boy?â demanded her captor.
She choked as the odor of stale rum and onions washed over her.
âAnswer me, boy!â
âRory.â
âYou work here?â
âYes.â
âWhere have you been?â Each word was punctuated by another jolt.
âI was attacked last night. On the beach.â
His laugh resonated through her, and she was dropped to the floor. Pain scored her shin as she collapsed.
She stared at the huge man striding to the bar. Other men filled the tavern. All of them were strangers. She had thought she knew every sailor who came here.
Looking back at the man who had hefted her so easily, she saw he had his arm around Caroline. The black-haired whore was smiling and stroking him eagerly.
When a finger tapped her arm, Roryâs hand went for her knife. She did not draw it as Olive signaled for her to get up. Rory gasped. The whole right side of Oliveâs face bore a scarlet handprint.
Rory asked, âWhoâ?â
âHush,â Olive whispered. Pulling her toward the shadows at the back, she wiped tears away.
âWhy did you let them in here? You know the rules.â
âRules?â She laughed without humor. âDonât you realize? You are no longer in charge here, Rory.â Her finger trembled as she pointed to the massive man kissing Caroline. âYellow Hal is back.â
Four
Yellow Halâs bellow shook Rory out of her horror. âRuth? Woman, where are you?â
She stared at him. His faded yellow hair should have identified him immediately, but she had come to believe her hopes that he was dead. She took a deep breath. âRuth Mullins is dead. She was my aunt. Since she died, Iâve been running your place, Captain Warwick.â
He laughed. âA boy like you? Thatâs a good joke.â His hand rose and slammed into the side of her head. With a cry, she fell to her knees. She could barely hear his words through the ringing in her ears. âLet that remind you, Rory, my lad, that Iâm the boss here. Get to work. Finish cleaning this place before the customers come in for their grog.â
She struggled to her feet as he pushed Caroline toward the brothel. She stared after them, then glanced at the door. Should she flee? Where? The Blindman had said enough over the years for her to know he and Yellow Hal had been enemies. She could not risk Yellow Hal discovering that the Blindman was still alive. Should she go to the Vengeance ?
As if she had voiced her thoughts, one of Yellow Halâs men pulled the door shut. The bar slid into place, warning her that she was a prisoner.
Edging toward the stairs, she gasped when a sailor held out a cutlass to block her path. In a raspy voice, he sneered, âThe capân said youâre to work, boy. Work!â
âI mustââ
âWork!â
Rory reached for a broom. She must be patient. Eventually, she would find a way to slip out of here. When the tavern was full and the patrons drunk, no one would notice that she had vanished. Again, she glanced toward the harbor. She had bragged to Nathan that she could take care of herself. Now she must prove that.
The crowd inside Yellow Halâs place was raucous as they celebrated their hostâs return. At midnight exactly, as he had told Rory he would, Nathan walked in. He did not look in her direction.
Her hands fisted on the bar when Yellow Hal strode toward him. Should I have sent Nathan a warning? No! He is no better than Yellow Hal. Even as she thought that, she knew it was not so. Nathan might be a pirate, but he had not tried to knock her senseless.
She strained to hear over the noise in the tavern as Yellow Hal announced, âIâm Yellow Hal Warwick, captain of The Scourge of Spain. â
âNathan Lawler, captain of the Vengeance. Youâve a fine place here, Yellow Hal.â
âAye, âtis a good little place.â To Olive, he snarled, âDonât just stand there,
Lightnin' Hopkins: His Life, Blues