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Authors: Pamela Montgomerie
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bluecoat’s. She still needed the pirate.
She glanced at the man lying prone and caught a glimpse of his gun. She should get it. Walk over there and steal it. But her feet wouldn’t move. It was like watching the scene, herself included, from afar.
The pirate’s sword took flight. Fear propelled her forward and she ran for the gun. As her cold fingers closed around the strangely elongated pistol, she saw the pirate dive and roll, coming up with the sword in his hand.
Nice. The guy could move.
Kneeling in the grass, the gun heavy in her hands, she tried to take aim. The pounding of her pulse vibrated through her arms, making the gun shake. She didn’t dare shoot. Not only couldn’t she risk hitting the pirate, but she had no idea what she was doing. She’d never fired a gun in her life.
There was a first time for everything, but this probably wasn’t it.
Eyeing the prone guard uneasily, she remembered how the other had popped back up. He looked dead enough, even though he’d only been clipped on the jaw. Her gaze slid to his boots and she eyed them with more than a hint of envy. His feet didn’t appear to be much bigger than hers. He wasn’t wearing Nikes, but leather boots would protect her feet better than nothing, even if they didn’t quite fit.
Brenna eased toward him, then gathered her courage and wrenched the boots off his feet, one at a time. Grabbing up the pair, she quickly retreated and put them on as she watched the sword fight. The two men were better matched than she would have thought. The bluecoat was wiry and fast, but the pirate was bigger and clearly stronger. He fought with a ferocity and purpose that had her thanking God he was on her side.
She stood and tested the fit of the boots. They were a little big, but surprisingly not too bad. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw their owner lurch to his feet.
These guys just wouldn’t stay down.
He was swaying, looking dazed, but he pulled a knife from his belt, clearly intending to join the fray.
Damn. She should have taken that knife when she had the chance. She hadn’t even noticed it. Though she’d spent a lot of time learning self-defense, she wasn’t in the habit of thinking in terms of life and death. Clearly, that was going to have to change. The pirate was good, but even he might not be able to handle two men at once.
As the dazed guard started toward the fray, Brenna picked up the gun, gripped it in both hands, and took aim.
I can’t do it. I can’t just kill a man.
But wasn’t that exactly what the bluecoats meant to do to the pirate? And what about her? As soon as the pirate was gone, they’d turn on her as the pirates had done. She had no illusions about that. Especially after she’d flashed the one.
Even so, her finger refused to pull the trigger. She had to do something! Thinking fast, she grabbed the gun like a mallet and started after her target, careful to stay out of his line of sight. She’d almost caught up with him when her toe caught on a rock and she tripped, a gasp escaping her throat. Though she caught herself and kept from falling, it was too late.
The bluecoat whirled and slammed his fist into her jaw, knocking her off her feet in an explosion of pain. Brenna landed with a bone-jarring thud on a patch of hard ground.
She tasted blood. He’d hit her.
But as she tried to scramble to her feet, the hard weight of his bootless foot pinned her ankle to the ground. Above her, the bluecoat raised his knife and aimed it at her heart. The promise of her death shone in a man’s eyes for the third time in less than twenty-four hours.
This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t real. How could she die when she wasn’t even supposed to be here?
The man arched suddenly, a cry exploding from his lips as his face contorted with pain. His knife dropped harmlessly on the ground as he began to fall toward her.
With a squeak of alarm, Brenna rolled out of the way, barely avoiding being crushed. As she sat up, she saw
She glanced at the man lying prone and caught a glimpse of his gun. She should get it. Walk over there and steal it. But her feet wouldn’t move. It was like watching the scene, herself included, from afar.
The pirate’s sword took flight. Fear propelled her forward and she ran for the gun. As her cold fingers closed around the strangely elongated pistol, she saw the pirate dive and roll, coming up with the sword in his hand.
Nice. The guy could move.
Kneeling in the grass, the gun heavy in her hands, she tried to take aim. The pounding of her pulse vibrated through her arms, making the gun shake. She didn’t dare shoot. Not only couldn’t she risk hitting the pirate, but she had no idea what she was doing. She’d never fired a gun in her life.
There was a first time for everything, but this probably wasn’t it.
Eyeing the prone guard uneasily, she remembered how the other had popped back up. He looked dead enough, even though he’d only been clipped on the jaw. Her gaze slid to his boots and she eyed them with more than a hint of envy. His feet didn’t appear to be much bigger than hers. He wasn’t wearing Nikes, but leather boots would protect her feet better than nothing, even if they didn’t quite fit.
Brenna eased toward him, then gathered her courage and wrenched the boots off his feet, one at a time. Grabbing up the pair, she quickly retreated and put them on as she watched the sword fight. The two men were better matched than she would have thought. The bluecoat was wiry and fast, but the pirate was bigger and clearly stronger. He fought with a ferocity and purpose that had her thanking God he was on her side.
She stood and tested the fit of the boots. They were a little big, but surprisingly not too bad. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw their owner lurch to his feet.
These guys just wouldn’t stay down.
He was swaying, looking dazed, but he pulled a knife from his belt, clearly intending to join the fray.
Damn. She should have taken that knife when she had the chance. She hadn’t even noticed it. Though she’d spent a lot of time learning self-defense, she wasn’t in the habit of thinking in terms of life and death. Clearly, that was going to have to change. The pirate was good, but even he might not be able to handle two men at once.
As the dazed guard started toward the fray, Brenna picked up the gun, gripped it in both hands, and took aim.
I can’t do it. I can’t just kill a man.
But wasn’t that exactly what the bluecoats meant to do to the pirate? And what about her? As soon as the pirate was gone, they’d turn on her as the pirates had done. She had no illusions about that. Especially after she’d flashed the one.
Even so, her finger refused to pull the trigger. She had to do something! Thinking fast, she grabbed the gun like a mallet and started after her target, careful to stay out of his line of sight. She’d almost caught up with him when her toe caught on a rock and she tripped, a gasp escaping her throat. Though she caught herself and kept from falling, it was too late.
The bluecoat whirled and slammed his fist into her jaw, knocking her off her feet in an explosion of pain. Brenna landed with a bone-jarring thud on a patch of hard ground.
She tasted blood. He’d hit her.
But as she tried to scramble to her feet, the hard weight of his bootless foot pinned her ankle to the ground. Above her, the bluecoat raised his knife and aimed it at her heart. The promise of her death shone in a man’s eyes for the third time in less than twenty-four hours.
This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t real. How could she die when she wasn’t even supposed to be here?
The man arched suddenly, a cry exploding from his lips as his face contorted with pain. His knife dropped harmlessly on the ground as he began to fall toward her.
With a squeak of alarm, Brenna rolled out of the way, barely avoiding being crushed. As she sat up, she saw
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