There is nothing worse for a pirate than dying on dry land. Except, maybe, swinging two feet above it.
When their captain is imprisoned, facing the gallows, the men and women of the Lady Lesya's crew will try everything to break him out--even if it...
The slender woman stood on top of the gangway. Legs spread, hands resting on the rail on both sides, she blocked the way. She was disheveled and looked almost mad in an unwavering, fierce way. She was stunning, beautiful.
Yet, Don Juan remained professional, focused on his task. Everything had led him to this ship, the only one he didn't know in the harbor, and to this boot-wearing, whip-holding woman. He couldn't believe she was the dismembering beast he was looking for, but she was the key to this gruesome case. The prospect of interrogating her sent shivers down his spine—he forced himself not to look at the whip, to keep thinking straight—but he was alone and had no authority past the dock. He needed men at his back and the governor's authorization to seize the ship. Unfortunately, the only way to get that was through the corrupted pile of lard passing for the Harbor Master. All fantasies died when replaced by the vision of La Choza's sweaty, quivering triple chin.
"I'm sure you know perfectly well the captain isn't on board." The woman's voice carried daggers of ice.
"I'm afraid I do, even if I still need to meet the man. And I definitely have questions for him."
"So why don't you stop beating about the bush? Who are you exactly?"
"I'm Don Juan Peña Hernandez de la Luz, Ch—"
"I never understood the Spanish passion for never ending names."
Don Juan pretended not to care about the mocking laugh she let out. "I'm the Chief Constable of this fine town."
"This town is a reeking pile of filthy shacks. What did you do to end up here? It's obviously your last assignment, old man."
Witty bitch! Don Juan smiled, more and more aroused. He pushed the delightful image of her heel on his throat out of his mind, and replaced it with the haunting one of the bloody stairs.
"I need to ask you about last night."
"Where is Captain Desjours?" was her only answer.
He sighed. This was a waste of time. Unless...
"I can take you to him."
The woman took a greedy step on the gangway.
"If..." he added.
She stopped. Despair flashed in her eyes, soon replaced by powerless anger. She had feelings for the man and didn't hide them well. Don Juan would soon have answers to all his questions.
"I'll take you to your Captain, if you come with me and tell me about what happened last night."
"Will you free him?"
"Free him? Your captain is facing serious charges. Murder."
Probably piracy, too...
"I don't have this kind of power, anyway," he concluded.
The woman looked beaten. Don Juan could almost see her brain work, and how she considered her options. Maybe she thought about rescuing Desjours in a suicidal attempt. Maybe she understood he was offering to let her see her captain for a last farewell before he would hang. In any case, she started to walk down the gangway, her face still like a mask. Don Juan extended a courteous arm to help her onto the dock. She had lifted her hand, almost touched his arm, when she froze. Her face came back to life, brightened. Don Juan's heart sank, not only because her smile was gorgeous, but because he could feel the tables had turned.
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