Burn: A Novel (21 page)

“Then let me talk to her,” Jenner insisted, those damn tears overflowing her eyes and dripping down her cheeks. “Now. Let me talk to her now.
Please.”
She didn’t care that she was begging. She wouldn’t beg for herself, but she’d beg for Syd. Because he was still holding her left arm she lifted her right hand to swipe at the tears, only his hand came with it, and swatted her on the forehead. “Ow!” Startled, she jerked back and glared at him through her tears.

Slowly, not taking his eyes off her, he shook his head in disbelief. “If I were Catholic, I’d be calling in an exorcist,” he muttered. “We’re
handcuffed together!
What the hell did you think would happen?”

“Unlike you, I don’t have a lot of experience with handcuffs!” She sniffed and lifted her hand again to wipe her eyes, but much more slowly this time.

He exhaled an exasperated breath, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

She’d removed her wristwatch before she washed her face, so it was still lying beside the bathroom sink. Leaning to the side, she tried to see the digital clock on the table beside him. “Three twenty-six. Why?”

“Because it’s that time in California, too.”

“So? Do you think I care if your goons don’t get their beauty sleep?”

“You should,” he replied grimly, “since they’re the ones taking care of your friend. You don’t want them grumpy.”

“You’re their boss. Tell them to play nice.”

Briefly he closed his eyes. He said, “Fuck,” then opened his eyes again. “If I place the call,” he said wearily, “will you lie down and shut up? I don’t care if you sleep or not, just
shut up.”

“I’ll lie down,” she promised. “Whether or not I shut up depends on whether or not you let me have some cover, and whether or not you stop breathing on me. I feel like I’m in some horror movie.”

He released her arm and, muttering words under his breath that sounded like “possessed” and “carnivorous” and a couple of other things she couldn’t catch, he grabbed his cell phone off the bedside table and speed-dialed a number. The connection took longer than normal; they’d already been at sea for almost twelve hours so they were hundreds of miles from the coast. The call was probably bouncing off a satellite or two. Finally he said, “Wake up Ms. Hazlett. Redwine wants to talk to her. Yeah, I know what time it is. I’d like to get some sleep, too, but that won’t happen until she talks to Ms. Hazlett. Just put her on, and save the bitching, unless you want to swap places with me.” He paused, listening. “Didn’t think so. I figured Bridget had already been in touch.” Another pause. He pinched between his eyes. “Yes, she bites. Damn it, put Hazlett on the phone!”

Grimly he put the cell on speaker and handed it to Jenner. She grabbed it and eagerly said, “Syd?”

A male voice, the same male voice she’d talked to earlier, said, “Hold on a minute.” She heard muffled sounds, something that sounded like a knock, then a mumble of frightened, confused words that were definitely in Sydney’s voice. Syd didn’t wake as easily as Cael had; Jenner hated hearing the fright, but the sleepy confusion was so like Syd that she had to smile.

“Jenn,” Sydney said, sounding panicked. “Are you okay? Has something gone wrong? Have they hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine,” Jenner said, and began to cry. She tried not to let the tears sound in her voice, because that would scare Syd even
more and she didn’t want to do that. “I was just so worried about you I had to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay and you’re okay. Okay.” Syd suddenly gave a watery chuckle, as if she, too, were fighting back tears. “That sounded like some dorky self-affirmation course. But this is a good idea. We’ll talk every day,
won’t we?”

“Yes, we will.” She gave Cael a meaningful glare, and figured that somewhere in California, Syd was doing exactly the same thing to her captor.

“All right, that’s enough,” Cael said, taking the phone from her. “Let’s all try to get some sleep now.” He closed the phone and replaced it on the bedside table. Reaching down with one brawny arm, he grabbed the blanket and coverlet from the floor and flipped them up on the bed. “There,” he growled. Growling seemed to be a habit with him. Maybe he’d been a bear in some former life.

Silently Jenner reached with her left arm, gathering the covers and trying to bunch them all on her side of the bed, then she stretched out and gathered them over her.

Sighing, Cael turned out the lamp and lay down beside her. He pulled the blanket more securely around her, tucking it in. “There. Are you satisfied?”

“My feet are still cold, but I feel better.” She added reluctantly, “Thank you for letting me talk to Syd.” She definitely felt better. Knowing that Syd was still alive, that her sudden panic had been unfounded, was such a relief that she felt almost limp. Snuggled under the silky sheets and nice warm blanket, she decided not to say anything if he breathed on her again.

She was so tired. Her reaction to the warmth, the relief, hit her like a tidal wave. She actually felt herself being sucked under, into sleep.

Just before she reached oblivion, she felt a pair of large, warm feet being tucked under her cold ones.

N
ORMALLY
J
ENNER JUMPED OUT OF BED WIDE AWAKE
, which was probably more from early conditioning than from nature. Until seven years ago, she’d never had the luxury of sleeping as late as she wanted, of lazing around in bed even after waking. Even when she’d been a little kid, getting up and going to school had been her responsibility, because Jerry had seldom been awake that early, and sometimes not even at home. Getting up and hitting her stride had immediately become so deeply ingrained in her that she did it even when there was no longer any need. Her mornings now usually involved nothing more pressing than sitting on the balcony reading the morning paper while leisurely drinking coffee, but, by damn, she had a right to it.

This morning, however, even after she woke she couldn’t make herself get up right away. Instead she kept dozing, lulled by the darkness and the subtle rocking of the ship. Gradually she realized that the darkness wasn’t due to the hour, but that she’d pulled the covers over her head. She was toasty warm from head to toe, she was comfortable, and she was … not handcuffed.

Galvanized, she bolted upright out of the nest of covers.

Her first wild hope was that she was alone in the suite, that
either she’d just had a wild,
Dallas-type
dream or that a single night of surveillance had given them the information they wanted and they’d all disappeared in a submarine or something. That hope was immediately dashed to bits, because Cael was sitting in the chair beside the bed where he’d handcuffed her the night before.

He had an earbud in place, but when she jumped to her feet in the middle of the bed he glanced up and said drily, “It erupts.”

Deflated, she sat down with more force than grace. “How did you uncuff me without waking me?”

“You were sleeping like Dracula at high noon. I thought about pouring cold water on you, but I appreciated the peace and quiet too much.”

He’d shaved, she realized; the shadow was gone from his jaw. That meant he’d showered, leaving her alone in the bedroom. To test her cooperation, maybe? Would it have been the kind of test where Bridget waited right outside the door to see if she tried anything? Or had he not played any games and had Bridget here in the suite, watching her? Probably the latter, because she couldn’t see him taking any chances, if what they were doing was important enough to rate all this trouble. She knew she wouldn’t, if she were in his position.

He was also wearing different clothes, khaki pants and a royal blue silk shirt that darkened the blue of his eyes to something approaching breathtaking. Bridget must have brought his clothes from the stateroom he’d been sharing with Tiffany. Jenner couldn’t believe how soundly she’d slept, with all that activity going on.

Then she realized something else, something that stole the breath from her lungs: He was watching the movement of her breasts under the flimsy tank top.

She wasn’t easily embarrassed, but heat flooded her face. Last night she hadn’t given a damn whether or not she was wearing a bra, but she’d slept since then, finally, and moreover she’d slept with him. Even though she’d been cocooned in the covers, he’d
been mostly naked, and a muscled body like that wasn’t one she could easily forget, though she intended to do her level best to ignore it.

Or maybe not. She found herself jamming her finger at him. “Don’t even
think
I’ll go all Stockholm syndrome. You got that?”

“God save me,” he returned. “But if you don’t want a man to look, then don’t bounce up and down in front of him. Not that yours are big enough to do much bouncing, but they do wobble a little.”

“What they do is none of your business. Just keep your eyes north.” There didn’t seem to be any way she could drive that point any further, so she went on to a different subject. “I’m going to take a shower and wash my hair, so I’ll be awhile.”

“Don’t take too long,” he advised, glancing at his watch. “You have forty minutes.”

That ticked her off, because she hadn’t put a limit on his bathroom time. Her shoulders stiff, she marched to the closet and got out the clothes she was wearing that day. She couldn’t find her toiletries, though, and began going through all the built-in drawers in frustration.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for my shampoo and stuff.”

“Everything’s already in the bathroom. Didn’t you notice last night when you washed your face?”

Last night she’d been practically comatose, so, no, she hadn’t noticed anything. She’d even brushed her teeth without wondering how her toothbrush and toothpaste got in the bathroom. Wheeling, she took her things into the bathroom and jerked the door shut. Everything was there, from perfumed lotion to hair spray. Her shampoo was sitting on one of the shelves under the sink.

Forty minutes, huh? She thought about locking the door, but didn’t want to provoke him—he might retaliate by making her leave the door open at all times, and she didn’t want that. When she was in the bathroom was probably the only time she’d be
alone. The time limit meant she couldn’t have a long soak in the whirlpool tub, not that she was the soaking type anyway. Her normal routine was to jump in the shower and jump out again as quickly as possible, so that was what she did. She’d been issued a challenge, and she met it head-on.

The bathroom came furnished with a hairdryer, a good one. Her hair was fairly short, so drying it didn’t take long, and her current style was more windblown than sleek. Her makeup during the day was no big deal, just eye shadow, mascara, and lip gloss, so that didn’t take a lot of time. She was out of the bathroom well within his time limit.

He raised one eyebrow, which was damn annoying because she couldn’t control her own eyebrows that way, and took a leisurely sip of coffee.

Coffee
. Her attention zeroed in on it like a bear on honey. She had the beginnings of a headache that said she’d better get some caffeine soon, in any form. “Is there any more coffee?”

Coffee might mean food, too. She hadn’t eaten much the night before, and they were several time zones past her normal breakfast hour. A glance at the clock told her they’d even gone past her normal lunchtime.

“You might have time for a cup,” he said, getting up. He glanced at the surveillance equipment, evidently assuring himself it was still working, then escorted her into the living room. The small dining alcove was to the right, tucked in a nook close to the door. A tray bearing a coffee carafe, another cup, and a variety of sweeteners and creamers was in the middle of the round table. “Sit,” he said, and when she did he deftly handcuffed her to the table leg.

Mentally she rolled her eyes, but the coffee carafe had the lion’s share of her attention. There wasn’t any food in sight, but right now coffee was her number one priority. At least this time he’d handcuffed her left hand, instead of her right. Setting the clean cup upright, she poured the coffee and gratefully took her first sip.

She’d had exactly four sips when there was a knock on the door, and a half-second later Bridget unlocked it and stepped into the suite, crisply announcing herself as she shut the door. “Lifeboat drill, five minutes,” she added.

So that was why he’d given her the time limit, though he could have explained. Jenner glared at him as he removed the handcuff key from his pocket and freed her from the restraints. “Less than half a cup of coffee. Was that worth the trouble of the cuffs?” she snapped.

“Keeping you under control is worth any amount of trouble. Now behave,” he ordered, giving her a look that said he meant business.

“Bite me,” she returned as she got to her feet.

Bridget coughed, but the sound was suspiciously like a laugh.

His eyes narrowed. “If I were you, I wouldn’t mention the word ‘bite,’” he advised as he took her arm.

Bridget went into the bedroom, and returned with a pair of orange life jackets that had been stored in the closet. She said, “When the alarm sounds, take the PFDs and report to Muster Station Three. Directions are on the back of the door.”

Jenner hadn’t had enough coffee, and she was starving. She would much rather call room service and get some food, instead of reporting to any Muster Station. “We can’t play hooky?”

“No,” Bridget replied. “Lifeboat drills at sea are a serious matter. They have to take place within twenty-four hours of sailing. Roll will be called, and anyone missing will be tracked down and instructed to report to the appropriate Muster Station.”

“And we aren’t going to do anything to draw attention to this suite, are we?” Cael asked in the insufferable tone of an adult dictating to a wayward child.

“What if someone comes in to clean the suite and finds all your toys?” she taunted.

“They won’t,” said Bridget. “This suite is my responsibility. Pay attention to what you’re doing, and leave my job to me.” Cael caught her eye, she nodded briefly, and left.