Page 67 of The Heart of an Earl

Des downed the last of the whisky in his glass and set it down on the table.

He missed and the glass fell off the table, knocking onto his knee before shattering on the floor by his boots.

Smashed glass. Daisy—Daisy the voluptuous bar maid was going to be mad. She’d been so very good, glass after glass after glass delivered to him for six days now. Daisy would be mad.

A blade flashed in the air in front of his nose.

How did they get that close, that fast?

His head rolled—a thousand stones banging inside of it—and Des managed to tip his chin upward, his eyes following suit. Pirates. Pirates he knew. The right one—the one from theRed Dragonthat had stolen Jules from the street in front of the dress shop.

That pirate, then the other man moved away, backward. Floating through the air.

No sense. No sense at all.

He had to concentrate on blinking again.

No—not floating. They were being dragged, fighting.

A cold blast spun into the tavern as the door opened and the pirates disappeared into the darkness. Swallowed by a black hole of hell.

“Ye’ve been a hard man to track, Des.”

His head bobbing, falling downward, he found black boots on the floor in front of him, the toes crunching onto the shattered glass.

“Des.”

With a heave of effort, Des made his eyes move upward. Captain Folback.

Where did he come from?

Des’s mouth curled in a sneer. “I didn’t want to be followed.” The words, even to his own soused ears, were slurred beyond recognition.

“Yet I found you.”

“Aye, so what of it?”

Captain Folback nodded toward him. “This because of the girl?”

For a moment, Des paused, swaying, near to passing out. He forced air from his lungs. “She’s dead.” A mere whisper, the words stained a bitter taste across his tongue.

“A shame, a beauty like that.” Captain Folback kicked out the chair across the round table from Des and sat in it, staring at him. “Then this will be a mite easier.”

“What?”

“It seems ye forgot to tell me about a little gem that came off theRed Dragonwith that lady friend of yers.”

That sobered Des—as much as possible with the whisky deep in his veins. His back straightened from the permanent curl it had formed in the last week and a half since leaving Gatlong Hall. “What are you talking about, Captain?”

“The crew of theRed Dragonescaped from thehold a day after they were set in chains. Had help they did—from who I don’t yet know. They took back over the ship and killed Johnson.” Captain Folback threw his arm onto the table, leaning over it as his voice lowered. “The bastards followed us into port and they have loose lips—loose about what they’re after—who they’re after and why. We’ve been following them. They’ve been following ye. Those are the two demons yer mates just dragged away from ye—they were seconds away from cutting ye.”

Des’s blurry gaze swung to the closed door.

Captain Folback pulled wide his red coat lapels and sat back in his chair, his leg flipping up to rest on his left knee. “The Box of Draupnir should have been mine, Des. Ye know that fact. So give me the box and come back to the ship. We’re leaving port in a week. We have new crewmen to train in.”

Des pulled his blurry eyes straight, focusing on the captain in the middle of the three he currently saw.

Captain Folback wasn’t angry, wasn’t threatening. If anything, he looked concerned.

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