Destiny's Captive by Beverly Jenkins

glanced over and asked, “So, Noah, how’s the seafaring business?”
    Deciding to go with the truth, he shrugged. “Fine, but it’ll be better once I get my ship back.”
    Everyone at the table paused and stared his way.
    Appearing puzzled, his mother asked, “Is it in dry dock?”
    He shook his head and prepared himself for the razzing sure to follow. “No, a pirate woman stole it from me about two weeks ago.”
    Drew snorted a laugh. “You let a girl take the ship named after your mama ?”
    â€œAndrew!” his mother scolded.
    â€œWas her name Califia by any chance?” Logan asked amusedly.
    A smiling Noah took the ribbing in stride. He’d expected the teasing. “No. I’ve no idea what her name is, but I’ll be heading back to Cuba just as soon as the wedding’s over to hunt her down. Sorry, Mama, for not being able to stay longer.”
    She was still staring his way with confusion on her face.
    â€œI’ll get it back,” he vowed, and he would if he had to track that little pirate git to the bottom of the seven seas.
    Max weighed in. “So how did it happen?”
    Noah sighed aloud and told the story, adding, “The Spanish navy believes the gang might be rebels. Apparently they might be on the brink of war there again.”
    â€œBut why your ship?” Mariah asked.
    â€œI don’t know, the woman wouldn’t say, but apparently it fit the bill for whatever they were planning.”
    â€œIs it safe to return there?” Billie asked.
    â€œDoesn’t matter. I need my ship.”
    Drew nodded understandingly. “All humor aside, let me know if I can be of any help. Bigotry may be making it difficult to practice law here, but Cuba can’t refuse to let me practice, because I did my studies in Spain.”
    â€œThanks, Drew.”
    After dinner he and his brothers stepped outside to enjoy the cigars he’d brought back for them and some tequila to celebrate his homecoming.
    Logan drew on his cigar. “Girl pirates or not, Cubans make the best damn cigars on earth.”
    â€œAgreed,” Noah said exhaling a stream of the fine smoke. “Two years ago, I invested in a tobacco operation in Florida. The owner is a friend. A Cuban exile named Miguel Ventura. Business is booming and we’re looking to expand. Would you two like in?”
    Drew said, “To give myself access to these, hell yes.”
    â€œOnce I get this ship business settled and talk with him, I’ll let you know the details.”
    Logan raised his shot glass in a toast. “To brothers, tequila, and fine cigars.”
    Drew threw in, “And may we make a fortune.”
    They tossed back their drinks and set their glasses down. Logan poured more into each and they began to talk of old times: the pranks they’d pulled, the fun they’d had, the contests they’d constantly challenged each other to. “So, you think can beat me at arm wrestling now, baby brother?” He’d been the king growing up.
    Before Noah could respond, Drew scoffed, “He let a girl steal his damn ship, remember?”
    â€œShut up, Drew. I may not be able to best Logan but I can mop the floor with your fancy lawyer arse.”
    The laughing Logan spit tequila across the table.
    â€œOh, really?” Drew asked.
    â€œReally.” Noah countered with a mischief in his eyes, and to prove the boast punched Drew in his chest hard enough to rock him in his chair.
    Recovering, the grinning Drew stood, tossed back his second shot of tequila and slammed the glass down. “Let’s go.”
    Smiling, Noah stood to meet the challenge. Mimicking his brother, he tossed back his shot, slammed the glass down and the fight was on.
    As they rolled around, knocking over chairs, breaking flowerpots, and trying their best to beat the tar out of each other, Noah was indeed mopping the floor with Drew. When a goading Logan pointed that