Page 99 of The Worst of Them

Maria elbowed him. “Hush. Copsons know more about treasure than you ever will.”

Frederick leveled her with a searing look. “You wanna put money on it?”

Jack ignored them. “Legend says they can control the tides, the wind, currents, even the weather, depending on the stone,” he told Hester. He pinched the green stone between his thumb and forefinger and lifted it, letting the moonlight catch the small wave engraved on its face. “Rumors of their existence have captivated sailors for centuries, though most stories place them in the Pacific where they were said to belong to a sea god. If these are real, they’ve come a very long way.”

He let the stone fall back into his palm. Cecily craned her neck, peeking at the yellow stone and the swirl on its face.

“Frederick’s right,” Jack said abruptly, handing the stones back to Hester. “They’re myths. These are probably glass replicas the governor found somewhere. A bracelet’s a good idea—it’ll suit you.”

“Glass,” Frederick snorted. “Knew it.”

“You certainly did.” Something in Jack’s tone caught Cecily’s attention. He was too casual, and when he caught her staring, he gave the smallest shake of his head, like the topic wasn’t worth pursuing.

She narrowed her eyes, skeptical, but didn’t ask about it.

“Impressive haul, but not as grand as ours,” Maria said. Then she snapped her fingers at Jack. “Your turn,” she sniped. “Show us how you won.”

Cecily was ready for him to tell the others they’d brought absolutely nothing, but Jack drew a small knob of crystal from his pocket and tossed it to Maria.

She caught it. Stared. Then looked at Jack. “Are you being funny?”

“Am I laughing?” Jack asked, straight-faced.

She held it up. “You stole a paperweight. From the governor’s wife. Not jewels. Not some silly trinket. You took a rock, and not even a pretty one.”

Jack settled an arm around Cecily’s shoulders, flashing a roguish grin. “We got distracted.”

Maria gaped. “You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself so we—” She spun to Frederick and threw her arms around him. “Passions ‘o life, we won!”

“See?” Jack said while she and Frederick carried on with their celebrating. “I don’t win every year.” To Cecily, he muttered, “But next perhaps year.”

The second tradition of heist nights was that the ladies went to buy rum while the men built a bonfire on the beach. By the time they returned, their arms laden with bottles, a fire crackled in the sand, its flames taller than any of them.

As the women emerged from the forest, the men began to cheer, punching the air as their women and alcohol made for the perfect end to a night of stealing.

And perhaps it did, since Cecily found herself grinning as she made her way to Jack, the firelight turning his hair to burnished bronze. He’d changed into his own clothes and washed away the scars, leaving only the one she liked. All signs of Officer Marín were gone, making him into the pirate prince she knew.

Of the three bottles she carried, she set two on the ground and handed over the third. Jack bit the cork free, spat it into the sand, then took a long drink before offering it back to her.

“To a job well done,” he said.

Cecily lifted the bottle in a salute. “To the finest paperweight I’ve ever seen.” And she drank.

When she lowered the rum, she had every intention to kiss his self-indulgent smile—but then the others broke into song, and a merry shanty rose into the night. Jack’s grin widened, but instead of joining them, he took her hand and pulled her away from the fire to the far side of the cove.

Maria shouted after them, “Jack, you whore!”

“Get wrecked!” he yelled back, and Maria dissolved into boisterous cackles.

The singing grew louder, and Jack led Cecily a short way into the trees, around a bend, and onto a second, smaller beach lit only by moonlight.

“You don’t want to sing shanties?” she asked with a giggle.

“Lord, no.” Jack spun her into him, his arm locked over her chest. He took the rum from her and said, “Brace yourself, darling.”

“What— Jack!”

He tipped them into the sand, holding her tight as he bore the brunt of the impact. Her gasp turned to laughter, and Jack didn’t release her as he situated himself back against a rock with Cecily between his legs.