A Sea of Purple Ink by Rebekah Shafer

time to think this out.
    “Really?” Tyrone’s eyebrows raised. “If I say so? That’s a first.” A cunning expression crossed his face.
    Here it comes. Reese gulped her coffee. The brown liquid swirled in her mouth, and a remnant of bean dragged across her tongue. Glad of the distraction, Reese calculated the size and weight of the fragment.
    Tyrone tipped his head back and regarded her, one eye narrowed. “I don’t suppose you could drop off a load of guns for me while you’re at it.” He grinned. “I can’t have them lying around here either.” He picked up a fork and twirled it between his fingers. “I know you wouldn’t take the risk if I wasn’t such a handsome—”
    “Be quiet.” Reese set the empty cup back on the table. “When do you need them out of here?”
    “Well, I expect the police inspector in a matter of minutes.” The merchant gave her a smile that could, in certain circles, be considered innocent.
    I’m not going to stand around here and humor him. Reese dropped the remnant of meat and folded her arms. “Where are they?”
    Tyrone brushed crumbs from the cuff of his loose shirt. “I sent Joplin to get the guns and meet you at the back door.” He smiled expectantly.
    Reese refrained from rolling her eyes and left the room, head spinning.
    The warehouse stood in shadow. Tall heaps of grain sacks, imported furniture and fabric, and other necessities lay about in seemingly careless piles. Reese threaded her way through the maze toward the back of the enormous room. He hasn’t changed much. She circled a pile of barrels, wondering how many had been fully declared on the imports list. He’s still a pirate, even if he’s a useful pirate.
    The squeak of a leather boot echoed through the warehouse. Reese pinpointed the sound and kept walking. “It’s just me, Joplin.” The false name stuck on her tongue. “Tyrone said you had some guns to deliver.” She felt her brain begin churning again. He’s dangerous to keep around. He could go to the police. Or he’ll be recognized by some outlaw and killed.
    “Yes, ma’am,” a rich, husky voice replied.
    A flush of heat spread across Reese’s face. She rounded a corner and saw him standing there. The king. Dressed in dockhand’s clothes and a worn trader’s coat. Tyrone’s coat, actually.
    The king seemed to sense her gaze on the long jacket. He grasped the front band and pulled it open. “The guns are hidden in secret pockets,” he said, then smiled. A terrifying smile.
    “I know about the pockets,” Reese snapped. What if someone recognizes him while he’s with me? She pushed past him and opened the outer door. “Follow me.”
    They stepped out into the sunlit alleyway and started down the dirty path toward the edge of the trading district. The crisp air seemed charged with expectancy. And tension.
    Reese hunched her shoulders and increased her pace. There’ll be too many workers on the streets to avoid being seen. She kept her gaze straight ahead. We’ll have to chance it. She could feel the king’s presence beside her. He strode down the middle of the narrow road, shoulders wide, an easy swing to his stride.
    I can’t keep him with me for too long. Reese risked a sideways glance at him. Joplin’s gaze swept the streets with interest. No matter how curious I am. They turned a corner onto a wider street. A group of rough sailors strode toward them, shouting to each other as they hauled battered wooden crates to their destination. Joplin stood steady in the road, watching their approach.
    Get out of there. Reese grabbed Joplin’s coattail and pulled him out of the way. You don’t mess with that crowd. One of the sailors glanced back at them. His squinting gaze crawled from Reese to the king, then he turned away.
    Reese stifled a sigh of relief. She could feel her mind beginning to speed up. I’ve got to get out of here. Too many factors. A merchant’s wagon creaked into the roadway, its iron-bound wheels clattering on