“But first, I’m dealing with your new friends. After that, you’re a dead man, Cagney.”
The way she says it? Hell, I’m almost sure she might give me a second chance after all.
11
Gypsy
For a long time, I thought I had Zayan Cagney figured out. That we were cut from the same cloth. I believed we understood each other better than anyone else ever could. But now? Now I realize I was wrong.
I stare at him, every nerve buzzing with a single, furious thought: I don’t understand him at all. Why the hell is he here? He doesn’t get to betray me—hand me over to my father and his crew, the only family I’ve ever known—and then turn around and act like my savior. He doesn’t get to stand here, looking at me with those stormy, moss-green eyes like I’ve claimed his soul.
He needs to back off.
“Hope you know you brought these men here to die,” I snarl through clenched teeth. “Because I’m going to kill them.”
None of this would be happening if it weren’t for him. Those merchants never would’ve had the balls to come after me if Zayan hadn’t led them straight to me. He brought them to my schooner, let them sail in my wake, and now they’re here, firing their guns—at me, at him, at Vinicola, too.
Zayan’s wrecked my plans twice now, and if I don’t get him out of my way, he’ll ruin them again. That much is certain—just as sure as the sun will set tonight and rise again tomorrow.
But how do you get a man like Zayan Cagney to leave when he’s nothing short of a maniac?
The way it felt when he threw himself into the abyss to catch me just moments ago—our bodies slamming together like he couldn’t bear to be anywhere else—it made me want to scream. His warmth pressed against me, the heat of his skin against mine… and for what? Forgiveness? Redemption? I don’t know what he’s looking for, but he won’t find it here.
Still, it felt too good. Too familiar. My body remembers every inch of his, no matter how much I wish it didn’t.
“You’re the Captain, love,” he replies, an infuriating smirk plastered to his lips. “Do as you wish.”
Another wave of shots fires from the privateers’ ship, their bullets whizzing through the storm like a rain of steel. They’re not using the cannons yet—thank the gods—and stick to their pistols. But with the sea raging beneath us and the sway of both vessels, their shots are landing everywhere but where they’re supposed to.
They’re ruining my ship. Oh, fuck no.
I whip around, eyes narrowing on the nearest barrel tied to the mast. With a swift, practiced motion, I yank the rope free, the barrel crashing to the deck with a heavy thud. Without pausing, I roll it toward the portside, eyes locked on the privateer ship. My schooner’s already taken enough damage—I’ll be damned if I let them turn it into splinters.
“You’ve got about two seconds to help,” I snap at Zayan, not bothering to look at him. “Or get the hell out of my way.”
I hear him move behind me, but it’s not fast enough. A few more shots ping off the railing, one splintering the wood justinches from my hand. I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to duck. I’m not hiding.
Fuck this.
Zayan reaches me just as I shove the barrel overboard, watching it bob in the water. “What’s your plan here, Gypsy?” he asks, his voice tight, like he actually cares.
Perhaps he got attached to the bastards on the merchant ship. I wouldn’t put it past him anymore. He’s a betrayer through and through. Since he already betrayed me, maybe now he’ll betray the piracy by siding with the cowards?
“I’m going to set that ship on fire,” I say, enjoying the thought. His eyebrows shoot up, and I catch a flicker of amusement in his eyes. I grab the next barrel, shoving it toward the edge. “Got a problem with that?”
He hesitates—just for a second. Then he’s at my side, helping me push the barrel. “As I said, you’re the Captain, love.”
I hate that he keeps calling me that. I hate everything it stands for. Everythingheis.
“I’m not your love,” I snap. I try to keep my focus on the task at hand, but it’s hard when he’s so close. Too close. Even the storm doesn’t make me forget it.
Together, we shove the last of the barrels overboard. I pull my pistol from my belt, eyes locked on one of the floating barrels between the ships.
Zayan leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “And here I thought you couldn’t be more magnificent.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, and fire.
The shot cracks through the storm, and the barrel erupts in a burst of fire. The oil inside ignites with a roar, flames spreading across the water faster than I expected. The blaze leaps up the sides of the privateer ship, catching the crew off guard as they scramble to put it out.
