His confession lodged in her heart, making it ache. She focused all her attention on the unfolding sunset. If she turned around now, lost herself in his eyes, she’d never be able to protect him.
“What’s wrong, love?” The warmth of his breath sent a ripple of desire through her body. Keeping her distance was impossible.
She stared down at the water. “My father used to love fishing.” She blinked, wondering where the memory had come from. She frowned, following the thread. “I could never go. Too much sun.”
Drake’s voice vibrated in his chest behind her. “What happened to your parents?”
“My dad drowned. He took Ashley out on a fishing trip in his Boston Whaler. A storm blew in and my sister fell overboard. Dad dove in to save her. She made it back into the boat. He never surfaced again. The Coast Guard found Ashley. After a few days they gave up searching for my dad.” She cleared her throat, forcing the words to come. “My mom never really recovered from that. We lost her about six months later. Heart attack.”
The words rang hollow to her ears. Just facts. Her emotions were no longer raw, but they never went away. She still missed them. Maybe you never stopped.
She turned around, searching his eyes. “I wish I could explain this. I still have moments when I ache to reach out and hug them. There are days when I’d give anything to be able to pick up a phone and hear their voices. They’re not lost, though, not really. They’re in the stars. They’re everywhere. Pure energy.” The thought brought a bittersweet smile to her lips. “And every time I think of them, they’re right here with me.” She reached up to caress Drake’s cheek. “That’s why I can’t drink from your cup. There’s so much more than this life we’re experiencing right now, and I want to see it someday.”
“Do you talk to them, like you do for your clients?”
Heather nodded. “I’ve communicated with my mom and my grandmother.”
“Not your father?”
She shook her head. “Sometimes I feel his energy. I’m not sure why he doesn’t speak to me. When I was younger, I used to push and ask spirit guides to help with the connection. All I got was… It sounds crazy.”
He chuckled, the sparkle in his eyes warming her all over. “Crazier than an immortal pirate?”
“Okay, fine.” She rolled her eyes. “All I see is a big ship. I don’t know if it’s his version of heaven or what. He’s on this ship and he can hear me, but he can’t respond.”
Drake’s expression darkened. “Lots of sea legends are whispered about souls lost at sea being trapped on the Flying Dutchman.”
She’d never thought about it. “My dad was on the executive board of a bank. He wasn’t a sailor. At best, he was a weekend angler.”
“If he died at sea, Davy Jones could have captured his soul to work on his crew.”
The idea of her father in his suit, with a tie and matching pocket square, working on a mythical ship as a crewmember didn’t compute. It couldn’t be true.
Drake held her a little tighter. “There are tales of making deals with Davy Jones. Maybe your father traded his soul to save your sister.”
Now that was something she could see her father doing. She struggled to find her voice. “I suppose that’s possible.”
“Raise the colors, mates!” Colton shouted behind them.
Greyson and John headed for a wooden cabinet and opened the lid. Greyson turned around, frowning. “Did you move the flag, quartermaster?”
“No.” Colton shook his head, crossing to the others.
Drake craned to see over his shoulder.
Colton stepped back. “It’s gone.” He slammed the bin shut. “Fucking tourists. Bunch of damn thieves.”
“Was the flag an antique?” Heather asked.
“We all are, love.” Drake pulled his hair back from his forehead, exposing the scar over his right eye. “Maybe Flynn took it to get it cleaned or mended or something.”
Colton cursed under his breath. “Doesn’t matter right now.”
His dark expression as he stomped away said otherwise.
Drake took her hand, walking her back toward the galley. “Bob’s been cooking us a candlelight dinner.”
As she followed him to the other end of the ship, goose bumps rose on her arms. Out of the corner of her eye, spirits gathered, crawling over the railings of the Sea Dog and stalking across the deck. She tugged Drake’s hand, opening her mouth to warn him, when the banshee’s shriek dropped her to her knees.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Drake caught Heather in his arms. Her entire body was rigid, every muscle contracted, and pain lined her pale face. “What’s wrong, love?” He removed her dark glasses to find her gaze distant. Panic swelled inside him as he shouted, “Colton!”
No one responded. His head snapped up, scanning the ship. Keegan lay on the deck, curled in a ball, his fists pressed tight to his ears, his jaw taut, grunting in pain. Colton sat against the railing, head in his hands, panting with effort.
What the hell was happening?
“Salt.” Heather gasped. “The dead. Everywhere.”
“Fuck!” Drake growled. How could Ashley be attacking all of them? And why wasn’t it affecting him? No time to figure it out now.
He laid Heather on the deck and raced for the galley. Inside, One-Eyed Bob placed fresh hush puppies on a platter next to a huge plate of fried shrimp and blue crab. He looked up with a grin. “I brought a folding table from the restaurant. You can set it up topside. I’m almost ready.”
“Salt.” Drake searched the countertop. “I need salt.”
Bob frowned and reached into a cupboard, handing him a shaker.
Drake shook his head, desperation gnawing at his insides. “No, I need more. A canister or something.”
The cook bent down, fishing through his rations. “Is something wrong?”
“Everything’s fucking wrong. The dead are here.”
“Ghosts?” Bob stood up, offering a canister of salt.
