For the hundredth time that day, Reese’s gaze strayed to the pirate’s ship, silent and persistent as a stalking wolf awaiting the most opportune moment to strike.

The beast would discover soon enough that this time, his prey bit back.

Yuri approached. “It’s near night. Shall we drop our sails?”

A blazing sliver of sun lingered on the horizon. It burned itself out as she watched, but a wide swath of the western sky remained aglow with gold and rose before blending into the violet edge of night. “Near being the key word, Mister Ivanovich. If pressed, I might insist the definition of night involves full dark. Squeeze as much distance as possible from the day that remains.”

He directed his menacing visage toward the other ship. “We can fight them.”

“Emboldened by your success last evening, are you?”

Narrowed eyes indicated the dig pricked his pride, but she saw no reason they shouldn’t enjoy their failure together. Her entire crew had survived the encounter, but many were wounded and disproportionately weakened by what should have been minor injuries.

There were two delusional reports of being bitten on the neck. Examination showed only the same shallow knife slashes sported by most of the men, the grisly calling card of their attackers. The two who reported being bitten had been quarantined, in case some incubating tropical fever was behind their mad claims.

Their incapacitation left her shorthanded, particularly since the five pirates left in her care had collapsed at dawn and would not be roused by noise nor blows nor buckets of water dousing their heads.

Useless, rum-pickled hooligans.

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“We canna outrun them.”

Reese waved away the proffered spyglass. Courtesy of the full moon, she needed no assistance to see the other ship slicing through the obsidian water like a scythe. Despite the swift, darting movements of the shadow crew on deck, it remained as silent as when they’d it passed at noon.

She admired that bit of strategy, no doubt designed to instill fear in the hearts of their victims by creating the illusion of a spectral enemy, but tonight they had chosen the wrong target for their intimidation tactics. “In that case, let us not delay the inevitable. Drop the sails and prepare for guests.”

Conrad left her side to convey the command to the crew.

The second man flanking her at the rail said, “Their invasion won’t extend beyond the deck. There’s no need for you to be involved.”

She tipped her head back to evaluate whether his face revealed more than his flat tone. Small black eyes peered at her from a pelt-like expanse of beard and shaggy hair. With his unkempt appearance, towering height, and muscular girth, he more closely resembled a bear than a man. Most people were surprised when intelligible speech emerged from his mouth—and very, very sorry if they demonstrated the poor judgment to remark on it.

His serene expression was as devoid of nuance as his voice and probably every bit as deceptive. “I hope you’re not insinuating I can’t hold my own in a fight, Mister Ivanovich.”

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The ship wallowed in the waves halfway between the Dawn Maiden and the horizon. No sails. No hands on deck.

Reese returned the spyglass to the first mate. “I smell an ambush.”

Conrad MacDougall shook his head, the glare of the midday sun on his spectacles sparing her the full dose of reproach in his hound dog eyes. “Ye’re a heartless lass to leap to that conclusion when ye see a ship in distress.”

“I see no such thing. There’s no flag raised, no lookout posted to hail passing ships, and someone on board had sufficient vigor to spit-shine the entire ship not longer ago than this morning.” The Maiden wasn’t in such pristine condition with a full crew laboring around the clock.

Conrad took another look through his glass. “Could be they became incapacitated since then.”

“By what, a plague that will cripple us along with them? That’s even less appealing than an ambush. Men, we can fight.” Her hand settled on the hilt of the blade strapped to her thigh. It had been a while since its last taste of flesh. Renewing her acquaintance with her weapons would be wise. “We keep our course. We’ll notify the authorities when we reach port.”

“Likely be too late for ‘em by then.”

“The safety of my crew takes priority over acts of kindness toward strangers. We keep our course.” She turned on her booted heel and strode aft in search of a sparring dummy, breathing or otherwise.

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