Free Rogue Angel 46: Treasure of Lima by Alex Archer

that allowed it to approach the ship from the rear. Its greater speed had allowed it to catch up easily and in just moments the pirates would likely make another attempt at getting aboard.
    It was up to Annja to stop them.
    But with what?
    There was probably a fire hose on this side of the vessel, too, but as powerful as it was, it took two people to hold it steady against the flow of the water, so repeating what they’d done on the other side of the ship was out of the question for her alone. Like the rest of the crew running around Neptune’s Pride, she didn’t have a firearm handy, so there was no way she could keep them from getting close to the ship.
    No, she would have to wait until the pirates were all but aboard the ship and then take the fight to those she could reach. It wasn’t the best of plans, but it was the only one she had.
    So be it.
    Annja summoned her sword to hand, feeling it materialize in her grip with just a simple thought. As always, its presence was reassuring; she felt she could conquer just about anything when she had the sword in hand. So far, that had always proved to be true, but she was enough of a realist to know that at some point she was probably going to run into an enemy that was faster, stronger and smarter than she was, sword or no sword. Today, however, was not that day.
    She peered out through the opening, noticed the patrol boat pull up alongside the Neptune’s Pride almost directly opposite her present position.
    She watched as the men in the bow of the boat readied their ropes and flung them up and over the side wall of the Pride.
    In her head, she started counting down from five.
    On one, she burst out the door, her gaze locked solidly on the hooks clamped to the Pride ’s bulkhead, her sword raised high.
    Shouts rose from the deck of the patrol boat and Annja knew she had seconds, at best, before the startled pirates opened fire.
    It was going to have to be enough.
    As the first of the pirates pulled the trigger of his weapon and bullets began to pepper the wall where she’d only just been, Annja brought her sword down against the rope attached to the first of the grappling hooks.
    The edge of the weapon, honed to razor sharpness through the same mystical process that allowed it to exist in the first place, slashed through the thick hemp rope as if it wasn’t even there.
    Annja heard a muted cry reach her from over the side of the ship as the pirate who had been climbing up the rope suddenly found himself falling unexpectedly toward the water rushing by below him.
    Annja barely noticed; her attention was already on the second rope ahead of her.
    She slashed through that one as well, heard an equally surprised cry followed by a splash from below.
    As before, Annja paid it no mind. One grappling hook remained.
    By now the pirates had gotten over their surprise at her appearance, however, and their shots were much more accurate. Bullets whipped through the hair hanging alongside her neck, missing her flesh by a half inch or less. Sooner rather than later one of those bullets was going to find its mark, she knew.
    Still, she raced forward.
    Annja’s heart was pounding and she could hear her own breathing, drowning out the shouts of the pirates, the sound of their weapons, even the roar of the patrol boat’s engine. Nothing mattered but that final grappling hook.
    Another five steps separated her from it.
    The pirates took aim at her running form. A bullet ricocheted off the blade of her sword, sending vibrations racing up and down her arm and threatening to knock the blade from her grasp, but she tightened her grip, refusing to lose it at this point.
    Three steps.
    The blare of the ship’s horn filled the air with its thunderous roar. Annja didn’t know if Vargas had triggered the device to distract the pirates or signal for help but didn’t care. All she knew was that she had to cut that rope.
    Two steps.
    Instinct screamed at her to get down and she did just that.
    A hand