Looking for a Hero (25 page)

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ikki's car sat at the end of the walk. Morgan hadn't driven without Kate's assistance, but that wasn't going to stop him. He ran to the car and climbed behind the wheel, confused by the great number of instruments that stared at him—far more than were in Kate's vehicle.

But the keys were where he expected, and he turned them just as he'd watched Kate do. He released the brake, pulled the lever to drive, and pressed on the right pedal.

The car shot forward, and he eased his foot away. Too slow. Too slow. He touched it again, gradually building up speed, until he was moving down familiar streets.

The wind howled through the doors. It beat against the car. Palm fronds blew across the street, and paper and other trash slashed at the windows. Still he continued to forge ahead.

The city was coming to life, but few people challenged the storm. Darkness prevailed, leaving no room for the early morning light. Only an occasional vehicle passed.

The car roared right along with the storm. He headed over the bridge, swerving almost uncontrollably with each blast of wind. Ahead of him he saw the lighthouse, and the masts of
Satan's Revenge.

Kate's car was parked not far from the ship, and he stopped next to it. The doors were open, and there was no one inside, but he gave thanks that his ship was still in the harbor, and he prayed that Kate and Casey were safe.

Satan's Revenge
rode the roiling waters like a harpooned whale, and he ran toward her as she was breaking free of her moorings, and straining away from the dock. The gangplank was gone. He couldn't make it to the ladder stretching up her hull, so he ran along side her, vaulted across a stretch of sand and sea, and caught one of the mooring ropes as it snapped from the ground. He swung across the foaming water and slammed against the hull.

A wave hit him, threatening to tear loose his hold, but he'd not be stopped.

He climbed, hand over hand, dragging himself to the deck of the ship. He gripped the railing and
peered over the side, hoping to see Kate and Casey, but he saw nothing.

He slid over the side and dashed across the rain-slick deck, hiding behind a stack of crates.

Through the pounding rain he heard a well-remembered voice.

“That sweet little daughter of yours will be mine tonight, if you do not do as you are told.”

Bile rose in Morgan's throat as he remembered what had happened to Melody and his parents. He refused to think of something similar happening to Kate and Casey.

He peered over the wooden crates. Kate stood at the helm, her hands holding fast to the wheel. Rain pelted her. Wind swept her hair into the swirling gale. But she aimed her fiery green eyes directly at Low.

“
I told you,
” she screamed, her voice full of tears and hate. “
I don't know the first thing about sailing a ship this big.”

“You will before the day is out. It is impossible for me to sail it on my own. That means, my dear, that you must be the crew.”

In his hand, Low carried the cat-o-nine-tails, one of his favorite weapons, and he cracked it against his hand as he paced the deck in front of Kate.

“Where's my daughter?”

“Do not concern yourself with that.”

“You told me she's on the ship?”

Low inclined his head, his short dark hair streaming with rain over his brow. He smiled, a
look Morgan remembered too well. “She waits for me below.”

Kate lunged toward Low, but came to an abrupt stop. Morgan saw the length of rope binding her wrists to the wheel. He had brought this pain upon her. God forbid, he had to save her.

“It is useless to struggle, Kate,” Low said. “You are powerless against me.”

“Go to hell!” she screamed. Her lips quivered in anger and fright. But Morgan knew damn good and well it wasn't for herself she feared. It was for her child.

He crouched low, stealing across the deck, and slipped down the hatch leading to his cabin.

It was dark inside, but the whimpering of a child led him toward the bed.

“Casey?” he whispered.

He heard naught but a soft, tear-filled cry.

When his eyes adjusted to the dark, he found Casey curled up on the center of the mattress, her hands and feet bound, a gag tied about her mouth.

He lifted her into his arms, cuddling her close as he removed the rag.

“Shhh,” he cooed, softly pressing his lips to her forehead. “Tis all right, Casey.”

“I'm scared.”

“I know.” Her hands and ankles had been bound with rope that was cutting into her skin. Carefully, hoping to cause her little pain, he loosened a knot around her wrists, and pulled her close when she cried.

He hummed an old lullaby as he untied the
other knots, then rocked her gently, hoping to ease some of her fear. “I will not let him hurt you,” Morgan whispered. “Do you trust me, Casey?”

She nodded.

“Then you must do whatever I tell you. You might be frightened, but I promise no harm will come to you.”

“Where's my mommy?”

“She's on the deck. We have to save her, too. But you have to be quiet. No matter how scared you are, you can't scream, or cry, or run from my side—unless I tell you to. Do you understand?”

Again she nodded.

Morgan felt her little hands weave around his neck as he carried her from the cabin. He drew his cutlass as they made their way to the deck.

Satan's Revenge
had reached open water. She pitched and tossed, and Morgan fought to keep his balance.

Stealing across the deck, he hid behind the crates and held a silencing finger to his lips when he set Casey on the wooden planking.

“Are you frightened?” he asked, pushing wet ringlets from her face.

“Yes,” she said, her lips quivering as she spoke.

“So am I.” He smiled as he drew his dagger and handed it to Casey, wrapping her little fingers tightly around the hilt.

“Do not play with this, Casey. 'Tis not a toy.”

“I know.” She lightly touched the remnants of the scab at his neck.

“Twas not your fault, but I don't want you accidentally
hurting anyone again. What I want you to do is hold the blade down to your side.” He drew her fist to her hip, then looked deeply into her eyes.

“I'm going to get the bad man's attention, and draw him away from your mother, hopefully to the far end of the ship. When I call your name, and yell, ‘Now,' I want you to walk very slowly, very carefully, toward your mother. Don't run. Promise me?”

She nodded.

“When you get to your mother, give her the dagger. Then tell her to stay with you at the wheel. Do you understand?”

Casey's lower lip jutted out as she nodded.

“Are you going to leave us again?” she asked, tears mixing with the rain beating against her face.

“Not if I can help it. I'd rather stay here and marry your mother.”

“And be my daddy?”

“Aye, Casey. There is nothing I want more.”

He hugged her, kissing the top of her head. And then he whispered in her ear, “I love you.”

Leaving Casey there was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. But he had no choice.

He dashed toward the mast where canvas flapped, and climbed a good ten feet from the deck. Lightning flashed through the early morning sky, and all on board was illuminated.

Kate saw him first, and a smile shone on her beautiful face. God, he'd never seen anyone or anything so radiant.

And then he turned his attention to his enemy.

“Thomas Low,” he shouted. “Tis a word I would have with you.”

Low spun around, hate oozing from every pore in his body.

“I was hoping you'd come,” Low declared, sauntering toward Kate. He drew his cutlass and aimed it at her neck. “Tis a fair wench you've bedded. Of course, she will not be nearly so comely with her head separated from her body.”

“Tis true,” Morgan laughed, attempting to look and sound unconcerned, when deep inside his stomach knotted. But he knew too well how Low worked. He would toy with Morgan before bringing any harm to Kate. He liked the thrill of watching his victims squirm, and Morgan was just as much a victim now as Kate and Casey.

That knowledge was the only thing that kept Morgan sane.

“I have something for you, Low. Something you may find more appealing than taking the woman's life.”

“And what is that?”

“Carving another scar on my face. I have an unblemished cheek ripe for the taking.”

Low's pearly white smile shone in the next flash of lightning. He slapped the cat against his side as he strolled away from Kate.

Morgan grinned at Low, realizing that his hastily devised plan was working. “I would even bare my back for you should you care to have another go at ripping the flesh from my body.”

“You would do all that for a woman?”

“Aye. All that and more.”

“You are a fool.”

“Nay.”

Morgan jumped down from the mast and spread his feet wide on the deck to steady himself on the rocking ship. He resheathed his cutlass and held his arms out to his sides.

“I am yours, Low.”

“What assurances do I have that you will not run?”

“I may be a pirate, but first and foremost, I am a gentleman. Have I ever lied to you?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Then come and get me.”

Low advanced slowly, his cutlass zigzagging methodically in front of him.

Closer and closer he came, the wind and rain pummeling him.

Morgan remained steadfast.

Water dripped from Low's cutlass, from his hand, from the tip of his beard as he neared.

Still, Morgan held his ground, staring at the man he hated.

Low raised the tip of his blade toward Morgan's left eye, then lunged, but Morgan dodged the deadly thrust, drawing his cutlass from its scabbard. Taking advantage of Low's confusion, he danced behind him, then coaxed the bastard further away from Kate with swift swings of his blade.

Low sneered. “You lied to me.”

“Perhaps I am not the gentleman I believed myself to be.”

Morgan laughed as he jabbed again, dancing right and left to avoid Low's crazed and wild swings.

Thunder crashed. Lightning streaked, hitting a coil of chain lying on the deck. Sparks flew, and Morgan thrust again and again until he had Low far from Kate.

And then he shouted. “Casey! Now!”

Low's eyes widened as he looked past Morgan's shoulder. Morgan didn't dare look, he only prayed that Casey would remember his words.
Walk very slowly. Give the dagger to your mother. Stay by the wheel.

“You will not take the child from me,” Low screamed. “Not again.”

“You are wrong.”

Morgan had no more time for words, for sport. Low was a vicious dog who deserved nothing less than a blade through his evil heart, and Morgan intended to give him his due.

“Morgan!”

He heard Kate's scream an instant before the block hit him in the head. He stumbled, ramming his shoulder into the mast. He tried to right himself, tried to ride the wave of nausea and dizziness.

Low rushed at him, his cutlass extended. Morgan was unable to move, and he prayed for help.

“Get away from him, you bastard!” Kate yelled. Her small body rushed at Low, knocking him in
the side, her hand flailing at Low with the dagger.

That was all Morgan needed to regain his senses, his strength. He pushed up from the deck, staggering just a moment, and went after Low again. He grasped Kate's arm, yanking her away from Low as he swung his sword.

“My thanks, madam,” he managed to utter. He smiled at Kate, then shoved her away from the man he meant to kill.

“Be a man, Low,” he hollered. “Fight me and not a woman and child.”

“I will kill you. And then I will kill them, just as I killed the others.” Low grinned, flashing the diamond and emerald ring he wore in front of Morgan. “I have retrieved the treasure I wanted so badly.”

Hatred filled Morgan as visions of his mother, his father, and Melody came vividly to his eyes.

He parried and trust, wildly driving his anger against Low.

Lightning crashed against the foremast, and just as before, Morgan heard it snap, heard the rip of wood before it toppled down to the deck, separating him from Kate and Casey.

Thunder roared. A giant wave rolled against the hull. He and Low were thrown from their feet and slid across the deck. Low's cutlass flew through the air. Morgan's slid across the planking, disappearing from sight.

Low struggled with the ropes that he'd collided with. Morgan was trapped beneath a dozen heavy crates. He pushed against them, desperate to see
Kate and Casey for what he feared might be the last time. They huddled together against the base of the mizzenmast, their arms woven through the rigging to keep from going overboard.

Using his back for leverage, Morgan shoved the crates away just as Low lunged toward him. They wrestled, rolling over and over across the deck, and somehow Morgan trapped Low's arms and wrenched the wedding ring from his finger. It belonged to Kate, and no one would ever take it from her.

No one.

He slid it on the end of his little finger as another bolt of lightning skittered across the ship, striking down an oil lamp. Flames shot across the deck, burning steadily beneath the rain-soaked canvas on the fallen mast.

Low kneed Morgan, shoved out of his hold, and stumbled backward as
Satan's Revenge
surged on a wave.

Morgan lunged at Low, hitting him in the belly with his shoulder. Again they rolled across the pitching deck, trying to reach the cutlasses that slid back and forth on the slippery planks.

Flames shot high in the air as the canvas caught fire. It trailed along the mast in spite of the pouring rain.

Another bolt of lightning ripped from the clouds and struck the hull. Like a cannonball, it burst through the wood.