Only With Your Love (Vallerands #2)(96)

“Tell me about Aug,” Legare said, and produced a knife with a long, wicked blade. “Shall I carve your name across her pretty face?”

“No!” Justin breathed in ragged gulps. “Don’t touch her!”

Legare grinned, and with the flat of the knife traced an invisible V from Celia’s temples to her chin. It did not leave a mark, but the gesture demonstrated his intentions perfectly. “How did Aug bring the men here?” he asked.

“Don’t tell him, Justin,” Celia said unsteadily. “It will not make a difference, he will do it anyway.”

“Not necessarily,” Legare informed her. “If he is cooperative, I may allow you to live. I am acquainted with several merchants in Africa who could sell you at a handsome price on the slave market. Skin as fair as yours is highly prized there.” He glanced at Justin. “Well, Griffin?”

Justin’s gaze did not leave the knife, which weaved back and forth in front of Celia’s waxen face. “He smuggled them here in barrels. Your men thought it was a shipment of wine taken from a prize ship.”

Legare raised his reddish brows in surprise. “Where have they been hiding? In the village? It couldn’t be the fort. We’ve searched every inch of it.”

“I don’t know.”

The knife hovered under Celia’s jaw. “Come now, Captain Griffin.”

“Damn you, I don’t know!”

Legare turned his back on Justin and caressed Celia’s taut throat. “We must convince him to be more talkative, n’est-ce pas? I believe I’ll allow my men to amuse themselves with you. Not all at once, of course—you might cause them to quarrel.” His low voice cut underneath Justin’s bellowing rage as he addressed two of the men. “Boles, Luc, take her to the next cell. My reward to both of you. And make certain there is something entertaining for Griffin to hear.”

Eagerly the pair tore Celia from Risk’s possession and dragged her from the room. She screamed shrilly, clawing and biting as if she were possessed.

Justin lifted his legs, and smashed his booted feet into Legare’s head. In spite of the men’s fear of Legare, they all shouted with laughter as they saw that he had been taken unaware and knocked to the floor. Astonished, Legare struggled up and regarded him with disbelieving fury. But in a part of his mind, Justin noticed something else—that he could no longer hear Celia’s screams. He was wondering what that meant when Legare raised his knife high and strode toward Justin purposefully.

As Celia was dragged down the corridor by Legare’s men, a dark figure leaped from nowhere. A gleaming knife slashed through the air. The brutal hands holding her became loose and slipped away. Celia’s screams died abruptly. She was paralyzed. Suddenly Aug’s hawkish features and lustrous black eyes were before her, and he took her arm. She stared at him in bewilderment and let him pull her away from the two fallen bodies.

“Aug?” she managed to whisper, coming to her senses. “Aug, Justin is back there, Justin—” She tried to stop their forward progress, but he continued to pull her inexorably.

“Quickly, quickly, they will be coming,” he said.

“Yes, but Justin—”

“Do not worry about him.”

Just then a thunderous blast came from the direction of the cell, causing her to gasp and stumble. The floor and walls shook around them. “What was that?”

The moment Legare reached Justin, the wooden wall to Justin’s left exploded, sending splinters and burning ash flying everywhere. The force of the explosion sent the men closest to the wall flying backward. Dazed, Justin hung limply by the chains. There was a ringing in his ears that drowned out all other sound. Time passed with disjointed slowness.

For a few seconds he blacked out, and then he was vaguely aware of men scrambling, fleeing, falling to the floor. “Celia,” he mumbled. He began to stir, raising his head groggily. A few familiar faces swam before him…He was lifted from the hook, and burly arms supported him as he staggered a few steps, the chains dragging on the floor.

The world steadied itself, and a small crowd of his own crew poured through the demolished wall. Among them, the faces of Sans-Nez and Duffy appeared directly in front of him.

“The woman—” Justin said.

“She’s all right, Aug’s got her.”

His gaze darted around the room. Legare had disappeared. Once released, Justin limped to the prone bodies on the floor and crouched by one of them, ignoring the ache of his bad leg. “Jack…” It was Risk. He had been caught in the blast. His green eye was open and staring, and the patch had been dislodged from the ruined one. Justin searched for a pulse, and realized that Risk was dead.

Justin was surprised that after the worst of betrayals he could still feel such grief. He wanted to howl in denial and outrage and sadness. Gently he pulled the patch over the disfigured eye socket and closed Risk’s good eye. He stood up and stared at the lax features in a kind of trance. He understood why Risk had turned against him. After all they had been through together, Risk had felt as if Justin had deserted him. He had felt there was no other choice than to follow Legare.

Justin would have stayed there longer, but he was aware that the others were watching him. He turned back to them and held out his wrists. “Get these off me,” he said. “Legare will organize his men quickly—we don’t have much time.” Busily they set to work on the shackles with iron implements, smashing the bolts that had held the manacles around his arms. “You blew a hole through the wall…” Justin shook his head to clear his brain. “Dammit, how did you know I wasn’t strung up against that wall?”