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She nodded as Scot and I headed straight for the harpoon, the metal claws cutting deep into the wood, making it a great anchor.
“How the fuck do we get it out?” Scot searched around for anything to help us.
My own gaze hunted the room for an object, my brain trying to come up with a plan.
“You have to cut it out,” Kat spoke up, and I turned my head to her. “It’s like a tick. It will keep embedding itself unless you remove it.
“You mean cut a hole in my ship?”
“Youalreadyhave a hole in your ship.” She gestured to the harpoon, a trail of water seeping in.
“We will flood,” Scot snipped back.
The sounds of gunshots popped off as the pirates got closer.
“Not right away.” Kat rolled her eyes as if she was done with our stupidity. “At least then you won’t be taken over by pirates and lose your whole fucking ship. I’ve dealt with these things before. Trust me.”
She was right. We had to cut it out. But I had nothing that could be used to remove it.
“Do you have dynamite?” Her stunning eyes met mine through the bars, glowing brighter than usual. There was no denying Kat was devastating. One of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.
“Are you feckin’ serious, lass?” Scot’s arms went out. “Dynamite? You want to sink us right here?”
“Yes.Dynamite.” Her gaze stayed on me like she was communicating a deeper meaning, the word triggering something in our past.
“Blackbeard,” I muttered, the curve of her mouth saying we were on the same page. His reputation for being crazy and ruthless was well-earned. He used to stick small candles of dynamite in his beard to scare the crap out of his enemies. The man was insane, but he was also brilliantly clever. A good man. Kat had sat on his knee as a baby, thinking he was some version of Santa Claus with his booming laugh and red cheeks.
His kink—playing with dynamite—taught me there were ways to control it.
Whipping around, I moved to the storage cupboard, digging into the items we used to break into vaults, chests, and safety boxes. My hands wrapped around several dynamite candles tucked inside.
“Fuck, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I muttered.
The gunfire and yells from outside were almost right on us. It was now or never.
Grabbing a metal bucket off the floor, I shoved it in Scot’s arms. “Hold this.”
“What are you doin’, Captain?” Scot peered at me with trepidation.
“Doing something stupid as fuck.”
“How about you don’t?”
“We have no choice. I’m not losing my ship. Not to these fuckers.” I dug for a lighter in my pocket. I no longer smoked, but I still had a habit of flicking the lid opened and closed, oddly calming me down.
“Kat, get into the furthest corner and cover your head.” I turned back to Scot, grabbing the bucket back. “Do the same.”
“No.” He gritted his teeth. “I’m fighting for my home too.”
I knew Scot well enough to not argue with him, and by the sound of voices on the other side of the hull, they were here.
Lighting the fuse, I tossed the dynamite into the bucket, slamming the bucket over the tip of the harpoon and holding it to the spot. It was the only way to contain it, but fuck, it was going to hurt.
Scot pushed down on the side with me, both of us closing our eyes, waiting for the spark to detonate.
Booooom!
My body flew back, crashing into the opposite wall, my skin feeling like it was being torn from my hands and face, my head cracking into the wood. My ears rang, my head flipping around while darkness tugged me down. I forced my lids to stay open to see daylight spilling through the hole we created, water splashing in. It was large, but high enough that I hoped we could limp to a port if the waters stayed calm.
