room. Folks shouted at each other from tables over, and the scent of dried beer and questionable substances permeated the joint. This was the sort of bounty hunter bar I’d thought Mordecai would bring us to in the first place. These folks knew each other in the knife edge way you’d expect from the name. The way we used to handle the Morlocks, with healthy caution but respect, until those bastards slipped with the blade and we retaliated.
“Since you played nice, Captain, pints are on me.” Isabella sauntered her way to the bar, flashing a wink at the gruff hulk manning the place. Girl could charm a caterpillar from cocoon. Mordecai had taken to scanning the area while Jack popped a squat at the nearest open table. Spade pulled a chair over and continued his troubled silence. His fingers tapped along the table at a rapid pace, about the most nervousness he’d ever express. After all, those hands normally wrapped around the wheel when he steered our girl—no wonder he’d be restless.
Isabella, with the help of Mordecai, managed to wrangle five pints of ale, which they plunked onto the table in front of us. I stared into the amber depths, reminded of this morning and how I’d focused on the wrong target. How my girl had been stolen out from under me. And how the crew and my Geoff could be—I swallowed, hard, and to cover up my lapse, I took a deep draught of the smooth beverage.
I nudged Spade’s boot from under the table. “Think Edwin’s poisoned the gypsies by now with one of his healing concoctions? I’d be willing to place money on it.” My sass earned a grin from him, one that warmed my insides more than the tingle of ale.
“Chances are, the crew’s already seized the ship, and they’re flying her back this way.” Jack forced a smile, doing his best to hang with the big boys of bravado.
I clapped a hand on his shoulder, proud of the attempt. “Right you are, Jackie-boy.”
He raised his brows. “Please don’t tell me that’s my new nickname.”
“I like it,” Isabella purred. “It’s adorable.” She sipped her ale, pinky out as her mischievous glance sparked our way.
Jack let out an annoyed grunt. “Adorable’s not a term I’d call a pirate, or any recon man worth his salt.”
“Nonsense.” Mordecai grinned, joining in on the fun. “I’m fairly sure folks will be quaking in their boots as they hear tales of the adorable pirate, Jackie-boy.”
Jack let out a huff and dove headfirst into his pint. I leaned back, basking in the present laughter, knowing guilt and worry loomed a spare second away. The door creaked open and shut as more folks filtered into the bar but no Miss Viola Embrees. I almost looked away, until familiar markings snagged my gaze. The M surrounded by the cog tattooed to the man’s arm gave him away as well as the fur pelt looped around his holster. A couple others walked through the door with him, all part of the same big bad gang. The one whose registry marked us as kill on sight.
“Morlocks,” I growled, my voice low as my hand inched for Matilda.
“No need for a slaughter,” Mordecai reminded. “As long as they don’t notice us, we can sip our drinks in peace.”
I snorted, right as Isabella placed her hand on Mordecai’s arm.
“Oh honey,” she said. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
He smirked, meeting my eyes. “Though I suppose if Captain Trigger Happy hadn’t fired the first shot on them, I may have never met you all.”
I sniffed, feigning cavalier while my fingers latched around the handle of my pistol. “You’re welcome. Always happy to hurl myself in the middle of overwhelmingly bad odds.”
“See now, this is the sort of bet you make,” Isabella interjected, jabbing at the table. “How long it’ll take for those bastards to notice our little crew.”
“With the racket we stirred by launching them into the ship of redcoats? Not long. Especially since our stunt got them outlawed in Britain.” Spade already finished his