Pirate's Pleasure (Sentinels of Savannah)

by Lisa Kessler

  “You’re going to bring it in yourself?” she asked.

  “Yeah. It’s too dangerous to risk another screw-up.”

  “I’ll have a helicopter on standby, sir.”

  “Thanks, Brenda. I’ll let you know when I have it.” He ended the call and dropped his phone on the bed. Soon the box would be safe, and then he could focus on saving Chris and taking down the Digi Robins crew.

  He went into the shower, closing his eyes as the warm water covered his face. Today was going to be a good day.

  …

  John walked through the front doors of Privateer Capital, but his mind was far from the historic building. He couldn’t get Harmony out of his head. Seeing her eyeing the mast of the Sea Dog with the breeze blowing through her hair and the moonlight sparkling in her eyes was an image he couldn’t wipe away. He could relate to the yearning on her face.

  Until Colton rebuilt the replica of their ship, there had been an empty hole in John’s heart that money couldn’t fill. Harnessing the winds of the gods and navigating an open ocean unleashed a primal magic in his soul, a rush that couldn’t be matched on land. You could take a pirate from the sea, but John had learned firsthand, the sea could never be taken from a pirate’s heart. Hell, Keegan, their ship’s pilot, still rented a tiny studio apartment above a restaurant on River Street just to be able to hear the water from his window at night while he slept.

  And seeing that ache in Harmony’s eyes last night undid him every bit as much as the heat of her kiss. Once he untangled her from this mess with Pandora’s box, he’d get the crew together and take her sailing on the Sea Dog.

  Just the thought had his ancient heart racing.

  Dangerous waters, caring for a mortal, mate.

  Seated behind his antique mahogany desk in his office, he fielded a couple of questions and struggled to focus on making money. Checking off his to-do list usually brought him peace, but today, nothing seemed to work.

  He tapped his pen on the paper and glanced at his silent phone, willing it to ring. Nothing. Cursing under his breath, he picked it up and pressed Drake’s number.

  “Hey John,” Drake answered. “I said two days, right?”

  John rolled his eyes, nodding. “Yes, but I’m hoping for sooner.”

  “Hopes won’t make me into a miracle worker, boatswain. But patience will get you a replica that can pass for the real thing.”

  John sighed, rubbing his forehead and lowering his voice. “I’m worried about her. The thief.”

  “I knew it.” Drake chuffed. “Ye have feelings for her.”

  “I’m concerned, that’s all.” John glanced out his office door. “I don’t want to see anything bad befall her.”

  “Have ye told her the truth about who you are?”

  “No.” John shook his head. “You know I can’t do that. She could expose us all.”

  “Aye.” His sandpaper rustled in the background. “Worked out for Colton and Keegan. Now their women are part of our crew.”

  “I’m well aware.”

  Drake cursed under his breath. “Then why in fuck’s sake are you bothering me?”

  John chuckled. “Hell if I know. Call me as soon as it’s ready.”

  “Aye.” He ended the call.

  John put his phone back on the desk and leaned back in his chair. He knew damned well why he called Drake—because if the box was almost done, he’d have an excuse to reach out to Harmony.

  Fuck. He needed to get his shit together.

  His phone buzzed, and he smiled, his frustration vanishing as Harmony’s name lit up the screen.

  Hey John—I have the box. Can you arrange the swap with your government agent friend? Needs to be soon, we’re being watched.

  His smile faded. Bale had promised him twenty-four hours. Would he already be tailing her? But if it wasn’t Department 13, then…who else knew about the box?

  Her buyer. But the Digi Robins board was anonymous. Dread dug her claws into his back as he answered her text.

  I’ll make arrangements with Bale. Meet me at my house. We can hide the box there for now.

  John let his assistant know he’d be gone for the rest of the day and hurried out. The drive to his house was a blur until he noticed his Porsche parked on the street at the other side of Chippewa Square. Good thinking, not leaving it in front of his house. He scanned the sidewalks and benches, shaded by the live oak trees draped in Spanish moss. No sign of Harmony. When he turned into the alley to enter his garage, he found her sitting on a rolling suitcase. He clicked the opener, and she disappeared inside before he could pull in to park.

  As the door closed behind his Lexus, he killed the engine and got out. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded, then shook her head slowly. “Actually, I’m running on no sleep. I’m exhausted and freaking out with paranoia.”

  As he approached, her bloodshot eyes told him all he needed to know. He glanced at the suitcase. “The box is inside?”

  “Yes.”

  He took the bag from her and gestured to the stairs. “After you.” He followed her up the stairs and into the study. “I have a storage compartment under the floor in my bedroom. I can hide it there until we’re ready to meet Agent Bale.”

  “Thank you.” She looked up at him from the sofa. “We got the wire transfer, and Tuck is upgrading the bidding software as we speak. We need to meet with the buyer right away. If they find out about the exchange with your agent friend somehow, we’re screwed.”

  “He’s not my friend,” John corrected. “Do you know who is watching you?”

  “No.” She shook her head, staring at her hands. “Tuck noticed it first. A black car parked outside his place, and when he left, the car did, too.”

  John frowned. “How did they find you?”

  “I’m not sure. I assumed it was the government.”

  “Maybe.” But John didn’t think so. Why would Bale waste the manpower when he was already promised his prize? “I’m going to put this away. I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay.”

  John carried the suitcase down the hall and around the corner. The house had three stories, plus the garage in the basement. The larger bedrooms were upstairs, but he rarely visited. After spending most of his life on board ships with tiny windowless cabins, the small room originally designed for the house staff suited him fine.

  He rolled back the Persian rug and opened the secret compartment between the floorboards. Two small chests full of gold coins were gathering dust inside. If anyone in his firm ever discovered their CEO stashed antique pirate gold in a non-interest-bearing hidey hole, he’d never live it down, but old habits were the only kind he had. Counting gold pieces fed his pirate’s heart and calmed him while the future marched on and he struggled to keep up.

  He unzipped the suitcase and stared at the black box. It seemed innocuous, too humble to be capable of imprisoning all the evils of the world. The box itself couldn’t have been more than two feet long, maybe twelve inches deep, and the black finish was chipped and worn. He ran his finger over the Greek key pattern carved along the edge.

  Faint whispers teased his ears, his fingers drifting closer to the center of the lid. He lifted the box from the suitcase, inspecting every side. He’d seen Harmony’s picture, but a digital image didn’t come close to capturing this artifact. The finish wasn’t enticing—it was the power that pulsed around it, tempting him to peek inside, luring him to open the lid.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the strange hissing in his ears. The words weren’t in any language he recognized, but the repetition was hypnotic, and the persuasion in it made his hands tremble, aching to obey.

  His eyes snapped open as he quickly placed the box into the hideaway beside his gold coins. He slid the flooring back in place, trying not to notice the tremor in his hands. By the time he laid the rug over the seam in the floor, his head pounded with pressure.

  The box wanted to be opened. Bale’s warnings about the r
elic being dangerous weren’t exaggerated.

  John stood and wiped his brow with an unsteady hand. It would be safe for now, but the sooner they gave it back to Bale, the better. He stepped into the hallway and closed the door before taking his phone from his pocket and pressing Agent Bale’s number.

  “This is Agent Bale.”

  “It’s John. I have the box.”

  “Good.” Papers rustled in the background. “Just tell me where to meet you.”

  John walked down the hall to his front door. “Did you assign agents to follow Harmony?”

  “No. I gave you twenty-four hours.” He paused. “Why?”

  John peered through the curtain on the side of the door. A black Lincoln with tinted windows was parked across the square. “Because if it’s not you, then someone else is also after this box.”

  “Shit. Do the Digi Robins already have a potential buyer?”

  “I don’t know,” John lied. “But they’re watching my house, too. It might be best to deliver the box to you far from prying eyes.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  John wandered into the study, where Harmony dozed on the couch. A smile tugged at his lips. “If we turned the relic over to you at sea, we could be certain we weren’t being watched.”

  Bale chuckled. “My budget for helicopter fuel has been blown since I met your crew.”

  “Take a boat, then.” John sat down in the study, pretending it had nothing to do with being near Harmony. “I’ll send you the coordinates once we’re at sea.”

  “When?”

  Good question. His attention wandered toward his bedroom and the whispers’ crescendo. They couldn’t wait until morning. “Tonight. I’ll call the crew.”

  “See you then.”

  John ran a hand down his face.

  “Are you all right?” Harmony mumbled.

  Her drowsy voice distracted him from the desire to go check on the box. He smiled and got up to sit beside her on the couch. “I didn’t mean to wake you, but I needed to get away from that wretched thing.”

  She raised a brow. “The box?”

  He nodded. “You failed to mention that it wants to be opened.”

  She shifted on the couch, leaning in his direction, her head resting on his shoulder. “Why do you think I tried everything to get that lid off? It was taunting me, begging, but apparently I don’t have the key.”

  “I’ll be glad to be rid of it.” He lifted his arm, wrapping it around her shoulder.

  She rested her head against his chest. “Me, too.”

  Having her close shut out the siren song of the wretched box. Finally, his mind was quiet. The ancient wooden relic was no match for the woman sleeping on his chest. The depth of his growing affection for Harmony made the hypnotic power of the box pale in comparison.

  Without jarring her, he carefully took out his phone and opened his group text for the crew.

  I have the box, but we’re being watched. It’s not safe to deliver the box to Bale in Savannah. We set sail tonight. All hands on deck at seven o’clock. I’ll send Agent Bale the coordinates once we find a secluded spot offshore to weigh anchor. I’ll leave that to you, Caleb, to plot our course.

  Within minutes, the texts trickled in. Most with a simple “Aye” for an answer. Their cook, One-Eyed Bob, sent him a private text.

  I’ll bring rations for dinner at sea. I just got a delivery of fresh-caught blue crab and shrimp.

  John grinned, imagining Harmony’s expression when she discovered she’d be setting sail tonight. Dinner on deck would add to the ambience.

  But this wasn’t a date. She’d be surrounded by pirates. He doubted that would stop Harmony from having a great time anyway.

  Another private text came through. This time from Drake.

  I’m bringing my tools and the work in progress. Having the actual box there should make my replica an even closer match.

  Before John could respond to warn him about the pull of the relic, another text from Drake came through.

  Summer storm coming in. Water’s set to be choppy tonight. Hope your thief has sea legs.

  His thief. If only it were that simple.

  Chapter Nine

  Harmony yawned, blinking her eyes open. For a second, she forgot where she was. She lifted her head to find John’s chest was her pillow. His head lolled back against the couch, his eyes closed, breathing even.

  A gentle smile pulled at the corner of her mouth as she carefully extricated herself from under his arm. She managed to get up from the couch without waking him and stretched, rolling her head from side to side, releasing the kinks before taking out her phone. No messages from Tuck. She quietly left the room and went to the front door to peer out the side window.

  The black Lincoln was still parked across the square.

  She checked the time as she turned to go back to the study and nearly crashed into John. He had a dagger in his hand. Before she could make a sound, he raised his finger to his lips to silence her and crept further down the hall away from her, toward the garage.

  Her nap hadn’t been long enough to reclaim the hours she’d lost, but the new dose of adrenaline had her wide awake.

  She didn’t have a weapon handy, but she had her phone at the ready with 911 on the screen as she hustled to catch up to him.

  He glanced back over his shoulder, whispering, “Wait for me here. I can handle this.”

  “No way.” She gripped her phone tighter. “We’re supposed to be partners in this mess.”

  He cursed under his breath, but he didn’t fight her on the point. “Stay behind me.”

  When they got to the door to the garage, something scraped across the floor. Someone was out there. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears as John reached for the knob.

  He threw the door open, surprising the prowler. The man dressed in black spun around, his handgun pointed at Harmony’s chest. Time stretched before her as John moved in front of her, shoving her behind him. He launched his dagger through the air toward the intruder. The gun fired as the blade sank into the man’s forehead. Blood trickled down his face, and he crumpled to the ground.

  Harmony couldn’t breathe, gulping for air. The scent of gunpowder choked her.

  Suddenly, John went down on one knee. “Fuck!” he grunted.

  Her eyes widened as she hurried around him. “Oh god, you’re hit.”

  Her thumb started to press 911, but he knocked the phone out of her hand. The iPhone bounced down the cement steps, leaving a couple pieces of glass behind as her screen went dark.

  “I’ll buy you another one,” he wheezed.

  “What the hell are you doing?” She faced him again. “You’ve been shot, John. You need the paramedics.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Blood leaked through his fingers as he covered the new hole in his abdomen.

  “You’re miles from fine. You’re bleeding.” She blinked until her vision cleared while her gut tied in a million tight knots. “Please, John. You need a hospital.”

  He winced, wrapping his other arm around her shoulder. “Just help me get back inside.” He gritted his teeth. “Bathroom. Easier to…clean.”

  He was seriously worried about housekeeping right now? Maybe he was more uptight than she ever realized. She bore most of his weight, trying not to notice the trail of blood behind them. Once they were inside the bathroom, she winced at his pale reflection in the mirror.

  “This is a mistake. You need to lie down and let me get an ambulance.”

  He shook his stubborn head and pushed the lid on the toilet down before collapsing onto it. “Hurts like motherfucking hell, but I’ll be all right.” He met her eyes, sweat beading on his forehead. “Rum would help.”

  “Are you insane?” Her eyes widened. “Rum isn’t going to heal a bullet wound. You’re not thinking straight.” Her voice cracked as she knelt in front of him. “John, you’ve been shot.”

  “Aye. I’m well aware, love,” he growled, and that pirate accent crept into his voi
ce again. “Trust me. Rum. Please.”

  She groaned and stood up. “You’ve got to be the most stubborn man I’ve ever known.” She stopped at the door and turned back, pointing at him. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

  A weak smile curved his lips. “Have no intention of dying.”

  Rolling her eyes, she hustled for the kitchen, opening cupboards like a madwoman until she found a liquor cabinet. Death was final and terrifying. And goddammit, she was not going to watch it happen to John. She would pat him down for his phone and call the paramedics. He could be pissed at her, but at least he’d be alive.

  She took out the rum and two glass tumblers from the cupboard. Her hand trembled as she poured the amber liquid into both. She sent up a silent prayer to whoever might be listening and knocked hers back.

  The rum burned all the way down her throat, heating her from the inside out. She took the other glass to the bathroom and handed it to John.

  “Thanks.” He lifted the glass to his lips.

  She half expected it to come right back out through the hole in his gut, but when her gaze slid down to his injury, she noticed no more blood was seeping through his fingers. Was that a good sign or bad?

  She knelt down, running her hands up his thighs to check for his phone. A pained chuckle escaped him. “I’m in no condition for…”

  “I’m looking for your phone.” She rolled her eyes. “You need an ambulance whether you like it or not. That guy in the garage was one dead body too many for me.”

  “I’m going to be fine.” He sighed and placed the empty glass on the sink. “What we need to worry about is who that man was and why he broke into my house.” His gaze lifted to her face. “We can assume he was here for the box.”

  Stealing for the cause was a thrill. She reveled in her cleverness and skill to make a grab and slip out before anyone noticed. Until today, the notion that her work with the Digi Robins could get her killed had never really entered her radar. Today, it was impossible to miss, but she wished there was another explanation.

  “Maybe he came in looking for your Porsche.” Yes, she was grasping at straws, but if she accepted an armed man broke in to hurt her, she might never sleep again. “He could be a car thief for all we know.”