“Trouble with your pirates, Captain?” Jeremy asked, nodding toward the bandage on Damon’s side.

A logical assumption after what the hostages had just overheard. “No, that’s Jack’s handiwork. Quite the hellcat she is.”

“Did you hurt her?” Jeremy tried to get up again.

“Be easy, man, I told you she’s fine. And you mistake the situation. She’s very precious cargo. She won’t be hurt no matter how many times she tries to kill me.”

“Then we’ll hope she has better luck next time,” Jeremy sneered.

“I’m sure you will.”

“You mentioned a month,” Jeremy said next. “Where are you sailing to?”

“Warmer waters.”

“A whole month at sea?” Percival said, looking appalled.

“You could work your way across, if you want exercise to alleviate the boredom. Although you”—Damon paused to stare at Jeremy for a moment—“maybe not. It took quite a few men to take you down. Reminds me of Jack’s father.”

“You still think I’m somehow related?”

“You could be, even though you don’t look like her or her father.”

“There’s a reason—” Percy stopped talking before Jeremy could kick his chair over.

Damon raised a black brow. “Maybe you and I should have a talk?” he suggested to Percival. “Would you like a spot of fresh air?”

“Leave him be!” Jeremy snarled. “He’s not used to pirates.”

“But you are?”

“I want to see Jack. I need assurances that she’s all right.”

“Perhaps another time. For now, you’ll have to take my word for it.”

“I will need the exercise. You can’t keep me locked in here for a whole bloody month.”

“Of course I can. However, I’ll consider the request after you’ve recovered sufficiently. But you’ll need to bargain for it.”

“With?”

“With a promise of no trouble, and no attempt to rescue your employer, relative, or whoever she is to you. And you won’t be let out together. One at a time or neither of you. By the way, I’m not a pirate.”

Jeremy snorted. “If you look like one and act like one, then you are one.”

“Really? Then that would make you Jack’s brother, wouldn’t it, considering you look like him and are certainly acting like him?”

“Point taken. So not all spades are spades.” Jeremy then guessed, “But I’ll wager you’re Bastard. Warmer waters as in the Caribbean? You might as well fess up to it.”

“That I’m a bastard or that it’s the name Jack picked for me from our previous voyage together? I put up with it from her . . . well, I put up with most things from her.” But then in a darker tone Damon added, “I won’t put up with it from you. You can call me Reeves or Captain Reeves, take your pick.”

“Cap’n!” someone yelled from the top of the stairs. “You’re needed topside before this argument comes to blows!”

Damon quickly closed and locked the door on the hostages. His nervous guard drew his pistol and headed up the stairs cautiously.

The other man, Paul Jensen, put a hand on Damon’s arm. “You have an unusual crew, Captain. I’ve noticed they seem to only behave while you’re on deck. They’re a rowdy bunch, otherwise.”

“When I hired you, Mr. Jensen, I warned there might be problems and asked if you were prepared to deal with them.”

“And I am, sir. But are they your men or not? I’ve got your back, but I need to know who I’m guarding it from.”

Damon smiled. “Thank you, and no, half of them are not mine. You’ve probably already guessed which half. We’ll discuss this further, but in the meantime, I need to make sure none of the real sailors aboard get hurt.”

Chapter Nineteen

WAS THERE A FIGHT?” Jeremy asked the first mate, who opened the door a while later.

“None of your business,” Mortimer replied with his usual curtness. He dropped a small stack of books on the little eating table, then tossed a rolled-up hammock on the floor in the corner.

“Come now, Mr. Bower,” Jeremy persisted. “A mutiny would most certainly be of concern.”

“Mutiny?” Mortimer rolled his eyes. “Where the devil did you get that idea?”

“We heard the shouts. Nothing so grand then? A pity.”

“You fish well, but when Damon wants you to know something, he’ll be the one to tell you.” Mortimer snorted and left.

Jeremy sighed.

Percival observed, “You are determined to goad him, aren’t you?”

“He does prickle nicely, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, but he also brings our food while it’s still nice and hot. Quite tasty, too, if you ain’t noticed, dear boy. Might I suggest we keep it that way?”

“He doesn’t strike me as a vindictive sort. Definitely disgruntled though. I wonder why.”

“Ask.”

“Asking gets nothing from him.”

Percival moved over to examine the books. Jeremy read a few of the titles and wondered aloud, “What’s a pirate doing with classical literature?”

“Pirated?” Percy suggested with a smile for such a brilliant thought.

Jeremy did chuckle over Percy’s word for “stolen.” “Possibly, yet he says he’s not a pirate.”

“We’re to believe him?”

“I haven’t decided yet. But something definitely doesn’t add up here. What sane pirate talks to his captain like that belligerent one did earlier? The nasty little chap should’ve got knocked on his arse at the very least, and it even sounded like Captain Reeves wanted to do just that. I wonder why he didn’t.”

“Some men fastidiously avoid violence.” Percival dusted off his sleeves.

Jeremy laughed, but groaned when it hurt and finally got out, “Yes, we know your druthers, old boy. But Reeves is capable of it. I saw it in his eyes briefly when I reached for him. He bloody well would have shot me if I didn’t back off. At least he gave me fair warning.”

“Oh, I say, I know that name, ’deed I do.”