Page 133 of Storm over the Caribbean
Reluctantly, I lifted my other eyelid and gifted the pirate to my right with attention. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, reclining in a wicker armchair, with half a coconut full of fruit juice in his hand.
“Yes?”
“Not that it’s any of my business, but…” Full of confusion, the man looked around the beach, rife with tourists, couples, and picnicking families. “Why are we here exactly?”
I tapped my nose wisely. “Ah, I was wondering when you would ask that. Although it is really quite obvious, if you think about it.”
“It is?”
“Oh yes.” I took another sip of juice. “We are undercover.”
“Under…cover?”
“Oh yes. After all, the navy must be frantically searching for us by now. They’ll be combing the seas, the towns, the harbours, the jungle…but they will never expect pirates relaxing on a beach, sipping drinks and soaking up the sun.” I sampled my delicious fruity drink once more. “Genius, isn’t it?”
“Errr…”
“As much as I detest to admit it,” came a cool voice from another beach chair, “she is correct.”
A shit-eating grin spread across my face. “Oh, I am, am I? So glad you recognize my amazing intellect.”
My husband’s beach chair creaked and, a moment later, he came into view, his cold eyes boring into me, a straw hat placed jauntily upon his head.
“Mr Linton?”
“Yes, Mr Ambrose?”
“I know you think you are safe right now, because I cannot attract any attention. But the moment we are out of here and I can take this hat off, I shall have my revenge.”
“Oh, relax.” Waving him off, I reached for a shrimp from a nearby platter and took a bite. Hmm…tasty. “After all, what kind of person doesn’t like a little holiday?”
The icy stare I received in reply told meexactlywhat kind of person: the kind who was right in front of me. Ah, was my dear hubby angry at me?
Maybe.
He at least was doing a very good job atpretendingto be.
Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced over at the pirate who had come to escort us. He had left his beach chair by now and was mingling with crew mates at the shore. Most of them had dressed in the civilian clothes we’d found on the navy vessel, and fit in surprisingly well with the local population. So well, in fact, that they were lazing around in the sun, eating snacks from a nearby stall, and enjoying the sea breeze.
In other words, they were distracted.
Leaning closer towards Mr Ambrose, I put my lips right next to his ear. “What do you think? Can we get away?”
Imperceptibly, he shook his head.
“No.” His voice was no more than a whisper. “Your plan was good, but there are still too many pirates around. They are too close.”
In other words, no matter how distracted they are, they’ll still notice if we try to slip away. Dammit!
What, you thought I had volunteered for this mission just so I could watch Mr Ambrose squeeze money out of some poor old sod? That had been only thirty percent of my motivation. Well, fifty at most.
No, therealreason had been one thing, and one thing only: opportunity. The very first opportunity to get away from those bloody pirates and get back to civilization. Just because I was getting along with Jackal, I had no illusions about reality. If he knew who I really was, who my husband was, he would clap us in irons in an instant. I wasn’t foolish enough to stay around and wait for that to happen. We were going to get out at the first opportunity.
But, apparently, my grand plan had failed. We were so close. So close. Just a few dozen yards away was a cheerful little coast town, with fishing boats in the harbour, and houses dotted across the hills beyond. With people. With safety.
Beyond our reach.
Drat!
