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  "Ship's ours, Captain," Newby stated with a smug look. Jane smiled as she performed an exaggerated bow to the men—both hers and their new captives—before striding over to the hatch in the middle of the deck and ascending the steep stairs toward the hold. She felt the giddiness that usually preceded a successful mission take over the further she descended. It didn't matter how many ships she took nor what treasures they held aboard, a successful mission never failed give her a rush of pride and accomplishment, to make her feel like this life she led was what she truly wanted, what she was good at. That this was enough, had to be enough, needed to be enough.

  "What have we got, lads?" Jane crowed to her men scattered about the hold.

  Coll stepped forward, his eyes roaming over the sheet of paper in his hands. "Fifty-two casks of powder, two thousand rounds of shot, eighteen twelve-pounders, and one hundred and fifty new guns."

  Jane hummed in mock discontent. "Four casks short. How disappointing."

  The answering laughter brought a smile back to Jane's face. She ventured further into the space, inspecting the various casks and goods about the hold.

  "We can't take the twelve-pounders. Those will have to stay, unfortunately," she stated sadly and a grumble of disappointed agreement rose from the men around her, "but we can use the shot and the casks—"

  "She'll be weighed down heavily, Captain," Coll stated matter-of-factly.

  Jane nodded, brushing her fingers over one of the casks. "Aye, I am well aware. But if we are indeed heading for a war, these casks will be invaluable to us. More so than they will be at the bottom of the ocean."

  Coll paused for a beat. "Aye."

  Jane nodded to him, running her hand lazily over another cask before striding back through the hold toward the ladder. When she reached it, she turned back and addressed the men below, "Any food or supplies that are found may be brought aboard at the approval of Coll. Let's load her up, boys, and get the hell off this bloody Navy ship!"

  A cheer of "Aye, Captain!" followed Jane as she made her way back up to the main deck. Coll, as the quartermaster going on ten years now, knew everything that went on about the Tantibus, including what goods they had and could carry without sinking the ship. He was in charge of getting everything aboard and then ensuring the Liberty sank to the bottom of the ocean, along with the goods they would be unable to take. And he was damn good at it.

  "Captain!" Worth's call echoed down the hatch, the tone not so much urgent, but certainly hinting at a necessity that mustn't be ignored. It was a tone Jane knew quite well now, one that told her that whatever it was, it was a nuisance, but still required her attention in order for it to be resolved. Jane ran a hand through her hair with a sigh. Everything had been going so well.

  She quickly ascended the stairs, the thud of her boots drumming out an ominous beat. But everything on the main deck was as she remembered, give or take a handful of captive crew, and the addition of Worth from god knows where.

  She looked at him expectantly.

  Worth gave her an annoyed look, aimed not at her, but at whatever had given him cause to call her. "Captain's quarters," he said with a jerk of his head toward the stern, where the mentioned quarters lay. "Their captain wishes to speak with you."

  Jane's eyebrows rose incredulously. "And why must I be made to go to him? It is he who should be out here with the rest of his bloody crew," she said, gesturing to the men still kneeling on deck.

  "It's…" Worth paused, "complicated, Captain. There's a matter of leverage."

  "Ah," Jane nodded, making her way over to the captain's quarters, "of course there is. I knew this had gone too smoothly."

  Worth let out a huff of amusement as he followed behind her, "Don't even try to deny it, you love surprises. Smooth was never to your liking."

  Jane waved a hand flippantly in the air. "I will neither confirm nor deny this," she answered with a smile, a glint of mischief in her eye. When things went perfectly according to plan, the element of surprise for her was removed. No shock, no spike in adrenaline, no skip of the heart. If there wasn't at least one unexpected person vying for your heart on the end of their blade, where was the fun in that?

  "Gentlemen," Jane announced with an air of aloofness, coupled with arrogance, as she strode leisurely through the open doors to the Captain's quarters. "What seems to be the problem?"

  Millett, one of the older, shorter, but no less equipped, men of her crew, stood off to the side, his pistol aimed at what appeared to be nothing more than standard hostage situation in the middle of the room. The first was a man, grey-bearded and stocky, his belly rivaling that of a pregnant woman. But it was the other that mostly obscured this man that caught Jane by surprise—and a little off-guard, she admitted somewhat reluctantly—causing her to pause for a second to ensure that no, she wasn't imagining things. For there, held at knifepoint at the throat—and being used as a human shield—by what had to have been the captain of the galleon, was a common whore.

  Well, maybe "common" was too harsh of a word. She was indeed very beautiful. Though, Jane mused, that was the standard for whores, was it not? They needed to entice future clients with their, uh, coveted features and whatnot. So, the skin-baring dress that displayed her occupation with the utmost certainty, exhibiting a delectable helping of cleavage, peeking ankles, and forearms, came as no surprise to Jane. She was lean, but no doubt well-endowed where it mattered to her clientele, with a full head of dark brown tresses that were falling out of the hastily-woven knot secured to the back of her head. But it was the whore's eyes, a soft, light brown with a spark of fire running through them that really caught Jane's attention. Thinly-veiled defiance, that's what it was. She was no fan of her situation any more than Jane was. But outwardly, the whore seemed bored and annoyed more than fearful. It was intriguing to say the least.

  What shocked Jane, though, was the fact that the whore was here aboard the ship at all. It was bad luck to have a woman aboard; every sailor knew that, and—her strangely lenient crew aside—most believed wholeheartedly in such nonsense. Jane tried not to roll her eyes every time she heard men speak of the absurd superstition, because her time at sea was clear evidence to disprove it. Granted, despite seeing her in passing or being boarded and attacked by her and her crew, her gender still remained but a rumor at most. Most captains and crewmen believed the notorious pirate Captain Avery was not the woman few claimed her to be, but was, in fact, a man. No woman could ever be a captain, let alone a successful one.

  "What is—who the fuck is this?!" The man snarled in Jane's direction. "I asked for your captain, you rats, not some fucking cunt!" he spat at Worth and Millett. Then he turned his attention back toward Jane as she gazed back at him with cool indifference. "Bring me the captain this instant or I'll slit her pretty little throat." The man brought the knife closer to the whore's bared throat, emphasizing his absurdly futile point.

  A beat passed in the cabin before all three pirates burst out laughing.

  "You think I care about the life of some whore?" Jane asked incredulously, once she had calmed. "You believe I'm going to just leave you alone, spare your fucking life, because of some misguided morals or good conscience that you think I have? Have you no idea what has become of your crew?" She gestured out toward the bow of the galleon, where the remaining crew of the Liberty still knelt, awaiting judgment from her. She let out another bark of a laugh. "Believe me, I have no conscience and my morals are not in your favor."

  The man didn't even miss a beat as he sneered back at her. "Why should I care what some wench believes?! Fetch your captain so that we may talk man-to-man instead of him hiding behind some woman!"

  Jane cocked an eyebrow, gesturing to the man and his current predicament. "Isn't that what you're doing? Hiding behind some woman?"

  Silence fell over the room for a moment as the portly man digested the accusation. But soon enough, his face morphed once again into a sneer and he held tighter to the whore, her skin almost white with the strength in whic
h he grasped her. But her bored look only turned to one of disgust just as the air of annoyance remained ever-present. "Just get your captain, you cunt, or I spill her blood right here."

  A cocky smirk expanded across Jane's face. She leaned forward ever-so-slightly toward the galleon's captain, and tipped her hat down further in what she hoped was construed as an insulting mock salute. "I am the captain, mate."

  Jane watched with amusement as various emotions flashed across the man's face in quick succession, from calculating to confusion to disbelief, before finally settling on hard anger.

  In the next moment, he snarled and shoved the knife he was holding closer to the whore, nicking the skin on her neck in the process. Jane rolled her eyes. She could see that the man wouldn't kill the only hostage he had, the only thing that he believed, however foolishly, was his ticket out of here with his life still intact. He was but a greedy merchant sailor playing at a Navy ship captain. There was no way he would be able to kill her. He didn't have the stomach for it.

  "The way I see it, you have two choices," Jane sighed, stepping back and folding her arms across her chest. "One: you release the whore and join your fellow sailors out on the main deck for a little… chat, where you may just get out of this alive. That remains to be determined, as you have now not only offended and annoyed me, but also delayed my voyage. Or two: you could continue to stand there, naively thinking I'm going to let you go simply because I wish to spare the life of this woman—whom I do not know or care about—and know that your life is forfeit. Your choice, sailor. But at the moment, the whore has a better chance of living than you do, and she currently has a knife to her throat."

  The captain's eyes flickered between Jane, Worth, and Millett uncertainly, his face a mix of hatred and disbelief. A moment passed, then two, in this fashion until Jane was at the end of her patience.

  "I don't have time for this," she huffed in annoyance. Before the galleon captain could even register Jane's words, she pulled her pistol from her belt, aimed, and shot the man in the head in one fluid motion, the bullet missing the whore's temple by a hair's breadth.

  The knife clattered to the floor, the sound ominous after the great reverberation of the pistol as the captain's body followed with a thud. The smell of gunpowder filled the room.

  "Right then," Millett proclaimed, looking slightly shocked, but masking it well enough. Jane just shrugged and stashed her pistol back into her belt.

  Movement by the body caught all three pirates' eyes and glanced over toward where the whore still stood. The woman straightened from her forced hunch, brushing her revealing dress out and then stepped over the outstretched arm of the now-dead captain. She could see Worth and Millett staring at the whore with equal measures of shock and confusion.

  Jane just snorted in amusement.

  The whore glanced up, her eyes displaying her continued boredom even as she took note of the three pirates currently staring at her. "Wha'?" she asked, a slight accent in her voice. She crossed her arms over her chest as her eyes flitted over each of them in turn.

  Worth was the first to react, brow pinched. "Well, I was expecting more of a reaction, to be honest."

  The whore just cocked an eyebrow, shifting her weight suggestively. "Sorry ta disappoint, love," she responded coolly, voice low and sultry. "I can put on quite a performance, though, if ya'd rather." A mask of pure seduction dropped over her features in an instant, her body language following not far behind.

  Jane found herself staring at the whore with wonder. The way she seemed unfazed by the threat on her life, how she showed very little interest in the danger she was in, or the sort of people surrounding her, was surprising. And yes, very impressive, for lack of a better word. Any other person—any other woman—would have shown at least an ounce of fear or horror at what had just occurred. Instead, the whore just slipped back into her promiscuous persona, hooding her eyes and canting her hips and inviting all with her voluptuous bosom.

  Jane shook her head, clearing her thoughts. That wasn't the point. The point was this whore went about like nothing had happened, like a man didn't just die right beside her. She was just a whore. Jane was immediately wary, and made a mental note to keep an eye on the seductive woman.

  But a part of her couldn't help but see the parallels of their two very different lives, and wondered if the whore too had unknowingly entered her profession. And she pitied the poor creature before her.

  Well, not that much.

  "Enough," Jane commanded. They had wasted more than their allotted time already. Every second they wasted aboard this ship was another second added to their travels and another second they risked getting apprehended by the Royal Navy. Jane looked over the whore once more before making a split-second decision. "She's coming with us. Bring her out." With that, Jane left the captain's quarters, not bothering to glance back to ensure her orders were followed. She knew they would be.

  The remaining crew of the galleon were still kneeling where Jane had seen them last, though there were now only nine captive men instead of the twelve that were there previously. That didn't concern her much, nor surprise her, upon seeing that Cooksley was one of the guards, a wicked smile playing over his face as he caressed one of the men with the blade of his sword.

  "I'm sure you lot know how this goes," Jane spoke to the kneeling men, letting a bit of arrogance slip into her tone. "You can either join up with my crew, or take a little swim, like a few of your mates have already experienced, I assume." She looked pointedly at Cooksley.

  Cooksley just flashed her a smirk. "They were being… troublesome."

  "Yes, I'm sure they were."

  Suddenly, the smirk upon Cooksley's face morphed, becoming more hostile, more… predatory, she realized, as his eyes locked onto something just over Jane's shoulder. A chill ran down her spine at that look. It was the same look the man had gotten when he had first laid eyes on her, when he had tried to coerce her into… unsavory acts. A wave of protective anger washed over Jane so strongly that it took her by surprise. It was a feeling she hadn't felt in years, a feeling she hadn't let herself feel. But this one had come on much stronger than ever before. She pushed it back forcefully, burying it under a layer of indifference, logic, and tactic. But Jane knew immediately the reason behind it, a reason that now stood next to her, held firmly, but not roughly, in Worth's grasp. The whore.

  "Well, now, what do we have here?" Cooksley purred, his eyes glinting with desire as they roved over the newest arrival. He took a step closer. Anger built up in Jane again and she had to forcefully restrain herself from stepping between Cooksley and the woman. She was just a whore. Why should Jane care?

  Ignoring the way Cooksley kept staring at the whore—and with a quick glance, Jane noticed the whore displaying the same disgust she had toward the Liberty's captain—Jane strode up to the first man in the line, a thin, lean thing with a mop of deep black hair and a cut upon his forehead that was bleeding profusely. "Name?" she demanded.

  "Isaac Demply," the wisp of a man responded with a sneer as he stared at her with steel in his eyes. Jane just raised her eyebrows.

  "Well, what'll it be, Mr. Demply?" Jane asked haughtily. Though from the man's cold answer of his name, she could gather what his response would be already. It was the usual with most of the crew they captured. Most, even if they were not completely averse to switching sides, were neither too keen on sailing with nor taking orders from a woman. Most would rather take their chances in the cold waters below and hope for a passing ship or uncharted island. It was absurd, really. Like she would let them go that easily.

  Unsurprisingly, Demply spat at her feet. "You can go to hell."

  Jane sighed, glancing over at Mundy and upon catching his eye, jerking her head toward the open sea. She watched as Mundy hauled the thin man to his feet and dragged him over to the edge. She turned back to the rest of the captured crew and, hearing the sound of steel slicing through flesh and a splash off to the side a second later, flashed them all a smile.


  "Anyone else?"

  As it turned out, indeed, four others opted to join their fellow crew member overboard—whether it was truly their choice or not—rather than subject themselves to a woman's leadership and a life of pirating, while the remaining four swore their loyalty. Jane doubted they meant it. Most who did would try to escape the second the Tantibus docked ashore. And most who attempted such a thing were killed not long afterwards. Her crew was observant and knew when a new member was itching to flee. They took care of traitors quickly. She had taught them well.

  "Captain," a voice sounded behind her and she turned to face the new arrival. Coll stood before her, slightly out of breath, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. "The last of the goods are being loaded as we speak. She's set."

  "Brilliant. Poke some holes in her hull before you leave," she grinned at him. Coll nodded and disappeared back below the Liberty's deck as Jane turned away, addressing the men around her at large. "Let's go home, boys!"

  A cheer answered her announcement and the crew, including the newest members, made their way back aboard the Tantibus. Jane watched with a frown as Cooksley's eyes wandered over the whore, having never left her striking form once since she had emerged on deck. It caused another wave of rage to build up in Jane's gut, which she tried unsuccessfully to ignore. What the hell was wrong with her?

  Worth guided the whore before him across the plank between the two ships, keeping hold of her arm as both a stabilizer and a prevention technique. They still didn't know the whore or her intentions. For all they knew, she was just as spiteful as the other recruited crew members and just managed to mask it well. What made Jane spare her life, she herself didn't even know. She hadn't even offered the woman a choice.