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Overview
John Smyth has survived mutinous pirate crews, wars, and the passage of centuries by keeping his life as he did his ships, organized and well stocked. But when his crew is tasked with stealing Pandora's Box for the government, it opens a door to destruction, and her name is Harmony Andrews.
A risk-taking investment broker by day, and a thief by night, Harmony is a member of the underground Digi Robins crew. Stealing relics to sell on the dark web, they donate the money to people without insurance who need life-saving medical treatments.
What she doesn't realize is the box she just stole is the very one her boss is looking for––the boss who just happens to be an immortal pirate. And as their adventure heads into the danger zone, she doesn't know what's more dangerous: the risk to her life or the risk to her heart.
Each book in the Sentinels of Savannah series is STANDALONE:
* Magnolia Mystic
* Pirate's Passion
* Pirate's Pleasure
* Pirate's Persuasion
* Pirate's Promise
* Pirate’s Paradox
* Pirate’s Protector
* The Captain’s Curse
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781640637733 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Entangled Publishing, LLC |
| Publication date: | 04/22/2019 |
| Series: | Sentinels of Savannah , #3 |
| Sold by: | Macmillan |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 295 |
| Sales rank: | 335,106 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
"You expect me to invest in these — digital pirates?" John Smyth lifted his gaze from the spreadsheets to Harmony Andrews. The irony of his complaint didn't escape him. He'd been a pirate himself for lifetimes now. "It's too risky. We could lose everything."
"Or we could double our money." Her dark eyes sparked with challenge.
Her instincts and determination had quickly made her one of his best brokers. But she was also fearless, which could end his capital investment firm if he gave her free rein.
His company, Privateer Capital, didn't become one of the oldest venture capital firms in the country by making shady investments.
"Come on, John." She rested her hands on the edge of his desk, leaning in. "Privateer Capital has a reputation for long-shot wins. This will work, I can feel it."
He studied the numbers again. Privateer Capital opened for business in 1870, shortly after the Civil War. As far as the outside world knew, his company had been passed down through his family for generations. No one would ever guess he was actually the original John Smyth.
Initially, he'd been a private lender, assisting Savannah business owners that the banks turned away. As the boatswain for the Sea Dog crew, he was responsible for distributing the shares among the men. And although he wore suits now, his job remained the same. Protect and grow his clients' investments.
He rubbed his forehead, meeting her eyes again. "Why does this one matter so much to you?"
She straightened as if his question physically knocked her back. Her long black hair was up in a messy bun, and her perfectly tailored navy-blue pantsuit accentuated her curves. He had no business noticing any of it, but he couldn't help it.
"I've met with this firm three times. Their software is cutting edge. They're going to be huge. Did you see my forecast chart? My gut is telling me this could be a game-changer for us."
He gathered her papers from his desk, stood up, and handed them back, staring down at her with a look that he hoped seemed determined and final. "And I'm telling you we need more data."
In spite of their height difference, she glared at him as if she might close the distance between them at any moment. She snatched the reports from his hand. "You hired me because I can smell opportunity. Why are you clipping my wings now?"
He couldn't offer her an answer. Not an honest one, anyway. During the five years they'd worked together, he'd witnessed her gain confidence, speaking up in meetings and never bowing to the other brokers with more experience. Her instincts were breathtaking, her intelligence impressive, but now he needed her to be cautious.
Circumstances were changing for him. And he couldn't discuss the reasons with her.
When he'd founded the company, Privateer Capital seemed like a catchy name for a business based in Savannah, Georgia. The port had been a favorite for pirates from all over the map, including his own Sea Dog.
No one would believe John served on that ill-fated crew. After plundering the Lord's Cup, one sip froze time for him. For over two hundred and fifty years now, his body had remained ageless.
Being forty years old forever had its perks.
But recently his crew found a new purpose. They'd come together again under the black flag for covert missions for a top-secret branch of the government. And for the first time since he founded Privateer Capital, John wanted out. After tasting adventure again when they searched for the Holy Grail, he'd remembered what it was like to really live. He couldn't go back to just existing.
If he could convince Harmony to take a few safer bets, she'd make a brilliant CEO in his absence. However, molding her into a more conservative executive was proving impossible.
He cleared his throat. "I'm not clipping your wings. I'm asking you to look at this office, at all the employees who depend on us to keep the company solvent. Think of them when you're weighing a deal. Risky is one thing, but what if it costs everything? It won't just be you who is hurt."
She pressed her lips into a thin line, but her gaze softened. "I'll crunch the numbers again."
Her determined stride out of his office made him smile. She might be the only part of this company he would miss.
* * *
Harmony Andrews closed her office door behind her, resisting the urge to slam it. What was it with John Smyth? She usually prided herself on her ability to read people, but her profiling skills fell flat when that gorgeous, uptight man walked into a room.
But her anger wasn't just at him; some of it was directed solely at herself. She shouldn't let him get to her. She needed to focus, and right now, her main objective was still out of reach.
She grabbed her laptop from her bag and opened her encrypted email.
Hey Tuck —
Smyth is still a no-go for funding the Digi Robins' front company. We need a different angle. He thinks it's too risky.
Called us digital pirates, though. He has no idea how right he was.
Can you get me new financials ASAP? Thanks.
— Marian
Each pod of the Digi Robins dark web boards used codenames. Harmony didn't know Tuck's real name. It was safer that way. If any of them were arrested, they couldn't finger anyone else. Most of them never met face to face, either, they communicated through the message board and encrypted emails.
She leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen against the spreadsheet printouts. Maybe they wouldn't need Smyth's capital. If the box she'd intercepted turned out to be as valuable as she thought, they could sell it on the black market for enough money to fund cancer care for two patients and still have enough left over to cover the new encrypted servers, laptops, and wireless tech they'd been wishing for. She'd posted a few pics of the box on their message board, and inquiries were already pouring in.
If she could figure out what was inside, she might be able to get even more money, but the lid wouldn't budge. It wasn't for a lack of trying. She'd done everything short of using a saw to get inside, but if she damaged the box it would be worthless. She tried several times to put it out of her head and give up, but as unbelievable as it seemed, the box …wanted to be opened. She swore if she sat quietly enough, she could almost hear it whisper, calling to her to crack the lid. Weird.
Tuck had given her the lead to hack the docks and swipe the box. He was also the one who gave her the tip on the location of the Holy Grail a couple months ago, but she hadn't been fast enough to make the grab before the government took possession of it.
Outside her office window, John Smyth walked to his car, distracting her from her thoughts. She wasn't usually voyeuristic, but her boss intrigued her. He drove a very safe and tasteful Lexus, even though he could afford a Bentley or a Maserati. And although he was all-business in the office, something about his tailored suits always struck her as a disguise. He wore his hair too long for an executive, his dark curls brushing his shoulders, and in one ear he had a small gold hoop earring. It hinted at a man who bristled at conformity.
But other than his outward appearance, she'd never seen any sign of that man.
He opened the back door of the Lexus and took off his sports coat, hooking it on a hanger behind the driver's seat. She smirked. Everything in its place. Very John. His broad shoulders and muscular arms strained at the confines of his pressed dress shirt, tempting her to imagine what might be hiding underneath it.
He slammed the door and looked up. Right at her. Shit. Before she could break eye contact, he smiled, and something about it gave her a glimpse of the man he kept hidden behind the business suits. His grin had swagger, like he enjoyed catching her watching him and dared her to continue.
So, she did.
He got into the driver's seat and started the engine, then peered up at her one more time, his dark eyes unapologetic about the non-professional connection. Heat flashed through her bloodstream. With a knowing crooked grin, he drove out of the parking lot. Gone.
Harmony blew out a pent-up breath and leaned back in her chair.
What the hell just happened?
For a second, she was ready to race to the elevator and chase him down. She picked up an envelope to fan herself.
I'm missing something about him. But damn if I know what it is.
Before applying at Privateer Capital, she'd researched the company and its current owner. John Smyth was the sixth Smyth male to inherit and run the family-owned business. His family line seemed to be cursed. None of the Smyth men seemed to live beyond sixty-five.
But in spite of the familial tragedies, Privateer was one of the oldest venture capital companies in the country and very well-respected.
Which meant they attracted the wealthiest clientele in the South. What better place to find antiques and relics to steal?
She snatched Trixie, her lucky Troll doll, off the cluttered desk, teasing the tips of her fluorescent hair with her finger. In college, Trixie helped her study for exams, and at Privateer, she'd been Harmony's good luck charm with deals that others, mostly John, saw as risky. Back in school, Harmony never would have dreamed she would use her degree to become a thief. It hadn't been her plan. She stumbled into it and learned the art out of necessity.
After her parents split up, her father went back to Texas, and Harmony quickly learned the only person she could count on was herself. She spent her teen years caring for her younger brother the best she could, but the day he was diagnosed with a rare form of bacteria feeding on his nervous system, everything changed, and not for the better. Mom never signed them up for health insurance.
His dire diagnosis made getting insurance impossible. Harmony scoured the internet for help to cover the medical costs, sickened to realize the lack of funds could cost her brother his life. But one night, she found a message board that gave her hope.
Through the Digi Robins, a new world opened to her, and a chance to help others who found themselves in the same spot.
But if they were going to expand, she needed capital.
And one way or another, John Smyth was the key.
* * *
John left his tie and jacket in the car, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt as he walked down the dock to the Sea Dog. The replica of their beloved Spanish galleon kept his pirate spirit alive, and knowing Agent Bale had a new mission for the crew made his heart race in anticipation.
He rolled up his cuffs and popped the top two buttons on his shirt open as he crossed the gangplank and stepped onto the deck. Colton, the quartermaster, approached with a grin. "Well-dressed for a pirate, mate."
John chuckled. "My meeting ran long. Is Agent Bale here yet?" "No." Colton glanced toward the stern and back to John. "Flynn is with the others outside the Captain's quarters."
John slapped Colton's back. "You look good, for an aging man."
Colton shoved his shoulder with a grin. "Just because I chose not to take another drink from the Holy Grail doesn't mean I'm dying any time soon."
Good. None of the crew looked forward to watching Colton age, but they respected his choice. When they'd discovered, after nearly three hundred years, that the Holy Grail's healing effects were fading, the crew hunted for the relic to regain their immortality. But during the search, Colton fell in love and yearned for a family. He chose not to take another swallow.
No one could blame him for not wanting to outlive his future family.
The deck rocked under John's feet, his legs instinctively taking to the uneven surface. When he reached the stern, all eyes turned his way. He scanned the rest of the crew, his gaze locking on a tall man in a dark suit coming across the gangplank.
Agent Bale was about the same height as John, with short brown hair and ice-blue eyes. The crew had grown to respect the leader of Department 13, but respect and trust were two very different things in John's opinion.
Bale had proven himself in battle during their quest to recover the Holy Grail. He also had access to helicopters, weapons, and even magic. But the American government couldn't risk being accused of stealing from private citizens. That was where the Sea Dog crew came in.
They provided the piracy Bale needed, in trade for payment in untraceable gold bars.
During the fight to reclaim the Holy Grail, John rediscovered the thrill of piracy with the added purpose. Now they had the opportunity to plunder, not solely for their own coffers, but to protect the world from paranormal threats.
Agent Bale scanned the group. "We're missing some of your crew."
Colton came forward. "Greyson and Caleb are working, and One-Eyed Bob is in the galley. He'll be up soon."
"I guess you'll need to fill them in later." Agent Bale took an iPad out of his attaché, and the screen lit up. "This is the shipment I told you about. According to our records, it was logged as received, but we have reason to believe it never actually made it into the vault."
John frowned. "Pandora's box never arrived?"
"My team has scoured through a few weeks' worth of security footage now, but it seems that our system may have been hacked." Bale swiped the tablet and turned it around to reveal a small black box with the Greek key motif carved around the base and the lid. "This is what was supposed to be in the crate."
"Bit small, don't you think?" John rubbed his chin. "All the miseries of the world are in that box?"
"Yes," Bale replied. "And I need you to recover it before someone unleashes the evils inside." Bale's attention moved from one face to the next. "There's been a posting on the dark web from the Digi Robins. Safe to say from the photo my team found, the Digi Robins have the box in their possession now. I should have a picture from the dock's security camera soon. We're still pinpointing the date for reviewing footage."
"When we were chasing the Grail, you mentioned a woman with a robin tattoo." John crossed his arms. "She was after the Grail, too."
"Right." Bale nodded. "The Digi Robins have been upping their game, looking for a big score, and this box could be the payoff they've been waiting for." Bale tucked the tablet under his arm. "Once I have a photo of a suspect from the dock's security camera, I'll text it to all of you. I need you to find the thief right away. If the Digi Robins sell the box, we may never find it again."
Anticipation bubbled in John's gut.
He was anxious to get the hunt underway.
CHAPTER 2Agent David Bale walked past his office without slowing, heading directly to his shamanic computer programmer. "King, please tell me you've got a lead on our thief."
Kingsley Pratt not only possessed gifted skills when programming, but he had the added benefit of shamanic magic to add to their firewalls. He could've had his pick of jobs if he ever gave up the damned bottle. David had known King for over twenty years now, and he'd never seen him dry for more than a couple days.
King glanced up at David, the whites of his eyes more red than white. In spite of his outward appearance, his British accent remained clipped and condescending as usual. "Working on it, but please, feel free to keep pressuring me."
David rolled his eyes. "You know what's in that box as well as I do. We need it recovered. Now."
King kept his attention on the computer screen. "Your pirate crew is ready to sail into action on your behalf?"
"Yes," Bale replied without elaborating. "But I need a picture and preferably something we can run through facial recognition."
King turned his computer screen around, flashing a green grainy image of the docks. "I'm a shaman, not a miracle worker. The security camera isn't in a well-lit area. I may be able to freeze a few frames of the crate being removed from the dock, but the chances of a clear enough photo for facial recognition software is slim." He glanced up from the keyboard as he turned the screen back toward him. "Is my daughter aware of the missing item?"
King's daughter was now a member of the immortal pirate crew, against David's wishes. Dr. Charlotte Sinclair inherited some of her father's paranormal abilities, which on its own wouldn't be a problem, but her power gave her the ability for her spirit to escape her body and use kinetic energy. She could kill an entire military unit without leaving behind any physical evidence. And since she took a sip from the Holy Grail, killing her wasn't an option.
Not that Dr. Sinclair was a threat, but if she ever became one, containing her was going to be problematic.
"Yes." David ran a hand down his face. "I saw her on the Sea Dog today. She's eager to see Pandora's box for herself."
"You're lucky my girl is on your side." King smirked and clicked on a file. "Got it."
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Pirate's Pleasure"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Lisa Kessler.
Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
