Chapter Text
There it is. That way you bite your lip, when you pause to consider your next words. That plump little lip bounces free as you take a breath to answer Jack’s question, and Vane feels his body warm. That must be the reason he’s so drawn to you.
“But the manufactured items are harder to fence,” you’re telling Jack now, your fine brows knitting together adorably as you haggle with the Ranger’s quartermaster. “So despite what you’re saying about the division of the plunder, the value is not in fact equal, not in practice, because the factory stamps make them easier to trace. Especially the silverware. My contacts don’t pay well for that sort of trouble, those that would even take them at all.”
You’re smart, too. Captain Fisher was quite fortunate to have landed you as his quartermaster, Vane muses as he nurses his ale, running his thumb back and forth across the edge of his cup. It’s always a pleasure to listen to you negotiate. Perhaps you’re even the reason why Vane agreed to work with your crew on this job in the first place.
Not that his own quartermaster isn’t quick-witted, too. “Melt down the bloody silver then,” Jack snaps at your quibbling.
“Another expense,” you retort, “see what I mean?” You sit back, adjusting your coat. The brocade is quite fetching, and flatters you well as you lean arrogantly on one jaunty elbow. Just feminine enough to stir a man’s loins, but there’s nothing that looks weak about you. Vane knows that’s something that draws him to you, too. “We’ll take the tobacco, instead. Easy enough to ‘damage’ the customs stamps.”
Jack scowls. Vane has half a mind to lift you into his lap right here, though he knows you’d strike him directly across the face for it. And probably try to call off the whole deal, at that.
Not that you’re negotiating from a position of strength. “Why should we give you the more profitable portion of the take?” Vane asks, leaning forward and regarding you from under his brow. He sees your eyes widen for just a moment after they meet his. He’s not sure what the reaction means, but it’s something, and Vane thrills at having the power to shake you. “We were the ones that emptied our hold to haul it all back. A rushed job, that wasn’t without loss of value.”
You take a deep breath before answering him, your breasts swelling tight and high above your corset. God, his palms are just itching to cover them and then make you do that again. “That,” you arch one perfect brow, “is not my problem. You have the bigger ship, it made sense that you would carry the plunder back to Nassau, but we have just as many guns as you, and just as many fighters.”
“Is that a threat?” Vane growls. Not because he’s truly feeling belligerent, mostly just because he enjoys riling you up.
“Charles, please,” Jack interrupts with placating hands, before you can respond to the escalation with more than a dark flash of your eyes. “Two against one is hardly sporting, for a civilized negotiation such as the one we are having right here. Why don’t we just order another round, and wait for Captain Fisher to arrive.” One expressive eyebrow raised, he flashes a look at you. “Your captain is joining us, is he not?”
Vane barely suppresses a shark’s smile. Everyone here knows that your captain is currently otherwise engaged. Though, outmaneuvered little thing that you are, you do not know that Jack and Vane are already wise to the reason for your captain’s absence, and have already taken measures. All Vane is waiting for now is a signal from his men.
“Of course,” you say in a clipped tone. “I can’t imagine what the delay might be.” Your eyes flit from Jack to Vane and back again. “Shall I go fetch him?”
You start to rise and Vane’s hand shoots out, clamping your wrist into the table. “No need for that, love.” He holds on a little longer than is necessary, even as you sit back down. He finds that he is both aroused and ashamed at his ability to make you nervous. If he wants a woman, he wants to conquer her, but some small voice inside him is whispering that with you, this should not be the way. He lets your hand go. “We can negotiate without him.”
You fix him with a level look, gathering your confidence as your posture straightens before him again. You nod. "What I was saying was, regardless of the larger size of your ship and the logistical consequences on the cargo storage, we were equal partners in the take. I am simply making certain we are compensated as such. The Ranger would not have been able to subdue the merchant’s escort without us.” There’s that fire in your belly again. That, that’s what it really is, Vane muses as he watches your lips form hot words. The reason that he cannot stop thinking of you at night. “Which brings me to my next point: adjusting the shares based on my crew’s heavier losses.”
Jack’s brows knit together again. “Are you suggesting we should be creating something other than an equal split now, after the job is already done?” He looks to his captain for support.
Vane sits back, taking a long pull off his tankard of ale. None of this matters anyway, not if Jack’s hunch about Captain Fisher turns out to be right. And look, there’s his man now, giving him the high sign from the doorway of the tavern. Vane stands up abruptly, letting his body crowd your personal space. “Let’s take a walk, shall we? And then we’ll come back to the idea of what kind of shares your crew deserves.”
He looks down to see the blood draining from your face as you follow his eye to the ugly grin on his crewman’s face. He offers you his arm, and you have no choice but to take it.
“Don’t be afraid, dove,” he says as he marches you to the front door, though he regrets the condescension of the pet name instantly. You are much more than a shivering bird. “Jack and I are open to striking up new negotiations with you, personally. Your captain, however…” he trails off as the two of you step out into the street, Jack close behind. Several of the Ranger’s best men have your captain held between them, his bloodied head drooping in defeat.
“Caught ‘im and his crew sneaking onto the Ranger, Captain,” Vane’s man reports. “Just like you said.”
Captain Fisher coughs, a wet and ugly sound that suggest internal damage. Vane smirks at the justice of that, and turns to you.
You are scowling up at him, that delicious lip thrust out in a last defiant effort. “Couldn’t let you hold all the chips while we quibbled over how they’d be split up,” you explain. There is very little remorse in your voice. “The captain was only attempting to secure our fair share.”
Vane presses a hand to his heart, pretending to feel a wound. “You didn’t think you could trust me?” He had already told himself it didn’t hurt, hours ago when he had figured out what you crew was up to. Why should you behave any differently than anyone he had ever met? You were only protecting your own, as any good leader should. His grip on your arm tightens.
“We were, in point of fact, going to deal fairly with you,” Jack interposes. The anger is showing on his face as well. “But now…”
“Now you get the monster you were expecting,” Vane finishes for him, voice low, purring over the rage that always feels so good to indulge. He nods toward his men. “Kill everyone that was caught boarding our ship. Don’t make a scene, but don’t take too long with it. Then board the Starling and seize her. No one takes over Fisher’s crew. The men that are left will have to find work elsewhere.”
Vane sees real fear in your eyes now. You swallow it, and face him calmly. “Am I to die too?”
Your bravery. Your spirit. Perhaps that, that is what is at the heart of his admiration for you. Warmth tempers the high of Vane’s rage, the spiraling emotions conspiring into a rushing feeling he hopes will never end.
“I believe there is room to talk about that,” Jack says to you, stepping closer and making Vane realize you two have been locking eyes without speaking for a potentially awkward length of time. “Seeing as your attempt to distract us with a false negotiation here in this tavern did not, in fact, distract or mislead us at all, given that we were wise to the ploy all along, a case could be made that you have not, in fact, done us any ill that must be answered.”
You tear your eyes away from Vane’s to regard Jack with suspicion. “Why?” Your voice is sharp and true. Shrewd even when others would be begging and desperate. What a woman Vane has found in you.
“Join us,” Vane blurts, feeling like his tongue is tripping over his heavy need for you to say yes. “You deserve a better crew than that one.”