A puffy cloud slid across the sun and he peered between two buildings, where the glimmer of the river caught his eye. This weekend, he would set sail once more. His fingers brushed the soft fabric of his badge of merit. Being back on the sea would set him back to rights. He had a job to do and needed to focus solely on it.
Bringing pirates to justice.
A bitter taste rose into his mouth. After spending days among Red’s well-honed crew, after fighting at their side against Thorne’s men, justice suddenly didn’t seem so black and white. On the island, he’d heard fond stories of wives and children, sung along with them as they tried to keep spirits high in the face of uncertainty, witnessed the camaraderie between men so similar to those of his own crew. If he met those sailors out at sea, could he really put them behind bars? Sentence them to the noose?
He glanced at the jail, where his father would soon be led out. A monster. One born of grief and hatred. One he had no desire to become.
“Are you alright?”
Isaac’s soft words punctured Christian’s thoughts, and he turned back to him.
“You don’t have to stay for the hanging, you know.”
But he did. “If I leave, people will ask questions.”
Questions that could lose him his job. He trusted his crew to keep quiet about Thorne’s true identity, but showing weakness during the hanging of his greatest catch could make for some uncomfortable conversations. Ones he wasn’t ready to have.
“Fine. But you’re joining me at the tavern tonight for a well-deserved pint or three.”
God knew, if he went home, he’d down a whole bottle. Perhaps more. A ghost of a smile played across his lips.
“Deal.”
“And if you need to talk about your father—when you need to—you know I’m here.”
His father. He ground his teeth together and pulled his hat off. Twisted it in his hands. And put it back on. Today, he’d lose his father for the second time. This time, for good.
Monster. He repeated the word in his head.
“Lieutenant, a word, if you please.” Henry Warstein stood feet away and the hairs on Christian’s neck lifted.
The very pirate he’d been tasked with hunting down. He would have never guessed. But all the signs were there. Wealthy. Warehouses full of goods. Never losing a ship to pirates. His gaze slid up the man’s impeccable outfit. A true gentleman pirate.
It made one wonder how many more were hiding in plain sight.
Isaac raised a brow and shot Christian a look. But he waved his friend away. “I’ll meet you near the platform in a few minutes.”
Warstein—Remington—leaned against the white stone of the railing. “I’m glad you caught him.”
Christian narrowed his eyes. “Did you know who he was?”
The man stared out over the crowd. “Fine day for a hanging, isn’t it?”
“It’s never a fine day for a hanging.” He snapped his mouth shut as a grey eyebrow lifted. “Answer my question, Remington.”
“Thorne surprised us all. Thompson is a common name. I did not put his identity and you together until Samantha told me.”
The mention of her name sent Christian’s gaze on a quick hunt for her. Not by the platform anymore. The crowd pushed together even tighter as latecomers arrived. No blue dress in sight, however.
“I owe you my gratitude. If I had lost her...” The merchant cleared his throat. “She means the world to me.”
Christian turned to him. “Will you truly stop? She gave me her word.”
Warstein let out a sigh. “I suppose times are changing. If not you, there will always be another ambitious navy man or pirate with lofty goals keen to take me down. I’m getting old, and truth be told, all the action has begun to wear me out. I’m thinking of heading to New Orleans. Plenty of opportunities to be had there.”
He pulled his hat off and fanned himself, running his free hand through grey hair. “Reckon we will have to arrange a meeting before then. Remington will fall to the mighty Lieutenant Thompson in a skirmish. Of course, his body will never be recovered.”
Christian tugged one sleeve of his jacket. The thing about dishonesty was it had a habit of circling back, ready to strike when least expected.
