Pirate's Persuasion Page 8

  Drake’s eyes widened. “She was wearing the ring of the Serpent Society? That’s impossible. It doesn’t make any sense. They don’t allow women to be part of their fanatical group.”

  David had never told her about the Serpent Society, but the bits and pieces she’d collected from the dead while helping him told her the fanatical group was willing to kill to keep their secrets. “I know what I saw.”

  “Where did she get it?”

  Heather frowned. “I don’t know, but maybe that’s what attracted Flynn?”

  Drake shook his head, worry lining his eyes. “The captain loathes the serpent zealots as much as I do.”

  “Then why do you look so concerned?”

  He took her hand, leading her back toward the stairs. “Because if she’s got one of their rings, you can bet they’re already hunting her to get it back. They’ve been around for centuries because they keep their existence secret. The rings have to be earned. They’ll take it back, one way or another.”

  A surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. Maybe her mother had misread the signs from her dream. Maybe the danger wasn’t from Ashley.

  Maybe the danger was aimed right at her.

  Chapter Nine

  Drake leaned against his truck, his eyes on Heather’s house. Not knowing what the fuck to do was new to him, and he hated it. This situation wasn’t something he could fix with his own two hands.

  Heather was convinced her sister was the one with a target on her back, but Drake wasn’t so sure. And if Heather really was the one in danger, between the banshee wails and his nephew haunting him, Drake could be incapacitated when she needed him most.

  The realization sent dread creeping down his spine.

  He took out his phone and scrolled through the contacts until he found Greyson’s number.

  Since the 1700s, Greyson had been the master gunner of the Sea Dog crew. After centuries of target practice sessions with all manner of weapons, his aim with a pistol or a rifle rivaled any man alive. These days he ran his own personal security company and enjoyed any chance to utilize his weapons skills.

  Plus, he’d be the least likely to pepper Drake with questions he wasn’t sure he could answer yet, which made him an even more desirable choice to ask for help.

  Greyson came on the line after the first ring. “Drake? What’s up, mate?”

  “I need a favor.”

  “All right.” He paused. “You need muscle on a project?”

  Heather’s shadow crossed the drawn living room drapes. “Not exactly. There’s a house that I want you to watch overnight for me.” He gave Greyson the address and added, “Bring weapons.”

  “I’m always armed, mate.” His tone was all business now. “What’s the job?”

  “I think Heather Storrey is in danger, and I need to go up to Atlanta to meet with Captain Flynn.”

  “Why do I recognize her name?” Greyson asked.

  “She’s the medium in town that Agent Bale works with sometimes.” She was so much more than that. Memories of their kiss filled his head and warmed his bloodstream. He hadn’t been sure he believed her theory about her past life, but kissing her had instantly reminded him what it had been like to kiss a woman he’d be willing to die for. The difference between love and lust. A woman who made him risk hoping for a future. He hadn’t done that since Lucy.

  He’d failed Lucy. This time would be different.

  “Ah. The lass who chats with the dead, right?”

  “Aye.” Drake nodded.

  “And who do you think has their sights on her?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but it could be the Serpent Society, witches, or maybe her own sister.” He scanned the area for any sign of threats.

  “And she’s not eager for protection?”

  Drake shrugged. “More like she doesn’t believe she’s in danger. Either way, I’m not leaving Savannah without knowing someone is looking out for her.”

  “I get it.” Greyson chuckled. “Be there in a half hour.”

  Drake slid his phone back into his pocket. He hadn’t told Greyson why her safety was so important to him, but his instincts to call the master gunner had been correct. Greyson didn’t ask too many questions, and with him in charge of her security, Drake would be able to focus all his attention on Flynn and his business dealings with Heather’s twin sister.

  Captain Flynn was many things, but no one would ever accuse him of having a charitable heart. If he really made an offer worth more than the property’s value, there was a reason, and it didn’t have anything to do with Heather’s best interests.

  …

  Heather was already second-guessing her decision to send Drake home tonight. Rationally, it made sense. There wasn’t a real future for them anyway, so why make things complicated? It wasn’t like they were going to fall in love and get married and grow old together. He’d never age. Besides, she barely knew him, and while there was definitely chemistry between them, now wasn’t a great time to be distracted, not when her own flesh and blood needed her.

  Convincing Ashley of that fact was going to be difficult enough without Drake standing by, ready to leap into action at any moment.

  Although all of that was true, now that she was alone in the house, every noise made her jump, from the ice maker in the fridge to the grandfather clock in the den. She forced her overactive imagination to back off, picked up her cell, and pressed Ashley’s name.

  “This is Ashley.”

  “Hi, Ash, it’s Heather.”

  Her sister didn’t miss a beat. “Have you reconsidered the deal for the house?”

  “No.” Heather rubbed her forehead. “I wasn’t calling about any of that.”

  “We don’t have much time.” Ashley sighed. “I need to give Flynn Enterprises an answer before they spend that money elsewhere.”

  “Then I guess you’ll have to take me to court over the will.” Heather’s gaze fell on her reading table passed down through the generations, just like this house. Giving it up would be like losing everyone all over again. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m not interested in selling.”

  “You’re just going to kiss off three million dollars? Unbelievable.” Ashley groaned, cursing under her breath. “If you’re not even going to consider the offer, then why the hell did you call me at all?”

  “Because I’m worried you’re in danger. That ring you were wearing today is dangerous.”

  “Oh please.” Ashley tsked. “Do not tell me you called to alert me that my fashion choices scare you.”

  “I’ve seen those serpent rings before.” Heather pulled her hair back from her forehead and got up, pacing her living room. “They’re fanatics, Ash. They’ll come for the ring, and these aren’t kindhearted monks. They’ll kill anyone who gets in the way of their calling, and trust me, women aren’t part of it. Where did you get it, anyway?”

  “An estate sale. And while I appreciate your sudden concern for my well-being, unless you’re ready to give me my half of the house, I’d rather you didn’t call me again.”

  Heather froze in disbelief. Ash had a tendency for dramatics, but she couldn’t be serious about cutting her out of her life. “You’re the only family I have left. My twin sister. We should be together, not fighting over an old will.”

  “Easy for you to say when that ‘old will’ gave you everything.”

  “That’s not true.” Heather struggled to keep from raising her voice. “She left you plenty of money and jewelry.”

  “None of it is worth as much as that roof over your head. I’m finished talking about this. If there’s nothing else…”

  “Why are you changing the subject?” Heather wanted to reach through the phone and shake her sister. “I’m not kidding about the ring, Ash. They’ll kill you. It’s how they operate.”

  “I can take care of myself.”
She cleared her throat. “Goodbye, Heather.”

  “Ash…” she whispered, but the line was already dead.

  How could she protect her sister if Ashley wasn’t willing to admit how she got the ring in the first place? Heather sighed and sat on the couch, reaching for her laptop. She opened it and fired up Skull & Crossbones. If she didn’t decompress, she was going to explode, and that wouldn’t help her convince Ashley of the danger lurking around her, either.

  When the game loaded, the chat screen was already live.

  PirateQueen817: Hope you get here soon. Sick of getting trolled by gamers with a Y chromosome.

  Just seeing Queenie was online unknotted Heather’s frayed nerves. She couldn’t confide everything, but even releasing some of the pent-up emotions was a huge pressure release.

  GrayGhost: Sorry I’m late. It’s been a day…

  PirateQueen817: Shit. I was hoping you were out enjoying yourself with Drake.

  Heather chuckled, her fingers flying across the keyboard in answer.

  GrayGhost: Oh I enjoyed him for sure, but it’s complicated.

  They played for about an hour before her internet connection slowed and forced Heather’s pirate ship directly into a storm. Damn it. It was for the best. She needed to get offline anyway and figure out how to protect her sister, even though Ashley made it clear she didn’t want Heather’s help.

  GrayGhost: The lag is killing me. I’m signing off for the night.

  PirateQueen817: Go find Drake! I’m living vicariously through you.

  GrayGhost: I’ll do my best. Night Queenie!

  Heather shut her laptop, feeling much better than she had earlier in the night. Maybe now she could come up with a plan.

  A knock came at the door and she nearly had to peel herself off the ceiling. Who could be calling at this time of night? So much for her newfound peace.

  She picked up her canister of pepper spray and peered through the peephole. A tanned man with long braided hair was standing on her porch. He was wearing a black trench coat, easy to hide a weapon.

  Yeah, there was no way she was opening this door.

  He knocked again, this time adding, “Ms. Storrey, Drake sent me.”

  She frowned and shouted her reply. “Why?”

  “He’s worried about you, lass.” He paused, maybe waiting for her to respond. She wasn’t sure. “Didn’t mean to upset you. I thought he told you I’d be outside watching over the place.”

  “Well, he didn’t,” she yelled through the door. “Who are you?”

  “Greyson. I’m the master gunner on the Sea Dog, but these days I spend most of my time doing personal security.”

  Drake had made it no secret that he didn’t like leaving her alone at her house tonight. But would he seriously take it so far as to hire his friend to watch her place without telling her?

  Probably.

  But until she was sure, the door was staying locked. She took out her phone and sent a text to David.

  Is one of the Sea Dog crew named Greyson?

  From the other side of the door, Greyson said, “I’m going to check the perimeter. You’ll never know I’m here.”

  She checked the peephole as he jogged down the stairs from her porch. Her phone buzzed, pulling her attention. David’s text filled the screen.

  He’s the master gunner. Why?

  She worried her lower lip, trying to decide how much to share with David. His reply made it clear Greyson wasn’t lying. But if she didn’t answer at all, David would be the next male on her porch, and she didn’t have the bandwidth left to deal with him tonight, too.

  Just curious. Sorry to bother you.

  She held her breath, waiting for his reply, but it didn’t come. Good.

  Over on the couch, she switched to her contacts list, ready to send Drake a would’ve-been-nice-to-know-you-asked-an-armed-pirate-to-watch-my-house text, when she realized he never gave her his number. He’d shown up on her doorstep. No phone calls. Greyson must have it, but she wasn’t going to walk out there, wandering in the dark, and surprise a guy with a gun.

  Boundaries would need to be set with Drake later. For now, she’d try meditating. Maybe her grandmother could help her find common ground with Ashley.

  Heather had to protect her. Somehow.

  …

  David stared at Heather’s text, poised to remind her again that getting mixed up with the Sea Dog crew was a mistake, but his phone rang, interrupting him. He checked the screen and answered, “What do you have for me, King?”

  “I may have found something useful.”

  All thoughts of warning Heather evaporated. David reached for his yellow legal pad. “What is it?”

  “I ran a thorough scan of dark web postings that included the word ‘figurehead.’”

  David nodded, pen at the ready. “And…”

  “And most were useless, but I did find an interesting posting.”

  David rolled his eyes, his patience wearing thin. “All right.”

  “There was a thread of conversation regarding the Flying Dutchman and the legends about the figurehead being the source of the ship’s power, luring lost souls to work on the crew for Davy Jones.” He paused, almost long enough for David to speak. “And Dr. Trumain’s name turned up.”

  Trumain used to be the director of the maritime museum in Savannah, but somewhere along the way, he was lured into the Serpent Society. The historian died during the shoot-out at the Bonaventure Cemetery, the same night David’s distant nephew perished.

  David jotted the name on the pad. “What did Trumain have to say?”

  “He claimed to have a buyer if anyone had the artifact. He offered to inspect it for authenticity.”

  David frowned. “The date on the post?”

  “Six months ago.”

  Trumain was definitely part of the Serpent Society at that point. David tapped the pen against the paper while his brain chewed on the information. “Safe to say if some treasure hunter actually did find the figurehead, the buyer was the monks from the Serpent Society.”

  “That was my thought, too.” King cleared his throat. “But what would religious fanatics need with the Flying Dutchman’s figurehead? It’s not a part of the Bible.”

  “True, but I’ve been reading over some of the captains’ logs from the maritime museum that mention the relic calling to lost souls in the sea. Some went so far as to believe the figurehead could control the ghosts.” David paused, mulling it over. “Maybe he read those stories, too. If that figurehead is real, it could be a threat to the Serpent Society’s dogma.”

  Kingsley hmm’d in agreement. “They might purchase it to keep anyone else from discovering its existence.”

  “Exactly.” David wrote a few frantic notes. “That gives me a place to start. But it doesn’t explain how a coven of witches got it.”

  “Pity.” Kingsley sighed. “That’s where my trail goes cold. I’ll keep searching.”

  “Thanks, King.” A few months ago, David would’ve hung up by now. Instead, he added, “This was a good lead. I appreciate your help.”

  Kingsley mumbled something, obviously unsure what to do with David’s praise. Finally he settled on, “I’ll be in touch if I find anything else.”

  The call ended and David set his phone aside. He’d bet his life the Serpents wouldn’t sell anything to a woman. They saw females as daughters of Eve, the original sinner. If they achieved their mission of entering Eden again, it wouldn’t be with a woman at their side.

  There’s no way they’d sell to a coven of witches.

  And that left him right back where he started. He circled the word coven over and over, but an answer didn’t become clear. Not yet. But it would.

  If the relic really could force spirits to obey commands, Americans could be in danger, and Heather might be caught in the crossfi
re.

  Chapter Ten

  Drake hit the call button beside an ornate black wrought iron gate that spelled out Flynn. “It’s Drake. Open the gate, Captain.”

  “I thought we taught you how to operate that paperweight you carry in your pocket.” Flynn’s voice cut through the quiet of the darkened driveway. “It’s after eleven o’clock at night. Use your cell and call me tomorrow.”

  Drake punched the button again. “I’m not discussing this on a damned phone. I drove all the way to fucking Atlanta to talk, so either open this damned gate, or I’ll drive my truck through it. Your choice.”

  “Fuck,” Flynn scoffed through the speaker, but the gate rolled open.

  Drake parked near the front door of Flynn’s castle. The outside of the custom home resembled the castles they’d left behind in England centuries ago, but the interior featured every modern-day luxury.

  How the captain could tolerate it was a mystery. Drake was still adjusting to cell phones, and only because his crew had insisted they be able to reach him, but that’s where he drew the line. Technology made him twitchy. He didn’t understand how it worked, and as a carpenter who had spent lifetimes building things with his own two hands, the not knowing unsettled him. Because of that, he didn’t own a computer, have an email, or a social media account to post and hashtag, whatever the hell that was.

  The door opened as he approached, and Flynn narrowed his eyes, scanning the driveway. “What is so damned important?”

  Drake crossed his arms. “Why are you trying to buy Heather Storrey’s home in Savannah for more than it’s worth?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Flynn clenched his jaw, a copper brow shooting up. “What does any of that have to do with my ship’s carpenter?”

  “She’s my friend, and I know you well enough to know this deal will benefit you much more than her and her twin sister.” Drake balled his hands into fists, struggling to channel his frustration. “Are we going to do this on the doorstep?”