by Lisa Kessler
Charlotte laughed. “Yeah, because none of you want to do it.”
Keegan came back on deck and grinned. “Ye make a fine pirate, love.”
“Spare me. You know good and well pirates didn’t have parrots clipped to their shoulders.” Her complaints were half-hearted at best.
The truth was, in the past two weeks, she’d never been happier. Keegan had moved most of his things to her place, but they decided to keep his flat by the river. Sometimes he needed to be near the water, and she wasn’t going to rock that boat.
She signed her agreement with Department 13, giving them legal authority to take over “guardianship” of her should the need ever arise. The document had no expiration date, since she was no longer mortal. Keegan and her father were both angry with Agent Bale over it, but Charlotte didn’t see it the way they did. They hadn’t experienced the fight at the Tybee Lighthouse firsthand like she did. Her power terrified her, and if she ever lost control, it helped her sleep at night to know Department 13 would stop her.
The crew had taken her in like family. Colton and John even taught her how to tie off riggings and lines on the Sea Dog. She wanted to believe they did it because they were indoctrinating her into a real crew member, but deep down, she was pretty sure Keegan asked them to, so she never lost track during a tack and got knocked overboard again.
Captain Flynn had returned to his business in Atlanta, but a week ago he’d shocked her with an email about the Pieces of Eight exhibition preview gala. His newest client, Aren Sloan from Sloan Consulting in Reno, made a substantial donation to sponsor her event. No one was more surprised than her to discover Flynn had noticed her chasing down sponsors for the maritime museum’s new exhibit. Now that Bruce was gone, fund-raising had fallen into her lap, too.
Captain Flynn was still far from friendly, but handing her another donor for her Pieces of Eight exhibition seemed like an olive branch she would gratefully accept. She added the Sloans to the program at the top of the sponsors list and reserved them seats at one of the donor’s tables for the event.
Since the fight at Tybee, no one had seen or heard from Bruce. One of the board members filed a missing persons report with the local police, but Agent Bale was searching for him, too. Bruce’s sudden disappearance impacted her workload immensely, and a few weeks ago, she would’ve happily sacrificed every minute of her life to work, but Keegan did his best to drag her out to concerts and candlelit dinners.
If she had known loving someone could feel this good, she might’ve put more effort into dating.
She rolled her eyes at the thought. There was only one man for her, and he was an immortal pirate. Not many of those on singles websites.
Over on the dock, the teachers wrangled the two groups of high schoolers into some kind of order. This was going to be…interesting. But teaching some high school groups about Spanish galleons and pirates was the least she could do for her crew. They were all coming to the maritime museum tonight to help with her Pieces of Eight exhibition preview. Suddenly having a crew around her, willing to lend her a hand, made her head spin. How did she get so lucky?
After fielding the teens’ countless questions from “Did pirate ships have bathrooms?” to “How fast could a pirate ship sail?” and spouting off historical facts until her throat was raw, her feet ached, and she wished she could steal a nap, sadly, her day was far from over.
Keegan kneaded her parrot-free shoulders and brushed a kiss to her ear. “Can I buy you dinner before the exhibition?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I have to be sure the chairs and tables are ready in the gardens at the museum.”
“Already handled. Bob is over there now with his catering crew.”
Charlotte smiled, humming as she offered up her next objection. “I also need to set up a hostess table to take the tickets.”
“’Fraid not.” Keegan chuckled. “John is taking the cash box over there now. He even dusted off his seafarin’ duds for ye. Safe to say he’s fond of you. I haven’t seen him pull on his moldy old boots in at least a century.”
She glanced back at him with a questioning brow. “Then I guess all that’s left is getting the audio-visual clips ready and being sure the mic is set up.”
“Caleb has ye covered, lass. He even brought a grad student along to live tweet the event.” His strategic use of his pirate brogue didn’t pass her notice. He came to stand in front of her and took her hand, lifting it to his lips. “Ye won’t be any help to yer mates if yer weak from hunger.”
She put up one last fight. “Don’t The Scallywags need you for a sound check?”
“Nah. Gary’s got it. My guitar’s in the truck.” He walked her to the gangplank. “No more excuses.”
She rolled her eyes playfully, following him. “Fine.”
After a hearty helping of Brunswick stew, she had to admit that she did feel better. They entered the museum around the side entrance and went into the basement to her office so she could clean up. Butterflies danced in her stomach. She’d been readying this exhibition for months, and tonight was the preview opening for the maritime museum donors and the press. Future funding would depend heavily on this event. No pressure.
She silenced her inner voice and finished braiding her hair, bringing it around over her shoulder.
“How do I look?” She turned around and slid her 1700s-era flintlock pistol into her belt.
“Anne Bonny had nothing on you, lass.” Keegan grinned, shaking his head as his gaze ran up and down her body. “I’ve never seen a sexier pirate.”
She took his hand and let out her best Hollywood “Argh!”
“Psh. No self-respectin’ pirate would ever utter that word.” Keegan led her up the stairs with a gleam in his eyes. “But I s’pose ‘fuck’ would be a hard sell for a theme park.”
“Definitely.” She laughed.
They stepped into the well-manicured gardens of the Savannah Maritime Museum and her breath caught. The Sea Dog crew had not only strung lights, set up the bar, the band, and the hostess stand, but standing on the main stage was Captain Flynn himself. He tipped his head in her direction, dressed in his maritime finest.
She looked up at Keegan. “What’s he doing here?”
Keegan shrugged. “He heard about the exhibition featuring ‘actors’ re-creating the Sea Dog crew, and he told the quartermaster the crew wouldn’t be complete without our captain.” Keegan narrowed his eyes at Flynn. “But knowing him like I do, I bet he’s really here to wine and dine the Sloans. They could be a lucrative venture for him.”
Flynn stood next to the podium wearing his frock coat, his red hair tied back and his cutlass at his side. It was tough not to smile.
Tonight’s event was going to be an amazing success.
Keegan chatted with the guy working the soundboard, and she headed for the donor tables, greeting mostly familiar faces until a tall man with dark hair and deep green eyes stood as she approached. He had broad shoulders, and there was something different about him that she couldn’t quite place. A strength. Dangerous.
Nonsense.
She shoved her paranoia aside and offered her hand. “Thank you for your support tonight. We really appreciate your sponsorship. I’m Dr. Charlotte Sinclair.”
“I’m Aren Sloan.” He gave her a firm handshake and smiled down at the woman beside him. “This is my wife, Sasha.”
“Great to meet you.” Charlotte made eye contact with both of them, again sensing a primal power.
“Likewise.” Sasha shook Charlotte’s hand and glanced around the garden. “It’s beautiful here. This wasn’t what I was expecting when Aren mentioned attending a museum exhibit.” Sasha focused on Charlotte again with a sparkle in her dark eyes. “Love your pirate garb, too.”
Charlotte chuckled. “Thanks. Just trying to take everyone back in time. Savannah used to be a hotbed for privateers, as you’ll see when we head into the museum.”
Sasha was a little taller and more physically fit than Charlotte, and like
her husband, there was something more about her that Charlotte couldn’t put her finger on. Maybe hunting for mythical relics and hanging out with immortal pirates was getting to her.
Aren’s gaze flicked to Charlotte. “You’ve got a beautiful city here.”
“Is this your first visit?” She rested her hand on the butt of the pistol at her belt.
“Yes.” Sasha leaned into her husband. “He came out to Atlanta to work on some property investments, but Ian Flynn kept telling him about Savannah, so he surprised me with this side trip for our anniversary.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened along with her smile. “Happy anniversary! How long have you been married?”
Aren chuckled. “It’s actually the anniversary of the first time we met.”
Sasha nudged him and grinned at Charlotte. “We cracked skulls, and he’s been crazy for me ever since. I’m his mate, so he’s stuck with me.”
“I see.” Charlotte nodded slowly. The crew called each other mates, but this couple wasn’t crew. Still, they didn’t seem like your typical lubbers, as Keegan would say.
She didn’t have time to worry about it right now. Besides, she’d met stranger couples in Savannah. These two would fit right in. She pointed to the table full of Bob’s tasty treats. “Please help yourselves to some of our southern snacks. The program will start soon.”
…
Keegan scanned the crowd for any sign of trouble. The tables in the garden area of the maritime museum were filled with Savannah’s elite. You could almost smell the old money.
His shoulders relaxed gradually. Nothing seemed off.
Last week, Agent Bale had contacted Keegan about a missing artifact from their vault. Without telling them what was stolen, the agent wanted Keegan and the crew’s help in stealing it back. In trade, he’d give them armed agents for protection during tonight’s event.
Keegan had been prepared to tell him to shove his offer up his ass, but before he could, Agent Bale mentioned that Dr. Bruce Trumain had been spotted on a security camera this week in Savannah. Suddenly the offer of armed agents was more palatable.
He decided not to tell Char. He hadn’t wanted to worry her. She had enough on her mind with the exhibition opening. He could handle an angry historian if he dared to show his face.
Keegan hated to admit it, but there had been an unexpected thrill when Agent Bale made his request to steal another relic. Until they lost the Grail, Keegan hadn’t realized how much he missed the adrenaline rush of hunting for and stealing treasure. Searching for the Lord’s cup had renewed his thirst for adventure; hell, the entire crew, even the captain himself, couldn’t resist.
After the event tonight, the crew would vote on whether they would help Department 13 find their missing treasure. Char knew about the vote but not the Dr. Trumain sighting. The crew could keep her safe, and once her event was finished, he’d bring her up to speed. No harm.
He found Char and caught her hand, pulling her behind one of the tall banners beside the stage for a little privacy. “Ready to open your exhibit, Dr. Charlotte Sinclair?”
She smiled, rising on her toes to kiss him, her lips lingering on his until she drew back with a twinkle in her eyes. “Thank you for all your help tonight.”
He raised a teasing brow. “You can thank me properly later.”
“Deal.” She laughed and headed toward the podium.
Keegan jogged over to the other stage, joining The Scallywags, all the while keeping his eye on Char.
Ax nudged him with his elbow, his drumsticks tight in his right hand. “The guyliner is on point tonight, Keegan.”
Keegan chuckled with a wink. “Don’t be jealous, mate.”
“Can it, assholes.” Gary glared at them both. “Mics will be live soon.”
Ax rolled his eyes and went to his throne behind the drums, while Keegan kept his full attention on the woman at the podium. Char looked gorgeous in her pirate garb with her hair braided over her shoulder, accentuating her soft throat. He was already envisioning tasting her skin later.
“Welcome to the maritime museum.” Char’s voice quieted the crowd. “We’re glad you’re here to preview the new Pieces of Eight exhibit focusing on the privateers who frequented our beautiful city almost three hundred years ago.” She gestured to the pirates scattered about the garden and finally to Captain Flynn beside her. “And a big thank-you to the Sea Dog crew for joining us tonight.”
The crowd broke into applause, with no idea of the truth behind her words. When they quieted, she described the theme for each floor in the museum and thanked the many sponsors of the event. Suddenly her lips were moving, but her voice didn’t come through the speakers. Keegan spun around, his entire body on alert.
Dr. Trumain appeared at the other side of the courtyard with a wireless mic in his hand. Aw, fuck. Keegan gave a signal to John at the ticket table, and he was on his phone. How far away was Agent Bale’s backup?
Char’s ex-boss walked down the center aisle, all his attention on her. “Hello, everyone. I’m Dr. Bruce Trumain, and this is my museum. This woman and these…pirates have taken everything from me, but tonight, I came to take it back.”
Keegan jumped down from the band’s stage, moving toward the podium, keeping his attention on Char’s boss. The historian’s face was no longer clean-shaven, and his hair was mussed, but his clothes were clean. Where had he been hiding?
Bruce stopped a few feet from the stage and scanned the audience. “Dr. Charlotte Sinclair is dangerous, and she’s ruined my life.”
Whispers and hushed conversation bubbled. Keegan stopped in front of the main stage.
Dr. Trumain turned and pointed a finger at Char. “This woman can kill with her mind. I witnessed it firsthand. She doesn’t need a gun to take your life. And these pirates with her…” He gestured to the captain. “They’re not actors. These men have lived among you since 1795. They can’t die.”
Char frowned, taking a step back from the podium. Shit. Keegan couldn’t keep waiting for Agent Bale’s team. He ran toward Trumain, but the historian surprised him, drawing a handgun. “Touch me, pirate, and I’ll prove to everyone here that you’re immortal.”
The crowd gasped and then…applauded.
Keegan glanced around the tables. They thought it was all part of the show. Then he noticed the couple Char had been chatting with weren’t in their chairs. Movement caught his eye. The woman sprinted along the edge of the crowd, keeping low among the tables with a small pistol in her hand.
Maybe they were Agent Bale’s undercover backup. For now, they didn’t seem to be alarming the crowd. Good.
Keegan locked his gaze on Trumain and shouted, allowing his pirate’s brogue to bleed in. “Are ye goin’ to share with these lubbers that ye allowed the Lord’s cup to slip right through yer fingers, mate? Or are ye embarrassed that a filthy band of pirates stole it right out from under yer nose?”
More applause and cell phone flashes. Keegan finally spotted the man who came with the woman now holding a pistol. He moved stealthily around the front of the crowd, while his partner came down from the back of the garden.
Keegan just needed to keep Trumain distracted and prayed the madman wouldn’t fire his weapon. The asshole was right, it wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt like hell and cause a panic as people trampled one another to get out.
“Screw you, pirate.” Trumain pointed his gun at Char. “I warned you, Charlotte. I tried to protect you.” His pitch rose, desperation bleeding into his tone.
Why wasn’t Agent Bale’s team moving in?
Trumain kept the pistol aimed at Char as he addressed the crowd. “This isn’t a show. The Grail is real.”
More whispers through the crowd and a few more photos.
Char stepped up to the podium again, her composure back in place. “According to legend, the Holy Grail was the final booty pillaged by the crew of the Sea Dog. Sadly, many treasure hunters have searched, but their expeditions never recovered it, so we’ll never know if it rea
lly existed.”
“She’s lying!” Trumain shook his head, ranting now. “It’s real. It’s all real.”
While Trumain focused on the crowd, the big guy rushed him, knocking him to the ground. The gun skittered across the concrete while they wrestled.
The woman jogged down the center aisle, cocking her pistol. “Freeze.”
Keegan raced forward to take possession of Trumain’s gun. The worm struggled against Char’s donor until the big guy finally landed a solid punch to Trumain’s temple. The crazed historian went limp, out cold.
Keegan held up Trumain’s gun while the crowd applauded, oblivious to the real threat. The woman in black already had her gun holstered and hidden from view. Keegan dusted off the shoulders of his coat before helping the big guy lift Trumain’s limp body off the ground.
They carried Char’s unconscious boss up the center aisle as Keegan shouted, “A pirate’s life!”
The crowd cheered, and two men in dark suits met them at the gate to the garden. “We’re from Department 13. We’ll take it from here.”
Keegan frowned, looking over at the couple who had helped him with Char’s ex-boss. “You don’t work for Agent Bale?”
“No.” The man glanced at his wife, then back to Keegan. “I’m Aren Sloan, and this is my wife, Sasha. We’re visiting from Reno, Nevada.”
“He left out that I’m a police detective.” His wife chuckled and glanced at her husband. “And this isn’t the first armed madman Aren has faced.”
Keegan raised a brow. “How did you two realize it wasn’t part of the show?”
Aren slid an arm around his wife. “I have a nose for these things. His scent made it clear he was agitated not acting.”
“I’m not sure how you could smell that, but I appreciate the help, mate.” Keegan still wasn’t sure what to make of them, but he didn’t have time to dig any deeper. “I’d better get back to the band.”
The guy running the soundboard got Char’s mic back on, and she barely missed a beat. “Well, we hope you enjoyed the entertainment. Please help yourself to food and drinks.” She pointed out One-Eyed Bob’s appetizer table and the no-host bar. “The Scallywags have some great music lined up for you while we start bringing groups into the museum exhibit. Thanks again for being here tonight.”