He snorted. “You should know by now I don’t put much stock in a pirate’s word.”
She flashed him a weak smile. “There’s a first time for everything.”
He bridged the distance between them again.
“Why should I trust you? Everything between us has been a lie.”
“Not everything.” The words slipped out before she could stop them and he stiffened. He knew exactly what she spoke of.
Heat rushed up her cheeks and she stuffed a hand into her pocket. A moment later, she waved Thorne’s half of the map in the small space between them. The old parchment fluttered in the wind.
“You can have it. Until we reach Savannah.”
He plucked the map from her fingers and unfolded it. “What use do I have for a tattered piece of paper? What does it gain me?”
She gave a harsh sigh. “It’s a gesture of goodwill, Lieutenant.”
Snatching the map back, she folded it and held out her hand. “Your compass.”
His brows drew together, but he handed it over, the metal warm from his grasp.
She lifted the lid and tucked the folded map into the body. When she handed it back to him, a weight lifted from her shoulders. Good riddance. Her hands suddenly burned with the need to lather up withsoap and wash all remainders of Thorne away.
Christian stared at the tarnished brass for a long while before sliding his gaze back to her. He didn’t say anything, but his emerald eyes flashed in the morning sun. She hadn’t missed the sunrise after all.
A shout from above broke his silent scrutiny, and he slipped the compass into his pocket.
“Ship ahoy!”
Something dark flashed in his eyes. “Speak of the devil.”
Her stomach lurched as she rose the spyglass once more. Seeing the sails on the horizon sent bile up her throat. It could be anybody. But how many ships that size sailed the Caribbean?
Christian yanked the spyglass from her and took a look. With a growl, he lowered it. “You’ve got three, maybe four hours until he catches up.”
She was already on her way to the helm, panic clawing her gut. They already had every sail set. The masts wouldn’t support any more as it was.
“You can’t outrun him.”
She stiffened at Christian’s soft words.
Damn him for being right.
She spun to Griff. “Can we lose them in the outer shoals of The Bahamas?”
His grim face confirmed her doubts. “Nay. We’ll be lucky to even reach them by the time he catches up.”
A pain pressed against her temples. She should have killed Thorne—or at the very least, given him enough henbane to do the job for her. Her gaze slid to Christian. Or she could have listened to Griff and not wasted time rescuing the lieutenant and his crew.
Even an hour’s more of a head start would have given them a fighting chance.
But now? They were sitting ducks.
Chapter Eighteen
Samantha kept herhand steady on the wheel. The only steady thing in the chaos around her. The ship hummed beneath her, pushed to her limit with sails taking more wind than they ever were meant for. Her heart raced, each rapid pump a painful reminder she was alive. For now.
Don’t look back.
