...He snorted. “It’s not as though she’s doing the Lord’s work, Jason. If that woman is The Rose—”

“Then we’ll just have to convince her she’s got the wrong ship. We take her back to port and let her be gone.”

“Easier said than done. If that’s her—” He jerked his head toward the boat now being hooked. “—then she’s after us.”

Jason was well aware of that. The Rose had become legend during her short run in the Caribbean. Tales of the exploits and cunning of the pirate hunter poured from the lips of every sailor. And those tales grew grander each time Jason heard them—her beauty was unmatched, her lips full and sweet like ripe cherries, the sweetness between her thighs heaven. Many a pirate captain never regretted the noose that ended their lives—after laying with The Rose, there was nothing else left but death to experience. No woman could compare after her. With their last breath, each whispered her name and died with a smile on his lips.