Deep,DarkandDangerousSMASH

by Sydney Allan

  Now, thanks to his fears for Kath's safety, he was the prey rather than the hunter. That was not the way he'd expected it to be.

  His enemy was closing in on them, despite Morgan’s efforts to outrun him. Even a superior boat, with all the latest technology couldn't outrun the Revenge. A ship full of damned pirates–living dead–could sail in the calmest winds.

  Those eyes, full of trust and longing, blinked slowly, hinting at Kath's exhaustion and he dragged his attention from his turmoil to her current state.

  "You need rest," he said, reaching for her. He couldn't help himself. Despite the fact that touching her gave birth to such longing he wanted to cry out in agony, he needed to feel the satiny smoothness of her cheek against his palm, and the silk of her hair running over the back of his hand.

  She tipped her head slightly, her cheek pressed against his palm, her head heavy. "Yes. But I don't want to sleep in my room alone tonight. Maybe I could sleep on the living room couch?"

  "No. That wouldn't be comfortable. Would you rather sleep in here?" he offered.

  She lifted her head and blinked several more times. Long, black eyelashes swept up and down each time she lowered and lifted her eyelids, making her look years younger than her true age–her brother had told him how old she was long before she'd arrived. She was so much more than he'd expected. So beautiful and spirited, trusting and gentle. The stirring of lust in his groin made him shift uncomfortably. She glanced about the room. "That's very sweet of you to offer, but what about what you said earlier?" Her cheeks flushed a sexy shade of pink that only heightened his lust.

  Yet, of all nights, he knew tonight he must resist. To be caught by his foe with his pants down, literally, could very well cost them both their lives. He plucked a stray lock that had fallen in front of her face and tucked it behind her ear. "I have no intention of taking advantage of you. Tonight."

  "Oh, I didn't mean to make it sound like I didn't trust you. I just..." She smiled at him and bit her lip. "I don't trust myself."

  He couldn't help chuckling. Her honesty was refreshing. Freely admitting she was as tempted as he–that was sexy. His admiration for her was growing by the second. He could only imagine what kind of wildcat she would be in bed.

  He hoped he'd be given the chance to find out, as soon as he was able to send one dead pirate back to Hades where he could do no more evil. Vengeance was sweet, but would it be his today? Or would Dirk Davies continue to roam free, soiling Morgan's name by committing vicious acts of terror on innocent victims and putting the blame on him?

  Morgan never claimed to be an angel, but neither was he the cold-blooded killer of innocent women and children the history books would make everyone believe.

  He looked upon a weary and frightened Kath and tried to soothe her with gentle strokes down her arm. "Please, I insist. Sleep here. I'll sit in the chair and keep watch." Standing, he helped her get under the covers, switched off the lamp, then took a seat in the small chair in the corner and waited, knowing it wouldn't be long before he would be beckoned on deck.

  Kath fell asleep quickly, her breathing slow and steady. In the darkness, he heard hushed voices growing louder. Then thumps and bumps. Then the distant blast of a gun.

  The battle was about to begin. Lunging from the room, he locked the door from the outside with a key and ran up onto deck.

  Chapter Six

  Loud, thundering blasts from up above woke Kath from a sound sleep. With a start, she sat up and scrambled to the side of the bed in the pitch black, no easy task but made necessary by plain, simple terror.

  More blasts, loud, angry shouts.

  What was going on? Her hands out in front of her to protect her face, she blindly felt along the wall, knocking things over as she searched for a light. She remembered there'd been a lamp on the table next to the chair Morgan had been sitting in before she'd fallen asleep and headed in that general direction. She figured it was safe to assume he was no longer there.

  Her fingers finally brushed against what felt like the lampshade. Her hands trembling, she wrapped them around the base and followed it up to the switch.

  The room filled with dim light.

  More loud bangs, shouts, thuds, and bumps had her jumping, startled, and scared. She stood in the tiny, cramped room, not sure if she should venture above to see what was going on or stay put. Morgan hadn't woken her so she assumed he didn't see any reason for her to be alarmed. Or he hadn't been able to get to her to warn her of the danger. Or...oh...

  Someone screamed, a woman. Maybe Stella. The bite of the shrill, piercing scream razored down Kath's spine. Something was wrong. Very wrong! There was no question anymore. She wasn't imagining things. She wasn't the butt of some joke. And she wasn’t hearing a movie. There was a real live ruckus going on up there and from the sounds of it, at least one person was hurt.

  No way she was going to sit on her butt down here and wait for whoever to find her. Sure, it would be dangerous going up there. Who knew what kind of melee she might be walking into? She just needed to be smart, very careful. A weapon would help.

  Jumpy, with massive doses of adrenaline making her heart thump quickly, her muscles tense, her senses alert, she searched the room for something to defend herself if necessary. The best she could come up with was a leather cat-o-nine tails she found in Morgan's closet. She had a feeling that lovely gem wasn't exactly meant to be used as a weapon, but in a pinch, she'd have to take what she could find. A metal bar with Velcro cuffs on the ends also looked promising.

  The bar in her left hand, the whip in her right, she rushed to the door and pulled. It didn't budge. She pulled again, harder this time. Then she set down her weapons, braced her foot on the doorframe, and really yanked.

  It couldn't be! She was locked in.

  That bastard! No man locked Kath Lewis in her room like a spoiled child.

  She fumed for about two seconds before another round of screams and the sounds of general mayhem reminded her of the urgency of the situation. Nursing her wounded pride would have to come later. She'd kill Morgan Hawk–once she was sure someone else hadn't already done the deed. And assuming she'd live to take care of it.

  With no other choice at hand, she picked up the metal stick and swung as hard as she could at the door. The impact of metal against wood tested her wrist, elbow, and shoulder joints and she knew she'd be sorry later. Still, the small dent made in the surface of the door encouraged her to take another swing. Three more and she'd splintered the thin door enough to separate it from the lock. After one final karate kick, she was free.

  Gasping from fear and exertion, she grabbed the whip, pressed her back against the wall, and sidestepped silently down the narrow corridor toward the staircase. Although the noise above her head hadn't ceased, she didn't see a single soul until she'd climbed the stairs and tiptoed across the living room toward the door that lead up to the deck. Through the windows, she watched a horde of gruesome looking men with torn, filthy clothes, wild hair, unshaved faces, and wicked grins with missing teeth kick and beat Morgan until he was barely standing. A very large man held him from behind, holding his arms behind his back and no doubt keeping him on his feet so the others could continue beating him.

  It killed her to see Morgan like this, so powerless to defend himself. His head hung low, as if he didn't have the strength to hold it erect anymore.

  She ran to another window to see how many bad guys there were and caught a glimpse of another boat, a wooden one with a black flag flying from a tall mast. It looked like a prop out of a pirate movie set, complete with a huge cast of pirate extras lit by the silver-blue light of a full moon.

  Was this for real?

  She tried to count the number of pirates on the other boat. There had to be at least six, maybe more around the other side. She didn't see the woman who'd screamed and briefly wondered what had happened to her. Then she looked down at the piddly weapons she'd gathered and wondered what she should do. Jumping off the boat wouldn't do a bit of g
ood. She'd be shark bait. Hiding somewhere wouldn't do any good either. Sooner or later someone was bound to find her and from the look of things, it wouldn't be a friendly someone.

  And what about Morgan? He looked like they were about to beat him to death.

  She glanced out the window again. He half stood, half leaned against his captor as another man talked to him in a low voice.

  Several of the other pirates nodded and walked toward the back of the boat, leaving Morgan with only two men, the one holding him and the one talking.

  Prepared or not, if she was going to have any hope of helping him, it was probably now. Her muscles tense and her heart racing, she crept up the stairs one by one. Knowing the big man holding Morgan would see her instantly, and hoping he was a typical male, she held the pole behind her back, pushed out her breasts, hiked up the sweatshirt so a better part of her thighs showed and forced a smile over her face.

  The results were encouraging. The man holding Morgan grinned right back, his interest instantly captured. "Avast. What do we 'ave 'ere?" he growled. "She's a beauty, Morgan. Is that your lady?"

  Morgan's head slowly lifted, either that, or time was passing at a crawl, making every motion look like it was being played in slow motion.

  Before the other man turned his head. Before Morgan's gaze had a chance to find her face, she took advantage of a moment when the moon's light was snuffed out by a cloud. Swinging her arms in a wide arc with all her might, she aimed for the man standing in front of Morgan. "Beauty my ass! Get a load of this," she yelled.

  A man's low responding shout barely reached her consciousness as the metal made contact with his head. The loud crack of splintering bone made her gag before her arms had stopped swinging in a follow through arc.

  As the moon escaped the clutches of the cloud, she watched the man she struck fall at Morgan's feet.

  She lifted her gaze up to Morgan's face. He held her gaze for only a split second before he kicked backward, rending the man behind him lame with one blow to the knee.

  Without looking back at the man he'd injured, Morgan lunged at the man Kath had struck. The pirate had started to stir, much to her surprise. After a crack like that to the skull, she'd expected him to be out for longer than a couple of stuttering heartbeats.

  His face a mask of rage, Morgan clutched the fallen man's neck in his fist and dragged him to his feet. "Finally, I will finish what I started so long ago."

  For a person who'd been clubbed in the head and strangled, the pirate stood steadily. His expression haughty, mocking, he stared straight into Morgan's eyes. "Ye know ye cannot kill me with those meaty paws, ye bilge rat, so you might as well remove them from me neck. There be only one way to end me curse..."

  "And what might that be, Captain Davies?" Morgan sneered.

  The pirate's grating laughter sent shivers down Kath's spine. Having grown up in the less-than-pretty side of town, she'd met some real scumbags. But she'd never met someone who looked, sounded–even smelled–so nasty. "Ye don't expect me to be tellin' ye, do ye?"

  As Kath watched, her stomach quickly rising up her throat, the pirate with the messed up leg stood and resumed his position behind Morgan, and the other pirates who had wandered off returned.

  They were surrounded by creepy pirates who seemed invincible. What would happen now? She had a feeling she didn't want to know. Scared blind and trembling from head to toe, she raised her metal stick, prepared to fight them off as long as she could.

  Unfortunately, she didn't get a single swing in. From behind, cold, bony fingers dug into the flesh at her waist while a thin arm wrapped around her neck like a python. Her gaze focused on Morgan's enraged face, she clung to the metal bar as long as she could. Whoever was behind her was much stronger and wrenched it free from her grasp.

  "Let her go," Morgan growled. "You have no need of her."

  "I'm rather fond of her already," Captain Davies said as he walked toward her. With her neck held and her arms pulled behind her back, she could barely turn her head away. As he stepped closer she could smell his rancid breath and she struggled to turn away. Unfortunately, the wind was working against her, carrying his nasty stink straight up her nose. He smelled like rotten meat. The stench made her retch and she happily spilled the contents of her stomach on his clothes, hoping that might encourage him to back off.

  He laughed–not exactly the effect she was looking for–then ran a bent finger along her jaw. "Aye, me beauty. You are a spitfire."

  "I'm no one's beauty. Especially yours," she said, hoping she sounded a whole lot braver than she felt.

  He looked amused by her bravado, to her chagrin. "If only I could satisfy my lusts I might favor this lady." His hand inched toward her breast and she drew in a deep breath, readying her lungs for a good, healthy scream if he dared touch her there.

  "You would die trying to bed her," Morgan said in a low voice that reminded her of a dog's warning growl. "And not by my hand."

  "Ye would die after watching me have my way with her," the pirate scoffed as he pulled his hand away just before it made contact with her chest. He turned around and motioned to his cronies. "Back to the Revenge. We'll take this beauty with us. Morgan, if you care to see her before she pays a visit to Davey Jones' Locker, ye best bring me what I want. Smartly."

  Before she had a chance to wonder what that might be, she found herself hefted over the shoulder of a scrawny but strong pirate and dropped into a wooden rowboat tied to the back of the yacht. The pirates gathered close around her, too close. They were obviously preparing to row the dingy back to the wooden pirate ship but before they had all taken their seats, Morgan motioned down to them from the yacht's deck.

  He lowered some kind of cylinder. About the size of a D battery, it hung from a chain, about six inches below his hand, but several feet above the pirates, too high for them to stand and reach it.

  "Surrender the lady and we'll talk," Morgan demanded.

  "Surrender the key and then we shall talk," Captain Davies countered.

  Morgan hesitated a moment then lowered the cylinder until it hung mere inches from the pirate's reach. "Let me board."

  The pirate smiled. "As you wish." He tipped his head slightly and several of the pirates moved aside to let Morgan into the little boat. It rocked as he stepped from the ladder affixed to the rear of the yacht and took a seat. His fist closed around the cylinder.

  Breathless, she sat on the wooden plank seat and waited for Morgan to speak, but he didn't say a word. In horror, she watched the pirates row the dingy away from the relative safety of the yacht, a boat with an engine and food and...no pirates...to a boat full of them.

  What was Morgan thinking? Wouldn't it be easier to defeat a few of them than a whole boatload?

  She tried to catch his gaze, as if seeing his eyes might help her understand what was happening, but he avoided her gaze. Instead, he stared straight forward, toward the creaky ship that was getting closer by the second.

  Desperate, she mentally screamed, Do something now before it's too late. He either wasn't receiving her telepathic message or he was ignoring it. That left her with few choices. Being just a fraction of a hair on this side of sane, she told herself she had no choice but to trust him. He had to know something she didn't.

  It didn't make her feel a whole lot better, but it did keep her from throwing herself overboard and taking her chances with the sharks. She almost regretted her decision when they boarded the nasty old boat and she was the recipient of hundreds of catcalls from groping pirates of all shapes and sizes.

  The throng pulled her in one direction while Morgan and Captain Davies, went the other way, toward a door. They tied a rope with a heavy anchor thingy on the end around her waist, then looped the rope around her wrists, leaving her defenseless and unable to swat away their grabbing grubby paws. There was no chance she was going to stay out there with that crowd! It was worse than a boatful of horny frat brothers. She shoved and kicked her way through the wall of stinky bodies until
she reached the door. As she pushed it open, she stood just outside the doorway and watched Morgan hand the cylinder to Captain Davies.

  "Now release the woman and take me with you," he said, not turning around to see who had opened the door.

  "I cannot do that." Smiling over Morgan's shoulder at Kath, the captain inspected the cylinder Morgan had handed him. Then, he reached into his pocket and produced another cylinder. It appeared to be just a little bit larger than the one Morgan had. "The woman is free. But you. You have a debt to pay." He slid the smaller cylinder into the larger one and she heard a click as he gave them a twist, locking them together. "The treasure and liberty are mine at last. I knew I would get this eventually. I knew you couldn't destroy it."

  "If I had, you would be sailing these seas for all eternity, as a restless spirit. It was mighty tempting," Morgan said, his back still to Kath.

  "And you would have no way to claim what is–or should I say was–yours and clear your name. I knew you were too prideful and greedy to do that. Besides, this world is no place for a man like you. The men are weak...and look at the women. They are beautiful wenches but willful. Stubborn. What man would find satisfaction in bedding them? Tell me, how was she?"

  "I have no interest in discussing my personal life with you," Morgan said before Kath could think of an appropriate insult to hurl at the nosy captain.

  "Then perhaps I should ask the woman how she found your attentions?" the captain said as he pocketed the cylinders, sauntered around Morgan and walked toward her. For a man who looked physically very frail, like he was made of stacked bones and might crumble if he was tapped too hard, he moved with surprising strength. He was in front of her in no time. "I 'ave the feeling she would not hold back her opinions."

  "I haven't slept with Morgan, you sick bastard," she said. "And even if I had–"

  The pirate's eyes widened with surprise. "Is that so? Then perhaps you would prefer an old salt like me, beauty?" One hand still in his pocket, he reached toward her with the other but she knocked it away with an elbow. "I take it that means no? I fear it 'as been so long since I've asked a wench for permission, I know not what it means to face rejection."