Wrong Kind of Paradise

by Suzie Grant

  from under the wheels. The chief gunner called out orders and handed out the glowing linstocks.

  “I want to ride the height of these waves and fire down on the target, Mr. Santiago. Make it

  happen.” Blac lashed himself to the helm and said, “Cripple her rudder.”

  At the height of the first wave, the roar of the larboard guns reverberated through the masts and the

  planks under his feet shook with the force. The first round of shots fell short and by the third, the Frigate’s

  quarter-deck rail shattered.

  It took several tries for the crew to get in sync with the waves but eventually, every time the Serpent

  topped a breaker, the demi-culverines would launch its ball shot.

  The return fire cracked the crow’s nest and sent one of Blac’s crew plunging into the depths of the

  ocean with a yell. Slivers of wood scattered across the deck and several howls of pain rent the air.

  Black, acrid smoke decreased vision by half, and the second cannonball plunged through it,

  swirling the black cloud just before it collided solidly with one of his crew, decapitating him. Another

  smashed the bulkhead straight into the hull. Fire sparked and the crewman rushed to put it out.

  “Reload those goddamned guns!” Blac shouted. “Take out that rudder, damn it. I want them crippled

  and begging.”

  The five-man gunner crew first used the rammer to clean out any debris and dropped the powder in

  before they added the wadding, packing it in. Once that was done, they would swab the barrel and drop in

  the shot.

  “Fire at will,” the chief gunner commanded.

  The glowing end of the linstock was applied to the primer. A deafening boom resounded through the

  ship. Three rounds later, the Frigate’s rudder exploded into fragments and particles of the ship’s hull

  floated on the surface of the water.

  An eerie silence ensued when the wind died down abruptly. The only sounds were the crash of

  waves over the ship’s banister and the unremitting thump of his heart. Blac’s breath rushed through his

  lungs and sounded harsh in the stillness. He glanced up and the clouds churned in a circular motion above

  them, and he realized, albeit too late, they were in the center of the storm.

  Thunder rumbled in a low growl and shook the deck. “We’re in for a nice ride, Santiago. Bring us

  down to bare poles, sir. See if we can’t find a way to get more drag, otherwise we’re going to drift right

  into her.”

  “Aye aye, Cap’n,” Rigo replied and bellied out the orders. He turned back. “We can toss some full

  barrels overboard, Cap’n”

  “The rum?”

  Rigo shrugged. “You have another idea?”

  Blac frowned, then nodded. “Aye, use the rum.”

  A pained howl rent the air. “Nay, don’t use the rum. Not the rum!” Max tripped over his own feet

  trying to get to them, and the ship tilted, causing him to slide across the deck. He caught himself and stood.

  “Nay, ye can’t ditch the rum, what’s the point in survivin’ a gale without ‘he rum?”

  Full barrels of rum were attached to the ship by a rope and tossed overboard. Blac turned back to

  the helm. Now that the Frigate was stranded in the water, she ran up her white flag. She would be unable

  to steer in this storm and would drift until the rudder was fixed.

  The winds picked up speed and blasted the side of the ship. Without sails, the Revenge was at the

  mercy of God and Mother Nature. The wind bore no mercy on the Revenge and tore at the ship in a steady

  rhythm.

  Blac cursed. They were nearing the Frigate. He held firm to the wheel but luck wasn’t with him this

  evening. Steering did little good as the force of the gale pushed them closer and closer to the crippled

  vessel.

  “Cap’n we’re gonna ram her!” Rigo shouted over the whine.

  Sixteen

  The impact sent Angel half-way across the cabin. Books tumbled to the floor, followed by the entire

  bookcase. The dishes clattered against the planks and shattered to pieces. Angel crawled to her knees out

  of the fallen debris and peered around. What the hell had they hit?

  Blac!

  Angel clambered to her feet and stumbled, her vision blackened and cleared. Dizziness washed

  over her and she reached out to steady herself with a hand on the wall. Her other hand came away from

  her forehead, covered in blood. She’d whacked her temple on something pretty good.

  The crunch of her boots on the broken china pounded in her ears. She wrenched open the cabin door

  that led out onto the weather deck.

  Chaos ensued, and the hulking image of the Frigate loomed just yards off their bow. Men rushed to

  cut any entangled lines and her heart faltered. Where was Blac? Her eyes swept the deck but she didn’t

  see him.

  Grappling hooks sailed across the way and bound the two ships together. A cry of battle ensued as

  men leapt from the Frigate onto the decks of the Revenge. Wide-eyed, Angel ducked as someone swung

  from a rope overhead and tumbled to the deck. The swarthy pirate flashed a toothless grin and she

  reached for her cutlass.

  The shock of contact as the cold steel clanged together vibrated through her arms. Angel gasped but

  held firm.

  “Yer afraid?”

  Angel shook off her initial hesitation and slid the sword together until they stood nose to nose.

  “Come, and see how afraid I am.”

  She whirled and came about with shocking speed, sending the pirate back a step, protecting his

  midsection. His dark eyes widened. He licked his filthy lips in what she guessed was anticipation.

  They danced across the decks. She sidestepped the fallen lines and leapt to avoid the fallen bodies

  littering the planks.

  She swung and cleaved the fingers from his handle. His sword dropped uselessly. The decapitated

  appendages flopped to the planks and the pirate lost his grin, clutching his wounded hand.

  Someone’s hand tangled in her hair and yanked her back. She screamed. His hold went slack and he

  toppled to the ground. Angel glanced behind her to see Bruno withdrawing his sword from the limp body.

  Angel leapt forward and blocked the pirate to Bruno’s left, slicing through his gullet like a finger

  through lard. A loud pop spliced through the air and a member of Blac’s crew crumbled. Just outside of a

  cutlass’s reach, a pirate tossed the smoking musket aside and lifted the blunderbuss pistol at Bruno.

  With a squeal, Angel seized her eight-inch dagger. With a flick of the wrist, the weapon sailed

  through the air and embedded in the pirate’s neck, pinning him to mast behind him.

  She dashed across the deck and picked up the blunderbuss, tucking it into her waistband before

  retrieving her dagger. Wiping blood from the weapon, Angel ducked just in time as a sword hacked into

  the mast next to her. She straightened and eyed her attacker. A large man by any standards, Angel skittered

  out of reach around the mast, but he clomped after her. The behemoth laughed and slung the cutlass again.

  She dodged and it cleaved into the wood. His blackened teeth flashed in another smile but it faded when

  she pulled the pistol and squeezed the trigger.

  Blood spattered across the deck and speckled across her face. Angel leaned back and panted. Her

  heart thundered her chest.

  Several of the pirates threw up their arms and dropped their weapons.

  That’s when she saw him.

  Max lay across the p
lanks, blood smeared across his neck. “Max!” she cried and raced to his side.

  Kneeling beside him, she clasped his hand. “Are you all right?”

  An explosion rocked the vessel beneath her feet and threw her hard against the gun-wall. Startled,

  Angel scrambled back onto her knees to check over him. His hazel eyes struggled to focus on her and he

  attempted a smile. “Aye lass, I’ll be as right as rain soon enough.”

  She spied a bullet lodged into his chest just above his heart. Blood gushed from the wound and

  pooled on the deck. Tears burned her eyes but the rain washed them away. “Max! Max! No, you can’t

  leave me!”

  Angel dropped his hand and searched for something to plug the wound. Oh, please! She couldn’t

  lose Max. He and Bruno had been her best friends for as long as she could remember. He’d been like a

  second father to her.

  She reached down tore a huge strip of fabric from the bottom of her shirt and packed the wound as

  best she could. But even as she struggled to save his life she knew...it was too late.

  He reached for her hand and squeezed. She cried helplessly, and held his weathered hand to her

  mouth kissing his knuckles. “Max! Please don’t leave me.”

  He smiled. “Aye lassie, it be my time. Don’t fret, my sweet, Blac will take care of ye’ now, and

  Bruno.”

  Her heart ripped in two. “Blac hates me,” she wailed.

  He attempted a chuckle but it ended in a ravaged cough. “Ahh, nay lass. He denies what he feels is

  all. All men go through that when they meet their luv.” He squeezed her hand again. “He will come

  around, my sweet.”

  He hacked and covered his mouth. The strip of cloth she’d put over the wound had already soaked

  through. Angel sobbed against his shoulder. His hand patted her on the back before it fell uselessly by his

  side. He wheezed into her hair. “Blac will rescue Logan fer ye, my sweet. Do not doubt that fer a second.

  Trust in him.”

  Tears streaked down her cheeks and soaked into his rough waistcoat. She felt him kiss the top of her

  head. “Aye, I’ve luved ye like a daughter, Angel.”

  Her fists clenched into the wool of his wet coat and a scream rose in the back of her throat.

  Somehow, she managed to tamp it down but she couldn’t stop the wracking sobs that shook her body. The

  wind whipped at her hair and she caressed his unshaven jaw as the strength left his grip.

  She sat there until she calmed to a mere whimper. She peered up into his weathered features and

  closed his gentle hazel eyes for the last time. She placed a kiss on his forehead and held his work-

  roughened hand.

  She said a silent goodbye to the man who’d held her all her life. Activity bustled around her but she

  didn’t care.

  “Angel.”

  Her gaze found Blac as he bent next to her. His grey-blue eyes moved from her to Max’s body, then

  back again. “Ahh hell,” he muttered and then gathered her into his arms where she wept on his shoulder.

  What seemed like hours passed, and she realized she’d always depended on Blac to comfort her,

  and he’d always been there for her when she’d needed him the most. Memories of the day she’d stowed

  away on his ship and he’d cradled her until he could return her to her father. The day of her father’s

  capture Blac had tried to keep her safe but she’d been too stubborn to listen.

  Angel peered up into his eyes. Contentment spread through her and she squeezed him. Dropping a

  kiss to her forehead, he squeezed her in return.

  “I love you, Blac,” she whispered against his neck.

  He sat back to look at her, shock registered on his face. She’d confessed her feelings but he said

  nothing. Her heart seemed to freeze in place waiting on his reply, but none came forth.

  Lowering her eyes, she was certain her nose and eyes were red and tear-streaked. She must look a

  fright, but his gaze only softened before he lowered his mouth to hers in the gentlest kiss she’d ever

  experienced. Warmth from his gentleness engulfed her, but disappointment crawled its way into her heart.

  That one kiss said more to her than she could’ve ever imagined.

  But, she recognized the fact that he refused to say it with words.

  ~*~

  Blac carried his fallen Angel back to the cabin and laid her across the bed. “I’ll return in a few. I

  need to take care of some things.” He peered down at her and brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Will

  you be all right while I’m gone?”

  Her lip trembled but she nodded.

  He made his way back topside. The Frigate had sustained too much damage, and even now sank into

  the waiting arms of the deep blue sea.

  Blac’s crew scurried to repair the damage of the hull on the Revenge, tended to the injured, and

  prepared to lay the dead to rest. All the while, he, Bruno and Rigo fished many of the Frigate’s crew from

  the cold depths of water, including the captain.

  The men who surrendered by laying down their arms were sent to the brig. Any others who

  continued to fight were shot down. Bodies littered the decks, and clean up would take hours. He’d lost

  more men than he’d counted on. Sadness settled in his chest and squeezed. These were good men, many

  with families, and it would be up to him to face the widows. It was the hardest part of holding the title of

  captain. A heartfelt burial would be organized for his men after they rid themselves of the garbage.

  The wily, old Frigate captain scurried over the side of the rail and dropped like a dead fish to the

  planks. Bruno grasped the soaked collar of his tattered, royal blue waistcoat and hauled him to his feet.

  Sea water dripped from his overlong black beard onto the planks.

  The man coughed and sputtered before he gave a mocking smile that revealed the two missing front

  teeth. The loosened cravat hung around his neck and black hair plastered to his forehead in wet strands.

  Blac raised his pistols and aimed directly at the captain’s chest. “Remove his weapons, Mr.

  Santiago and take him to the hold with the others. I’ll be sure to save Bruno a spot while we ask the good

  captain some questions.”

  It took several hours to get the rest of the ship back in order. The men from the sunken Frigate were

  stowed away in the hull with a guard, and repairs were underway for the Serpent. Hammers pounded

  against wood and metal as the wind died down to a mere bluster of air. The men who were not captured

  were left aboard the sinking vessel, as the Revenge couldn’t house them all.

  Deciding to stop in the port of St. Kitts to make repairs on the hull and mast, Blac mapped out the

  course before making his way to the hull of the ship. Bruno and two other crewmembers stood guard. The

  myriad of prisoners languished in various positions across the deck. Only the captain stood. He leaned

  casually against the bars and appeared to be cleaning under his nails, ignoring Bruno’s heated stares.

  Blac motioned the guard and the man unlocked the cell door, calling out to the captain. The captain

  took his time lowering his propped foot and stepping over his comrades’ prone’ forms before he reached

  the opening.

  “Well, well, Captain Barclay.”The decaying teeth flashed in a harsh grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet

  such a fine privateer.”

  Blac raised a single brow. “Indeed, then it won’t be too hard to persuade you to join me in my

  cabin.”

 
Bruno accompanied them and entering, Blac shut the door softly behind them. “I’m at a

  disadvantage since you know who I am and yet, I’ve no idea who you are. Why don’t help me remedy

  this?”

  Angel stirred and sat up on the bed, her eyes swollen and red from her tears. The old captain’s gaze

  swung to her so briefly, Blac thought he had imagined it. But it was no figment of his imagination. Again,

  those eyes sought and found Angel.

  “My name is of no importance. What you should be interested in is why I am here.” He spoke with a

  heavy French accent. He smiled. “But you may call Jacques if you wish.”

  Blac settled in the chair opposite of the captain. “Feel free to fill us in at any time. I am eager to

  hear your reasons.”

  Jacques leaned back in the chair and rubbed two fingers down his thin, squared mustache. “I was

  approached by an old man several days ago. He told me that should his assassins fail to kill the girl—” he

  pointed at Angel— “and managed to board your ship, I was to make sure neither of you lived to tell the

  tale.”

  Angel stood and crossed to the table. “You mean my grandfather, Nigel Vancroft?”

  Jacques shook his head. “No. Vancroft has funded many of my smuggling ventures over the years. I

  know him well. ‘Zis man I have never met before, but he was definitely well-bred. Gentry.”

  “You didn’t get a name?”Blac asked.

  “He paid me beforehand. There was no need.”

  “Then you won’t mind going on your merry little way once we reach St Kitts.” Blac stood and

  crossed his arms.

  Jacques tilted his head and examined his dirty nails. “I am not to return to England until the deed is

  done and much of my business is there, mon ami.” He shrugged. “So you see why I am having difficulty

  with giving up this quest of mine. You have sunk my best ship, killed most of my men, and managed to

  keep the girl safe through all of this. I...have nothing to show for this misery.”

  Bruno leapt from his position by the door but Blac put out a hand, preventing Bruno from attacking

  Jacques. “Tell me what you want?”

  Jacques shrugged and crossed his arms. “You see, that is the problem. There is civil war brewing

  in England, so my smuggled arms deals are higher than they’ve ever been. Unless you can provide me