Pirate's Pleasure (Sentinels of Savannah) Read online

  No more wine with her boss.

  As they came up to the underground parking of her building, she reached across him to press the gate opener on the driver’s side visor. This was deep into his personal space, closer than she’d ever been. Maybe it was that alcohol, but she couldn’t help imagining being even…closer.

  The gate lifted, and she settled back into her seat. “My space is number thirty-three.”

  “Aye,” he mumbled as he drove into the underground parking.

  She stared at his profile. His strong jawline and chiseled features were perfect, just like his well-ordered world.

  He parked and turned her way. “Do you need help getting inside?”

  She blinked. “I thought you were coming up with me. I have a business proposition.”

  He smiled, but there was a hint of something—maybe regret—in his eyes. “The position is already yours.”

  “This isn’t about Privateer Capital.” She lowered her voice and leaned in closer. “This is about a way to help people who really need it.” He still didn’t look convinced, so she sweetened the pot. “My charity is going to sell a one-of-a-kind antiquity. All the proceeds go to people in need of medical treatment. But first we need some software upgrades.”

  He took her hand, and a jolt of awareness cut through the buzz of the wine. “Let’s talk about this inside.”

  Chapter Three

  Agent David Bale stuck to the shadows of the Inlet Apartment complex’s parking structure. Facial recognition software had provided him a name for his thief from the docks. Harmony Andrews. Finding her address turned out to be a simple project. She wasn’t doing anything to hide herself. Maybe she masked herself with a codename on the dark web with the Digi Robins crew and never considered her virtual world might cross over into her real one. Either way, he had her, and hopefully he’d have Pandora’s box safely locked in the vault soon.

  David had been the director of Department 13 for more than one mortal lifetime. Using potions and magic only available to his top-secret branch of the government, he’d cheated death more than once, and he’d continue doing so until he could be confident his country would be safe without him. That day hadn’t come yet.

  An SUV entered the parking lot. After a moment, John Smyth got out with Harmony Andrews at his side. David frowned, struggling to reconcile what he was witnessing.

  What the hell?

  John Smyth was the boatswain for the Sea Dog. He tracked rations, distributed each crew member’s fair share of plunder, and hell, he’d been trusted by his fellow pirates ever since. Out of all the immortal pirates, David found John to be the most trustworthy of the bunch.

  Yet, here he was with the thief who stole Pandora’s box. David checked his phone to verify that the photo of their target was sent to John earlier tonight. Yes.

  The pirate knew she swiped the relic. So, why was he walking her home instead of handing her over? Maybe he wasn’t giving the pirate enough credit. John could be cozying up to the thief to discover the location of the box.

  David followed them to the elevator. He wasn’t big on guessing the intentions of the people he worked with. Until he was certain of John’s plans, he’d stay close by.

  He fired off a text to Kingsley.

  I need every piece of information you can find on Harmony Andrews. Now.

  …

  John followed Harmony into her apartment, taking in the austere surroundings. Her walls were bare, no art, no photos, nothing. The kitchen to the right was spacious, with stainless steel appliances, and again, nothing personalized.

  “How long have you lived here?”

  She set her purse and briefcase on a chair at the glass dining room table. “About three years.” She started down the hallway. “My office is back here.”

  He walked behind her, wishing he understood what motivated her to steal such a valuable artifact from the American government. She obviously didn’t have expensive tastes in decor, and what about a family? There weren’t any photos of them proudly displayed or even clipped to the fridge with magnets.

  Could she have crushing debts to pay?

  When he stepped into her office, his shoulders loosened, some of the tension sliding free. This room was most definitely Harmony. Post-it Notes filled with scribbled words framed her computer screen, and pens were scattered all over the desk, along with opened envelopes and empty fruit snack wrappers.

  This was the chaos he recognized from working with her. This was the side of Harmony he expected, an intelligent, inspired disorder.

  At the back of the desk were two photos. In one, she grinned with her arm around another woman, who had to be her mother. Her mom’s skin tone was slightly darker than Harmony’s, and her heritage from India was unmistakable. They shared the same dark eyes and bright smiles. In the other photo, Harmony stood in a small single-manned sailboat with one foot up on the deck.

  His ancient heart skipped a beat. “You sail?”

  She glanced at the picture and nodded. “I used to, before my brother got sick.” She settled in her computer chair and gestured for him to come closer. “Sorry you have to stand. I don’t usually have any company in here.”

  He stopped behind her chair, the scent of her hair tempting him to run his fingers through the silky strands. He clenched his fists tight. “Is your brother all right?”

  “He is now.” She tipped her head back to look up at him. “But he’d be dead if it weren’t for my charity group.” She faced her screen again, her fingers flying over the keyboard. A log-in appeared, and she spun her chair around to face him. Her gaze slid up his body, and he caught himself fighting the urge to pull her up even closer.

  She crossed her arms. “I need to know I can trust you.”

  He raised a brow. “Have I ever given you reason not to?”

  “No.” She almost smiled. “But this is far from a risky investment opportunity at Privateer.”

  “I thought it was a charity.” He played along with the charade. If he had any hope of convincing her to give up the cursed box, she had to trust him. Luckily, he had a good track record of earning the trust of pirates. The thought teased a grin at the corners of his mouth. He did his best to keep his expression neutral.

  Harmony shrugged a shoulder. “It is, but not in a conventional sense.” She paused, pressing her lips together. “We fund expensive, acute medical treatments for people without insurance.”

  “That sounds noble.” He nodded. “Are you asking me for a donation?”

  “Sort of?” She stood, still shorter than him by a good eight inches. “We auction off goods and artifacts to the highest bidder and use the money to help people. Right now, we have a one-of-a-kind relic, and an eager buyer is sniffing around already. But before we sell something with this kind of price tag, we need new encrypted software for the bidding, a more impenetrable firewall, and a new storage facility.”

  The mention of a storage facility had alarm bells going off in his head. “Where do you store your items now?”

  She took a couple steps across the room and slid the closet doors open to expose a digital wall safe. “This is it, for now.”

  He flinched when his phone buzzed in his pocket. “Damn cell phone.”

  He took it out while Harmony went back to her chair and logged in to the website. A text from Agent Bale glowed on the screen.

  I see you found our thief. I’m on my way up to collect her. Keep her busy.

  John frowned, scanning the room. Fuck. He couldn’t let Bale arrest her. What if she wouldn’t give up the box willingly? Would they hurt her to get it? Potentially. He scratched at the back of his neck and finally shook his head. No.

  He refused to contemplate how they might make her talk. The instinct to shield her made no rational sense. She’d been working for him, and obviously doing a fair bit of lying. Now that she’d laid a few cards on the table, it was a simple leap to see the bullshit deal she’d been trying to get his approval on must’ve been a shell company, a fro
nt for her dark web “charity.”

  But he couldn’t help but admire her. Somehow, she’d hacked into Department 13’s computers and walked away with a priceless, deadly artifact. And she’d worked for him for five years without tipping her hand about the Digi Robins group.

  Seeing her in handcuffs chafed his pirate’s heart. No. He’d convince her to return the box. She obviously had no idea of the box’s destructive power. Once she did, he was certain she would turn it over to Agent Bale for safekeeping.

  He took her hand off the keyboard, his voice hushed. “We need to get out of here now. You can ask questions later.”

  She glanced at her closet. “I can’t leave.”

  He took her other hand, squeezing them both until she met his eyes. “We’ll come back for it.” He pulled her to her feet. “Let’s move.”

  …

  The buzz from the wine at dinner was suddenly nonexistent, adrenaline replacing the warm haze. John practically dragged her out of her apartment and scanned the hallway. What the hell was going on?

  He stayed behind her, nudging her forward. “We’ll take the stairs.”

  His tone was gruff and firm. She might’ve found it sexy if they weren’t racing down the hall of her apartment complex. At the other end, the elevator doors were opening.

  John cursed under his breath, pushing her inside the stairwell and yanking the door closed behind them. “Downstairs. Hurry.”

  “Who—”

  “Questions later.” He was right behind her, taking the stairs at a sprinter’s pace.

  They burst out of the doorway on the ground floor, racing down the street. John pointed to an alley, and she ducked into the shadows as he took out his phone.

  “Wait.” Harmony struggled to catch her breath. “I need to know what’s happening.”

  “I’m getting us a Lyft to my place. We can plan our next move from there.”

  She frowned. “I’m not going anywhere until I know what’s going on. Why are we running?”

  He finished on his phone, lifting his gaze level with hers. “Are the relics you sell donated to your charity?”

  She sighed. No sense lying now. “Not exactly.”

  “You steal them.” For some reason he didn’t look shocked or judgmental.

  “You don’t seem surprised.” She crossed her arms. “Why is that?”

  He flashed his phone in her direction. A black-and-white low-resolution picture of her wearing her black beanie filled his screen. The beanie she wore the night when she snatched the box from the docks.

  John’s voice dropped to an urgent whisper. “The government agent who sent me this picture just texted me because he saw us enter your building together. You have something he would very much like returned.”

  “How…” Her voice trailed off, her mind racing. Why would a government agent have John’s cell number? Unless they figured out where she worked. And if they did, why was John helping her instead of turning her in? Her jaw went slack for a second. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that same question.” The Lyft pulled up before he could finish. They got into the back seat, and John glanced her way. “We’ve worked together for five years, and I never knew…” He shook his head. “You’re the reason. The project I needed to work on, the one that would keep me away from the office—was you.”

  “What?” She frowned. “Are you an undercover agent or something?”

  “Something.” A muscle tensed in his cheek as he stared out the window. “The agent asked me and my crew to locate a missing relic. When I agreed, I didn’t realize it was stolen by you.”

  Sweat broke out under her arms, her pulse racing. “Are you going to turn me in?”

  “No.” He took her hand. The simple touch warmed her in a very non-businesslike way. His gaze locked on hers. “But we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  She had a million questions about his dealings with the government. Why would an investment broker moonlight helping the government recover historical artifacts?

  Before she could spit out a single question, the Lyft driver pulled up in front of a gorgeous mansion on Chippewa Square in the historic district of Savannah.

  Savannah was built around the park-like squares, but this one was probably the most popular with tourists since Forrest Gump came out. People of all ages flocked to Chippewa Square to sit on Forrest’s park bench for photos, but locals knew the bench didn’t exist. Magic of Hollywood props.

  A couple was snapping late-night selfies as she got out of the car. The mundane, normal event seemed surreal right now.

  She glanced over at John as he punched in a code to open the iron gate in front of a three-story mansion. “Do you get tired of the constant flow of tourists in the square?”

  He opened the gate, his hand resting at the small of her back as he guided her inside. “No. Most of the ghost tours have told such salacious stories about my house that I probably don’t need the alarm system. No one would dare enter.”

  She raised a brow. “Your house is haunted?”

  He chuckled, following her up the front steps. “Only by me.”

  He unlocked the door and deactivated the alarm before stepping back to allow her to pass by. Her eyes widened as the heels of her flats clicked along the hardwood floor. The ceilings were at least twelve feet high, with elaborately carved crown molding that came together in the corner. She squinted up at it. It looked like a…

  “Figurehead.” John pointed at the object of her attention. “It’s from the Sea Dog.”

  “Isn’t that one of the pirate ships that sank near the mouth of the Savannah River?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “My friend Colton built a full-size replica of the ship. I opted for a smaller reminder.”

  She raised a brow. “Reminder of?”

  He blinked like she’d broken a spell of some sort. He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

  Without answering her, he led her into an expansive study with giant mahogany pocket doors. The ornate crown molding framed this room as well. Maybe they all had it. She walked into the room, and he rolled them closed behind her.

  John approached, gesturing to an antique sofa upholstered in deep purple velvet. “Please, sit.”

  She did, staring at John, trying to figure out why he’d brought her here. Time to stop dancing around the gigantic elephant in the room. “Why aren’t you turning me in?”

  He sat in the chair across from her and loosened his tie, popping the top button of his dress shirt. “I suppose I’m hoping I can convince you to return the item you took from the docks. I might be able to negotiate clemency on your behalf.”

  Harmony eyed him for a moment, her thoughts racing at breakneck speed. “The Sea Dog was a pirate ship.”

  His brow shot up. “I’m not sure what that has to do with returning the stolen relic.”

  She crossed her arms. “You weren’t shocked when I told you I stole the artifact we’re trying to sell.” She pointed to the figurehead at the corner of the room. “I think you admire pirates.”

  There was that belly laugh from him again. Her bloodstream warmed, and this time it had nothing to do with wine. He rolled up the cuffs of his dress shirt, a light in his eyes she’d never seen before.

  “Admire isn’t the word I would choose.” He settled back into his chair, one leg crossed over the other, and rested his chiseled forearms on the armrests. For a second, he looked every bit like the rogue pirate king on his throne. “I suppose I brought you here hoping I could get you out of this mess. Purely selfish on my part. I can’t take time off from Privateer Capital unless I have someone I can trust at the helm in my absence.”

  “You said I was the reason you were taking time off, remember?” Harmony tipped her head, pondering. “Wait. You still trust me after finding out I stole something valuable from the government?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked into a crooked smile. “You’ve never stolen from me.”

  She leaned in closer,
baiting him. “How do you know?”

  The playful light in his eyes dimmed into the meticulous employer she’d worked with for the past five years. “Because I’ve seen every scam, and I look over every deal. No one steals from me.”

  Chapter Four

  John stood up and went to the liquor cabinet. He opened it and removed two glasses, gathering his thoughts. His phone had been vibrating like a massage chair in his pocket, but he ignored it. No doubt Agent Bale had some questions, and for now, John didn’t have any answers. All he knew for certain was that Harmony had the heart of a pirate, and he couldn’t stomach seeing her punished for her passion to help others.

  Somehow, he needed to make her understand the danger the relic posed to the world, but he doubted she’d believe Pandora’s box was real. Right now, he had no way to provide evidence for her, so best to find another way

  After filling the glasses with rum and Coke, he brought them back to the sitting area and handed her one before settling at the other end of the couch.

  She sipped her drink, her dark eyes meeting his. “If you gave us the funding for the software and the firewall, I could sell the stolen property without a paper trail. They wouldn’t be able to prove anything.”

  “That photo I showed you is from the security camera at the docks. They can prove you were there. They’ve got you unless you return it.” He sighed. “Do you know what it is you took?”

  Her eyes widened. “Do you?”

  “Yes.” He finished his drink and placed the glass on the coffee table. “And it’s too dangerous to sell.”

  “It’s not a bomb or a weapon.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s a plain black wooden box, an antique. Whatever government-man told you is a lie. They’re going to store it in a numbered crate on a shelf in a secret warehouse someplace. It’ll rot away collecting dust.” She set her glass down and crossed her arms. “We can save lives, John.”