Charlisse fled down the stairs, tripping over the last tread. The street, pirates, harlotseverything blurred before her as musket shots zipped past her head.
She prayed one would hit her.
A scrawny pirate leapt into her path, blocking her way. Light from the tavern glistened over the silvery blade in his hand while a set of pointed, brown teeth grinned at her with malice.
Shoving her arm against the knife, she stormed into him, not caring whether she lived or died. The blade struck flesh, but she barely felt the pain as she forced him back. Sloane drew his pistol, cocked it, and aimed it at the stumbling man. "Away wit' ye, ye snivelin' slugabed!"
Grimacing, the man slunk away.
"Are ye all right, milaCap'n Charles?" Sloane grabbed her arm.