Page 65 of The Worst of Them

“Copson—the first one—and Robin robbed a royal fleet,” Frederick said. “That much gold is unconscionable. There’s no way he’d have stolen it and run from Copson in the middle of the night. The time it would take—the manpower, the planning, the sailing, and to have Copson know nothing of it?” Cecily looked over her shoulder in time to see Frederick shake his head. “There’s no probable way. And if Robin did have it, he wouldn’t be living in a shit little house in Tortuga, of all places.”

Cecily’s legs burned as the ground began to rise in a sharp, rocky incline. “Then why bother looking for it?”

Killian shrugged. “Why do Copsons do anything? Fame, stories, legend, revenge.”

“If there is a treasure,” Frederick said, “I owe Jack a pint for being an ass about it.”

When they eventually crested the hill, they emerged into a small clearing surrounded by thick trees that hid them in shade. One side was open to a sheer cliff that dropped to a spectacular view of the rest of the island below.

Cecily looked down and gaped. They overlooked a massive, stucco home, surrounded by lush gardens crawling with guards.

“That’s the governor’s mansion,” said Killian.

“Should be terribly fun to rob,” said a new voice with a thick, Spanish accent. “That is the plan, correct? Like every year?”

Cecily whirled. Standing behind them was a handsome officer, dressed in a blue uniform with red cuffs and a yellow stripe down the outside of each long leg. A sword hung at one hip, and his inky black hair was swept back in a style she might have called elegant, were it not for the few careless strands that had fallen into his dark, laughing eyes.

“Hello,” he said to her with a charming smile, his voice like honey or poison. Then his eyes focused on the others. “A new thief for your little crew?”

Her heart stopped. One Spanish soldier against several pirates—would they fight? When none of the others moved, Cecily looked at Frederick beside her.

He merely grinned and said, “Cecily, meet Hector Hein.”

16

HECTOR HEIN

A shiver skated down her back as Hein approached with long, careful strides.

There was something oddly familiar about him. Cecily had known a good number of dangerous people this last year and could recognize them within seconds.

But Hein’s specific type of threat intrigued her as she tried to decipher what about him made her uneasy. By the time he reached her, she had settled on a shaky assumption that it was because he seemed so like Jack with his height, his beauty, and his commanding presence.

Then he took her hand, and the moment his cold fingers touched her skin, she knew. Hein wasn’t like Jack at all.

He was like her.

His gaze seared into her with an icy, numbing heartlessness that matched her own—at least, what hers used to be before Jack had turned her heart into a half-melted, useless thing. There was no tenderness or warmth in Hein’s demeanor, but he concealed it beneath a beautifully seductive mask that promised only excitement rather than conquest and ruin.

Cecily had never bothered to hide her depravity, but as she faced Hein, shaky and melted as she was, she admired how he made it look as effortless as breathing.

“A pleasure to meet you, Cecily,” Hein said, his voice drifting over her flesh and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

She grinned back, embracing the ice that raked claws down the back of her neck in warning as she replied, “Likewise.”

Challenge and desire flashed through his eyes. Then they vanished, and Hein dropped her hand. He gazed her for another second—as though he couldn’t help himself, as though he were utterly smitten—before greeting the rest of the group.

“He’s very friendly,” Fay whispered, having ghosted to Cecily’s side. The officer kissed Maria’s hand too, his eyes deep and intent.

Cecily eyed his crisp uniform. She had never seen such a man—one who wore the promise of heartbreak on his sleeve but looked at one in such a manner to make them crave it. She wondered how many women had begged Hein to wreck them, if only to keep him as a memory.

Impressive, as far as monsters went.

“We’ve known Hector for years,” Fay said. “He once paid a tab for us to thank Jack for not killing his men. They had been threatening to kill me for witchcraft, and Jack nearly sent them all to hell—because he’s such a gentleman, you know.” Fay laughed to herself, pale eyes wistful. “Hein ensures we’re not bothered around Tortuga and spreads word that our men wouldn’t need more than an hour to slaughter half the island. He makes Jack out to be the worst of them, since Jack prefers the infamy for when he takes his father’s place as captain. It’s a very smart idea, and it’ll serve Jack well. He’s so very clever.”

Cecily couldn’t shake the feeling that Fay was trying to repair her opinion of Copson’s son, and she honored her new friend by ignoring the praise. “Could they kill half the island in an hour?”

“No,” Fay said lightly. “But I could. Hector!”