The Red Drifter of the Sea (Pirates of the Isles #3) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,74

Tomas hit the sand. The two men worked well as a team, so Kyle trusted them with this mission.

“If you find Moira with them, do what you can to get her separated from the O’Malleys. I don’t want her in the middle of the fighting. That’s what got us in this mess to begin with.”

“And if she’s not there?” Snake Eye asked.

“Then I don’t have to worry that someone will injure her while we slay each and every bastard who claims O’Malley as his name,” Kyle said matter-of-factly. There was no rancor in his tone. It was deadpan and blunt. Tomas and Snake Eye recognized it as the lethal voice that Kyle reserved for attacking slavers. He never thought twice about punishing the slave traders before prolonging their agony by setting them adrift. This attack wasn’t about looting a ship. It was revenge.

Kyle watched the amorphous outline of the men and dinghy in the moonlight as Tomas and Snake Eye reached the shore. From such a distance, he could barely make out Tomas moving across the sand, and he disappeared as he ascended the cliff. Kyle’s heart thudded as the minutes passed with no hint of when Tomas would return. His mind filled with one idea after another of how his plan could go awry. He glanced down to see he clutched the rail so tightly that his knuckles glowed an unearthly white. He forced himself to relax before he looked out at the water again.

To Kyle’s surprise, the dinghy was cutting through the surf, making its way back to the Lady Charity. He hadn’t noticed Tomas crossing the beach or getting in the rowboat. He held his breath as the men approached, then climbed aboard in silence. The three men crossed the deck and went to stand where they could speak to Keith and his first mate.

“I don’t ken how they are still alive,” Tomas spat in disgust. “Two men posted on watch, and they’re both sleeping!”

“They assume no one dares to take them on,” Kyle muttered before looking at the coast again. “We make our move now. How many are there?”

“I counted two dozen,” Tomas stated.

“That’s it?” Keith asked in disbelief.

“Aye. We killed at least fifty of their crew during the last battle,” Tomas pointed out.

“I suppose that’s true,” Keith agreed. “Then this should be over and done with before it’s time to break our fast.”

Kyle nodded with a grin. He was glad to hear Dermot didn’t have hidden reinforcements that would force both crews on land. This would allow Kyle to go after Dermot, and Keith could destroy the O’Malleys’ fleet. Moving in silence, the crews of both ships lowered their dinghies into the water, with five from the Lady Charity going to the beach, and five from the Lady Grace going to the cave Kyle pointed out to Keith. Kyle and his men hadn’t reached the beach before an alarm went up from the O’Malleys on watch with the boats. Kyle prayed there weren’t more O’Malleys with the ships than on land. By the time he reached the sand, the sound of Keith’s battle had faded. As his men crept along the beach and up the cliffs, not even a breeze stirred.

With hand and arm signals, the crew of the Lady Charity encircled the O’Malley camp. When Kyle found Dermot reeking of whisky, he gave the signal. Honor among thieves meant Kyle’s crew didn’t skewer the men in their sleep. Instead, the Lady Charity’s crew woke them at knifepoint, dragged them to their feet, scoffed at them for having such poor guards, hurled several insults, allowed the O’Malleys a chance to fight, then ran them through.

“You come with me,” Kyle barked before the hilt of his sword bashed into Dermot’s temple. The rotund man dropped like a sack of potatoes. “Get him in the boat.”

Kyle swept his eyes over the fallen men, and not an ounce of remorse pecked at him. These men were cut from the same cloth as he and his crew. They sealed their fate the moment they joined Dermot for the attack against the MacLean twins, and when Dermot set his sights on taking Moira.

The contracts may say he can marry her, but she’s mine. Men toasting their arses in Hell don’t marry.

Men from the Lady Charity maneuvered the unconscious Dermot onto the ship, nearly dropping him thrice. Kyle ordered men to lift him and follow Kyle. As he approached his cabin door, he considered the hook in his ceiling. He’d tortured