Pirate's Passion (Sentinels of Savannah)

by Lisa Kessler

  Her mother’s voice carried a panicky edge. “Charlotte, I know you’re angry, but King risked everything by coming here to warn you.”

  “You want me to thank him for being a drunk and abandoning us?” She lashed out at her mother like a wounded animal. Maybe she was. Either way, Charlotte had to let it out before she exploded. “Or maybe I should be grateful to you, Mom, for lying to me and sending me to therapy to help reconcile my grief and rage that my father chose to drink and drive and left us behind without a penny?”

  Her mother recoiled, tears shining in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, magpie. We couldn’t let them find you.”

  “Find me?” The wheels in Charlotte’s head screeched to a halt. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Her father cleared his throat. “We should talk in private.”

  She tightened her hold on Keegan’s hand. “No.”

  Keegan’s rough thumb caressed her knuckles. It was a simple touch. Silent support. She’d never had that before, not from her parents, not from the few people she called friends, and not from any man. Her insides were like lava, flowing tears she’d never allow herself to shed.

  Her father rubbed his forehead. “Do you still get seasick?”

  The abrupt left turn in the conversation made her head spin. She frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t get on boats.”

  “Do you remember our boat ride?” His blue eyes would have been stunning if they weren’t rimmed in crimson.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I try not to think about it.”

  He lowered his voice, pain lining his face. His fingers trembled on the table before he pulled his hands back into his lap. “I locked you in a bin with all the life vests.”

  She ground her teeth. She wouldn’t cry. Hell no. She straightened her back. “How is reliving child abuse going to protect me now?”

  He dug around in his pocket and slapped his hand on the table. When he drew it back, a silver ring lay in the center. A silver ring with a jeweled serpent.

  Keegan tensed beside her. “Where the hell did you get that?”

  Her father’s attention shifted to Keegan. “I used to be a member of the Serpent Society.”

  “Used to?” Keegan raised a brow, his hold on Charlotte’s hand tightening. “I’ve known these lunatics longer than you’ve been alive. No one leaves the Serpent Society alive.”

  “That’s why I died in a car accident.”

  Charlotte stared at the ring, her thoughts distant. “You were supposed to take me fishing that day. You saw someone and made me drop my pole.”

  Her father nodded. “They weren’t supposed to be on that boat.”

  She forced herself to meet his eyes. “They kept calling you unholy, a demon.”

  “I’m not a demon, magpie, but I have…abilities.” He placed his hand on the table, open, toward her. He pulled back when she didn’t take it. “I didn’t know until that day that you have them, too.”

  “Abilities in what? Never mind. I don’t want to hear any more.” Charlotte bolted up from her chair, dropping Keegan’s hand. “This is insane.”

  Her father shook his head. “You have to think back and remember. How did we get away that day?”

  She held her head in her hands. “I don’t know.”

  “You do.” Her father stood. “And I need you to remember.”

  “I can’t.”

  Keegan came to her side, his arm protective at her waist, his voice deep and controlled. “I think the lady needs some air.”

  “It’s too dangerous,” King replied. “Not until she remembers what she can do.”

  Flashes of memory lit through Charlotte’s head like a strobe light, full of images she couldn’t recognize. Every time she reached for them, the next would flash, never long enough for her to place, like a part of her was still locked in that box on the boat.

  Her eyes narrowed at her parents. “What did you do to me?”

  Shame shadowed her father’s features as he broke eye contact. “I thought my death could be the end. I didn’t think you would ever need the memories.”

  “Your father is a shaman.” Her mother wiped a tear and sucked in a breath. “And that day when those men cornered him, they were going to kill him, but you saved him, honey.”

  Now the flashes were longer, blending together as her knees wobbled. Keegan kept her upright as she whispered, “I was locked in a dark box.”

  Her father’s watery blue eyes met hers. “That was the day your powers awakened.”

  “My powers?” She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

  His voice was barely a whisper. “I cast a spell to keep the memories locked in that box. That’s why you get sick on boats. The wards on your memories repel you from opening the box and remembering that day. I’ve lifted the spell. You need to know.”

  “Why now?” Her voice cracked, but her eyes were still dry.

  “Because Agent Bale ran a background check on you using my magic enhanced search engine. When I left you to work for his department, I did it to keep you safe. Your mother told me that you changed your name to her maiden name, and I made sure there weren’t any internet mentions that might tie you to me.” He cleared his throat. “But I won’t be able to hold Agent Bale off for much longer. Since I haven’t answered his phone calls, he’s probably already connected the dots.”

  She frowned. “Why would he care if I was your daughter?”

  “Because I was drunk the day I met him.” He swallowed, eyes downcast. “I told him too much.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Enough with the damn riddles. What the hell is going on?”

  “You used astral projection, magpie.” He ran a shaky hand back through his hair. “Your body was locked in that box, but your spirit fought those two men like a wildcat they couldn’t see coming.” His voice dropped an octave. “You killed them.”

  She shook her head, gaping, but no words would form on her lips.

  Keegan kept her close, guiding her toward the door. “I think that’s enough for one night.”

  “Wait.” Her father took a step toward them.

  Keegan stopped, turning back. “Listen, I know we just met, mate, but if you hurt Char one more time, I’ll rip your throat out myself. This…” He gestured at the uneaten meal on the table. “This isn’t protecting. This is pretending.”

  Charlotte broke free of the safety of Keegan’s arms. Having someone else stand up for her was new and unsettling. Discovering so much of her life was a lie, she needed to stand on her own two feet. Her parents once again reminded her she was the only person she could count on in this world.

  She raised her hand, pointing at her father’s chest. “You made up this life without giving me any choice in the matter.”

  “You were just a girl.”

  “That’s no excuse!” Charlotte shouted, pulling her hair back from her face.

  “You’re right.” Her father nodded. “But please understand…if Agent Bale finds out you’re my daughter—and trust me, he will—he’ll know what you’re capable of.”

  Charlotte groaned. “What’s he going to do, arrest me for spiritual homicide?”

  “Worse. You’ll become an asset of the government.” His voice hardened. “Just another person to be cataloged and watched by Department 13, and if he ever needs you, he’ll be on your doorstep.”

  Char bit back the bile burning her throat. “And who do I have to thank for that?” She turned to Keegan. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He nodded, opening the door, and Charlotte stormed out of the house before her parents could say another word.

  Once they reached the car, he squeezed her hand. “Mind if I drive, love?”

  She handed him the keys, secretly grateful. Driving probably wasn’t a good idea right now. Her grip on her emotions was cracking. And when the dam finally broke, she wanted to be miles from here.

  Chapter Twelve

  Keegan stole glances at his passenger as he drove the surface str
eets to get back to the historic district of Savannah. Their ship’s cook had a restaurant there. Char needed some food. Beyond that, Keegan wasn’t sure, but he also wasn’t about to leave her alone.

  He’d taken enough lives to know it changes you, and Char was only beginning to uncover the dark memories of the day she saved her father.

  When he pulled up to Bob’s, she blinked. “This isn’t my house.”

  “Since your parents never fed you dinner, I thought I would.” He turned off the engine and handed her the keys. “How’s your head?”

  A sad chuckle erupted from her lips. “After finding out I’m a murderer?”

  He caught her chin until she met his eyes. “Murderers attack innocents, lass. No one wearing a serpent ring is innocent. You were a little girl protecting her father who should have told her about her abilities, rather than locking her up and having her discover them on her own.”

  She pulled back, resting against the headrest. “I keep thinking none of this can be real, and then I remember my dinner date is an immortal pirate.”

  A gentle smile tugged at his lips. “There’s more to this world than most people see. Maybe in spite of your father’s magic, a part of you remembered that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve never told anyone my secret about drinking from the cup, but I always imagined that no one would ever believe me. But you did.”

  “A federal agent told me it was true. He brought you to my office to meet me.”

  “Aye.” Keegan nodded. “But you didn’t try to stab me or shoot me to see if I could heal and make me prove I was immortal.” He scanned her face, wishing he could ease her pain. “Somewhere inside, you believe there are things in this world that science can’t explain.”

  She stared out the window. “Maybe you’re right.” She finally turned back to meet his gaze. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “No.”

  “How can you answer so quickly? You heard what my father said. I murdered two men with my spirit somehow outside my body.”

  The anguish in her eyes tugged at his long-dead heart. “Comparing how many we’ve each killed in the past probably isn’t a good road to wander down, love.” He ran a finger along her jaw. “Let me buy you something to eat. One-Eyed Bob is a friend. He’ll give us plenty of space.”

  She pulled away from his touch and looked out the window. “I’m not hungry.”

  He shook his head. “You may not be, but your body still needs food.”

  “Fine.” She peered through the windshield. “I’ve ordered lunch from this place before, but I’ve never been inside.”

  “You won’t be sorry. Best hushpuppies and fried shrimp you’ve ever tasted.”

  She blinked and met his eyes. “Wait. Did you say One-Eyed Bob? As in the Sea Dog’s cook?”

  “Aye.” A crooked smile tugged Keegan’s lips. “When you meet him, you’ll understand why we had to pass him the cup all those years ago.”

  He held the door for Char, keeping a cautious eye on her. After all the emotional trauma at her mom’s trailer, if he didn’t get her to eat soon, she might faint.

  For all he knew, maybe she skipped lunch, too. He’d never met a woman as driven as this one. Her work might have been more important than a few minutes for a sandwich.

  Bob came out from the kitchen and grinned. He was sporting a fancy glass eye during this lifetime, custom painted to match his remaining green one. Keegan favored Bob’s eye patch, but the cook was forced to change each time he “took over” the restaurant for a “fallen” cousin or uncle.

  Bob had been the eldest of the crew to drink from the Grail, so his “lifetimes” were shorter than the rest of theirs.

  Once folks noticed he wasn’t aging or getting frail, it was time for him to “retire” to a nursing home and reappear with a new eye patch or a beard or a wig. The legacy wall in the restaurant was covered in faded pictures of Bob in all his disguises over the years.

  But in Savannah, people were accustomed to quirks and too polite to ask. They seemed eager to accept that all the males in Bob’s family line had ocular issues.

  Bob wrapped Keegan in a tight hug and stepped back with a smile. “Who is your lady friend?”

  “This is Char.” He squeezed her hand. “She’s a historian, helping us locate our missing cup.”

  Bob’s eye widened. “So you know…”

  “…How long you’ve really been cooking seafood.” Her expression had morphed from self-loathing to the eager protector of history who Keegan was growing much too fond of.

  Bob turned to Keegan. “You can have the corner booth. It’s more private.” He handed each of them a menu. “Would you like anything to drink?”

  “Rum,” Char answered without hesitation.

  Keegan raised a brow but decided not to comment. If anyone deserved rum tonight, it was her. “I’ll take sweet tea.”

  “Be right back.” Bob wandered toward the bar, and Keegan took a seat across from Char.

  She met his eyes. “I used to avoid alcohol altogether. Too worried I’d end up strung out like my dad.”

  “I can drive you home.” He placed his cell on the table, eyeing the time. “I’m meeting our friend Agent Bale at midnight.”

  She tensed. “Not sure if he’ll be a friend once he figures out who I am.”

  His heart raced, his gut twisting into a knot. “I won’t let him use you.”

  Her eyes shone, and the pain lingering in their depths made him want to punch something or someone.

  Before he could say anything more, Bob came over with drinks. “Did you decide on food?”

  Keegan handed him the menu. “How about a plate of hushpuppies and shrimp.” He glanced at Char. “Is that all right with you?”

  She nodded, a crease between her brows the only sign of her distress. “That’s fine. Thanks.”

  Bob winked his good eye. “Be right back, then.”

  When they were alone again, Char shook her head. “When I was little, I thought my dad was a superhero. Then he started drinking, and it was like we lost him. I hated that he chose booze over us.” She rubbed her forehead. “After the car wreck…” She knocked back the shot of rum and met his eyes. “I was so angry. My mom worked extra hours so I could go to a therapist, who tried to help me figure out how to grieve.”

  He took a swig of the sweet tea and placed the glass on the table. “When did your dad start drinking?”

  “After he took me fishing.” Her face fell as she pulled her long dark hair back from her forehead. “Oh God. That was why.” She lifted her gaze, regret lining her face. “I’m the reason he’s never sober.”

  Ah, hell. Keegan got out of the booth and went to her side. He kept his voice low. “Let me get the food to go. We can take it back to your place.”

  She nodded, stoic. He squeezed her hand and went to find Bob. With the food in a container, he returned to the booth and walked Char to the car. He hadn’t known her long, but he’d never seen her reduced to tears. If the emotional wall she crafted around her heart were to break tonight, there could be a tsunami of tears coming, and he did know her well enough to know Char wouldn’t want anyone to bear witness to them.

  And none of this should be his concern.

  Oh, but it was. In fact, if her father or Agent Bale or anyone else tried to hurt her, he would make them pay.

  …

  Keegan parked in front of her place and reached for the bag from Bob’s. Charlotte’s appetite was nonexistent, but the rum had gone to her head, so food was a necessity.

  “It was stupid to run out of my mom’s place like I did, but I couldn’t listen to any more.” She got out of the car, looking over at Keegan. “Now I have a million questions.”

  Keegan tipped his head toward her front door. “We can make a list inside.”

  She nodded, and he came around, offering his arm. Tonight, she welcomed the support. Once she sat at the dining room table, Keegan went into the kitchen to retrieve some
utensils. When he came back, he didn’t take the other chair.

  “Do you want some water?”

  “I have rum in the liquor cabinet. Left of the fridge.” She narrowed her eyes, daring him to lecture her. It wasn’t fair, but she was desperate to lash out at something. Staying angry made it easier to contain the ache in her heart.

  He paused but made the wise choice not to fight her on it. She was in no mood to get counseled on the dangers of emotional drinking. Right now, numbness was the only thing she craved.

  She picked up a hushpuppy from the container and took a bite. If her taste buds could sing, they just hit the high note at the end of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Damn.

  Keegan came back with two glasses.

  She swallowed and set the rest of her hushpuppy on the plate. “You were right. These are amazing. I usually order a sandwich. I didn’t know what I was missing.”

  He chuckled and sat beside her. “Glad you like them.” His phone buzzed. “Agent Bale.”

  Keegan hovered over the Reject button, but Charlotte shook her head. “Take the call. See what he knows.”

  He didn’t look happy about her suggestion, but he hit Accept and held the phone out so she could hear both sides of the conversation. “Agent Bale. We’ve still got three hours, no?”

  “Yeah, this isn’t about that.” Bale paused. “Are you alone?”

  “Aye.” Keegan put his finger to his lips, and Charlotte almost smiled. “Why?”

  “My programmer at Department 13 is missing after I asked him to follow up on a background check on our historian.” He lowered his voice. “His name is Kingsley Pratt. He used to be a member of the Serpent Society.”

  “Never heard of them allowing anyone to leave.” Keegan took her hand. “Least not alive.”

  Charlotte’s pulse thrummed. Although she was pissed at her parents for their deception, she wasn’t ready to lose her father to the Serpent Society, either.

  “Exactly.” Agent Bale cleared his throat. “I helped him fake his death to get them off his tail.”

  Charlotte pressed her lips together to keep quiet.