She could smell the newness of the ship, she realized. It was everything: the paint, the carpet, the upholstery, even the wood of the deck. Everything was new and fresh, and under different circumstances she'd have loved it.

Cael's arm remained around her waist, the heavy weight a constant reminder to behave. To anyone watching, of course, they would look like new lovers, enthralled with exploring this strange and exciting connection they'd found. Only Jenner knew that his grip was a bit too tight, and she blew out a small sigh of frustration. Where the hell did he think she was going to go if she ran? They were on a ship, for God's sake. It wasn't as if she could jack a car and escape. Besides, as he so often reminded her, there was Syd.

He probably heard the sigh, because he snuggled her closer and bent his head to kiss her temple, then settled his mouth close to her ear. "Make it look good."

She turned her head, dipped her chin. "I'm too scared," she said, putting a little whine in her voice and managing not to snort. She had been terrified ... but she wasn't now. Odd. Maybe the body and mind could handle terror for only so long, then some sort of coping mechanism kicked in and held the terror at a distance.

He did snort. "Bullshit. You don't scare worth a damn. So act as if you love me, honey, because otherwise there's no point in having you out here and I'll drag you back to the suite. Do you want to spend the rest of the cruise handcuffed to a chair?"

She definitely didn't, so she angled her shoulder toward him and smiled up at him. Only he could see, so she fluttered her eyelashes at him like some nitwit overwhelmed by his testosterone. He needed her out here, she thought. Maybe he could explain away her absence from the many shipboard activities that most of the passengers were already taking advantage of, and maybe no one would think anything of it if she didn't attend any of the formal dinners or auctions, the events that were the whole purpose of this Cruise for Charity. Maybe he could make these people believe that she'd throw all sense to the wind to take up with him, even though she wasn't known for mindless, reckless affairs.

Most of the people onboard ship didn't know her, but enough of them did that he couldn't make her all but disappear for two weeks without questions being raised. He had to let her out of the stateroom, he had to allow people to see her, talk to her. She had to attend the scheduled events.

Too bad she couldn't think of a way to use the exposure to her advantage. She was surrounded by people, but if she screamed for help ... then what? She'd look as if she'd gone insane, because Cael hadn't done anything in front of anyone that would make anyone look at him with doubt. He'd been charming to Linda and Nyna, attentive to her, and from the way he was looking down at her the casual observer would think he was downright besotted.

And if she screamed for help, what would happen to Syd?

Because she couldn't see any way out of the situation, she turned her thoughts instead to why. He'd gone to a lot of trouble for a peek and a listen into someone's stateroom. She didn't know the name of the man in the next suite, but if he was a co-owner of the ship then he was very wealthy, because ships like this had to cost billions and billions of dollars to build and outfit. So, in the real world, wealth equaled influence. Who was he? What were they trying to find out about him? Maybe he had a kinky lifestyle and they were trying to get pictures for some sort of blackmail scheme. That scenario kind of worked for her, except for the way they were going about it. Having an entire team of people aboard a cruise ship like this had to have cost a small fortune, then add in the expenses of the team that had snatched Syd.

That led her back to spies. Industrial espionage. But that usually involved theft of data, or even the actual hard product, so what were they doing here spending so much time watching a man on a cruise?

No matter which angle she considered, this still didn't make sense to her. Whatever Cael and his people were planning, there had to be better ways to get it done, though from what she'd seen they were so well-organized that if there was a better way she imagined they would've found it. So, what the hell was going on?

The threat to Syd had her effectively bound, restricting what she could and couldn't do. Not that Cael was going to leave her unsupervised or unbound, but he could, and she wouldn't do a damn thing to take advantage of being free, because of Syd. One phone call from Cael or any of his people, and Syd could be in serious trouble. No matter what, Jenner thought, because of Syd she had to play along.

She took Cael by surprise, turning out of his grip, leaning back against the deck rail and facing him with her feet firmly planted, her gaze narrow and intent. "Tell me what you're up to."

"No." His response was immediate and flat, no room for negotiation, no thinking about it.

"I can't figure it out-"

"You aren't supposed to figure anything out, you're supposed to do as you're told and keep your mouth shut." He slid his hand over her arm, a movement that looked like a caress, except for the way his fingers clamped around her elbow. "That's enough face time. Let's go."

"I'm not ready to go." She wanted to stand there and argue with him, maybe dig a detail or two out of that stone wall.

He leaned in, too close, too warm, too big. His mouth moved against her cheek. "I swear to God, I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to the room, and just think what a show that'll be for the other guests. Then I'll cuff you hand and foot to the chair, and you won't get out of the room again until the cruise is over. I can do this without you, Redwine."

Her heart thumped, she couldn't take a deep breath, and still, she saw the truth, knew it deep in her bones. "No, you can't. If you could, you never would have involved me at all."

"Watch me." He wrapped an arm around her waist again, pulled her away from the rail, began to lift her.

"Wait!" Putting on an act was one thing, but making a spectacle was another. And he'd do it; he'd really throw her over his shoulder and carry her off, and most people would grin, thinking they knew exactly what would happen when he got her to a private place.

He stopped. Her body rested against his, but wasn't being crushed. Anyone watching would think it an embrace between lovers, rather than a threat, but she could see into those cool blue eyes and knew he wasn't bluffing.

Her heartbeat got even faster, harder. Something about his eyes pulled her in, sucked her into heightened awareness of him on a physical level. She fought to keep her expression blank, to not let him know he was getting to her. Damn it, she shouldn't be affected by his touch, by being pressed against that tall, muscled body, but she was. He should be physically repulsive to her, and the fact that the opposite was true told her she'd have to resist just that much more, build her wall even higher.

He was waiting for her to say something, and she wrenched her thoughts back in order. What was ...? Oh, yeah. She'd told him to wait.

She took a deep breath. "You don't have to carry me," she said. "I'll go peaceably, Marshal."

One corner of his mouth twitched. "Good." He eased her down and slightly back, but he didn't release her.

The wind blew her hair across her eyes and she pushed it back as she looked up at him. "But maybe you could do me a favor and let up a bit. In case you haven't noticed, we're on a ship, in the middle of the Pacific. I have nowhere to go, except overboard, and I'm not crazy. I don't want to do anything that will cause Syd to get hurt. As long as you have her, I'm going to play along. Maybe it makes you feel more in control to keep a steel grip on my arm, but it isn't necessary. If I have to be a part of this, then it'll play better if I don't look like a prisoner."

He took a moment to consider, then said, "That sounds reasonable." Just as Jenner began to relax, he added, "But this is you we're talking about, so *reasonable' makes me suspicious."

Frustrated, she went on tiptoe and put her lips to his ear. He immediately tensed and gripped her waist with both hands, as if he were ready to chuck her overboard if she bit him again. He just might do it, too. She caught his earlobe with her teeth and very gently tugged, then released. "You're such an asshole," she whispered as lovingly as possible. "Somehow, some day, I'm going to make you pay for this."

He slid one hand downward and patted her ass. "I don't doubt it for a minute."

Chapter Sixteen.

CAEL CONSIDERED HIMSELF A CALM SORT OF GUY, SOMEONE who always kept his cool, who stayed on top of a situation. That said, Jenner Redwine would be lucky if he didn't strangle her in her sleep before this cruise was over. He should put in for combat pay; after all, he had the wound to prove he'd been in a battle.

She was the most annoying, prickly, difficult ... funny ... woman he'd ever met. He didn't want to think she was funny, though half the stuff she said had him biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He wanted to toss her overboard and be done with it. She was so skinny, she wouldn't even make much of a splash. He took a minute to enjoy the vision he had of the little plop! she'd make when she hit the water, though she'd probably spoil the moment by giving him the finger as she went under. Women like her should have "Troublemaker" branded on their foreheads, so people would be warned ahead of time. If he'd known before what he knew now, he'd be dealing with Sydney Hazlett, tears and all, and counting his blessings while Redwine would be in California driving other people crazy.

But he hadn't known, and now he was stuck with her. He had the upper hand and he intended to keep it, but she fought for every ounce of power she could possibly get even though the cards were stacked against her. He had the advantage of knowing what was going on, knowing that with the people and power he had behind him he couldn't lose, no matter what happened.

Even if worst came to worst, she couldn't cause legal trouble for him. She and Sydney Hazlett would both be released unharmed, no ransom had been requested, and even though legally he and his crew could be nailed for unlawful detainment, she was too smart to file charges. She herself would have gone to a lot of trouble to convince everyone around them that they were lovers, so any complaint she had afterward would look as if she was merely pissed off because they'd broken up. She couldn't win, but she didn't know the rules of the game and so she kept playing as hard as she could. He would have felt sorry for her ... if it were possible to feel sorry for a cross between a badger and a pit bull.

After escorting her back to the suite, he left her under Bridget's watchful gaze while he went down to the stateroom he'd been supposed to share with Tiffany, before this whole thing unraveled around them.

Any room Tiffany occupied for longer than an hour always looked as if a bomb had gone off in it, and the stateroom was no exception. The massive amount of jewelry and insanely high-heeled shoes she'd insisted were needed for the job were scattered everywhere; clothes had been dropped on the floor; lug gage was opened, drawers were pulled out and half-filled. She was sharp and sexy and lethal as hell, and she was also a world-class slob.

She sat on the bed, long legs crossed and a high-heeled sandal dangling from her toe, her full attention on her task as she disassembled a chunky, noisy bracelet and removed a tiny but suspicious-looking-to any security guard worth his salt-device. She glanced up at him, a preoccupied expression in her sloe eyes. "How's Redwine holding up?"

"Fine," he replied, not about to tell her, or any of them, all of the ways Redwine had found to be a royal pain in the ass. They were getting way too much enjoyment out of the situation as it was. Besides, in all honesty, he couldn't blame Redwine for doing all she could to bust his chops. He sure as hell wouldn't be taking this shit lying down, if he was in her position.

Tiffany didn't have his patience, which wasn't saying much. He wasn't patient at all, but he had iron control, which was something else entirely. Tiffany said, "If she starts to break, we can drug her and keep her that way for the rest of the trip. Might be easier on you."

Easier on him, definitely, but Redwine was right; her complete disappearance from the social events of the cruise would raise questions he didn't need raised. "So far it hasn't come to that, but I'll keep it in mind."

Tiffany handed him the button camera. In a different place, on a different job, she'd have been assembling firearms. However, getting weapons, even Glocks, aboard a cruise ship was such a bitch he'd made the decision not to even try. It wasn't as if they actually needed weapons on this job, because it was surveillance only. Still, he felt half-naked without the familiar weight of his 9mm Sig Sauer resting against his right kidney.

As Tiffany put the jewelry back together, sans button camera, she looked up at Cael. "Anything on Larkin yet?"

"No." So far, the man was as innocent as he'd been in the last three weeks, while the other team had been on him. Keeping such a close eye on Larkin while he was at sea was probably unnecessary, but then again, what better place to put together a deal with the North Koreans than in the middle of the Pacific Ocean? "We're hoping to get Matt or Bridget into Larkin's stateroom today, tomorrow at the latest, to get the parlor eyes planted." It would've been so much easier if Larkin had accepted Bridget as his steward, but he'd brought his own along. Paranoid bastard.

Cael didn't have all the details, but Larkin was suspected of being the middle man between a traitorous defense contractor employee and the North Koreans. They didn't know what sort of information was being sold, but the government evidently thought it was important enough to go to a lot of trouble to shut down the deal. They didn't want just Larkin, they wanted his contacts on both ends of the deal, as well as details on whatever information had already been passed on. That meant they would be taking photos of everyone Larkin spoke to, which was why he had so many people onboard: having the same people hovering around all the time would make anyone suspicious, much less Larkin. They had to swap out times and positions, and they had to use in-place surveillance on his suite. He had to be followed, even aboard the ship. So far he was making things easier than they'd expected, by spending a lot of his time in the suite.

There was a soft knock and Tiffany got to her feet, instantly alert. Going to the door, she looked through the peephole, then pulled the door open.

Faith stepped into the room, with Ryan close behind. Neither of them said anything until Tiffany had closed the door. The room was secure-all of their rooms, including Redwine's suite, had been swept for bugs-but they couldn't be sure about the passageway.

Ryan could have delivered the button camera to Cael with a handshake, but Cael liked to pull his people together for a face-to-face every so often. They could communicate by their secure cell phones, though using that method with Bridget and Matt was problematic because of their jobs, but everyone meeting in person triggered an extra sharpness that wasn't there in phone calls. Maybe it was being able to read each other's expressions, maybe it was simple group chemistry, that being together heightened the sense of being a team, but he'd often seen problems solved within minutes of simply getting together as a group, after they'd been working for days on something by e-mail or cell phone.

They had a pretty good setup for spending time together, except for Bridget and Matt. With their jobs they could have any number of reasons for talking with any passenger, but it wasn't like they could all get together for tea. On the other hand, either of them had perfect excuses for coming to Redwine's suite at any time, Bridget because she was the steward, while Matt could be delivering room service, plus they could speak to him on deck as he was rearranging deck chairs or whatever.

They couldn't afford to have everyone gathering in Redwine's suite, where Larkin or his security detail could possibly see them coming or going and, depending on who had witnessed the scene with Tiffany the night before, wonder why in hell she was so friendly with them. Plus Ryan and Faith had originally been booked into the suite on the other side of Larkin, so Cael didn't want them anywhere near it. Tiffany's stateroom, on the other hand, was on a lower deck, and they could come and go without anyone being the wiser. Except for the public areas, ships were more private than most people realized. Part of it was the way they were designed, with different sections of staterooms served by different elevators, so there wasn't a great deal of cross traffic. He had passed exactly one person in this section on his way to Tiffany's room, and that was soon after getting off the elevator. Basically, no one paid any attention to anyone else.

The suite Ryan and Faith had been reassigned was on the opposite side of the ship from Larkin's suite, but still on the same deck, so while they could probably get together there without any problem, Tiffany's stateroom was much safer.

"Is the key-logger program set?" Cael asked Faith, who was their computer expert. Expert, hell, she was a hacker, and she was scary good.

"It's done," Faith said crisply. "Anything Larkin types on his laptop, we'll collect. I have the computer set to transmit the data whenever he logs onto the Internet, and in fifteen-minute intervals thereafter."

"You know," Cael mused, "I used to enjoy using a computer, before I found out what hackers like you can do from the comfort of their own living rooms." He was just glad Faith was on his team, instead of working against him.

A lot of passengers brought their laptops with them, so there was nothing at all suspicious about Faith having hers-a ridiculously pink Dell, to which she'd stuck a few whimsical, sequined appliques. The Silver Mist came equipped with a cell tower, so wireless Internet was available shipwide, and no one had to be out of touch if they didn't want to be. Except for the sequins, Faith's computer looked deceptively ordinary. It was not, and neither was she.

They made quick plans for the evening, making sure that wherever Larkin was, when not in his suite, one or more of them would be nearby. Each member of the team was equipped with miniature cameras to document who Larkin met with, in case one or more of his contacts was aboard the ship. Odds were that any business done would take place in Larkin's suite, but they had to be prepared for anything. Bridget or Matt would gain access to the suite's parlor as soon as possible, and then they'd be set.

Tiffany made a sour face. "Tonight I'll get gussied up and try to work my womanly charms on Larkin. God, I hope he doesn't bite." She used the term to mean she hoped he didn't take the bait, but Cael could see the slight movement of her lips as she fought to contain a smile. Faith looked up at the ceiling, pretending she hadn't heard anything. Ryan grinned outright.

"Ha, ha," said Cael. He'd never live it down, that Redwine had managed to sink her teeth into him. If he hadn't been trying so hard not to hurt her he could have put her down and out in one second flat; this grief was what he got for being a gentleman.

"He's creepy," Tiffany continued. She wasn't crazy about the idea of spending any time with Larkin, but it was another possible avenue of gathering information. Was he a talker? Did he try to impress women by telling them how important he was, and let tidbits slip? Not likely, but not impossible, either. Cael wouldn't ask anyone on his team to have sex with anyone they didn't want to have sex with, but if she could get into Larkin's suite and plant some backup surveillance, all the better.

"After watching that fit you threw last night, he'll probably run far and fast if you come on to him," Ryan said soothingly, then ruined the effect by grinning again. "I know I would."

She merely gave him a "you wanna bet?" smirk. A lot of men would be willing to put up with more than that to spend time with a woman like Tiffany.

"Bluetooth sniffer?" he prompted, to get the discussion back on track.

"Working," replied Faith. "We have him covered as much as possible, short of one of us actually being in the suite with him."

They went over the various aspects of their surveillance methods. If Larkin got suspicious and wanted his suite swept for bugs, Cael could use a remote to disconnect the batteries. If the bug wasn't working, a sweep wouldn't pick it up. For the hardwired bugs he'd threaded into Larkin's bedroom, he could simply pull them out. The hardwired stuff was more reliable and harder to detect, but sometimes they had no choice but to go wireless. Most jobs, like this one, he went with a combination of the two.

He checked his watch; Bridget had been on guard duty for an hour, which was a long time for her not to be taking care of her duties as steward. "I have to relieve Bridget," he said, wondering what mischief Redwine had gotten up to in that hour. Anything was possible. He might get there to find Bridget had both cuffed and gagged her, something he'd considered doing himself. He wasn't worried that Redwine had escaped, because Bridget could take her with one hand tied behind her back, but that didn't mean she hadn't gotten up to some mischief-making. She was way, way too curious about what they were doing and what was going on, which was understandable, but the less she knew the better, because she couldn't let slip what she didn't know.

When he keyed the door and opened it, he held his breath until he saw Bridget calmly sitting on the couch, laptop on the coffee table in front of her, earbud in place, making use of the time by going through as much of their recorded audio/video as possible, to save him the trouble.

Redwine was nowhere in sight. Cael felt his testicles draw up, as if she might attack him from behind at any second. "Where is she?" he asked, dread in his tone.

Bridget looked up. "She's taking a nap," she said, as if that were the most normal thing in the world.

Unbelievable. Cael rolled his eyes upward, ruefully shaking his head. "Why can't she ever do that when I'm here?" he asked, of no one in particular.

Right on cue, she appeared in the bedroom doorway, her eyes sleepy-looking and her hair tousled. Her gaze focused on him like a laser. "Oh, it's you" she said in tones of loathing, before giving him a huge, completely fake smile that looked more like a tiger snarling. "Welcome back, lover."

Chapter Seventeen.

LARKIN HAD TO GO TO THE CASINO SOON FOR THE FIRST of the cruise's organized charity events. All proceeds from the casino-from the entire cruise, actually-were being donated to charity but there were too many passengers for all of them to fit inside the casino at once, so the organizers had divided them into groups, based on their deck name and room number, and a hundred at a time were allowed in the casino for one hour. The person who won the most money in that length of time got a prize; Frank didn't know what the prize was, and didn't care. It would be something pricey, of course-this crowd would expect nothing less.

It occurred to him that this ship, this cruise, would become the stuff of legends, just like the Titanic. Everything the passengers did, the music they listened to, the fashions they wore, would be studied and analyzed as if all of it were important, when in fact none of it was.

He didn't have much of an appetite, but when he did eat he preferred to eat alone. On occasion he couldn't manage to keep down what little he ate, so privacy was important. Dining with the other passengers was out of the question; he didn't want anyone noticing that he didn't eat much and that he sometimes gagged on his food. No one knew he was sick, other than his doctor, and he wanted to keep it that way. He'd ordered a sandwich-tuna salad on a croissant, because God forbid anything as simple as regular bread should be served on this ship-some fruit, and a bottle of water, and he'd do what he could to choke down some of it before he was forced to make an appearance in the casino.

The tumor in his brain had taken away so many of the joys of life. The constant headache made him jumpy, and some days the pain was worse than others. He didn't dare take more than over-the-counter painkillers, because anything more would cloud his mind. He'd all but lost interest in food, though he knew he needed to eat, and he missed the enjoyment of a good meal. Sex was another appetite he'd lost. His body was rebelling against him, taking away all of life's pleasures, and it infuriated him. Wasn't it bad enough that he was going to fucking die? Did the damn cancer have to rob him of every possible bit of enjoyment and satisfaction? He was damned if he'd let it.

His personal steward, Isaac, took care of most of his needs during the cruise. Larkin didn't want a stranger in his immediate circle, not when what he was doing was so crucial. Isaac had been a loyal employee for years; he always did whatever was asked of him without complaint, no matter how demeaning it might be. Whenever it looked as if the man had had enough and was about to walk, Larkin would throw him a bone: a raise, a gift, maybe a vacation. Isaac would spend his final days sleeping in cramped crew quarters and doing as he was told. He'd die here, loyal to the end.

Maybe he should feel sorry for good old Isaac, Larkin thought, then gave a contemptuous laugh. If Isaac had had any balls, he'd have left a long time ago. Why should he feel sorry for a fool?

Isaac couldn't handle everything, though. Room service, for instance, would take twice as long if Isaac had to go to the kitchen and fetch the food, so he was relieved of that duty and Larkin tolerated the room service personnel. He was in the suite when he ordered room service, obviously, so it wasn't as if anyone would be coming in while he wasn't there.

A young man-his name tag read "Matt"-delivered Larkin's dinner. Larkin hated him on sight. Not only was he pretty in a tennis pro, surfer kind of way with curly blond hair and the innocent eyes of the terminally stupid, he looked as healthy and in shape as Larkin himself had always been. He hated the kid for his health, for his complete unawareness of his own mortality. What would it be like to not realize you were dying? Everyone was dying, but most people carried on in blissful ignorance. Larkin no longer had that luxury, and the unfairness of it made him want to slap the kid's stupid, pretty face.

"Good evening, sir," the idiot said cheerfully. "Where would you like your dinner?"

Shoved up your ass, Larkin thought, but didn't say it. Instead he indicated a small table near the doors that opened onto the balcony. "Put it there."

The kid unloaded the tray's contents, said, "Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?"

"No, just get out," Larkin said, his fists clenching as pain shot like a nail through his head. Sometimes it did that, the chronic headache turning hot and sharp before subsiding again. A wave of nausea followed hard on the heels of the pain.

The kid looked startled by Larkin's rudeness. "Uh ... yes sir," he said, hurrying to the door. He was in such a rush that he tripped over his own big feet and fell, thudding to his knees. He dropped the tray and it rolled away from the klutz with an ear-shattering clatter, finally spinning to a noisy halt against the tall artificial ficus tree that had been placed against the wall near the door.

"I'm sorry," the kid blurted, scrambling to his feet. He popped up, reached for the tray, and damn if he didn't stumble again, barely catching himself on the container that held the tree, almost turning it over. He caught the tree, but dropped the tray again.

"Sorry!" he yelped.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Larkin yelled over the din. "Just get out!"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I'm sorry." The boy lurched for the tray, grabbed it, and this time managed to get out the door without falling again. He even collected himself enough to say "Enjoy your meal, sir" as he launched himself into the passageway.

After the door had closed, Larkin stood there breathing hard, his eyes closed as he waited for the nausea to subside. When it did, he looked at the food with loathing. Enjoy it? "I wish I could."

Out in the passageway, Matt resisted the urge to whistle. Some things were just too easy.

WITH THE WAY THE EVENING was structured, with different sections of passengers being allowed in the casino for an hour at a time for the big Charity Gamble, there were times when none of the team was actually in the casino area keeping an eye on Larkin. Cael swore some to himself, then accepted the situation and adapted as best he could.

He and Jenner were in the first group, Larkin's group. The evening started out with the charity organizer, a buxom woman who glittered and sparkled and showed a lot of teeth, introduced Larkin as the host of the cruise and thanked him profusely for everything he'd done, blah blah blah. Cael felt Jenner's attention perk up when Larkin was introduced, and he inwardly rolled his eyes. Great. Now she had a name, and one she probably recognized if she paid any attention to politics at all. Still, she had been bound to learn his name eventually, so it wasn't really a big deal.

Larkin went to the blackjack table, where he began winning consistently though he didn't seem to be having any fun doing it. Jenner eyed him for a minute, then headed for the blackjack table herself. Cael grabbed her arm, reeled her back in. "Not on your life," he muttered, steering her toward a nearby slot machine.