Page 6 of Kidnapped by the Pirate
Hawk sighed to himself. Enough of this. He curled his tongue into his cheek and gave her a leering appraisal. “If you prefer to take your brother’s place—”
“No!” the boy shouted. Bainbridge’s eyes burned with a fierceness he had lacked before now. “I’ll do whatever you ask. Just don’t harm my sister.”
Hawk’s lips curled up. If he were a tender-hearted type, he’d almost be touched. As it was, well…
Breathing hard, Bainbridge yanked his sister into a hug. “I’ll be all right. I love you, Susie.”
She clung to him. “Don’t go. Don’t let him take you.”
Wishing he could roll his eyes, Hawk hauled Bainbridge from the cabin, dragging him out by the scruff of his neck. He didn’t fight, apparently surrendering to his fate for his sister’s sake, or perhaps having used up his shred of bravery.
The girl would have been no use—if Hawk recalled correctly, Walter Bainbridge had two daughters. But, rumor was, it had been a son to carry on his name that he’d obsessed over and valued above the health of his own wife. And now here was that very son, in Hawk’s grasp.
Why the Fates had blessed this night so roundly, he’d never know, but he wouldn’t question it. Not every wind blew such good luck into his sails. Here was his opportunity for revenge at last.
Would the snake be able to raise the money? Perhaps. Most likely, given his connections. But at the very least, Hawk held Bainbridge’s precious legacy in his grip. Oh, what he would give to see the old man’s face when he heard the news.
Hawk laughed out loud, his delight echoing off the water all around. He shoved the boy toward Snell at the rail. “Behold our prize, Mr. Quartermaster. Walter Bainbridge’s precious son.”
Snell was a hair taller than Bainbridge and quite a bit thicker, solid muscle beneath the extra layers that had come with age as he passed fifty years. His silver-wreathed fingers gripped Bainbridge’s arm ruthlessly.
Dark eyes meeting Hawk’s beneath his thinning mess of fair hair, Snell laughed, wide-mouthed, earrings glinting in the torchlight. Snell’s black shirt gaped at the neck, revealing an anchor tattoo just below his throat. He had five or six tattoos hammered into his flesh. Hawk was content with one.
After confirming his orders with Snell, Hawk passed on the ransom demand to the merchant captain, a salty old seaman who merely shrugged and nodded, the boy’s life clearly of no concern. Bainbridge watched the exchange with obvious dismay.
For his part, Snell eyed young Bainbridge with nothing more than a raised brow on his craggy face. “Come on, then. Over you go.”
The boy blinked at the long wooden plank connecting the merchant ship to The Damned Manta. He glanced over his shoulder toward the stairs belowdecks, where his sister’s sobs echoed. His body flexed, as though to run, or take flight.
“Now, now, none of that,” Hawk said, smirking. “Where would you even escape to?” A darkness in him fed on the Bainbridge boy’s terror. “Unless you plan to be shark food, there’s only one place for you to go now.”
He turned his gaze to the shadowy hulk of his ship, its sleek sails temporarily furled, the crew following his orders to the letter. It had been his home for years, yet he grew restless.
This was it. This was bloody well it.
Revenge would finally be his. Up until tonight, Hawk’s luck had been running out. He’d felt it. Either he’d meet his fate at the bottom of the sea, run through on a blade, or at the end of a hangman’s noose. Now, here the Bainbridge boy stood, like a living, breathing chance at regaining at least some of what he’d lost.
Perhaps even a chance at a new life. It was foolishness, but… Maybe.
“Up you get.” Snell pushed the prisoner to the plank. “Captain Hawk isn’t a patient man, I warn you. Nor am I.”
Breathing hard, Bainbridge climbed up, legs visibly trembling. He looked over at the Manta, then back at Hawk.
Then down at the waves.
“Don’t even think about some noble sacrifice,” Hawk snarled, vaulting up behind him. “Or we’ll take your sister after all. She won’t be so pretty when we’re done with her.” He grabbed the boy by the nape again. “Move.”
After his boots hit the familiar deck, he marched the prisoner to the stern and stood surveying the crew, still holding Bainbridge fast. When the plank was raised and hooks released from the Proud William, Hawk shouted orders to set sail. In the gray hint of dawn, they caught the wind.
Even weighted with the pilfered cargo, The Damned Manta was the faster ship. Hawk remained astern regardless, watching to be sure the merchant vessel didn’t make any attempt at following. Stranger things had happened.
Bainbridge shivered beside him, fists clenched and lips pressed tight, watching the Proud William grow smaller in their wake.
