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Merritt’s ship—it would cast less suspicion than following him—and follow the little chit until she led him to Samantha. Oliver had given that whore more of his time and attention than he’d spared for his only son. Lewis intended to see that Samantha paid for that as well.
    He crept from his hiding place under the window and walked out of the woods, back to the tavern. He’d find her, threaten to turn her over to the authorities unless she gave him back not only his father’s ship but also everything she’d acquired as Sam Steele.
    And once he had the ship loaded with untold wealth and he was back in Port Royal, he’d gladly let the Navy know exactly where she was. It was the least she deserved.
    Blake rolled out of his berth as the sun pushed itself out of the sapphire water and into the purple sky. He took a moment to look, but his usual enjoyment at seeing the sunrise was ruined by the same thoughts that had plagued him throughout the night and the one before. He pulled on his trousers and drew on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. Barefoot, he padded to the table and stared down at the sealed envelope. He should have burned it. At the very least, he should have left it in Doubloons, where it could have been used to sop up spilled rum or to wipe the floors. He didn’t know what demon had possessed him to jam it into his pocket, but he wished the little beggar had left him alone.
    Looking down at the wrinkles that lined the envelope, owing to its unceremonious journey in his pocket, Blake was just as angry as when he’d first had it placed under his nose. Who the bloody hell did she think she was anyway?
    “Alicia Davidson.”
    He said her name like a curse. For him, it was one. Ever since he’d first heard she’d been found and taken in, she was a festering wound that wouldn’t heal. And seeing her, talking to her, had only made matters worse. Especially knowing who it was that had sent her to begin with. Help her? Sure, he’d help her, the same way Jacob Davidson had helped him. By turning his back and pretending she didn’t exist.
    It took a full hour of stewing, he figured, before he pulled himself together. He would not dwell on the matter a moment longer. Already he’d spent two sleepless nights because of her, one anchored in Tortuga, reliving her little speech over in his mind until it had given him a blasted headache, and again last night after they’d loaded the ship and left Tortuga in their wake. He’d thought knowing he had left Alicia behind would have given him peace of mind.
    “Well, it bloody hasn’t,” Blake muttered, buttoning his shirt and pulling on his knee-high boots. Hoping the quiet of the deck before the rest of the crew awakened would do the job, he went above.
    The sea was still and silent and his ship slept like the rest of his men. Filling his lungs with cool air, Blake made his way to the helm. Vincent, one of his first mates, was at the wheel.
    “Morning, Captain.”
    “Morning. Nothing on the horizon?” Blake asked, taking the looking glass. Far as the eye could see was nothing but a rippling blanket of green-blue water. Blake couldn’t imagine anything better. The knots in his shoulders eased. Here was home. Here he didn’t have to justify himself, explain what was in his heart. Here he could just be, and it was where he belonged.
    “Nothing. She’s quiet.”
    “Good. Go get some rest.”
    Vincent jumped off the crate he’d been standing on and moved it aside. As a dwarf, he needed the box to see over the helm, but that was the only thing he needed to be one of the best first mates Blake had ever had. Nate, his other, was currently belowdecks. Both had a natural talent for strategy, and many battles they’d won had been greatly due to Vincent’s and Nate’s cleverness. Because of that, the rest of the crew treated Vincent as an equal, and his size was never an issue. If it ever became one, they would have to answer to Blake.
    Vincent yawned and rubbed his