Jackie thought it was certain she would die before she reached land. And it was all because of Captain Marco's fragile masculine ego. God, she was thirsty. Her lips were crusted together and the sun threatened to blister what little of her skin was exposed to it. Marco used to be okay being an unremarkable pirate who had no idea what he was doing. Jackie would tell him what to do and he would pass off the orders as his own. It was a good system; the men didn't have to be commanded by a woman and she didn't have to be commanded by an idiot. That was until someone had to make a comment about Marco being puppeteered by a girl. To prove them wrong, Marco acted in opposition of Jackie's suggestion, landing them in the grasp of a prize they couldn't possibly hope to take and wrecking the ship altogether. Jackie had no idea where the rest of the crew washed up and she no longer cared. She reclined in the longboat, knowing there was nothing she could do but hope.

A ship was drawing nearer and Jackie was half convinced it was a mirage. It flew no flag she could identify and perhaps when it was close enough it would simply disappear. Jackie remained convinced of this fact until it was right alongside her skiff and a rope was thrown down, landing in the bottom of the boat with a thud. She didn't know what waited for her on the deck of the ship, but if she stayed she would surely die of exposure. Gripping the rope with all the strength she had left, she began her climb.

Two men helped pull Jackie over the side. With no more than a quick glance, she was realized they were not the Christian merchants she had hoped for. "Fucking pirates," she thought, but those were not the words she spoke. "Thank you. Where is your captain?" she asked, scanning the crew.

"Shit! You're a lass," one of them declared.

"It's our lucky day, boys!" jeered another and lunged for her.

Swiftly, Jackie drew her sword and with its thick blade, cut clean through his wrist. He cried out in pain and clutched the bleeding stump. The rest of the crew rushed her now that she had declared her position as an enemy. One of the men got a hold of her from behind and Jackie threw her head back, smashing his nose. He released her, but two more men took his place, one for each of her arms.

"Enough," said a deep voice and the crew immediately dropped back.

Jackie watched the crew part for their captain and her breath caught in her throat. His hair had grown longer and a new scar above his eye made him look even meaner, but he was just as beautiful with icy blue eyes, high cheekbones, and an aquiline nose. "Charles Vane," Jackie smirked and tried to keep her composure.

It had been five years and she was only fourteen when he last saw her, but Charles recognized her immediately. "Jacquelyn. You grew tits."

"It's Bloody Jackie now, haven't you heard?"

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