Dead Man's Kiss

by Jennifer Bray-Weber

  “I say it again,” he said. “You are a captain who is bound by your duty, respectfully so. And as such, you must arrest me for crimes against your nation as a pirate.”

  “What?” Catalina yanked free of her captors. They were as surprised as everyone else. Alas, just as quickly, they regained their hold upon her arms.

  Sam’s brow creased, troubled by his captain’s declaration. Henri shook his head, his gaze upon the floor, mumbling his objections. Fraco still looked to be enjoying all he witnessed. And poor Nalda had given up trying to follow along several minutes ago.

  “No. Do not arrest him. Take me. I am sure we can find a solution to these raiders.”

  “A solution?” Valeryn barked. “Lass, there is no solution with Ochoa when it comes to you. You are an annoyance to him.”

  She acted offended with an exasperated frown, but ’twas another truth. She wasn’t deaf. She’d heard Isaias speaking to Tio about how she was a nuisance. How she needed to be put her in her place, preferably with the back of a hand.

  “Nay, lass, you’d not have a chance. Which is why Nicholls can offer me.”

  “But you’ll be executed!” What was wrong with him?

  “My dear, Miss Montoya,” Captain Nicholls intervened. “Captain Barone is correct. I am morally obligated to protect you knowing the danger to you that I can prevent. But what is more, I am duty-bound by my country to arrest a pirate.”

  “You offer me as a trade to Montoya and Ochoa,” Valeryn said. “My head, and they will hang me, for your safe trade. My sole request is that you let Miss Montoya and the Amalia crew go unmolested.”

  “And what if I want you both?” Captain Nicholls said.

  “You will have a war on your hands. The Brethren will exact revenge. But if I go willingly, with instructions to not intervene, then it is my choice the Brethren will respect.” He tilted his head, arrogant in his masterfully arranged disposition. She could just scream. “I have offered you a bounty to kill two birds with one stone, as it were.”

  Captain Nicholls once again adopted his carriage with hands clasped behind his back. “I admit, this is an unusual situation we find ourselves in, Captain Barone. I respect your prudent decision and find it agreeable. But I must ask you why you are doing this.”

  Valeryn scanned his mates and companions, stopping on Catalina. His eyes were liquid gold—burning with intensity. Her heart grew heavy, as if it beat for him, alone, and was willing it to stop. He was breaking her heart, destroying it with the flames of his eyes, turning it to ashes.

  “I am doing it for them.” He cocked his head to their group. “I’m just a dead man stealing time.”

  The captain nodded out of respect. He motioned to the soldiers to release Catalina and seize Valeryn. Another soldier with manacles came forward.

  “Shackle and to jail with him. I expect no trouble from the rest of you or from the crew. Otherwise my good-nature toward this agreement will end with more arrests.”

  “They will give you no trouble, eh, lads?” ’Twasn’t a question. ’Twas a threat.

  Nalda rushed to Catalina’s side. The angry friends, Sam and Henri, were caged animals, wanting blood but unable to do a damned thing about it. Even Fraco was no longer amused, rather, he hotly chewed the inside of his bottom lip. Her stomach pitched. He was planning something that could complicate Valeryn’s carefully laid plans.

  This could not be happening. Madre de Dios, she really was losing him. He’d created a canyon between them as wide as the oceans. Her mind raced with what she could do, how to save him. Instead of coming up with an answer, scalding, traitorous tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn’t let Captain Nicholls, or anyone, see her this way, lest she show everyone how she felt about her pirate, and thus bring attention to herself. ’Twould only complicate future angles for any convoluted plan she invented.

  Swiping at her face, she struggled to understand his reasons for suicide. “Why, Valeryn? Why?”

  The snap of the iron manacle echoed through Catalina’s whirring head. The sound seemingly did not register with him. Remorse for her, for her, resided in his golden eyes. What did that mean?

  Two soldiers led the way to the exit, followed by Valeryn and his guards. Captain Nicholls stepped in behind them.

  “Valeryn!”

  Sam put his hand upon her shoulder. Likely to keep her from going after him as for his comfort.

  “Nicholls!” Fraco called out.

  The naval officer turned as Fraco crossed the distance between them. “God does not favor you or England over all others,” he sneered. “He does not favor scum.”

  “Brazen boy.” The courteous tone which Nicholls maintained was eclipsed by a current of warning.

  “God looks after those He bestows His gifts upon.” Fraco shrugged up his arm, displaying his mangled hand.

  Nicholls’s mirth rumbled from his throat. “That is not a gift.”

  “Maybe not. But this is.” Fraco plowed his good fist into the naval officer’s jaw.

  “Fraco! No!” Had he gone mad, too?

  Fraco delivered another blow before soldiers subdued him. Catalina cringed at how they tried to contort his arms behind him. ’Twas impossible to get his deformed hand behind his back. Fraco yelped out, collapsing to the floor, bringing the soldiers down with him.

  “Stop!” she cried out. Catalina looked around. Why wasn’t anyone trying to help him? She spun back to Valeryn, imploring his help, though he could do nothing. Would do nothing, by the angry snarl upon his expression. There would be no amount of pleading that would get her primo free. But she had to try.

  “I beg of you, please.”

  Crazy cackling burbled up from the pile. “¡Bastardo, Capitán Nicholls!”

  Captain Nicholls dabbed his lip. Blood stained his fingertips. His next command was swift and hollow.

  “Arrest him.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Valeryn leaned against the iron bars of the cell, gazing out at the dim glow of the sconce on the grungy brick wall. He was beside himself in anger and refused to look at Fraco sitting on the bench behind him. ’Twasn’t supposed to happen this way. He was supposed to be the lone wretch sitting in the dank jail. Why couldn’t the upstart leave well enough alone? Why couldn’t he let Valeryn handle this? Did Fraco expect him to figure out a way of escape for them both? Too bad for him. Resentment over the burdensome task prickled his skin. It took a great amount of restraint not to rip the little snip’s head off his damned shoulders.

  “How do you do it?” Fraco asked.

  Valeryn peered over his shoulder. Fraco rested his elbows upon his knees and stared at him through the curtain of unruly hair hanging in his face. “Do what?”

  “How are you able to come up with brilliant plans?”

  Christ, the lad was out of his head. “Not brilliant.”

  “It’s as if you know what the future will hold based on your decisions.”

  “I cannot predict the future.” He turned back to staring at the wall stained from soot.

  “If not, then how did you know Nicholls wouldn’t seize the Amalia and execute us all on the beach?”

  “’Tis called experience,” he said flatly. He had enough of it. It had been a long shot, but Valeryn was short on favorable results. He’d been lucky Nicholls was an indisputable proper naval captain.

  “Or a death wish.”

  Valeryn shot him a nettled glare. “You said it yourself,” he growled. “I’m a dead man.” His flesh heated, prickling his neck. “From the fucking beginning.”

  He wanted to beat the smirk off Fraco’s face. “You find that amusing, boy?”

  Fraco straightened in his seat. “Gives you freedom, doesn’t it? That must be it.”

  “What the devil are you blabbering about?”

  “You’ve got nothing to lose, no matter what you do.”

  In a blink of the eye, Valeryn snatched Fraco’s collar and pushed him back against the wall, trapping him on the bench. “Nothing to lose? Is
that what you think? What about my crew? Do you not think they matter? What about Catalina, Nalda? You?” He shoved him before releasing. “My actions are bigger than that. The people on this island are affected even now. Hell, I may yet start a war. Pirates, Spaniards, Brits, the fucking King of France.”

  Saying it out loud made his burden weigh as heavy as a crown of thorns. A familiar sentiment. Towney’s image loomed his mind. He shoved the ghost aside. “Aye, by my actions, there is much to lose. But my neck is insignificant.”

  Fraco straightened his collar and his smirk disappeared. But what had Valeryn puzzled was the awe in the lad’s expression. Valeryn recognized the sparkle in his eyes, alive and eager.

  “Porquería,” Fraco jeered. “Complete drivel.”

  This prick was long past unraveling his last thread. Valeryn inhaled deep the stench of urine, earth and must to keep from completely snapping. “Less people are affected this way.”

  “So you sacrifice yourself? That is a disappointment. ’Tis as if you’ve given up.”

  “You are a damned fool,” Valeryn said. “Striking Nicholls proved that.”

  Fraco belted out in laughter. “Ya like that? I thought ’twas a good performance.”

  “You meant to get arrested?” Valeryn blew past being baffled, he was downright irate.

  “Claro. Of course. You need me.”

  He swallowed back the vitriol burning in his throat. “I do not need you. Your cousin needs you.”

  “No. She needs you.” Fraco shook his head. “For someone worried by his actions…” The lad’s mouth fell open in an O, as if understanding dawned upon him. “That is why you’ve been prigging Catalina.”

  Valeryn narrowed his eyes in wariness. He knew about that?

  Fraco waved him off. “The whole ship knows about you two. Mi prima always gets what she wants. And why not?” He smirked in appreciation and mimicked his good hand as if weighing a breast in his palm. “With tetas like that—”

  “Watch your tongue.” He jabbed a finger at the upstart.

  “So you decided you will hang no matter what, why not renege on your promise to my father and tup her? Dios, I’m surprised you held her at bay as long as you did. I’d have yielded at first go. I admire your will and your change in principle.”

  “Of course you would,” Valeryn mumbled.

  “Do you think she’ll let you commit suicide?”

  “’Tis not suicide. And she has no choice.”

  “She does. And she chooses you.”

  “She’s infatuated, is all. She will get over me.” She was young. She had time to find a man worthy of her. “What’s more, I doubt she has figured how a pirate would fit into her future plans of being a respected naturalist.” A wry chuckle lodged in the back of his throat. They had no future. “You, on the other hand,” Valeryn turned the tables, “you should help her reach her dreams. Despite what a prick you are to her, she cares for you. Has tried to protect your arse.”

  “Perhaps. Catalina is unique. But I still believe a woman’s place is in my bed.”

  “Son, you have a lot to learn about women. With that attitude, one will likely slit your worthless throat.”

  Fraco shrugged, not concerned in the least. “Seems you have a lot to learn, too.”

  Now the bastard was just needling him. And apparently he was undaunted by Valeryn’s warning glare. He gave him his back and, putting his arms through the bars, leaned against the cell door.

  “So what is the plan?” Fraco said.

  Damn, why did they have to share a cell? “No plan.”

  “You are really giving up, then?”

  Valeryn said nothing. Maybe if he ignored Fraco long enough, the rogueling would shut the hell up.

  A heavy sigh lingered in the small space. “Guess I was wrong about you.”

  They all were wrong about him.

  “The infamous pirate Barone is a coward.”

  Valeryn squeezed his eyes shut. His jaw cramped from sawing his teeth together.

  “Taking the easy way out under the guise of a martyr.”

  He rocked his weight, breathing deep to control the fury swarming inside.

  “Abandoning his ship, crew, and woman.”

  He almost snapped, then. Almost. This princock knew nothing. He really was a dead man—whether by Alvaro’s order, or the likelihood of not winning his crew over, or getting the Rissa back. But also for that very reason he would not fit in Catalina’s world.

  “If I were capitán, I’d—”

  “You’d what?” Valeryn spun around, his vision clouded by rage and memories. “Lead an ill-prepared and outnumbered crew to slaughter? Have them ripped to shreds by gunfire? Hear their screams as they lay dying? All because of your decision?”

  Fraco held Valeryn’s stare, his lips curled. “Sí,” he said. “I’d fight, and I’d lead. That is what a capitán does.”

  “You’d be a dead captain.”

  “Those men out there on Amalia, they respect and admire you as their leader. Do not squander what they have given you. Respect them back. Lead them.”

  Valeryn huffed and turned back to the jail door. This lad was too young to understand. Why waste anymore breath on him? He had so few left.

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid, Towney!” He ground it out before he could stop himself. Blazes!

  Fraco tilted his newly stubbled chin up, judging him. “Who is Towney?”

  Son of a bitch! He hadn’t meant to call Fraco by his long dead mate’s name. Goddamnit, but the whelp pushed him to it. And he knew good and well Fraco would not let his slip of the tongue go.

  He grumbled an expletive, resigning to letting the past leach to the surface.

  “Towney was an old friend.” Valeryn propped his foot on the wall and let his head fall back.

  “Where is he?”

  “Dead.”

  “How?”

  “Raid gone wrong.”

  “What happened?”

  Memories flashed through his mind like the flares of gunpowder from a pistol’s muzzle. Valeryn remembered the night as if it were yesterday. Hell, he had nightmares of it enough he’d never forget.

  “We were to sack Campeche. Captain Blackthorn had put me in charge of a few of the new recruits. He thought since I was just a year or two older and had quickly earned my…shall we say…keep—”

  “You proved yourself a fine pirate,” Fraco interrupted.

  If learning to wield a sword and killing a score of men before his eighteenth birthday made him a fine pirate.

  “We were to raid the southeast part of the port. ’Twas supposed to be an easy target—just a few shops. Give the wet boys their first taste without serious danger of life or risk to Captain’s overall mission.”

  Blackthorn’s mistake was putting Valeryn in charge. He had no discipline.

  “Towney was about your age. Young and full of life. And entirely arrogant.” He rolled his head to pin Fraco with a glare. “Like you.”

  Fraco grinned. Christ, the lad was so much like Towney.

  “We’d become good mates. He followed me everywhere, mimicked my every move. I didn’t mind. I liked showing off.” Valeryn frowned. “He looked up to me.”

  “You say that as if that is what killed him.”

  “It was what killed him!” Valeryn took a deep, calming breath, and continued. “We crept along the street, waiting for the signal to strike.” He remembered in vivid detail how their obscure bodies shuffled from one angle of shadowed cover to the next. There was hardly a sound but for the wind and the occasional barking dog somewhere in the distance. Brine mingled with the recent rains. Valeryn’s heart had pounded with anticipation, just as it still did before battle.

  “We had our orders, our targets. But Towney wasn’t happy with plundering a bakery or a dress shop. He couldn’t see past what we took from common shops were items of necessity. He wanted gold and silver. He wanted to raid where the money was—chandlers, taverns, the g
overnor’s palace.”

  “Sounds about right.” Fraco nodded, as if imagining himself draped with Campeche’s treasures.

  “We had our orders. The lads would not dare defy them, or me. But Towney made a good argument. And there was a tavern just up the street…”

  “They followed you.”

  “Aye. Shunning my captain’s directives, blinded by power and riches, I led the boys in the raid.”

  He could still feel the vibrations in his arm as he smashed his fist through the glass window. They had poured into the small tavern, destroying the place. “The boys drank from bottles, stuffing them into their trousers. But Towney and I wanted the keep’s earnings. We stormed the back stairs leading up to the keep’s rooms. I kicked in the door, and together, Towney and I robbed the man of all his coin. ’Twas a mighty haul, too.”

  The frenzy of excitement and triumph had been addictive. If Valeryn closed his eyes and listened, he could hear the coins jingle in their pockets, the bottles of rum they clinked together as they toasted and swilled heartily, and Towney’s laughter. Towney’s laughter haunted him still. Valeryn distinctly remembered fluffing the boy’s shaggy brown hair as an older brother might, as they left the tavern. The way he had smiled, ’twas infectious.

  “We stumbled out into the night, sounds of the true raid on the other side of the port carried on the wind. The lads grew excitable. They split up into little groups, pillaging and rummaging like rats. Me and Towney were drunk on the thrill, pumping our weapons in the air, declaring to the folks cowering in the homes that we were the rulers of the world. That’s when we noticed it—the church down the street.”

  Fraco leaned forward, absorbed in his tale. An act Towney would have done. Valeryn didn’t want to go on. The tale ended badly. He didn’t want to admit to another the mistake he kept hidden away from the world. Aye, the word coward rang in his head again.

  “Go on.”

  He blew out a harsh sigh. “I walked to the church, but Towney lagged behind. Felt it would be sacrilege to commit larceny against a house of God. I called him craven, and that it was mockery for the church to be rich while the parish, we were poor. ’Twas enough to rally him. The two of us busted into the church and piled silver and gold holy vestiges into our arms until we could carry no more.