Tink stared at Peter, waiting for him to notice her. She was the only one not smiling after all. Shouldn’t be too hard for him to spot her.
His gaze floated over the crowd as he bobbed along to the melody. Finally, his attention snagged on her.
Then moved on.
What the—
The music faltered. His focus snapped back to her, then away.
Oh yes, he’d noticed.
Moments later, he ended the song and bowed to the crowd. “Thank you, thank you.”
Onlookers called for another, but he smiled and hopped off the box. Peter snatched the little jar some people had tossed coins into and headed in the opposite direction from her.
Tink stalked after him. “Hey, wait!”
He didn’t even look back, just picked up his pace, aiming for the buildings on the far side of the square.
“Peter!”
He stopped, going completely stiff. The boy twisted around to face her and shoved his flute into a belt around his waist. “What do you want?” he demanded.
“Why are you here?” she asked. “What did you do with my treehouse?”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Right where you left it.”
She couldn’t stop the eyeroll. “You take over my home, ambush me, then sell me off to a bloody pirate just to leave and come here?”
He crossed his arms. The coins had already disappeared from the now-empty jar. “Yep.”
Something wasn’t right. It just didn’t make sense. “And the rest of your boys? You left those little kids on their own?”
“’Course not. They’re around.”
Picking pockets, probably. Tink sighed. What a great role model he was for these boys. Still… “You couldn’t play music in Tortuga?”
“I did.” He shrugged. “Coin we got wouldn’t last forever, and the boys needed to eat. Got a better offer to come here.”
Tink pinched the bridge of her nose. Why was she wasting her time with this kid? She glanced toward the sky. More of the day had passed than she realized. “Stay out of my house,” she said, determined to have the last word.
A shadow fell over them. “There trouble here?”
Great, just great.Tink squinted up at the shaggy man. “I was just leaving.”
“Nope,” Peter said at the same time.
“So long as there’s not.” A beefy hand landed on Peter’s shoulder.
Tink forced a smile. “Farewell th—” The words stuck in her throat as the man’s one eye widened.
Oh, fuck.
Oh, fuck. Shit.
He was one of Captain Blackbeard’s crewmen. She hadn’t realized at first, but that eye patch with the little skull on it was unmistakable. He’descortedher below deck to meet the captain. Worse, he remembered her too.
Tink bolted, racing across the cobblestones.
