The blank looks told him most of his captives didn’t speak Spanish. A Danish seaman came to his rescue. “Penge,” he explained. “Smykker.”
Handing the sack to the Dane, Lázaro resisted the urge to chuckle at the speed with which the passengers divested themselves of their coin and jewelry. “Tell them their willingness to comply has saved their lives,” he lied. They didn’t need to know he hadn’t intended to kill them. “I will scuttle the ship within easy reach of land.”
Gasps of relief mingled with consternation spread through the crowd. They obviously considered themselves fortunate to escape with their lives, but still had to face the prospect of a brief dunking.
“Have you no pity, sir?” the captain asked. “These people are refugees, with nothing to…”
The passengers glared, clearly reluctant to upset the pirates.
“Dos muertos aquí,Capitán” Gatito shouted.
When every head swiveled totwo dead bodieslying on the deck near the stern, Lázaro frowned. Not a single shot had been fired, so how had two people been killed?
He hurried over, even more puzzled by the sight of an elderly man slumped atop a blonde woman—Scandinavian judging by the Nordic cheekbones. Even in death, her beauty stirred interest in his balls.
Lovely.
“Sí,” Gatito replied, fingering the wisps of blonde hair that had come loose from a tight bun. “Hermosa.”
Lázaro coughed, embarrassed he’d apparently uttered his thoughts out loud, and why he felt insanely jealous of his first mate was beyond his comprehension.
His hackles rose. Had the old man—an American by the look of his clothes—tried to take advantage? Or perhaps he was her father. But how had he died?
Two of his crew emptied the dead man’s pockets then dragged the corpse off the woman, revealing a voluptuous body as stunningly appealing as her face. She’d tried to protect her honor with her luggage. He wondered what precious object lay inside that she’d reached for in the throes of death.
“Amazona,” Gatito exclaimed.
She did resemble the lithographs of the legendary Greek warriors. Lázaro was about to nod his agreement when she blinked open startlingly blue eyes, drew a pistol from the bag and waved it in his face.
“More like aVikinga,” he replied, genuine fear creeping up his spine for the first time in his perilous life.”
* * *
Heidi tried desperately to hold onto her wits but she was swimming in a blurry haze. A tall man leaned over her, his broad shoulders blocking the sun. He was blabbering in Spanish about Vikings. Didn’t he realize she was holding a pistol?
The reason for the weapon escaped her for the moment, but it had to do with…
She inhaled deeply, glad she could breathe again. Something had fallen on top of her, but the weight was gone now.
“Give me the pistol,querida,” the man said softly. “Pistolen, tak.”
It was a long time since her husband had called herdarling, and the stranger saidplease, so she supposed…
She pouted when the weapon was wrenched from her grip. “I was going to give it to you,” she wanted to say, but her dry throat seemed incapable of forming words.
“Take her to theJuana,” he said. “She’ll drown if we leave her here.”
“I don’t want to drown,” she finally managed as she was lifted from the deck by another man. “You stink,” she declared, wrinkling her nose when her bearer’s pungent odor assailed her nostrils.
“And you’re too heavy,” he replied in Spanish. “Gorda.”
Torsten had accused her of beingfat. The memory rankled. “Vellystig,” she hissed.
“I’ll take her. She’s toovoluptuousfor you, Gatito.”
She recognized the voice. He’d taken her pistol, but he smelled better. She nuzzled her head against his broad chest when the sweaty man gave her over to him. “Thank you,” she murmured, as a memory surfaced, “for saving me from the pirates,” she said.
His hearty laughter was the last thing she heard before surrendering to the haze.