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“No, it won’t,” Isaiah piped in and felt the nick of a sword on his cheek as if the man couldn’t help it this time. His crew made angry sounds.
“For god's sake, Daniel, quit swinging that shit around and stand back.”
The impatient voice had everyone quieting and looking. Isaiah wiped his cheek and watched as the figure who spoke landed on his ship and took all the attention. Unlike Daniel’s colorful ensemble, this man wore all black and acted pleasant. He scanned the deck, looked satisfied at the unequal numbers, and grinned at Isaiah.
“Isaiah, my man. It’s been so long.”
He could resort to sarcasm, but he knew the man enough to know that his pleasantries relied on his ego. “Cross. It has.”
“You have to pardon my second-in-command here. Daniel has always been excitable, and it’s not every day that he gets to see his old mates again.”
Bullshit.
“Right.”
When Isaiah didn’t offer anything, Cross sighed, then visibly pondered over it. After a while, he nodded.
“Should we talk in private?”
Cross also made a subtle gesture at his back until his two dozen men surrounded Isaiah’s crew in a tighter circle. The invitation, despite its lightness, had Isaiah swallowing his anger. He was fast. He could just snatch one of the pirate’s swords and pierce it through this man’s heart. But then his crew would be dead in seconds, helpless because he gave them the order to stand down.
“Sure. Let’s step inside my cabin. Am I assured that your second-in-command will behave while we are away?”
“He will,” Cross promised. Daniel scowled but didn’t move closer, leaving Isaiah no choice but to continue with the charade.
He led the man to his quarters, where he poured a glass of brandy and went about with the perfunctory toasts. The hard liquid burned his throat and cleared his mind, going through the possible attempts at evading before he decided it was pointless.
“What do you want, Cross?”
“Isaiah, you used to be more entertaining than this, regaling everyone with stories of your wild adventures.”
When Isaiah didn’t reply, the man sighed.
“You know what I want. Don’t pretend you didn’t get my missives.”
Isaiah didn’t deny it. He poured them another glass and waited for Cross to finish his.
“We are supposed to be allies. An ally doesn’t just barge in when the other doesn’t respond. I could have been busy. Iambusy.”
“Trading.” Cross scoffed. “As civil as it gets. You are turning soft, my boy.”
“I’m not your boy. And as I recall, you like what I’m trading.”
“I do.”
“Stealing won’t do. Allies, remember?”
“We are not allies, Isaiah. But we are not enemies, either, and I don’t want to go down this way.
“Then stop acting like the damn enemy. Stop bombing down my ship and threatening my men.”
Cross’s features glowed. “Those bombs were great, weren’t they? We got them somewhere special and tweaked the ship to our liking. Of course, we got help from a very special source.”
“You owe me. Don’t act like you don’t.”
“And don’t act like I didn’t do you a favor, either.” Cross’s pleasantness lessened, but the man considered his words and sighed. “Fine, let’s make it fairer.”
“Does that mean you are leaving my ship?”
