The Red Ripper Read Online Free Page B

he held at his mercy.
    â€œHhrumph!” Mad Jack scowled and pretended to be disgruntled at the outcome. He eased himself from knife-point, rubbed his throat, glanced in the direction of his
servants, who continued to demonstrate their delight at the contest’s outcome. Then he grinned. “You’ll do.”
    â€œYou’re damn right,” William replied.
    The rawboned young man turned his back toward Mad Jack as if to walk away. Why be satisfied with one win, he thought, when he could have two? Mad Jack always exhorted him to be constantly vigilant. William decided it was time to test the teacher. In mid-stride he shouted, “Mad Jack!,” whirled, and lunged, hoping to place the point of his dagger against the freebooter’s chest and cry, “Touché!” But in a blur of motion Mad Jack spun on his heels, parried the thrust as he danced past the big man. Something slapped William across the neck, leaving a welt on the flesh. Wallace froze, his knife blade sawing the empty air, his neck stinging from the blow he had received. He seemed momentarily stunned. And then Mad Jack spoke.
    â€œIn case you’re wondering, I just slit your throat.” He looked at his knife, which was free of blood, and then tilted William’s chin upward. “Damn, I used the flat of the blade. I must be getting soft,” he added with a chuckle.
    Wallace tucked his knives away, the lesson brought home. He also filed Mad Jack’s maneuver away in his memory—it just might come in handy one day.
    â€œI might have taught you everything you know,” Flambeau said, grinning, “But not everything I know.”
    â€œI’ll remember,” William said. He waved toward the Tainos servants, then caught Mad Jack by the arm and led him over to a stone table set on a knoll above the mountain road. Manuel arrived bearing a tray with a brown glass bottle of rum and two pewter tankards.
    â€œHe beat you fair and square,” Manuel said, his nutbrown features split by a broad smile.
    â€œAnd you loved every minute of it,” Mad Jack grumbled threateningly.

    The Tainos servant wasn’t afraid. “Yes, I did.” He ambled off, chuckling to himself and mimicking the contest, much to Josefina’s consternation. She had chores to tend to and could no longer be bothered with the foolishness of men.
    William poured the freebooter a drink. Clouds drifted above the tops of the trees and out across the bay, dotting the hillside and cerulean sea with patches of shadow. Mad Jack thirstily accepted the grog, drained his cup, and slammed it down on the tabletop. William instantly refilled the vessel. A breeze stirred and he glanced back toward the house with its wide, deep porch and inviting shade. Palm trees shuddered and fanned the clearing with their bright green fronds. Thinking back, William remembered his first impression of the place.
    Sanctuary.
    William had worked hard to heal his physical wounds and recover his strength. Flambeau’s house on the hill had been William’s retreat from the hard world that had claimed his brother’s life and their dreams of adventure and wealth. He weathered the nightmares and prepared himself for the day when he would go forth to set things right.
    â€œI want to accompany you to Veracruz tomorrow,” he said.
    â€œSee here; you weren’t invited.”
    â€œNo one will question it if you bring me.”
    â€œI’d question my own sanity,” Flambeau chuckled and gulped down the rum. He smacked his lips. “Better’ n mother’s milk to a man of the sea.” He wiped his mouth on his coat sleeve and held up his cup. “Anyway, you’ve been to Veracruz.”
    William had the bottle ready. He paced himself and only took a sip from his own cup. This was the dark Jamaican rum, brewed from sugarcane cut at midnight, pressed by lantern light, and fermented by the dark of
the moon in kegs buried deep in