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382 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 29, 2010




His funds were dwindling, his cook was unhappy, a pirate was elusive, his future was tentative, there was much that he wanted that remained out of reach, and there was a woman on board. All in all, not one of his favorite weeks.
Turkish prison notwithstanding.

“Flint…” It was a plea.
“I know,” he soothed hoarsely, and there was promise and torment and triumph in the tone, for she’d just revealed to him he could torture her for as long as he pleased because he alone was the means of her deliverance.

Did she detect a hint of irony in his words? Or did French-accented English simply consign one forever to sounding ironic?
This story, please don't suck or there will be a mutiny.




