Never Surrender (Uncharted Secrets, Book 4): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories

by Cristi Taijeron

  “Cardozo,” I called his name as I entered slowly.

  He didn’t answer.

  Knowing how volatile he could be, I searched the place for weapons and hid them all under his mattress before I proceeded to wake him. Seeing how he didn’t budge to the sounds I made while moving things around, I began to wonder if he was dead, but eventually he snorted like a fat ol’ hog. He was alive and breathing, but considering his recent state of existence, that didn’t mean much.

  I tapped his shoulder. He growled. I shook him. Jumping up with a startled inhale, he looked around in shock.

  Backing away, I winced. “Good Lord, Cardozo, wipe the drool out of your beard.”

  After sloppily doing so, he swatted his hand at me like I was a fly. “You banter like a woman. Worse sometimes, I swear.”

  I resisted the urge to giggle. “You give me plenty to banter about, good sir. You have become a terrible mess and today we shall clean you up.”

  “Ah, I just had a bath yesterday.”

  He certainly looked clean, and the handsome face I had once adored caught my interest for a moment, but the way he flopped his head down like it was too heavy to hold up, reminded me that I was not dealing with the man I once admired.

  Tired of his disturbing behavior, I slammed my hand down on his desk. “This is enough. You will rise to your feet!”

  “I will do nothing of the sort,” he grumbled, then made a pathetic attempt to reach for his rum bottle.

  I yanked it away. “You want it, come and get it, big boy.”

  Lifting his head so slowly it looked painful, he growled, “Give me my bottle, little boy.”

  “No.” I grabbed another off of the dresser. “This drink has done nothing but destroy you, my friend, and I have half a mind to pour the devilish liquid out of the window.”

  Just like I hoped he would, he stood up. “You might think you are tough, running that bar and slapping those whores around, but I will smash you like a snail if you continue to tamper with me.” He stomped his foot on the ground like he was squishing the mushy creature right then.

  “Drunk and worthless as you have been, I do not believe you could even crunch a snail shell these days. You would probably fall over trying.” Noticing how his sun-deprived arms looked extra pale in comparison to the fabric of his black waistcoat, I made a jab about that while I was at it. “Hell, with those puny white arms, I bet you can’t even lift your cutlass anymore.”

  Looking furious, he gazed around the room. Assuming he was looking for his weapons, I sneered, “I hid your weapons while you were asleep. Just like I robbed you the day I talked you into signing up for this endeavor. It has been utterly simple taking advantage of you because you are so weak! To see a worthless scallywag slithering and slouching around like you have been, is one thing, but watching a once courageous sea captain fall to the wayside with the cowards and the knaves, is simply appalling. You are Miguel Cardozo! A man feared and respected among pirates and civilians alike. The type of warrior fathers press their sons to be like, and the type of gentleman mothers persuade their daughters to wed. I won’t stand for this fault of good character for another damned day, and if you want your stupid rum bottles, you are going to have to fight me for them.”

  He looked angry, but he didn’t move.

  Remembering how Mason said to not make threats unless you plan to follow through with them, I threw both of the stupid rum bottles out of the open window.

  Cardozo stared at me hatefully. When hearing the first one shatter against the ground, his eye twitched, but when the second one hit, he lunged at me.

  Jumping up on the bed to evade him, I watched his miscalculation land him into the nightstand. As he toppled over on top of it, I hopped off the bed and ran behind the desk. He quickly followed. For a moment we played cat and mouse, bobbing and weaving out of each other’s grasps from our own sides of the desk, but soon enough he flipped it over. I tried to run, but the massive piece of lumber hit me, knocking me over with the crash. I did all I could to break loose of its weight, but he gripped onto my arm and easily pulled me out. If only it had been to save me…

  Grabbing me by the collar, he threw me against the wall. Without giving me a chance to react, he started tossing me around like doll. In essence, this is what I wanted, to kindle the flame of his will to fight, but as he shoved me into the armoire—which hit the wall and fell over as he yanked me away—I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I did all I could to fight back, but his force was far too mighty. The grip he held on me was one I could not escape. Shoving me on top of the dresser—sending everything atop it flying—he cursed and snarled in his language, and then threw me right over the bed. Through the colorfully sheeted canopy I soared, hitting my head on the wall then sliding down it like a wet rag on cleaning day.

  Dazed and confused, I tried to rise before he could catch me, but it was too late. Next thing I knew he was on top of me. With one hand wrapped tight around my collar, he cocked back with the other and punched me! The feel of his massive fist smashing against my cheek sent my already hazy mind into a complete spiral of stars. The throbbing hurt worse than the lead that had torn my arm apart, and the ringing in my head stabbed at my brain sharper than the splintered timbers that had shot into my shin, but it was the fear that he would hit me again that caused me to scream out. “No! No. Stop!”

  Holding his tightly clenched fist above my face, he hissed some seemingly hateful words, but I was too dazed to hear them. Flashing back on all the times Joel had hovered over me this way, and remembering all the painful things that followed, I started to cry. Just like a little girl.

  “You cry like a bitch!” he insulted as he squeezed tighter to my collar.

  “Because I am a bitch!” I screamed. “I am a goddamned woman, Miguel Cardozo! Please don’t hit me again, please.”

  Through my watery eyes I watched his face twist in the most peculiar way. In his gaze I could almost see his mind replaying the details of our friendship. He lowered his threatening fist.

  Relieved that he was not going to strike me again, I felt my nerves begin to calm. What in the world had I done? Why the hell did I start to cry? I never once shed a tear under Joel’s hurtful hand. I never thought of weeping during that bloody sea battle. Why was this different? It was because he was my friend. I cared about him, and he hurt me.

  Wiping the shameful tears off my throbbing face, I wished that I would have just taken the beating. Now, all that I had worked for was blown away with one stupid girlish outburst.

  Roughly reaching down my top, where he gathered a reassuring handful of tit, Cardozo screamed like a girl himself. First, he hopped up to a sitting position and glanced around the room like he had just woken up and knew not where he was. Finally, looking at me again—curled up on my side holding my aching face—he swept me up in one quick motion and held me close to his chest like I was a little baby.

  “Put me down!” I kicked and flailed, but he held me tighter.

  “Calma, calma, meu bem. It is all right. Fear no longer,” he hummed as he kissed my cheeks and nose. “I am so sorry and I will never hurt you again.”

  The enchanting power of his melody overtook my will to fight. Unsure as to whether I was falling unconscious from the blow or drifting asleep because I was tired, I felt no need to contest the closing of my eyes as I fell asleep in his arms.

  “Rory.” I awoke to the pleasant rumble of a gritty voice softly speaking my name. Feeling big, warm arms around me, and soft, hairy skin on my cheek, I pried open my eyes and found myself gazing into Miguel Cardozo’s light brown irises.

  For a moment, we stared at each other without a word between us. He gently brushed his fingers across my uninjured cheek as he held me close. I reached for his beard and began stroking one of his braids. Our gazes drew deeper. Our faces moved closer, bit by bit. I grabbed tighter to his braid and twisted it until it pained him. “How dare you beat on me like that, you filthy rotten buffoon!”

  Tossing m
e off of his lap, he hopped to his feet. “What is this shit, Rory? Is that even your name? Who the hell are you?”

  Knowing that Remington Rain was better off back in London where I left her, I told him, “Yes. Rory Bentley is my name and Mason Bentley is truly my father.”

  “How convenient it was for the girl who would grow up to become a man to have a man’s name.” He flipped his desk back over. “Why did you not tell me?”

  “I have my reasons.” Sitting up, I crossed my arms over my chest.

  His head kinked to the side. I could tell the gears were turning in his mind. “You are a goddamned woman and that means you cannot own this place. Ha! La Fortuna is mine and I no longer have to deal with your nattering orders.”

  I rolled my eyes. “And that is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

  After letting out a condescending laugh, he found two chairs amidst the mess he had made and invited me to sit with him. At the moment, I didn’t want to be anywhere near him, but the business at hand was far more important than my own petty irritations. When I stood up, he pulled out my chair like a proper gentleman would, but I snatched it away and plopped myself down at the far end of his desk.

  Laughing at me once again, he sat down on his side of the wooden divide and chuckled. “This is unbelievable. I must say, you have done a fine job of fooling me and many others for quite some time. How long have you been playing this game, and does anyone else know?”

  “I have been on my own for years now. As of yet, you and Antonia are the only two who know the truth, and it will stay that way.” I glared at him as if I had the power to wreck his world if he exposed my secrets.

  Unconcerned with my threatening expression, his eyes lit up lustfully. “You have been with Antonia all this time. Everyone thinks she’s your lady. Are you two lovers?”

  “Don’t you worry your fat head about what is between her and me. Now, I know you are quite busy destroying yourself at this whorehouse you own, but if you are interested in reentering the world of the living, I have a proposition for you.”

  Pulling a flask out of his pocket, he took a shot then said, “Tell me what you have in mind, o’ witty sailor.”

  Annoyed that he was already drinking, but humored that he had called me what he used to when we were friends, I loosened up by taking a shot from my own flask. “All right. I am not sure if you remember or not, but on the day we arrived, I informed you of some information I had gathered about my father’s whereabouts.”

  “I remember.” He winked like he was so proud of this accomplishment.

  “Well, after finding you unwilling to help me, I asked Antonia to translate Cloud’s tale, and I am confident that the sole Englishman living among his people is indeed my father.”

  “And what is it that makes you believe this ill-spoken jungle boy?”

  “Because his story makes sense. Apparently, Cloud’s friend Manimal found a half-conscious man among the deceased when he went to pickpocket the dead after a failed buccaneer land invasion. Assuming the find to be some sort of omen, Manimal dragged the severely injured buccaneer back to his tribe, promising to see him through in order to honor the strange serving of fate. The man’s name is Bentley. The years of the events line up. The description of him fits the image of my father perfectly. But most importantly,” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the drawing Cloud had done for me, “he had this tattoo on his shoulder.”

  While eyeing the scripted B surrounded by tribal swirls, Cardozo stroked his mangy beard. “This is the same B on your locket.”

  “It is. I know it’s Mason he’s talking about. Cloud wants to go home and I promised to take him if he would show me the way. He agreed to do so as soon as he felt well enough to sail again, so I have been caring for him like a newborn babe all this time. He is finally up to the journey and so am I. I’ve stashed enough loot to cover the expenses of the voyage, and I have a few sailors lined up for the trip, along with a cook and a bosun…”

  Once again he laughed at me. “It certainly seems you have your plan in order, but what I am curious about is, well…Your faith in it.”

  “What do you mean?” I snipped defensively.

  “As wise as you have proven yourself to be, I am surprised you would fall headlong into a net with so many holes in it. Of course, with the mention of the tattoo, there is no denying the connection, but nearly two years have passed since Cloud was taken from his homeland, and four have gone by since this Manimal found Mason among the dead. Has it crossed your mind that Mason may have died from his injuries or from something else thereafter? Perhaps Cloud is only telling you what you want to hear so he can get home.”

  “I know. I have had a year to fester on all of these unpleasant variables, and though there are many, many ways this could go wrong, Mason is all the family I have left and I am willing to risk all for a chance to find him. Just like you risked everything to avenge whatever the hell you were avenging that day on Ysabel.”

  I could tell the similarity of our desperate motives struck a nerve.

  Taking a deep, seemingly painful breath, he laid his face in his hand.

  “Listen Cardozo, I know the chances are slim, but I have to do this. All I need to proceed is a captain I can trust and a navigator I can rely on, and I cannot think of anyone better for the job than you. I promise to make it worth your while if you will lead my crew to Panama.”

  More sober than I had seen him in months, he stared into my eyes for what seemed like forever. I truly hoped that he would take my offer. In fact, I prayed that he would, but within the pause, my doubtful mind began imagining what I would do if he said no.

  After what felt like a lifetime had passed, Cardozo asked, “You have not mentioned a ship. Do you have one?”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Not yet, but I figure attaining one will be easy in comparison to the hell you just put me through.” I rubbed my sore face.

  He chuckled. “Once again, I apologize for hitting you. Not only because you are a woman, but because you are my friend, and like you, that is not a term I use lightly.”

  I smiled. “I am surprised you remember the things I said before you fell in that hideous puddle of liquor.”

  “I’ve had my moments of clarity.” He grinned. “And in those moments, I have remembered you saying I would thank you one day for what you have arranged here. Usually I cursed the stupid memory, but now I know you did the right thing. Had you not stolen my money like a shifty little pirate, I would have blown it all and ended up living in an alleyway, had I lived at all. In a sense, you have saved my life, and in exchange for the favor, I will take you to Panama.”

  I was so happy I could have shed a tear. But the throbbing welt on my cheek reminded me of how stupid it was to cry. “Thank you, Captain Cardozo.”

  “I am not a captain until I get a ship. But like you said, that will be much easier than cleaning up the mess that I have become.”

  Chapter 12

  Break Free

  While I was busy training the new bar manager, rallying my men, and scouting out a ship worth taking, Cardozo spent the week vomiting up all the liquor left in his system. For the most part, I left his care in Lena’s hands, but there were a few times I checked in to see that he was keeping to the plan. Luckily, he was. Aye, with the same determination that led to his success at sea, he picked himself up out of his rum puddle, and by the month’s end, he was out and about barking orders at his men and making demands regarding our journey.

  A strange new interest in him blossomed in my spirit as I watched him come alive. I knew better than to fall for him, I did, but he was a damned good looking man who knew I was a woman, and before long we’d be back at sea where no one could know who I was. Figuring this would be my last chance to douse the fire his presence left burning in the lowest part of my belly, I decided to pay him a visit in the night.

  Knowing the schedule of the hallway traffic between his room and mine, I waited until the moment was right to make way. When com
ing upon his door, I was annoyed to hear Lena inside yelling at him. I had specifically requested to meet with him alone tonight. As I lay my face in my hand, huffing in irritation, the door flew open. Keeping hidden beneath my cloak, I hid behind the corner.

  “Eu te odeio Miguel Cardozo, espero q morra em alto mar!” she wailed while slamming the door behind her.

  Once she vanished down the stairs, I bolted into the room. “Is she always so sweet with her farewells to you?” I asked as I closed the door behind me.

  “No.” He laughed while poking at the logs in the fireplace. “But I have caused that woman a great deal of grief over the year, and can’t fault her a bit for wishing death upon me at this time.”

  Hardly concerned with what was between him and his favorite whore, I looked around at the room—which had finally been cleaned. His quarters looked even better under the warm shades of firelight, and as he threw another log on the fire, I noticed that he looked better, too.

  “Where did your hair go?” I asked, noticing that it had been cut.

  “The same place my beard went.” He turned to face me.

  Taking in the sight of his shaven face, my heart leapt up into my throat so high it almost shot out of my mouth. With his hair trimmed neatly, and only the faint shadow of a beard dusting his well-chiseled jaw, the stunning new degree of his handsomeness heated the core of my being like the flames blazing in the fireplace.

  “New beginnings and all.” He slapped his cheek playfully. Catching onto my lustful gaze, he smiled slyly. “Do you like what you see?”

  My first instinct was to deny my interest by looking away like I had trained myself to do, but I no longer had to do such things. In fact, I had come up here to do just the opposite. Finally allowed to admire his features, I stared at him, drinking up his masculine allure like a fine bottle of wine. Sober and solid, he once again held his shoulders proud. Since he was wearing his dark blue waistcoat open, I freely gawked at the enticing line of hair trailing down his flat abdomen and disappearing into the band of his breeches.