Chapter 4
Hook stared at the strumpet lying on the bed. The powdered wig she wore lay skewed on her head, revealing a hint of frizzy brown beneath. Her painted face, with the fake mole over her top lip, and doxy red pout made his stomach curdle.
Drink made him do stupid things.
Shaking her shoulders roughly he woke her up. “Get out,” he growled the moment she opened bloodshot eyes.
“Wha-”
Curling his lips, he slipped his boots back on. “Out. Now.”
“But…but…” she sputtered and he turned his back on her.
“Woman, I’ll give you two seconds to gather your unmentionables and get out of my cabin. Should you not heed my kind warning…I’ll toss you overboard.”
Pure bluff, but he had a massive ache in his head and didn’t care to be nicer about it.
Mouth gasping open and shut, she grabbed a green dress two sizes too small for her and covered her breasts with it. “But, James…I thought we’d had such a lovely—”
His lip curled. Damn he hated when they clung. “Madam tramp—”
She sucked in a sharp breath, cheeks bulging in the process with her disdain.
“—I’ll not ask again. Out now. Or I’ll have my man Smee toss you to the croc. Your choice.” His lip curled into a self-satisfied smile.
Nostrils flaring delicately, she shot to her feet and shoved the dress over her bony frame. Hairpins pinged to the floor as she yanked it over her head, causing the already floppy wig to plop pitifully beside her foot looking like some furry tarantula.
He should help her, but he was afraid that if he did she’d take that as invitation to stay. He knew her kind well. So he pretended not to care as he leaned back in his chair, and grabbed a crystal tumbler and a bottle of scotch, proceeding to pour himself two fingers worth.
She flounced toward the door, her bustle tripping her up. He merely lifted a brow and sipped. The piece of hair lay where it’d fallen.
“Your wig, madam,” he drawled and gestured toward it with cup in hand.
Narrowing flinty gray eyes, she huffed, caught up her hair and marched out, shoving past a curious looking Smee. Dressed in tan breeches and a cream nightshirt, his first mate looked anything but the deadly pirate he actually was.
Smee always had a gentle look about him, with his sandy blond hair and inquisitive blue eyes. The man looked better suited to parliament then aboard the vessel of the most villainous pirate ship Neverland had ever seen. But as innocent as he looked, Smee was as bloodthirsty as the rest, some days, more so.
“Captain,” his slight Irish tinged voice inquired, glancing over his shoulder once more before turning back around, “I was going to ask whether you both wanted to break your fast?”
“As you can see, Smee, she has left. Bring me one tray, toast and tea. That is all.”
“Jam, sir?”
“I’ve no wish for jam. Should I want it, I should ask. No?” He knew he was being gruff, but he felt wretched and hung over. He’d give him a bauble or some other form of trinket later, now he simply wanted his space, waving him off he turned back to his drink when a thought settled in his head.
“Smee,” he said, quickly clearing his throat.
“Yes, captain?” Smee quickly turned back around, clipping his head.
“I’ve grown tired of this village. I wish to set sail at the witching hour. How are the clouds?”
“There’s a fine easterly wind. Any particular destination in mind, sir?” Smee scratched the back of his neck.
James clinked his hook against the glass while tapping a discordant rhythm on the desk with his other hand. Danika had told him to return to Seren, perhaps he should. He hadn’t been there in years. But maybe it was finally time to stop fighting and face the demons. Soul weary, he decided it was now or never.
“The Seren Seas.”
Smee pulled away from the door, a panicked look in his wide blue eyes. “Sir? Are you certain?”
“Go to town, gather our supplies, and then set sail. Do not question me again, lest I forget we are actually friends.”
“Aye, captain,” he said slowly before turning and walking back up the stairs to the deck.
He hadn’t always been a bastard. Not like this. Smee only had his best interest at heart, and while he mentally understood that, it didn’t make James’ surly disposition any sweeter. Throwing back his drink, he poured himself another, his hand shaking slightly. Time to bury the past. Maybe if he did, he could finally let it go. Opening the desk drawer, James pulled out the locket, closing his eyes as he tucked it close to his heart.
A loud crack, as of thunder, rocked the ship, tossing him and the locket to the ground. The movement was so violent; he accidentally sank his teeth deep into the edge of his mouth. All around the cries of his men rained down as his boat listed and heaved on the violently turbulent waters.