She gave him a pointed stare and mumbled something beneath her breath.
“What was that?”
“I said, you’re already indebted to me.”
His fingers twitched. And the wretched girl laughed.
“Is it that bad, Lieutenant? Would you rather still be locked up on Thorne’s ship than admit you owe me?”
He growled and turned away, but she followed, stepping in front of him before he could reach the edge of the clearing.
“Come with me, Lieutenant. The quicker you get back to Savannah, the quicker you can put a plan together to take down Thorne. As much as it may pain you, we are on the same side in this.” Her blue eyes flashed with emotion and some of his anger dissipated. She was scared.
He closed his eyes. She was right to be. His father would continue to try to get her family’s map. Would kill to get it.
Well, she would have to face Thorne on her own.
“Lieutenant, will you sail with me?”
Before Christian could answer, a twig snapped in the bushes behind him. He spun and nearly impaled himself on a sword.
“Choose your next words wisely, Lieutenant.” The old man—Griff she’d called him—held his blade steady.
Two more men materialized next to him. One of them tossed Red her rapier. Christian pushed Griff’s sword aside.
“No. Once you leave, Thorne will follow you, leaving me free to rescue my men and find a ship.”
Griff nodded and stepped aside. “Very well.”
Christian strode past him.
“Wait.”
He stiffened, but let the old man approach him.
“You might need this.” Griff passed him his blade.
Christian’s fingers clamped around the warm hilt. He inclined hishead, the closest he could bring himself to saying thank you, and strode into the woods. When Red called his name, he increased his pace.
She would be fine.
If she was smart, she’d pack up and get out of Savannah. Move far away.
He had more pressing things to take care of: finding his crew.
*
Christian shifted onhis heels and tested the weight of the pirate sword.
Four guards.
He could take them.
Finding his men had been far easier than he had thought. A simple question to a drunk on the streets had sent him in the direction of the auction house. Climbing the wall to the big yard had been easy too.
Now, he crouched behind a stack of crates and waited for the right moment. His men’s lives depended on him. They sat in a tight group beneath a tall palm with their hands and feet bound. Thirty-six of them.
Less than half his crew.
