Once he'd paid, he and the boy left under the wary eye of the sheriff.

"What the h.e.l.l did you do that for, you b.l.o.o.d.y b.a.s.t.a.r.d?" the boy snarled, craning his scrawny neck to look up at Lock.

Lock raised an eyebrow. "Why did I save your life?"

"What do you want? My other fingers as payment? I can't believe you're still breathing after all the curses I heaped on you!"

"Oh, so you're a warlock now as well as a thief? You'd think after I cut your finger off you'd have learned your lesson."

"I said I didn't steal nothing, especially not compared to you! You slime sucking, snake-toothed, stinking donkey's a.r.s.e! If I didn't think you'd bury me, I'd chop out your gullet!"

Lock whistled. "Nice way to talk to a man who just saved your scrawny a.r.s.e. Maybe I should have let you pay for your crime."

"I said I didn't steal-"

Lock grasped the boy and dragged him behind the blacksmith's shop. Gripping him by the shoulders, he lifted him off the ground so they were eye to eye. "Just like you didn't steal the cargo from the Lady Fire? You took their money, and we both know it!"

The boy kicked Lock between the legs. Cursing, Lock dropped him hard on the dirt and leaned forward, his hands braced against his knees. "Son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h!"

The boy scrambled to his feet and ran, but Lock caught him by the back of the neck. "Let me go!"

"Not until you shut up and listen to me!"

"What for?"

"You took the money, didn't you? Didn't you?" Lock shook the youth hard.

"I took it! So what? How else am I supposed to eat?"

"Did you ever try honest work?"

"What a joke coming from you, the worst pirate to ever sail out of the SothSeas!"

"Not anymore. There's no future in piracy."

"What do you mean? When you had the Lady Fire, you could have anything you wanted."

"Not anything that mattered."

"You have no business telling me what to do!"

"I'm not telling you anything. I'm offering advice."

"I've been on my own since I was seven. Didn't need no advice then and I don't need it now."

"No parents?"

"Dead mother. No father. Why do you care?"

"We've got something in common. Never had a father and my mother should have been dead, but that doesn't mean I have to ruin my life because of them. Neither do you. Have you ever killed anybody?"

"No."

Lock studied the boy. For the first time, he sensed he was telling the truth. "Good. Then maybe you won't end up like me after all."

"I can be better than you! If I was a captain, I wouldn't give up my ship!"

"That wasn't my ship. It belonged to anyone who killed for it."

"Why should I stand here listening to you? You cut off me finger!" The boy held up his mutilated hand.

"And a lot of good it did either of us! You're still a lying, thieving brat, and if you don't do something about it, you'll be a killer on top of it all, because it always comes down to murder in the circle we travel in. I'm sure a missing finger hurt like h.e.l.l, but it won't kill you. Not like that hangman's noose. Want to see what can kill you?"

Lock tugged off his shirt and displayed what was left of his back. He glanced over his shoulder at the boy who stared silently at the ma.s.s of scars and valleys cut in and healed over on the broad bones and hard muscles.

"That only happened because you got caught," the boy muttered.

"And so have you. Twice."

The boy folded his arms across his chest and planted his feet wide apart. "So why aren't you dead? That beating was meant to kill you."

"Someone took pity on me."

"That woman, Sparrow. If it hadn't been for her, I'd be dead, too, remember?"

"Looks like we have something else in common. She saved us both. I have a business proposition for you."

The boy's lip curled. "I don't want to deal with you. You cut me finger off."

Lock continued, "You work for me, and I'll give you a portion of the profits."

"I'll kill you in your sleep," the youth snarled.

"No you won't."

"Why not?"

"Because, you skinny little s.h.i.t, you know I'd wake up before the blow landed and gut you like a fish." Lock bent so that he was almost nose to nose with the boy. He straightened and shrugged. "Also because you're no killer yet. Take a good look at me, boy. Look at what I was, what I did to you. I'm giving you the chance to change, or do you want me to turn you back over to the mob now that you've admitted you stole from the men in the tavern?"

The boy paled. "I'll stay with you...for a while."

"First things first. We go back to the market and sell the goods I have left. I've been hunting for the past few days and just spent nearly all my profit paying for your life."

"Don't throw that at me! I already gave you me finger."

"You hold a h.e.l.l of a grudge."

The boy tossed Lock a furious look but followed him back to the market.

Sea Storm stood quietly in front of the wagon, munching from the feed bag Lock had given him. Everything seemed just as he'd left it. He thought someone would have tried to steal both the horse and the wagon. Not that Sea Storm would have gone, but he'd have put up a fight that would have caused even more trouble in the marketplace.

Lock tugged away the leather covering on the back of the wagon and clenched his teeth, smashing his fists against the wood and causing Sea Storm to snort.

"What?" the boy demanded.

Lock pointed to the empty wagon. "Someone stole everything. Goods. Food. Even my d.a.m.n underpants!"

The boy clicked his tongue and laughed. "I said you should have minded your own business."

Lock cast him a quelling look. "Shut up and get in. I have to go back to my camp."

"You ain't got nothing now? No money? No food?"

"What money I have is none of your business, just as long as you get paid for what we hunt and sell in the market. I'll be getting more money tonight. I have work for the evening."

"What kind of work?"

"Get that fire out of your eye. It's all honest work. From now on, that's all we do, you and me."

"Right." The boy hopped into the wagon.

"By the way, what's your name? Can't keep calling you boy."

"That's all me mother ever called me-but I call meself Janos."

"Janos, we've got work to do before tonight. Are you any good at drawing?"

"I guess so."

"Good."

"What kind of work are you going to do tonight, anyway?"

Chapter Twenty Five.

Sparrow rode silently toward the tavern, Opal's hands on her waist from where she sat behind her on the horse. The gypsy girl chatted about the day's events, but Sparrow thought only of Lock. For the past several days, he'd stopped at their site and walked her and Opal to the tavern, but today he hadn't come. Perhaps he was tired of her already. The thought made Sparrow's stomach drop, but if he reverted to his old ways, it was better that she hadn't agreed to marry him right away.

"Sparrow, are you listening to me?"

"No."

"Thank you so much." Opal's voice dripped sarcasm.

"I'm sorry. I was just wondering where-"

"Lock is? For a woman who had no intention of taking him back, he's all you seem to talk about."

"I know I'm a fool, especially after what he did."

"I know what he did to you, but I like him. He's interesting, funny, handsome."

"He can also be arrogant, bull-headed, and rotten."

"n.o.body's perfect."

"Opal, he's too old for you."

"I don't want him!" The girl giggled. "At least for anything like marriage. Tell you what, Sparrow. I'll borrow him until you're ready to settle down."

"You'll do no such thing!" Sparrow glared over her shoulder.

"It was only a joke. Besides, all he sees is you. It must be so nice to have a big, strong, handsome ex-pirate madly in love with you."

Sparrow sighed. At times Opal seemed so bright for her age, but at other times Sparrow wondered if she had a brain in her head. Not that she entirely disagreed. Lock could be very winning, and just the idea of being in his arms made her entire body weak.

"Where is he tonight?" Sparrow muttered.

"He's probably still getting back from the village. He's a busy man, from what I hear. He'll make some woman a wonderful husband."

"You haven't known him long enough to judge."

"Sparrow, why don't you just admit you want him back?"

"Of course I want him back, but I can't let him know how much. Not right now. Lock's difficult. I have to be careful how I handle this situation. I have to...What's going on in there?"

Both women dismounted, and approached the tavern. From inside came the sounds of female voices shouting and laughing. Several men, mugs of ale in their hands, stood grumbling outside. Upon noticing Sparrow and Opal, their sullen expressions faded.

"Finally," one of the men said.

"Lady dancers. Thank the G.o.ddess!" said another.

"What's wrong?" Sparrow asked. "Why are you all out here?"

"That man who's been following you around is in there," snorted a tall, skinny farmer, "you wouldn't believe what he's doing."

"And the women love it," added a pot-bellied man in a stained tunic. "Disgusting."

"What are they talking about?" Opal asked.

Sparrow heard giddy shrieks from the women inside, and she muttered, "I think know."

She stepped into the tavern, Opal close behind her. Women and a few irritated men filled the room. In the center, surrounded by giggling ladies, Lock performed the most seductive of dances. Barefoot, dressed in a black leather vest and leather trousers that fitted to the hard length of his legs, revealing the enticing bulge of his crotch, he smiled and moved his hips and arms sensually. The open vest exposed his broad chest and muscled abdomen, thorns and branches painted across his skin, masking old scars.