Dead Man's Kiss

by Jennifer Bray-Weber

  Her face fully inflamed, Catalina understood the questions were to bear insight into whether Valeryn acted as a dirty, denigrating pirate or as a, well, gentleman pirate. There was a difference. Catalina confirmed it.

  Quite frankly, Nalda knew her charge well. She knew she couldn’t stop Catalina from obtaining what was within her grasp, including the captain.

  “He is a good man, Nalda,” Catalina said.

  Nalda began to argue, but Catalina raised her hand. “English words, please, or I will leave.”

  “He feel you good man?” The maid stood from her seat, her joints creaking with age, and helped Catalina with her laces and buttons.

  “Woman. Does he like me? Is that what you are asking?” His passion-filled gold eyes searing into hers as they rocked together on a beach in paradise was forever emblazoned in her mind. She may be delusional, especially since Valeryn had vowed no more between them, but she was certain he felt the world flip, too. “Sí, I believe he does.”

  “Mas-take.”

  “Mistake,” Catalina corrected, as she turned around. “Perhaps. But my eyes are wide open. I feel wholly different about him, with him, than I did with Simeon.” She returned to the dresser for her flintlock and slipped it into one of her pockets. “Any mistake I make from this moment forth, I make willingly.”

  Topside, the mood had changed. ’Twas darker than a few minutes ago. Every man had their eyes on the ship sailing alongside.

  Fraco sought her out. “Prima.” His brow was pinched, but his smile was pained.

  “What is it?”

  “Seems that indeed the Rissa crew is foe.” He grasped her arm and pulled her to the side. Not so much for prying ears as to turn her back on the opposing ship. “The next few moments could go very badly. How badly will be determined on what the other captain wants.” He dropped his voice a notch. “Or rather, how well Barone negotiates, because you are most certainly the prize.”

  “Me?” She cast a glance over her shoulder. The crews were busy grappling the ships together. Valeryn coolly strode toward the centermost point where the ships connected. Every movement deliberate and deadly. She couldn’t see much on the other ship. Rigging and the shifting of Amalia men blocked her view.

  “You,” Fraco answered. “I do not know why else he would be here, why Papá would allow it.”

  She shrugged away from Fraco and weaved her way through the crew, settling near to the rail but far enough from the immediate line of fire. A man wearing a brown longcoat had his back to the Amalia. By his tall stance and the way the Rissa crew gave him berth, she knew he was the captain. Black curls fanned down his wide shoulders under a drab handkerchief tied around his head. A large cutlass very much like Valeryn’s slung from his waist. There was another similarity. He was equal build to Valeryn, as well, and there was something familiar about him. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

  And then he turned.

  Madre Santa misericordia!

  Catalina swung back to Fraco who had followed on her heels. “Diego? This doesn’t make sense. What is he doing here? Tio would not have allowed it.” Would he? A sinking feeling caused her to become dizzy. She reached for the nearest solid object, which happened to be Fraco, to stabilize herself. “Surely he is not here for me.”

  “Perhaps not solely.” Fraco stared past her to Valeryn. “Be prepared, prima, for you will become a negotiating asset.”

  “Greetings, Capitán Barone,” Diego called.

  “Diego Machado,” Valeryn answered by way of address. “Where is that slack-bellied monkey of yours, Bartholomew?”

  “Handling affairs in Matanzas. And it’s Capitán Machado,” Diego corrected. He came forward, grabbing one of the ratlines, grinning like a cat. “Of the infamous Rissa. She is a fine ship, she is.”

  “And how did you come by her?” The fury rolled off Valeryn in waves so tangible Catalina thought she might be knocked off her feet. Or it may have been her weak knees were threatening to fold under her weight.

  “’Twas a gift.”

  Valeryn’s jaw worked rigorously. “Closer to the truth is you’ve stolen her.”

  Diego’s hearty chuckle boomed between the ships. “No, not stolen. Bible oath, that one.”

  “Why are you and my ship here?”

  Catalina dreaded she knew the answer. The hate emanating off the two captains was thicker than the blood she feared would soon spill.

  “I have orders to take Miss Montoya and return her back to Matanzas.”

  “The alcalde mayor has decided to defy our agreement?”

  “You are a pirata and therefore not trustworthy.”

  “’Tis a lame explanation, Machado. Had he had reservations he would not have commissioned me to the task.”

  “Your acceptance of my explanation is no concern of mine.”

  “And what if I do not hand the girl over?”

  Diego signaled with a finger in the air. A dozen men circled around what Catalina figured was a hatch to the Rissa’s lower deck. They pointed their long guns down into the opening.

  “Thirty-two of your men die.”

  Another man wearing breeches too short for his lean legs marched a colossal black man wearing a buckskin tunic out of the hatch at gunpoint.

  “Sam!” Henri pushed and toddled to the forefront. Surprise and anger deepened the ancient wrinkles on his brow. Valeryn reached his arm out to stop the old sea dog from going any further.

  “I propose a trade.” Diego’s gaze slid to Catalina. ’Twas the first time he acknowledged she was there, though surely he knew as he pegged her immediately to her spot without searching her out. A slimy smug grin split his lips. “The girl, for your men.”

  “What of my ship?”

  “Oh no, Capitán Barone. I’m afraid Rissa is not on the table. She is much too valuable.”

  “If I refuse?”

  Catalina was at a loss, taken aback by his query. Did Rissa mean more to him than she, than his men?

  Diego slid his pistol from his baldric and, with his arm outstretched, aimed it at the prisoner.

  Valeryn’s hand went to his gun at his waist. Men across the Amalia slowly, deliberately poised over and on their weapons, ready for an order of attack. Tensions coiled tight, but no one more than Catalina’s.

  She became keenly aware of the weight of her own pistol. Her hand brushed over the pocket feeling its curved handle. She resisted giving herself away. ’Twould be to her advantage to keep it hidden until she was forced to use it.

  Catalina detected no emotion from Sam. No fear. No fury. A shell of a beast. He stood so still, it frightened her.

  “I will shoot your bo’sun in the head.” Diego paused, undoubtedly for effect. “And give the order to slaughter the rest of your men.”

  “And if I do give you Miss Montoya, what will happen next, I wonder?”

  Even Catalina knew the answer to that. Diego lacked a certain sanity about him. She learned quickly he didn’t need a reason to cause misery. She’d seen him beat a man until he was unconscious for merely looking at him crossways. And likewise he seemed to be able to charm men and women alike, often able to talk his way out of any situation, delivering praise and good will as he did so. That made him a dangerous man. He had managed to enamor her, after all. Nearly all the way into her skirts. Sadly, ’twas very possible Fraco spoke the truth about Diego requesting Tio Alvaro’s blessings to marry her. What would she do then? Her naturalist dreams and the Royal Society would be buried six feet under. Nay, she’d rather run away. Leave her family behind, even Papá, than be Diego’s wife. Becoming a free-thinking pirate held better appeal.

  Diego shrugged. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to that.” His head lolled toward Sam as he clenched his aim on the man.

  There was no way out of it. Diego would kill them all even if Valeryn complied. What could she do? What could any of them do?

  “Stop!” Catalina wrenched her pistol from her pocket and aimed it at Diego. Several of Diego’s men turned their w
eapons on her.

  “What the devil are you doing?” Valeryn ground out.

  She could not answer that for she had no inkling. Protecting a stranger? Protecting Valeryn? Refusing any disposition Diego conjured up? Getting herself killed? Madre de dios. “I demand you set Capitán Barone’s men free and return his ship to him.”

  Diego’s brow pinched with confusion, his lips quivered into a smile born of anger and hurt. “Demand?”

  “Sí. Capitán Barone has thus far honored Alcalde Mayor Montoya’s terms. Tio would not default his end of an agreement.”

  “Mi Corazón. Do not do this.”

  “Do not call me that. I do not belong to you.” The gashes upon her wrists beneath the bandage ached under the heft of her pistol. Her arm trembled as she toiled to keep her aim steady.

  “Ah, but you will. You will.” His gaze flicked above her, and in an instant, a burly man dropped down from the rigging overhead, disarmed her, and restrained her by her upper arm.

  “Pistola de Papá!”

  He stuffed the pistol into his trousers at his back, and forced her to stand back. Fat fingers digging into her flesh were sure to leave marks.

  “Please, mi corazón. Let the men do their business.”

  Relegated to her station. Be seen, not heard. A piece of property with no voice.

  Valeryn’s thinly tempered gaze slid from her to the scum, Diego. “The last time we met, you beat my sorry arse,” Valeryn said, nodding as if it were a shameful thing. “You are a better man than I am.”

  A chorus of laughter and whoops burst across the Rissa.

  “An incredible fact, no? Beat the eminente Capitán Barone, I did.” Diego did nothing to hide his smug grin.

  “Once,” Valeryn replied. “A fortuity.”

  “No,” Diego narrowed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “Not a fortuity. I defeated your drunk arse.”

  “I am not drunk now. Would you be able to tell tale of defeating me while I’m sober?”

  Diego’s lips thinned.

  “No?”

  He dropped his aim from Sam, handed the pistol and his belt to a nearby fellow. “A chance to watch you bleed again? ’Twill be a pleasure.”

  “I’ll make you famous,” Valeryn promised.

  “Bring Catalina over. I insist she watch.”

  Valeryn nodded for her to join him.

  Catalina no more wanted to watch Valeryn get hurt in a fight with Diego than dropping her entire journal into the ocean. Images of his swollen, smashed, bruised face assaulted her mind’s eye. And he still favored his broken ribs. But she had to trust he knew what he was doing.

  She wouldn’t show fear now, not while it seemed their lives hung in the balance. Yanking from her captor’s grip, she lifted the hem of her skirt, and allowed Valeryn to help her across the plank to Rissa.

  As Catalina set foot on Rissa’s timbers, a deep, overwhelming revere settled over her. The ship, itself, seemed to come alive, to know she was daunting and majestic. Her towering masts, solid bulwarks, and engraved banisters conveyed glory, deference. Creaks of wood and ropes whispered to her and she smelled of sun, salt, and triumph. Was it possible to feel a connection to a vessel?

  She didn’t want Diego to reign as her captain. The Rissa belonged to Valeryn.

  In a move that confounded her, Valeryn removed his weapons and handed them to her. Diego snarled. ’Twas an unsaid cock-a-snook, a defiant gesture. He would be Catalina’s champion. Though ’twas all for show.

  Before Valeryn stepped fully into the cleared space given to the fighters, Diego planted his fist into Valeryn’s jaw, catching him off guard. Catalina yelped in surprise. Valeryn stumbled a step back but recovered quickly. He wiped the spittle from his mouth with the back of his hand and stalked forward. The two men circled one another like wolves.

  And then Valeryn attacked.

  CHAPTER 17

  Valeryn powered his swing into Diego’s face with such force, blood flung from the cur’s mouth. The sickening sound of contact—the thudding smack of white knuckles to flesh—caused Catalina to cringe. Valeryn didn’t give the rogue time to rebound, smashing his face again and again. Diego lunged forward, their bodies locked. Crewmen from both ships roared with cheers and taunts. The perimeter of men surrounding them shifted along with the fighters, pumping their fists in the air encouraging a bloody good show. Noise crowded her ears along with the grunts and scuffles of Valeryn and Diego’s boots. She peeled her gaze away from the gruesome scene. Sam and his guard stood quietly by watching their captains. Big John, Cocklyn, and Benito watched silently, too. But they seemed to have drifted closer to the gunwales. And where was Fraco?

  Valeryn and Diego slammed through a group of men. They struggled to stay upright and best one another, an elbow to the eye socket here, a crunch of the nose there. In a shift of their bodies, Diego found an opportunity to strike upward into Valeryn’s ribs. Catalina gasped. His ribs hadn’t fully healed. She was convinced Diego broke them again.

  Immediately, Valeryn careened away. ’Twas Catalina’s first glimpse of his face since the fisticuffs began. Blood covered his lips, a cut slashed under his eye. She was comforted in that Diego looked no better.

  Valeryn slaved for breath. Red coated his hands and stained his tunic. By the strain pulling upon his ravening brow, he fought back excruciating pain. A heartbeat later, he charged forward into the wretch, jumping into the air before bringing down a blow so hard, she heard the crush of bone over the shouts. With rapid precision, Valeryn pounded upon Diego, his head ricocheting with each hit until finally his legs gave out and he crumbled to the deck.

  Catalina held her breath as Diego grappled up the nearest fellow back to his feet, his eyes disoriented, but wild.

  Valeryn took a step back, preparing for another assault. Without removing his eyes from his rival, he said, “Sam. Now would be a good time to fly.”

  Diego twisted to a crewman on his left, swiped the man’s cutlass and swung out, missing Valeryn by a hair’s breadth.

  Before Catalina screamed out the injustice of unfair odds, Sam slammed his shoulder into his guard, mowing him down. While on his back, the scoundrel fired off a shot, striking Sam in the shoulder.

  It all happened so fast.

  Big John, Cocklyn, Benito and others poured across Rissa. They targeted the blackguards with their long guns lining the hatch. Catalina was thrown to the floor by men charging into the chaos. She flinched at the pop-popping of gunfire. Her hands flew to her ears to deafen the combat and screams, her screams. There were men in that hold! Valeryn’s men!

  Big John sliced open Sam’s binds and both men folded into the melee of swordplay. The men in the hold clambered over the edge, shed their binds, and joined the action.

  Quick movement in her peripheral drew her to Valeryn jumping away from Diego’s onslaught of jabs, ducking from chops whizzing past his head. He moved with fluidity around the deck, anticipating Diego’s next move. But he was unarmed and hurt. How long could he keep it up?

  “Catalina!”

  She turned upon her name. Henri waved for her to cross back to Amalia. Frantic, she scrambled to her feet and tried to make her way to the plank. Men tumbled in front of her, clashed beside her, jousted behind her. She lurched forward only to step back and away from becoming an incidental target. She was trapped amongst the devil’s clans.

  “Catalina!”

  Fraco shoved a fighting man aside, carving his way through the foul rebellion to reach her. “Come!”

  She grasped hold of his lame arm as he shoved his way back to the crossing plank and safely stepped foot on Amalia. With haste, she hurried down the ship’s bulwark, searching the fracas for Valeryn. She spotted him just as Cocklyn tossed him a sword.

  Valeryn blocked Diego’s blade mere inches from his throat. Scrape of metal to metal echoed, skittered up her spine. Valeryn shoved Diego back into the gunwale and came at him swinging. Diego rolled away just as Valeryn embedded the sword’s blade in the railing. As he
did, Diego grabbed a coil of rope, clipping Valeryn at his knees.

  Catalina shrieked as Valeryn fell to the deck, Diego raised his sword to impale Valeryn, but the captain sliced him across the shin as he rocked clear of the blade, hopping to his feet. Diego bellowed, collapsing.

  Valeryn smashed the heel of his boot into Diego’s unprotected head. ’Twas a terrifying site. Diego covered his face with the cross of his arms, but the protection did little against the onslaught of another bash to his skull.

  “No, Valeryn. Stop!” Catalina cried. “Stop. Please. You’ll kill him.” Sí, she despised Diego. But she didn’t wish him to be dead.

  Miraculously, Valeryn reined in the beating long enough to bring one last whack down upon Diego’s hacked leg, issuing another howl from the renegade.

  He whirled around in time to be engaged in another sword fight with a different ruffian. Everywhere Catalina looked, Valeryn’s men fought valiantly. But they were outnumbered. So many of the Amalia crew were not skillful enough to combat the callous soldiers and ruffians of Diego’s crew. The breath squeezed from her as a hulking ogre ran his sword through Yago. Tears stung her eyes as he fell dead. Sooner or later they’d all fall. Even she recognized this.

  “The forestay!” Valeryn ordered to his gunners between thrusts and parries. “Take out her forestay.”

  Seconds later, Amalia’s guns rocked the ship. Shards of wood splintered off Rissa’s foremast, ropes snapped and whipped through the air. The whole ship jolted from the loss of the forestay.

  Catalina grasped the railing, nearly losing her balance from the surprise. She’d never been so close to cannon fire. Her hearing muffled, as if wads of wet cotton had been stuffed into her ears. Through the muted sounds, she saw Valeryn point and shout toward Amalia. Sails began to unfurl. Men retreated, fighting back foes who followed.