They hesitated, clearly not believing that he would. It was unthinkable to them, too. Without a word, Thom stabbed the blade through the envelope.
Georgiana’s heart stopped. The opposite of careful—but if they didn’t risk everything, they’d lose everything.
And it was a risk worth taking. Shouting, the men ran for the lanterns, flinging them over the starboard side, away from the hole. Only a tiny leak right now. Thom had only pierced the balloon’s skin; his blade was still buried in the envelope, blocking the leak, and despite the pressure the metal fabric wouldn’t rip easily.
As soon as the lanterns were gone, Thom jerked the blade upward, slicing open a two-foot tear. He dropped to the deck with a heavy thud, the steel blade at his arm glinting.
The mercenaries ran. They sprinted to the companionway, shouting the fire alert as they disappeared down the ladder.
Georgiana hauled herself over the rail, stumbling into the coils of rope and crates near the bow. Moonlight spilled faintly over the port side of the deck, lighting her way as she hurried toward Thom. He caught her hand, and they raced to the stern, where the boats hung on pulleys.
Out of breath, she stopped at the tie, frantically unfastening the ropes. And Thom . . . didn’t have a left hand.
For the space of a second, she stared. He wasn’t holding a blade that had been stashed inside his arm, as she’d thought. His arm was a blade. And as she watched, he pushed back a small lever at his elbow, and his forearm unfolded as if being turned inside out. Gears clicked. The blade retracted and his fingers snapped into place, one by one.
Mouth open in shock, she met his eyes. “Thom!”
His grin flashed again. “I asked Ivy for it—in case I was ever eaten by a megalodon, I could cut myself out.”
Shaking with sudden laughter, she quickly finished unwinding the tie. Thom hauled on the line and lowered the boat to the deck, then grabbed it by the mooring rope tied to the bow.
“To the tether, Georgie. I don’t trust that they won’t cut the pulley line if we go down this way.”
Dragging the boat after him, Thom quickly started down the moonlit port side, toward the center of the ship. Georgiana followed close behind. But they weren’t going to be there alone. Ahead of them, footsteps pounded up the ladder. Mercenaries spilled out of the companionway, shadowy shapes peering through the dark toward them.
“I ripped the balloon open portside,” Thom called over the scrape of the boat against the deck. “If you shoot, we’re all dead.”
More mercenaries came up as he spoke. Winch’s voice sounded through the dark. “Put your guns away, you fools! Go pull down the other lifeboat. Billy, Leigh—go find Southampton. He’ll need help carrying up that gold.”
“I’m here, Mrs. Winch.”
Thom abruptly stopped and faced the center of the ship. Georgiana scrambled past the boat to his side. He pushed her back against the rail, behind him.
Southampton emerged from the shadows at the center of the deck, wearing a jacket over his nightshirt and a sword in his hand.
A sword. Fear roiled in Georgiana’s stomach. Southampton couldn’t shoot, but he could stab—and he held the weapon with the ease of someone long familiar with it.
He stopped, just over the length of his blade away from her husband. A thin smile curled his lips. “Well done, Big Thom.”
To her astonishment, instead of forming his own blade again, Thom pulled on his gloves. His voice was flat and hard. “If you have a brain at all, you’ll get into that lifeboat with your crew, and then you’ll leave us be. We won’t put any claim on your gold. We won’t say I was the one that brought it up. Those coins don’t matter to me.”
“You believe I’ll take that risk? Only three people know how many coins you found. I’ve already silenced your salvage dealer. Now you and your wife must be silenced.”
“And your mercenaries?” Georgiana said.
“Ah, yes. Well, they will be paid enough to keep silent.”
“Or maybe you’ll have them killed, too,” she said. In the shadows, the mercenaries had quieted. “Or perhaps they’ll blackmail you for more money. Or steal the gold and be done with it.”
She hoped Mrs. Winch would at least consider it.
“There will be no blackmail or stealing, Mrs. Thomas.” Southampton looked away from her and regarded Thom with amusement. “And my crew and I will be the only ones to survive this. You’re a fool for thinking this will save you. We’re forty leagues from the nearest shore. The two of you alone will have little chance of reaching it alive.”
Forty leagues? Oh, dear God. They would have to row a hundred and twenty miles.
But she wouldn’t let the dread overwhelm her. They still had a better chance in a small boat than they did on this ship.
Thom obviously thought so, too. “Little chance is better than none.”