"But I want to play blackjack."

"Uh huh. Play Double Diamond instead, and act like you're having fun." No way would he let her at the table with Larkin. She narrowed her eyes at him but began dutifully punching buttons and pulling levers, winning a little and losing more, while he surreptitiously watched Larkin.

Larkin was hosting the cruise, but for a host he didn't seem to want to mingle very much. Though he'd produced a big smile when he was introduced, after that he barely acknowledged most of the guests. To Cael, it looked as if he didn't like his fellow passengers very much, if the veiled contempt with which he watched them was anything to go by.

That in itself was surprising, because the people on the cruise were movers and shakers in their own right, with a lot of money behind them. If Larkin pissed off enough of them they could start talking to people in Washington with whom they had influence, and Larkin could very swiftly find himself on the outside, looking in at the power circle to which he had once belonged. If Larkin took no pleasure in hosting this cruise, he could've handed the duty over to someone else, one of the other co-owners. Why spend two weeks on the Silver Mist if hosting the cruise was such a chore?

Even the destination, Hawaii, and the possible meet with the North Koreans didn't explain why he was putting himself through an experience he didn't enjoy. Hell, he could have chartered a private jet and flown to Hawaii, then back the next day. There had to be another reason why he was on the cruise, because he sure as hell didn't look as if he were enjoying himself.

They had studied information on every passenger aboard the Silver Mist, and at first glance there was no one who could be an industrial spy or a North Korean operative, but appearances and background information could be deceiving; he and his own crew were proof of that. So far Larkin had interacted with very few people, speaking mostly to his head of security, Dean Mills, but the ones he had spoken to, they had gone back and looked at again, to see if there was any detail they'd missed. Maybe investments had taken a particularly hard hit; maybe some photographs had been taken that someone wished to stay hidden. But there was nothing, and frustration ate at Cael because his instincts told him he was missing something.

Larkin hadn't so much as turned on his laptop yet, so Faith's key-logger program hadn't yielded any results, pertinent or otherwise. Still, it was early.

After the hour for their group had passed, they had to leave the casino. There had been some big winners, but Jenner wasn't one of them; in fact, he'd seldom seen anyone who lost as consistently at a slot machine as she did. Faith and Ryan were in the next group, so Cael was confident Larkin would remain under close surveillance. Then there was a gap, with no one in the third group, or the fourth-two hours without anyone in the casino area watching him. But a number of people were standing outside the casino, watching the gaming, shouting encouragement or groaning with disappointment when a friend failed to win, and he intended to join them. He'd be able to photograph anyone Larkin spoke to, even though he couldn't get close enough to catch what was actually being said.

With Faith and Ryan on duty, Cael slipped his hand around Jenner's waist and steered her toward the bar next to the casino. "Want something to drink?"

"No, thanks," she said, probably because he'd asked her if she wanted anything. If he hadn't asked, he had no doubt she'd have demanded a drink.

"Then how about some ice cream?" There was a twenty-four-hour soft-serve ice cream bar, and it was already one of the most popular places on the ship.

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry."

Goaded, he said, "Just as well. If you ate a single bite, you'd probably burst every seam in that dress."

"Probably," she agreed. Damn it, what was wrong with her? He'd been in her company for only a little over twenty-four hours, and he already knew she gave as good as she got. But she seemed a little distracted, which made him wonder what she was thinking. Whatever it was, nothing good could come of it.

He found them two seats at a small table and got her settled. A cocktail waitress immediately appeared and without asking he ordered a teeter-totter for her and a beer for himself. He could have done with something stronger, but he wanted to keep his head clear. When he glanced back at Jenner, he found that she was leaning forward to see around him as she watched the action in the casino. She hadn't seemed all that interested in it when she'd actually been in there, so he looked around to see what had her interest.

A cold chill ran down him when he realized she was watching Larkin. Damn it all to hell, the little witch was getting too interested in what they were doing, and God only knew what she was capable of doing to satisfy her curiosity. Why couldn't she have stayed nicely frightened, the way she'd been at first ... for all of, say, five minutes? After that, she'd been nothing but trouble.

He shifted his chair to block her view, and coincidentally to keep Larkin from perhaps realizing Jenner was staring at him as if he were a zoo exhibit. The last thing he wanted was to put the bastard on guard.

Jenner gave him a bright smile. "You know, you could leave me in Hawaii," she said, leaning forward so her low voice was almost lost amid the annoying jangle and singsong ringing of the slot machines adjacent to the bar. "I promise not to give away whatever it is you're doing. I'll get a hotel room, spend a week on the beach, and I'll be out of your hair. You could let Syd go, she could join me, and we'd all be happy. Perfect solution."

He mimicked her motion, leaning closer to her. Damn, she smelled good, and from this angle the low cut of her midnight blue cocktail dress was interesting-and that was putting it mildly. She didn't have much in the boob department, but what was there caused his gut to knot up, low and hard. He should get away from her. He needed to get away from her, but the job kept him there, on the front line, in harm's way. "Why would I let you go?" he asked, nuzzling her ear. "The entertainment value alone is worth the risk of pain and injury."

The green glint in her eyes promised retribution, but once again she refused to rise to his bait, which was just as well. The last thing he wanted was for her to deck him in public.

As much as he'd like to release her, for both their sakes, he needed her right where she was, to provide cover for him. Without her there, he'd have no reason to be in that suite-and the general policy of a cruise ship was that the staterooms weren't transferrable by the passengers. A passenger could cancel, but assigning anyone else to a stateroom was up to the cruise line. He couldn't take the risk that he might not be allowed back into the suite.

She would just have to suck it up.

The night wore on. Larkin greeted every group, then retreated back to the blackjack table, where he kept on steadily winning. For all the excitement or life in his face, he might as well have been watching grass grow.

When Tiffany's group was allowed in the casino she planted herself beside Larkin and tried her best to interest him, without even a hint of success. Frank Larkin had escorted some beautiful women in the past, had something of a reputation in that department, but even as exotic and eye-catching as Tiffany was she couldn't pull more than an irritated glance from him. Maybe her scene had scared him off, because Cael knew for a fact that Larkin had been watching; maybe she just wasn't his type. Getting her close to him would have been a bonus, but it wasn't happening.

Staying so close to Larkin could make him suspicious-just about anything could make the paranoid bastard suspicious-so Tiffany moved on and began flirting with a man whose wife was winning big at craps, not because she had a thing for older, married guys, but because that gave her a good angle to photograph anyone Larkin talked to.

As soon as the hour for the last group was over, Larkin tossed his cards on the green felt of the table and walked away, leaving his winnings there as all the proceeds were going to charity. They couldn't follow him en masse, so Tiffany said good-bye to her new friend and followed Larkin at a distance, moving through the crowd smoothly and naturally. Her prowling walk drew more than one appreciative glance from some men and a dagger or two from the women with those men, but on a ship filled with beautiful people she fit seamlessly. Faith and Ryan stayed at the nearby table they'd taken, as did Cael and Jenner.

A soft voice, transmitted through the earbud Cael wore, said, "Ghostwater Bar," as Tiffany informed them all of Larkin's destination. The man did drink, though not to excess. Last night he'd limited himself to two drinks, and not the ubiquitous Ghostwater, either. His preferred drink was scotch, straight up. He had no routine established yet-this was just the second night-so they had no idea what to expect.

"He's moving," came Tiffany's voice just minutes later. "I don't know why he came here, because he didn't get anything to drink. He's coming back toward the casino. Someone else needs to pick him up."

They all went on alert. Larkin reappeared very shortly, his expression blank, but Cael thought his eyes looked a little spacey Was he on drugs? He walked with purpose, though, if a little stiffly.

"Come on," Cael said to Jenner, urging her to her feet. Maybe Larkin was going to his suite, maybe not. God knew it was late enough, and the man had put in some long hours in the casino. Regardless, he wanted to keep Larkin in sight. If he didn't go to the suite, Faith and Ryan could shadow him, alert Cael to his destination.

He gripped Jenner's elbow as she looked around with interest, trying to spot what had galvanized him to action. She spotted Larkin in just a few seconds, and her attention riveted on him, her expression reminding him of a hound on the hunt.

Just to distract her, he said, "Smile."

She flashed him a very wide, very phony grin that reminded him of a shark.

He sighed as he increased his pace. "Never mind, Witchiepoo."

"Witchie who?"

"Look it up," he said.

Larkin went to the elevator, and the car left before they could reach it. Cael took out his cell phone and sent a swift text to Bridget, alerting her that Larkin was on the way up. His pulse kicked up a notch. If Larkin didn't go to his suite, they'd have to locate him. He didn't like having his target out of sight, even for a short while.

He stood with Jenner waiting for the next elevator, and before it arrived his cell buzzed a text alert. Swiftly he checked it, and breathed out a sigh of relief. Larkin had entered his suite. Everything was good.

A few more people hurried up and got in the elevator with them, so he and Jenner didn't talk, but he could tell she was bursting with questions. As soon as he unlocked the suite door and ushered her inside, she turned to face him, backing up as he moved forward. "So, why are you spying on Frank Larkin?" she asked.

"Get away from the door," he said, and swiftly turned around to open the door and check if anyone was in the passageway who might have overheard her. The hall was blessedly empty. Shaking his head, he closed and locked the door, then chained it.

Jenner still stood there, her eyebrows lifted as she waited for his reply.

"Well?" she prompted.

"None of your business. Get ready for bed while I check that everything's working."

He wanted to do more than that, he wanted to know if Larkin was on the phone with anyone, or if he'd finally fired up his laptop. Jenner gave him a frustrated look, but grabbed a pair of pajamas and disappeared into the bathroom, which meant he had a few peaceful minutes to himself. Earbud in place, he watched Larkin get ready for bed. When the light went out in the bedroom next door, Cael removed the earbud. Nothing. So far, they had squat.

Jenner was still in the bathroom, so he used the opportunity to strip out of his own clothes. He had the handcuffs ready when she reappeared, face shiny clean, and clad in another pair of pajamas with one of those flimsy tank tops-this one was pink, and had glittery stars all over it-and without a word he indicated the chair.

She glared at him as she sat, and he cuffed her to the chair. Irritated, she jerked at the cuff. "This isn't necessary. As long as you're holding Syd, I'm not going to do anything. You're doing this just to show me who's boss."

"Yeah," he agreed, going into the bathroom and taking the handcuff key with him.

There was a moment of stunned silence, then she half-shrieked, "You mean you admit it?"

"I get a lot of pleasure from it." Smiling to himself, he took care of business, brushed his teeth, and left the bathroom to find her still fuming. Oh, yeah. The truth was the truth.

She kicked at him as soon as he was within reach. He dodged back, laughing, though he wouldn't have found it funny if her foot had landed where she was aiming.

"Don't you dare laugh!" she spat, and kicked at him again. He caught her foot, then the other one, and deftly jerked her butt out of the chair onto the floor. He was holding enough of her weight that she didn't hit hard, but the jolt got her attention.

"Asshole! Numb-nuts!"

While she was down he freed her from the chair, and just as swiftly cuffed her to his left wrist. He picked her up and half-placed, half-dropped her on the bed. "Leave my nuts out of this," he said as he dropped the key into the drawer of the bedside table, then got in bed beside her and turned out the lamp.

Chapter Eighteen.

JENNER WOKE, AND IN THE DARKNESS FOR A MOMENT-A blissful moment-she forgot where she was. Then she moved and the handcuffs pinched her wrist, and reality came crushing down. Truly, reality wasn't as terrifying as it had been twenty-four hours ago, but it still wasn't a picnic, either. For one thing, Macho Man couldn't seem to accept that she wasn't going to go running to the ship's captain, she wasn't going to try to hide from him, she wasn't going to do anything that would endanger Syd. She didn't know what the situation was like where Syd was being held; her captor might be the type of jerk who looked forward to hurting people, and was being held in check only as long as she herself behaved.

Actually, she thought, Macho Man probably did know that she wasn't going to do any of those things, but he'd told the simple truth that he enjoyed bossing her around. That, or he'd decided he simply couldn't take the risk, that whatever they were up to was so important, or so financially huge, that literally nothing was being left to chance, no matter how small the odds.

She rolled over enough to look at the clock. She'd had two hours of solid sleep, which was pretty good considering she was handcuffed and couldn't move without twisting her arm into a pretzel. Now, however, courtesy of the teeter-totter she'd had in the bar, she needed to pee.

She tried ignoring it. Cael hadn't awakened when she'd moved, and she didn't want him to. He'd tossed back the covers, again, and lay there wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. Even in the faint glimmer of light that came from the living room, he looked big and intimidating.

She sighed. This was going to be the longest two weeks of her life. Curling on her side, she squirmed around trying to get comfortable, then forced herself to lie still once more. She was cold, again, and she really needed to pee. Getting comfortable was impossible, between being cold, not being able to pull the covers up, and a full bladder, and all three of those things could be laid right on his doorstep-not that he cared. He'd probably enjoy making her beg to be allowed to go to the bathroom.

The key to the handcuffs was right there, in the drawer of the bedside table. Had he thought she wouldn't notice where he put it, within easy reach if he needed to get to it in the middle of the night in case she, say, set his hair on fire? She really, really wanted that key. He hadn't even attempted to be secretive about where he put it, as if he didn't see her as a potential threat-or as if he were daring her to try anything.

Either scenario was annoying. She didn't like being helpless, and she didn't like being written off as helpless. Even worse was the idea that he might be expecting her to go for the key, that this was a test to see if she could be counted on to not cause any trouble.

Well, hell. She didn't want to cause trouble, at least not the kind that could get Syd hurt. Neither did she want to ask him for permission to pee. What she'd really like to do is get the key, unlock the cuffs, go to the bathroom, then slip back into bed and let him find out in the morning that she'd been free for hours and hadn't taken advantage of the situation to go running down the passageway screaming for help. That would, logically, go a long way into proving she wasn't going to do something stupid, which should, logically, also result in more freedom. The problem was, she didn't know if numb-nuts responded to logic.

Another aspect was that she really, really wanted to thumb her nose at him and show him he wasn't as much the boss as he thought he was. Was it really too much to ask that she could go to the bathroom without asking permission? That she could have one truly private moment without a man standing on the other side of the door listening to her pee?

The key was within reach. The problem was in reaching it without waking him.

She moved smoothly, easily, taking her time, listening carefully to his breathing in case the rhythm changed. The room was too dark for her to make out his expression, but still she watched for signs that she was disturbing him. She wasn't exactly still at night, so subconsciously he might already be used to her movements. He might be accustomed to sleeping with someone anyway; Tiffany came to mind. After all, they'd been sharing a stateroom before he forced his way into hers.

Gradually she lifted herself onto her elbow. He didn't stir, didn't grumble. He wasn't snoring, either, and she wished he was, because then she'd know for certain he was asleep. She balanced there on her elbow for what seemed like fifteen minutes, giving him time to sink back into deep sleep if she had disturbed him.

Slowly, careful not to touch him, she reached over and across his bare chest, her fingers stretching toward the drawer handle. Crap. She wasn't nearly close enough.

She shifted position, got a knee under her for balance, lifted herself higher. All the while she struggled not to tug on the handcuffs, because that would wake him for certain. Or would it? If he'd awakened any of the times she'd changed positions, he hadn't said anything.

Hovering over him, she stretched even more. She could almost reach the drawer. Impatience bit at her but she resisted it. Calm control was the key to a successful bathroom run. Very gradually she got to her feet, though she had to stay bent over to keep from putting tension on her cuffed arm. Just as gradually she placed one foot between his spread legs, for better balance. The thought of what might get kicked if he woke while she was in this position gave her a moment of unholy glee, and she almost hoped he would.

She waited some more. Thank goodness for all those Pilates and yoga classes! Core strength was important when twisting one's body into unnatural positions for clandestine purposes.

If she slipped now, she'd fall straight down onto a half-naked Cael, and she didn't want to know how a man like this one would react to being awakened that way. He wasn't the average guy; the shape he was in testified to that. She saw a lot of gym rats, and his muscles weren't like that; they were longer, more sinewed, and she'd seen scars that hadn't come from falling off the monkey bars in grade school. He was hard and capable, and power was in every move he made.

She was much too close to him in this position. She could feel his body heat rising against her skin, hear his even breathing. For a moment she almost chickened out, almost shifted back so she could lie down beside him again. Yes, she still had to pee. Yes, she'd have to wake him up and ask permission.

No, by God, she wouldn't. The drawer handle was so close, she couldn't give up. Besides ... enough was enough.

It wasn't just that she wanted to go to the bathroom without asking his permission; she wanted, needed, to show him that she could get past his ridiculous precautions. She wanted to rub his face in the fact that he wasn't such hot shit, after all. Boss, her ass.

She grasped the handle with her fingertips and held her breath as she slowly pulled the drawer open. The angle was bad, and her muscles were beginning to tremble from being held so tense for a long time. If she could have pulled the drawer straight toward her it would have been a lot easier, but she had to ease it out in a sideways motion that made her arm cramp.

There! That was far enough. She froze, to make certain the low sound of the drawer sliding hadn't awakened Cael. He slept on, and carefully she reached out to snag the small key that lay on top of a notepad. She wasn't home free, she still had to get the cuffs unlocked without waking him, but a pure, sweet sense of victory shot through her. Gotcha, numb-nuts!

He shot up without warning, grabbing her with his cuffed arm, flipping her onto her back, then his heavy body crashed down onto hers and they bounced. Before she could do more than squeak, he easily pried the key from her clenched fist. What the hell? His breathing had never changed; he'd given her no clue that he was awake. That wasn't fair; it wasn't right.

"Going somewhere?" he asked in a slightly gravelly voice.

True desperation made her push frantically at his shoulder. Oh, God, he'd jostled her around and-"I'm going to pee on you!" she cried frantically.

He froze for a second, then said in a musing tone, "I don't think I've ever been threatened with that before."

"It isn't a threat!" She pushed again. "Let me up!"

Finally he seemed to realize she wasn't joking, and he practically vaulted off her to stand beside the bed, which of course pulled her with him. Gritting her teeth, she fought for control. "Stop bouncing me, you moron, and unlock these cuffs!"

Quickly he turned on the lamp and unlocked the cuffs. As soon as she was free, she rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door. She barely made it, as she was sure he was aware because he'd probably followed her and was waiting just outside the door.

A few minutes later, having thought the situation over, she shoved the door open and barreled out, fire in her eyes. As she'd expected, he was standing right there, and she plowed into him before he could do more than get his hands up to catch her around the waist. She dipped her shoulder and drove it into his mid-section, not that she had to dip it very far, and not that it did a lot of good, but at least he fell back a step before catching his balance.

"It's all your fault!" she said furiously, so angry and embarrassed she was almost jumping up and down. "I didn't want anything to drink, but no, you thought I needed a teeter-totter to make things look good, so of course I had to pee! Then you handcuffed me so I couldn't get to the bathroom. I swear, if you ever do that to me again, I'm just going to pee on you as soon as I wake up and save myself the wear and tear."

A slow smile began to curve his mouth.

"Don't laugh," she warned him, tucking her chin and clenching her fist. "Don't you dare laugh."

He reached out and caught her fist before she could swing it, and, damn him, snapped those damned cuffs around her wrist again. Seething, she let him lead her back to bed. If he made a joke about it, she'd kill him with her bare hands.

He didn't stop smiling, but at least he had sense enough not to say anything. She crawled into bed and he flipped the covers off the floor where she could reach them. He turned out the lamp and got back into bed beside her. They were both settled before he asked, "Why didn't you just wake me?" Maybe it took that long before he could get his voice under control.

"Because a grown woman shouldn't have to ask permission to go to the bathroom," she shot back. She wasn't anywhere near being settled down, and the way she felt now, a couple of months would come and go before her temper cooled.

"Under these circumstances, for now, the grown woman most certainly does." Exasperation crept into his tone. "Did you really think you could shake the bed, crawl on top of me, and steal the key without waking me up? Just shaking my shoulder would have been a lot faster, and a lot less, uh, dangerous."

"I didn't want to touch you. Jackass."

"You ended up touching me a lot, so I'd say your plan didn't work."

She didn't want to remember those moments when he'd crushed her into the mattress, his heavy, mostly naked body on hers in a perfect sexual position. Her legs had even been spread, and for a few heart-stopping seconds the hard bulge of his penis had pushed against his groin.

Did it say something about him that he hadn't taken advantage of the situation? She hadn't been afraid that he would, she realized. She hadn't been afraid at all. Sometime during the past day, she had stopped fearing him.