Pirate's Promise (Sentinels of Savannah #5) - Lisa Kessler Page 0,4
crew aren’t being paid to have style. You’re being paid to get me to Scotland to find the Tyrfing and bring it back before someone gets killed.”
The Tyrfing? Greyson shook his head. “It’s real?” The legends of the blade that could cut through any material had fascinated him when he’d been a boy. He’d never dreamed of drawing Excalibur from a stone. No, he’d dreamed of wielding the Tyrfing and cutting the stone in half.
“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes. “And you’re going to help me recover it.” She dropped her hand and turned to Colton. “I’m going to get a shower and a couple hours’ sleep. I’ll be back here at four a.m.”
Colton smirked. “You may be leading this mission, but I’m in charge of this ship. We leave at sunrise. If you’re not on board, we’ll sail without you.”
She started to go, but Greyson caught her arm. Her entire body stiffened as she turned and met his eyes. “Get your hand off me.”
Greyson waited two beats and slowly released her arm, his gaze locked on her fiery green eyes. “Best you remember, you need me more than I need you, lass.”
“The fuck I do.” She spun around to face Colton. “Do I have a cabin where I can stow my gear?”
Drake, the ship’s carpenter, approached with his tool belt low on his hips and a large mallet in his hand.
“Aye.” The quartermaster turned to Drake. “You’re headed to the lower deck, right? Can you show Agent Henderson the way?”
Drake’s teal-blue eyes flicked to Greyson, and he nodded. “Sure.” He focused on Agent Henderson as he started for the stairs below the deck. “Follow me.”
She adjusted the strap on her duffel bag, shot Greyson one last glare, and turned on her heel, jogging down the steps to the lower deck like she owned the damned Sea Dog.
Greyson watched her go, making a pact with himself to stay away from this one.
She was dangerous, and it had nothing to do with the gun in her shoulder holster.
Greyson glanced over at Colton. “Apparently I have a backstory to learn.”
“Like you didn’t have enough of one already.” Colton chuckled.
A door slammed below the deck, and Greyson ground his teeth. Staying away from her in such a confined space was going to be tough, but tough was his fucking middle name.
He jogged down the steps leading to the lower deck, trying not to look farther down the hallway to the last cabin on the right, Aura’s room for the journey.
With the folder tucked under his arm, he poked his head into the navigation room. Caleb sat hunched over his charts. Greyson rapped his knuckles on the side of the wooden door.
Caleb’s head popped up. Their navigator was about Greyson’s height, with bright-blue eyes and curly dark-brown hair that fell to his shoulders. He usually kept the top pulled back out of his face rather than take the time to get a haircut. His gaze flicked to the doorway and back to Greyson. “Is something wrong?”
Greyson chuckled and crossed to the opposite side of the table from Caleb. He tossed the folder on top, pulled out a chair, and flipped it around to straddle the seat. “I was just informed I’ll be going undercover with one of Bale’s secret agents to bring home the Tyrfing sword.”
He’d tried to keep the glee from his voice, but he wasn’t sure he’d been completely successful. He pushed up his sleeve, eyeing the tattoo on his forearm.
It wasn’t like the fancy, colorful sleeve tattoos the lubbers were getting nowadays. The sword emblazoned into his skin was black and rough, with two blades joined together at the tip into a single weapon, hungry for blood. The legendary Tyrfing.
Legend said the blade had been forged in magic and cursed…like Greyson.
He held his arm out toward Caleb. “I never dreamed it could be real. If this mission is successful, I could grip the hilt of this beauty.”
Caleb shook his head. “No metal blade can cut through any material. There’s no science to prove the existence of any solid compound with that capability.”
Greyson tugged his sleeve back down, rolling his eyes. “It’s powered by magic, not science.”
He’d known Caleb since the 1700s, and while they were friends and crewmates, Greyson embraced metaphysical solutions, while their navigator kept both feet solidly entrenched in his books and precious science.
Greyson opened the folder, scanning the contents as he spoke. “Are you curious about my undercover backstory?”
“Not particularly.” Caleb settled back into his charts.