Burn: A Novel (34 page)

Maybe there was a detail or two Larkin wasn’t sharing, a separate plan of some sort. That would be just like the bastard.

The episode with Tucker and the bread earlier in the day had set Dean’s teeth on edge, and he hadn’t been able to dismiss the image of Larkin shaking a piece of bread in Tucker’s face and demanding that he take a bite. Obviously Larkin had suspected the food was poisoned, which didn’t make any sense at all.

One’s partners in crime should be rational. A raving lunatic on the team wouldn’t increase their chances of pulling off the job and getting away clean—if you could call burning and sinking a ship, and killing a shitload of rich people, “clean.”

What Dean wanted was simple: He wanted the money. He was tired of taking orders from bastards like Larkin. The money he would get from this haul would set him up in a South American country for life.

Larkin’s recent behavior made him uneasy, but it was too late to alter the plan. The bombs were in place; the trigger mechanisms were in good hands. But damn, he’d be relieved when it was over and he was sailing away from this fucking death trap.

W
HEN THEY RETURNED
to the suite, Jenner was surprised to see a man still posted at Frank Larkin’s door. Great. Usually there was no one in the hallways, but now it looked as if someone would always be aware of their comings and goings. She didn’t like it, and she imagined Cael liked it even less.

Entering, they found Bridget there, neatly laying evening clothes on the bed: his tux, her strapless black dress, which meant either Faith or Tiffany had already been on the phone to alert her to the plans for the evening.

Hours later, they were on deck, the evening breeze refreshingly
cool, Cael’s grip light on her arm as if he no longer felt the need to physically hold her in place. Jenner found herself relaxing as she listened to the guitarist perform a haunting version of a classical tune she couldn’t name. Song followed song, some upbeat, some breathtaking in the intricate work required on the strings, another more melodic. Despite years in Palm Beach, she didn’t know much about classical music, because she avoided symphonies. Give her a Bon Jovi test and she’d ace it every time. Ask her if the tune currently being played had been written by Bach or Beethoven or some other long-dead dude, and she’d fail miserably.

But she liked it. The entire moment was magical. The music, the breeze, the man on her arm. Though she could never admit it to Cael, or anyone else, he was an important part of the package that made this moment special.

The guitarist sat on a chair that had been placed on a small, raised dais, and listeners sat in neatly arranged chairs near the stage, or milled about. She and Cael stood near the back of the crowd, letting the notes drift to them. It was a formal evening for most: tuxes and evening gowns, jewels and fabulous shoes. Cael looked great, though there was no way she’d tell him that she noticed. There was something special about a hard man in a tuxedo. She tried to ignore that something, but it wasn’t easy.

The musician ended his set with a fast-paced song that should be impossible to pull off on an acoustic guitar. Jenner found herself holding her breath as he finished, and then, like the others, she applauded enthusiastically. She looked over at Cael, who like her, appreciated the music. Maybe he was actually glad he’d given in and escorted her to the event.

Abruptly she felt his body stiffen slightly, and his gaze shifted to someone just behind her, otherwise she would’ve been surprised to feel the gentle tap on her shoulder. Keeping her smile in place, she turned to face a familiar-looking woman.

“Chessie!” she said, doing her best to sound delighted, which was helped by the fact that she truly did like the woman. “How nice to see you here.”

Chessie Fox and her husband, Mike, were not what Jenner would call close friends. They were ten or so years older than she and more involved in their children’s activities than in the charities Jenner and Syd embraced, but they did run in the same circles, on occasion.

Chessie was dressed in a pink gown that screamed “money doesn’t necessarily equal good taste,” but the diamonds in her ears and resting on her massive chest were real enough. Her blond hair was arranged simply and had been sprayed into submission; the breeze coming off the water didn’t ruffle a single strand. Mike’s suit was expensive and cut for his trim build. They were nice people who lived their lives as they wanted, and didn’t worry about anything else.

Jenner introduced Cael to the Foxes, and he was his usual charming self. He could be devastatingly charming to everyone but her, it seemed. He smiled, shook Mike’s hand, then placed an easy arm around Jenner’s waist. Just a couple of days ago her heart would have been pounding at being put in this situation, to be forced to play this role, but tonight it seemed natural enough.

“I would say I’m surprised I haven’t seen you sooner,” Chessie said, laughing, “but I spent the first three days in bed, upchucking, then the last couple of days trying to find my way around. This ship is supposed to be extremely well-built and stable, but you can’t prove it by me.”

“I hope you’re not still seasick,” Jenner said. She’d been worried about that herself, but she hadn’t had a moment’s trouble. Beside her, Cael and Mike were having one of those men conversations, about sports or investments or politics. She tuned them out, much as Mike had probably tuned out her and Chessie. Cael, though, would be aware of every word she said.

“No, I’m fine now. I hit the gift shop and stocked up on Dramamine and ginger, and this magnetic bracelet seems to help.” She showed off a small, plain bracelet that hugged her wrist. “So far, so good.”

“I’m glad. Being sick on your vacation is the pits.”

Chessie beamed. “It’s so nice to see someone I know here. I’ve
seen some familiar faces, but I honestly haven’t known nearly as many people as I thought we would.”

“I know what you mean.” She’d been surprised herself at how few people she’d seen that she actually knew.

“Is Sydney here?” Chessie’s gaze scanned the immediate area.

“No, Syd got sick with a stomach flu right before we sailed. I talked to her just a little while ago. She’s feeling better, but she said she still wasn’t completely over it.”

“I’m sure she’s upset to have missed the cruise.” Chessie continued with a friendly, “Would you two like to join us for dinner?”

Jenner smiled. “Thank you, but we already have plans with a couple of friends.” She turned to Cael, whose expression had not changed one bit. “Is it almost time to go?”

He glanced at his watch. “We’re already a few minutes late.”

The Foxes said good-bye, and Jenner promised them that they’d have dinner together another time. As they walked toward the restaurant, Cael said softly, “You handled that very well.”

“I
can
be reasonable,” she said.

His answer was a strange, brief, strangling sound deep in his throat.

She saw Faith and Ryan on the other side of the room, Ryan in a tux, leaning on his cane, Faith in a stunning bronze gown that gently hugged her curves. They were a beautiful couple, with a sort of easy, comfortable sophistication. If she didn’t know better, she’d never dream they were not exactly who they appeared to be.

The evening wasn’t all fun and games. Frank Larkin was also there, with his bulldog bodyguard close by … but not too close. She didn’t like the way Larkin looked at the other passengers. Even when he was talking to them, smiling, to all appearances one of them, something was off. He made it easy to choose sides.

Something was wrong with him, she thought, and wondered why none of the people he talked to seemed to see it. He seemed to be deteriorating before her eyes, getting more and more antsy as the days passed. His clothes, while expensively cut and made of the finest materials, didn’t fit him exactly right. He seemed to
have lost weight, and hadn’t bothered to buy new clothes or have the old ones tailored, which didn’t make sense for someone who went to the trouble of having those clothes made in the first place.

Everyone else on the cruise had someone with them; a friend, a spouse, a lover … a Cael. But Larkin was alone. He not only had a large stateroom to himself, and was making the two-week trip without a traveling companion, but he kept all others at a distance.

Even as he made small talk, walking through the crowd playing the gracious host, he was separate and alone. It was sad, in a scuzzy kind of way.

She and Cael had been talking to Faith and Ryan for just a short while when Tiffany joined the group. She wore a very short and snug black dress that left little to the imagination, and five-inch heels that lifted her to a height equaling Cael’s; how she could walk in those heels was a mystery to Jenner. While not everyone had witnessed Tiffany’s scene on their first night at sea, most had at least heard about it. All eyes were on their little group as Tiffany turned to Jenner.

“I owe you an apology,” she said, her voice calm and at normal level, so some people could overhear but it wouldn’t look as if she were putting on a show. The smile she flashed was brilliant. “You’ll be glad to know I’ve given up alcohol for the duration of the cruise, and if I never see a Ghostwater again, it’ll be too soon.” The smile softened. “I don’t like being a mean drunk.”

She even nodded to Cael, though her attitude was outwardly more dismissive. “I’m sorry. I’m glad the cruise is working out well for you, even though I did my best to make a mess of things.”

He nodded politely, said nothing, and drew Jenner a bit closer. The look he gave Tiffany was one of relief and, more strongly, suspicion. Was that a part of the act, or was he truly surprised by this new development?

Tiffany returned her attentions to Jenner. “Again, I’m so sorry I dragged you into my drama. Am I forgiven?”

“Of course.”

Tiffany offered her hand for a handshake. Jenner took that hand, and felt something being pressed into her palm. It was small, square … a note? When the handshake was over, Jenner waited a few seconds before she surreptitiously glanced at what she was holding. Her heart leapt into her throat; her mouth went dry.

It wasn’t a note. It was a plastic-wrapped condom.

J
ENNER CLUTCHED THE CONDOM IN HER HAND, FEELING
as if she couldn’t get enough air. What the hell—? The plastic wrapper crinkled, and she prayed no one else heard the very soft noise. She gave Tiffany a quick look, then said, “Excuse me, please. I have to visit the ladies’ room.”

“I’ll go with you,” Tiffany said brightly.

Cael gave her a long look. Jenner had never had anyone pay such close attention to her as he did. It was as if he knew every breath she took, as if he caught every flicker of expression. She just hoped she didn’t look as panicked as she felt. She sensed he didn’t like her going off with Tiffany, but what was he going to do? There were too many people close by, still listening in, and he couldn’t forbid her to go to the bathroom, for God’s sake. He released her, his fingertips trailing over her arm in a way that said
Hurry back
.

She and Tiffany fell into step, and behind them she heard Faith say, “I need to powder my nose; I think I’ll join them.”

Ryan made some offhand comment about women going to the restroom in a pack. Cael remained silent. Jenner didn’t look back, because she knew what she’d see: a very suspicious man.

She had more important things than his happiness on her mind. Why the hell had Tiffany passed her a condom? Did she think it was going to be necessary, or was it a sick joke?

When they entered the nearest ladies’ room, there was one other occupant, a white-haired lady who was reapplying her lipstick at the mirror. The woman smiled, nodded, and left. As soon as she was gone, Tiffany checked the five stalls to make sure they were alone, and when that was done, Jenner held out her hand, condom sitting on her palm. “What the hell?”

Faith saw what Jenner was holding and said, “Tiffany!” Disapproval was plain in her voice.

Thank goodness
someone
realized the “gift” was inappropriate under these circumstances, Jenner thought.

And then Faith continued. “One? What good is
one
condom?”

Jenner stared at her in disbelief, then shook the small, square, crinkling package in Tiffany’s direction. “What are you not telling me? What makes you think I’m going to need this?”

Tiffany sighed. “Shit. You’re scared, aren’t you? Sorry. It’s just … I saw the way you looked at Cael today, and I figured if you decide to jump his bones you should be prepared.” She looked at Faith. “And honestly, if she needs more than one, she can buy more in the gift shop. This one is for a dire emergency.”

Jenner gaped at her. “And you decided the best way to pass it to me was with a handshake, in public?”

Her grin was diabolical. “That was just for fun.”

“Fun!”

“You should’ve seen the expression on your face.”

“Yeah, funny. Ha ha. What makes you think I want to jump Cael’s bones?” Maybe the fact that she
did
. She was resisting for all she was worth, but it was a real effort, especially when she woke up in his arms and he was mostly naked, and—
Don’t go there! As
long as the circumstances were what they were, jumping his bones wasn’t going to happen … she hoped. The temptation was so strong it was almost painful.

Tiffany said, “Please. The way you two look at each other?”

“As if there’s going to be a murder at any second?” Jenner said drily.

“Is it really possible to die from sex? Because it’s looking more and more like it’s going to happen, and one of you has to make the first move. You’re going to have to do it, because it won’t be Cael.”

That made Jenner freeze, her mind momentarily thrown off track. Indignantly she thought:
Why the hell not
?

The silent question must’ve shown on her face, because Faith gently explained, “He kidnapped you. You’re entirely in his control, so he won’t make any move on you, no matter how much he might want to. It wouldn’t be fair. Cael has some faults …”