His body said he did. More accurately, his body said he wanted sex. Maybe he disliked her so much—God, why should he?—that even though he was horny he didn’t want to have anything to do with her. Or maybe he was married, or seriously involved. Tiffany wouldn’t have given her that condom if he was, would she? Maybe. Tiffany had her own rules. But Faith would have had a different outlook, and she hadn’t been at all disapproving.
So, no marriage, no significant other. Either he was brushing her off to protect her from herself, in which case she might kill him because that was the last thing she wanted, or he seriously didn’t want her.
Damn it, how was she supposed to tell the difference?
She gave up trying to make sense of the situation and looked at the rest of the group. Tiffany was as flamboyant as ever, dressed in a black-and-white flapper dress, and didn’t seem to mind the dancing feather on her head. She wore a multitude of long necklaces, and often swung them about as she flirted outrageously with every man in her path. Faith’s Gatsby-style dress was a soft champagne color, as was the matching hat. Ryan, leaning on his cane, was dressed in a military uniform; the sight of him in that costume gave Jenner a moment’s pause. He had the look of a soldier; he might’ve just stepped out of World War I. He was so urbane she hadn’t noticed it before, but there was definitely something military in his posture, despite the cane.
The five of them weren’t hanging out together tonight, as they had the night before. She supposed that would’ve been a pattern, and Cael didn’t like patterns. Apparently there were a lot of things Cael didn’t like.
Larkin was coming in their direction, and as he drew closer Jenner noticed that he was smiling. It wasn’t the tight, false smile she’d seen on him before; this looked like a real smile. Either he’d gotten better at putting on a show, or something had truly amused him. He stopped to greet a couple—the man was in a green zoot suit, the woman wore a classy dress much like Faith’s, only in a soft pearl—and while they were talking, Larkin smiled as if he were very pleased with himself.
The idea of him being pleased with anything sent a shiver up Jenner’s spine.
Linda Vale, wearing a black flapper outfit that was two sizes too big for her thin frame, walked between Larkin and Jenner. It was all Jenner could do not to jump out of her skin.
“There you are,” Linda said brightly. She was holding a clipboard, which was not in keeping with her costume. “I’ve been looking for you two.” She smiled at Cael. “Very handsome,” and then at Jenner, “and you look like a doll!”
“Where’s Nyna?” Jenner asked. She always saw the roommates together.
“She’s with Buttons and Penny, getting drinks.” Linda lifted her clipboard. “I’ve volunteered to help out with the bachelor auction.” She looked significantly at Cael. “I’m afraid we don’t have many bachelors onboard.”
He smoothly placed his arm around Jenner. “I’m taken,” he said.
Linda sighed. “Every man onboard is taken, that’s not the point. It’s for charity. Maybe Jenner will bid on you.”
“And maybe she won’t. Then what’ll I do?” Cael teased, though he had to know Jenner not bidding on him was a distinct possibility, as things stood between them.
“Then Nyna will.” Linda laughed, but it was probably true enough.
“What does the winning bidder get?” Jenner asked. Cael’s arm tightened very slightly.
“The remainder of the evening with her bachelor. What you do with the evening is up to you.”
“There’s no obedience clause in there? If he had to do whatever I wanted, for an entire night … that might be worth bidding on.” She gave Cael a shark smile. “I might bid on you after all, honey,” she said. “Wouldn’t you like to know what you’re worth?”
Linda said, “So, I can put you down …”
“No,” he said flatly.
Linda was disappointed, but she didn’t give up. “Be a sport,” she said. “It’s for a good cause.”
Cael looked around, a flash of frustration in his expression. They were drawing attention, and that was never good. Even Larkin was looking their way, curious, listening to their exchange with Linda. Jenner wasn’t a spy, but even she knew it wasn’t a good idea for Larkin to realize that Cael had her in an iron grip and had no intention of getting more than a few feet away from her.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” she said, and then she went up on her toes to give him a quick, soft kiss that sent her head reeling. “I’ll be fine here by myself. I promise not to get jealous if someone else buys you.”
Everyone in the area was watching, waiting. Cael leaned down and kissed Jenner on the cheek. He pressed his rough cheek to hers and whispered in her ear, “Come on, tell me the truth. You were hatched, weren’t you? That’s the only explanation.”
Damn him. She couldn’t stop herself from laughing, a genuine laugh that went a long way toward easing her tension and worry. So much for sweet nothings! She said, “Trust me.”
“Like I have a choice,” he murmured, before he surrendered and followed Linda’s lead, weaving through the crowd toward the dais.
It would’ve looked suspicious if Tiffany had rushed to join Jenner, after Cael was all but dragged to the front of the room, but as soon as possible she joined Jenner by the rail. “I thought I’d keep you company while he’s occupied.”
“Not to mention it’ll keep him from freaking out because I’d be standing here by myself,” Jenner said.
Tiffany shrugged. “Men.”
That said it all.
“You look great,” Jenner said. Tiffany twirled around to show off her outfit. Fringe danced, and so did the ridiculous feather.
“So do you.” Tiffany leaned against the rail and looked out on the water. “I’m surprised Cael didn’t trip over his tongue.”
They both turned to face away from the crowd, facing the ocean. Jenner said, “I don’t think he’s all that interested.”
“Trust me, he’s interested.”
“He’s not, like, married or engaged, is he?” Even though she’d already decided he wasn’t, she had to check. No matter how attracted she was, she wasn’t going to be a home-wrecker.
“Nope,” Tiffany said without hesitation. It certainly sounded like the truth. “So, what happened today? Did you make your move?”
“He made a crack about Stockholm syndrome.” That was the tiniest portion of what had happened, but Tiffany didn’t need to know everything.
“Bummer.”
“Yeah.”
She realized that, behind them, the auction had already started. They turned to watch the handful of men who were gathered at the front of the crowd. There were a few crew members, two gray-haired guys, a blond she didn’t know, and Cael; not exactly a stellar showing, even though Cael looked mouthwateringly good. Matt must be working; if he was up there she imagined he’d fetch a pretty penny with his beach-boy good looks.
Tiffany nodded toward the bachelors. “Are you going to let Cael twist in the wind up there or are you going to save his ass?”
“I’m not worried. Some fool will bid on him.”
Tiffany laughed, and so did Jenner. The possibilities were rather funny, she had to admit. What would Nyna do if she had Cael to herself for the evening?
Once her duty had been done, Linda Vale made her way back to the two girls. Jenner made introductions, watched Linda’s eyes as the older woman studied Tiffany carefully and then apparently decided that while she looked like a high-class gold digger, she was all right.
Some people were simply a good judge of character.
“I can’t believe you got Cael up there,” Tiffany said to Linda. “That’s so not his kind of thing.”
“It’s for a good cause,” Linda responded. “I’m sure he won’t regret participating.”
A man wearing one of the old-style military uniforms passed by, and Linda’s gaze followed him. She shuddered, her smile dying, and she went a little pale.
Concerned, Jenner focu
sed on the older woman, placing a hand on her arm. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Linda placed her hand over Jenner’s, squeezed. “I just wish they hadn’t included soldiers in tonight’s costumes.”
“I like a man in uniform,” Tiffany said, and Jenner glanced her way. From what she understood, Tiffany preferred a man in a lab coat. Still, she was playing a part, and maybe this was part of it.
“So do I,” Linda said wistfully. “My husband was a soldier. Vietnam. Wayne was killed when I was eighteen, just a couple of months after we got married. He was only nineteen.”
Chills crawled up Jenner’s arm; Tiffany’s easy smile faded.
Linda had a look on her face that was both dreamy and painful. “Wayne was it for me, he was the one. I never remarried, never got over his death. We had just a few months together, not years, and there are times when I feel like I’m drowning because it was so incredibly unfair …”
Tiffany laid a comforting hand on Linda’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. That really sucks.”
“I never talk about this.” Linda wiped away a tear. “What’s the point?”
“Because it helps, sometimes,” said Jenner. “You can talk to us about it, any time you like.”
“I suppose I can.” Linda tried a smile, which didn’t work well. “Once we’re off this ship we might never see each other again. Who better to confess to than a stranger?”
“We’re hardly strangers, not anymore.”
“That’s true.” Linda sighed. “There really isn’t much to tell. I loved Wayne with all my heart, he died, and ever since then I’ve been in a kind of limbo, just waiting for the day when I’ll join him.”
“No!” Tiffany said explosively, then she cranked it down a bit. “Don’t talk like that. You have a lot of life left in you. You should enjoy every day.”
“I do. I have a good life.”
“The uniforms upset you. It’s understandable,” said Jenner.
“Things are a little close to the surface today. I dreamed about Wayne last night,” she added. “God, it’s been years since I’ve dreamed of him that way. You know how some people will say that they’ve forgotten exactly how a lost loved one looked, or how his voice sounded. I never forgot. Never.” She shook off her melancholy. “You girls don’t want to hear an old lady go on and on.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden eruption of noise from the crowd around them, and they looked about to see that one of the gray-haired gentlemen had been bought by a woman who was boogying up to the dais to fetch him.
“Maybe you should buy yourself a man for the night,” Tiffany suggested.
Linda gave a slight smile, and in a very soft voice said, “That never worked.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
CAEL HOPED HIS HEAD WOULD BE PUT ON THE CHOPPING block first so he could get this ordeal over with, but no, they decided to save him for last. A bartender and then a popular steward went first, then a couple of widowers, then a shy man who was there with his fiancée, who dutifully bid on him until he was hers—for the evening’s record sum of seven thousand.
There were a couple of catcalls as Cael was introduced. From what he could see, they all came from rich, primarily white-haired, giggling widows. Playing along, he tipped his hat to the crowd. He even winked at one blushing matron. He looked for Jenner, but she and Tiffany were no longer standing where he’d last seen them. Great. They were probably in Tiffany’s suite or in one of the bars, yucking it up at his expense.
Somebody was going to pay for this.
The bidding started, and quickly escalated. He passed the five-thousand mark within a few minutes. Still no Jenner. Cael caught Ryan’s eye; he and Faith were amused, and a little worried, but there wasn’t much either of them could do. If Jenner or Tiffany didn’t step up to save his bacon, he was going to end up the property of either the plump, lascivious granny in the lime-green fringed dress and matching fishnets or the scary-looking broad with too much makeup and unnaturally blue-black hair. They were the only two left in play, as the bid passed eight thousand.
A flash of red in the crowd caught his eye. Jenner was making her way toward the front of the crowd, with Tiffany close behind her. Jenner raised her hand and got the auctioneer’s attention.
“Fifty thousand,” she called in a clear, steady voice.
The crowd murmured, a few people applauded. The scary broad looked pissed as she and the lime-green granny conceded the bid—not that either of them couldn’t have offered more, but there was only so much money they were willing to part with just for a little bit of fun.
“Poor baby,” Jenner said confidently as she reached the dais. “Did you really think I would share?” The crowd burst into laughter and applause as she claimed him. He was the only one in a position to see how cool her gaze was, and he knew she was still pissed off.
—
LARKIN HAD LEFT the costume party and escaped to the quiet of his suite. If he’d had to listen to more of that fucking music, he’d have thrown the musicians overboard. He sat at the desk in the parlor, writing a letter on his e-mail program. He wouldn’t send the e-mail until the last possible moment, but he wanted to be prepared. He still wasn’t sure who to send it to. The New York Times, the Washington Post… but newspapers were going the way of the dodo. How many people bothered to read them anymore? He should also send the e-mail to a couple of television networks.
I take full responsibility for the destruction of the Silver Mist and its passengers. If I could take more of you assholes with me …
No, if he wanted the letter published in its entirety, he’d have to watch his language. Fucking pussies.
If I could take more of the worthless parasites of the world with me, I would. Gladly.
He could die with a bang or he could fade away; he really wasn’t a fading kind of guy. Serial killers, bringers of mass destruction, they were remembered long after they left this earth. He would be remembered, too.
When the Silver Mist blew out of the water on the tenth day of her maiden voyage, I made my mark on the world. At the end of the day, money means nothing. Power is reduced to the simple control over life and death.
Yeah, that sounded about right. Powerful. People would remember what he’d written until their own deaths. When the time came, he’d turn on his computer, set the e-mails to be sent at a certain time—perhaps 9:55, five minutes before the bombs would explode—and then he’d put everything in motion. Some bombs were on a timer, simply for logistical reasons, and he had the triggers for others. While Dean and his idiot team of would-be robbers got ready to move in on the art auction, Frank would be setting the real show into motion.
His head throbbed; eyestrain caused by the computer screen was a bitch these days. Suddenly unsure, he checked to make certain he hadn’t accidentally logged onto the Internet, because sometimes he did things that he didn’t quite remember. He didn’t want to send the message yet, so he hadn’t even gone online. There was no e-mail of any consequence headed his way—very little was of true consequence now. There was no reason for him to surf the ’net. He didn’t care how the stock market was faring, or what news of the day might be interesting, because the simple fact was that nothing was interesting now. Funny how certain things that had seemed so important faded to nothing when a life was reduced to a matter of days. He saved what he’d written so far into a draft file, and shut down the computer.
—
LARKIN HAD ALREADY LEFT THE PARTY by the time Jenner took possession of her winnings. Cael smiled for the crowd, but she could see past the easy grin. He was annoyed that his plans had gone awry, for a short while, and he was anxious to get back to the stateroom, since Larkin was in his.
Tonight she was the one who said, for the benefit of those listening, “I’m tired. Are you ready to turn in?”
“Sure, any time you are.” Hah! As if he was ever that accommodating! Smiles in place, he took her arm and they walked at a leisurely pace toward the elevators. r />
They were silent in the elevator, each of them too pissed at the other to engage in their customary verbal joust. They stepped off the elevator, headed toward the suite—and the guard posted next door. The man ignored them, didn’t even glance their way or nod when Cael slipped the key card in the door to unlock it, as any other member of the crew would’ve done.
Cael went to the bedroom, stripping off his jacket as he went, tossing his fedora aside. He didn’t guide Jenner to a chair and handcuff her, didn’t look back to make sure she wasn’t making a run for it. She followed him into the bedroom, kicking off her shoes and removing her own hat, twirling the cloche on one finger as she headed for the bed. Cael was already setting up his laptop to review anything he might’ve missed.
Finally she broke first, mainly because she couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Are you really mad because I didn’t save you from the horrors of the auction block?”
“No,” he said curtly She’d prefer that he make a joke or insult her in that funny way he had, but he was deadly serious. She sat on the side of the bed, as close to him as she could get. After a few seconds he glanced up, frowning, and tensed at what he saw in her face. “Don’t look at me that way.”
“What way is that?” Like she wanted to eat him up, which she did. She was tired of trying to hide the way she felt.
“You know this is a bad idea,” he said, trying to turn his head away and ignore her.
“I know no such thing.”
Sighing, because she obviously wasn’t about to let him work, Cael set aside his equipment and stood to look down at her. Maybe he was trying to intimidate her. “The situation is … difficult.”
She had to snicker. “Couldn’t say hard, could you?”
He ground his teeth, which he seemed to be doing a lot lately. “Jenner …”
“I know, I know. You kidnapped me. You’re afraid I’m having some sort of nervous breakdown, or that I might feel obligated to sleep with you so you won’t kill me when this is all over, or—”