powerful doesn’t make her a criminal.”
She returned to the sofa, tucking her feet underneath her. “Now, are you ready to discuss the Serpent Society? Pokey thinks this is your chance to finish them once and for all.” She relaxed her shoulders and took a slow breath. “I assume this will make sense to you, but he claims he’s been following a pirate, and the guy is two steps ahead of you.”
“How so?” David crossed his arms, raising a brow. “I already know where the Grail is headed. Once I have my team together, we’ll intercept it.”
She shrugged, but her bright-blue eyes revealed an all-knowing twinkle. “Recovering the Grail isn’t going to stop the Serpent Society.”
“Enlighten me.” He settled into the chair, resting his hands on the armrests.
“Your informant says there is a locked building beside the Brotherhood Apartments.” Her feet moved onto the floor, and she leaned forward, lowering her voice. “And he said watch your back. One of them works at the maritime museum.”
“Dammit. Not Pratt’s daughter, right?”
She paused, her gaze going distant. Her eyes flicked toward him. “No. It’s a male.”
David was already mentally running through his conversations with every maritime museum employee. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
“That’s all he’s giving me right now.”
David stood, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. “Don’t forget to bill me for your hours.”
Heather got to her feet, a barely there smile on her lips. “I always do.” She followed him to the door. “I know how long you’ve chased these shadows. Please be careful.”
“I will. Thanks, Heather.”
He jogged to his car. Someone at the maritime museum was involved with the Serpent Society. It had to be the director, Dr. Trumain. He’d have to go back to the holding facility and question the sole survivor from the barn. Once he had confirmation, he’d get the pirate crew staked out at the two drop points for the Grail, while he brought in a team to deal with the Serpent Society.
The idea that he might finally be able to stop the fanatical relic chasers filled him with a foreign sense of…hope. They were the bottom-feeders who’d opened up this hidden world to him a few lifetimes ago.
The night they killed his father.
He tapped the pouch of healing herbs in his pocket. He was ready to finish it.
Chapter Seventeen
Charlotte parked and stared at the huge wooden ship docked in the Savannah River. This wasn’t her first time on the Sea Dog but would be the first time she was going to set sail. Stomach acid bubbled in answer. She checked her purse for the Dramamine.
Okay. No more delaying it.
She was going to get on the damn ship.
When she stepped on board, the men were already in action, and her fears quickly lost the battle with her curiosity. Keegan hadn’t introduced her to the whole crew, but from her research, it was easy to pick out a few. Way up the mast, she recognized John, the boatswain, racing a big man with long light-brown hair. They ran up the ratlines as if the ropes were a solid ladder, never missing a rung. They moved so fast, so fearlessly. She was breathless just watching.
When they reached the top masts, Colton shouted from the bow, “Drop the sails!”
The bigger man wrapped a line around his forearm and turned around as his sail dropped. He had two handguns holstered on his belt and flashed a devilish smile as he freed the giant sail from her tethers. Greyson Till, the master gunner. Had to be. In all the correspondence about him, he was always described with pistols at his sides and a rakish grin that made him popular with ladies of all stations.
“John, yer gettin’ slow, old man!”
“Fuck you, Greyson.” John grinned as his sail billowed down to catch the wind. “Yer older than me, and everyone on board knows it.”
Her attention shifted as Keegan walked toward her wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt. But he also had on weathered boots and his trademark leather frock coat. Her pulse thrummed as she raised a brow. “I feel underdressed without some pirate garb.”
He chuckled, taking her hand. “You have to earn yer boots, lass.” He led her toward the wheel, standing behind her as he placed her hands on the wooden handles. The warmth of his body tempted her right thr
ough her clothes.
She shifted her hips a little, and he growled. She glanced back at him. “Sorry about that.”
“Like hell you are.” His lips brushed her ear, heating her blood.
“Do I need to pilot this vessel?”
They both turned, and Charlotte grinned at the man holding a GPS device. “Oh God, you must be the navigator, right? Caleb Graves.”
The man with dark hair and even darker eyes glanced at Keegan then back to her. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He tucked the GPS under his arm and offered his hand. “I’m Dr. Graves these days.”
“Great to meet you. I’m Dr. Charlotte Sinclair. I have so many questions for you.”
“They’ll have to wait.” Caleb took a couple of steps back. “I’m still plotting our course and checking the wind and weather forecasts.”
He walked away, and Keegan whispered, “Caleb’s always been more interested in maps than pretty women.”
She pointed up to the masts. “I’ve met John Smyth, but the other guy up there…is that Greyson Till?”
“Aye.” Keegan nodded. “Our master gunner is quick on the lines. He drops the sails and ties them up again when we come back into port.”
A hulking man with long dark hair and a menacing stare came around the corner, calling out to Colton. “Ship’s free of the dock, quartermaster.”
Colton straightened up. He was maybe an inch taller than the other man. He chuffed under his breath. “Thanks, Duke. Eli and Drake could use your help raising the anchor.”
“Aye.” Duke’s dark eyes met hers. “Who are you?”
Keegan took a step forward, his shoulder blocking her view. “She’s with me.”
Duke. The first mate of the Sea Dog. Captain Flynn had selected the man to be his right hand. The crew voted for Colton as quartermaster, but captains typically chose their first mate, often to be used as bodyguards against mutiny. Staring up at Duke Proctor, she understood Flynn’s thinking.
Duke’s brow popped up. “Since when do you need to impress a woman with a cruise on the open water? Losing yer touch, Keegan?”
“Fuck you.” Keegan crossed his arms. “She’s helping us recover the Grail.”
Charlotte moved around Keegan and approached the large pirate. “I’m Dr. Charlotte Sinclair, and I’m surprised you stayed in Savannah. Captain Flynn lured you onto this crew with promises of riches and never delivered. You don’t owe him anything.”
Emotion flickered in Duke’s eyes. Rage? Shock? Maybe something in between. Either way, she’d touched a nerve.
His gaze shifted from her to Keegan. “Keep your woman out of my way.”
He pivoted on his heel and headed for the stern of the ship. Charlotte sighed, turning toward Keegan. “He’s abrasive.”
“Most of the time. Ready to take the…” Keegan’s words faded away, and Charlotte turned around to see a tall man with broad shoulders and an angular jaw stepping across the gangplank. He had dark-red hair and striking bright-blue eyes.
Flynn. She struggled to keep from pinching herself. She was staring at the infamous Captain Ian Flynn.
His beard was perfectly manicured, cut close to his jaw, and, like Keegan, he wore boots and a leather frock coat that had seen lifetimes of journeys across the sea. He lifted his chin, narrowing his eyes, and although he was known for commercial real estate deals now, the moment he stood on the deck, he was the pirate captain she’d studied for years.
Keegan took her hand, breaking the spell she’d slipped into. She glanced up at Keegan, and he winked, his voice low. “Should I be jealous?”
“I thought you had to be in a relationship for that nonsense.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Besides, he’s not my type. I know too much about him.”
Flynn came straight for them. “Keegan. Who is your guest?”
“This is Dr. Sinclair. Historian. Agent Bale hired her to help us track down the Grail.”
Ian Flynn’s gaze sized her up from the soles of her shoes to the top of her head. He looked over at Keegan again. “She knows…”
“Exactly how old you are, Captain,” Charlotte finished.
Flynn crossed his arms without so much as a glance in her direction. “This woman has no business on the Sea Dog.”
Charlotte’s jaw went slack for a second. “I’m standing right here, you Neanderthal.” The stunned expression on the captain’s face almost made her laugh. “I’m your best hope of escaping old age, so you might consider reining in your condescending male bullshit and communicate with me directly.”
His red brows rose, but before he could speak, Colton came around the corner with Skye right behind him.
The quartermaster chuckled and glanced at Char. “It’s not often I see our captain rendered speechless. I’m impressed.” His attention shifted to Flynn. “We didn’t think you’d come.”
Flynn straightened his coat. “I want another sip from the cup as much as any of you.”
“Then stay out of our way.” Colton looked up at the mainmast and barked out commands, while the crew hustled about the deck, tying down lines and hauling on the pulleys to set the sails. The wooden ship creaked as the wind coaxed her away from the dock.
Keegan took the wheel, guiding the Sea Dog toward the mouth of the Savannah River and the open ocean. Charlotte’s heart raced with anticipation.
From the time she’d first heard stories about pirates in Savannah, she’d dreamed about what it must’ve been like. Keegan concentrated on the barge coming upstream, his hands tight on the wheel, and a smile tugged at Charlotte’s lips.
With her cell phone in her pocket and Dramamine in her purse, here she was, living the pirate’s life. She turned in to the wind, unable to contain her grin any longer.
…
Agent Bale frowned at the security chief. “What do you mean Kingsley Pratt is questioning my suspect?”
“His badge cleared on the security keypad. I even double-checked the protocol sheet. His name was on the list, sir.”
David ground his teeth. Pratt had the computer skills to hack into the Pentagon without being noticed; getting his name added to the approved agents at the Department 13 holding cell would’ve been child’s play. He should’ve locked up Kingsley until he had the situation under control.
Sleep deprivation was his only excuse.
David passed the guard and swiped his key card. The door to the cell opened, and Kingsley turned around like he’d been expecting him. “Agent Bale. Good that you’re here. I believe this suspect has something to do with the dark-web postings about the Grail. I’m going to check the ISPs and see if I can trace it to their leader.”
Pretty slick. Pratt could’ve been a great agent if David ever got him clean and sober.
David crossed his arms. “I don’t recall giving you access to my suspect.”
King’s right eye twitched. “I took a small liberty with the access list, but it was for the greater good.”
David glanced at Kingsley’s notepad. A couple ISP codes and a note about remote accounts. His notes matched his story, but it wasn’t like King to be so proactive. This had to be a cover, and the only thing in the world that might motivate Pratt to take this kind of initiative was…his daughter.
“Did you get all that you needed?” David asked.
Kingsley nodded, rising from his chair. “Yes, I’ll start running the numbers and let you know what I find.”
“You do that.” David watched him scurry out and waited for the door to close before he took the chair across from his suspect. “I’m your best hope of getting out of here, so give me something I can use.” He looked over at the door, then back to the Serpent Society member. “Let’s start with what you told my computer programmer.”
The man picked at his cuticles without making eye contact. “He asked me about the black-market internets.”
His southern accent was thick but not from Georgia. Maybe Alabama. And the longer he rambled, the clearer it became that this man had no clue about dark-w
eb message boards.
“Forget the computer.” David smacked his hand on the table, simultaneously silencing his suspect and gaining his full attention. “Tell me what you remember from the night at the barn.”
The man frowned. “I remember…huh…welp, I recall you and another man, the singer…” He rubbed his forehead and chuffed. “Musta hit my head. The rest is…blank.”
David reached across the table, grasping the man’s shirt, and jerked him in close. “‘Blank’ isn’t going to get you out of here. Start talking.”
The man sputtered, his eyes widening as spittle popped from his tight lips. “I swear, I can’t remember anything. You came in. That’s all. I’m sorry. Please, you gotta believe me.”
David shoved him back into his chair and got up. Kingsley. The shaman had abilities beyond imbuing magic into his computer programs. This was the real reason he paid the prisoner a visit. Damn it.
He went to the door. “If your memory returns, let me know. Your help could get you a shortened sentence.”
He swiped his card and barely slowed his pace as he yelled for the guard to lock the suspect back up. By the time he got to King’s office, his rage had been wrangled into a cold, controlled fury. He stepped inside, doing his best to keep his cool. Until he could find another computer programmer with King’s unique skill set, he needed him.
“Want to tell me why you felt the need to wipe my suspect’s memory?”
King glanced up from his screen. “I did no such thing.”
“Bullshit. I’m going to put my money on it having to do with protecting your daughter. Am I close?”
“She’s not a threat.” King shifted his focus to the screen again.
David went to the far wall and turned off the power strip.
His programmer screeched. “What did you do?”
“I need your full attention.”
Kingsley met his eyes, his expression grim. “You may have just cost us precious hours on this investigation. Hell, you might have just lost the Grail for good.”