LARKIN OPENED THE DOOR TO HIS SUITE, HOPING FOR A respite, some peace and quiet, but instead of blessed silence he was assaulted by an unbearable noise.

Isaac, his private steward, was hard at work and hadn't heard the door open. How could he hear anything with the roar of the damned vacuum cleaner drowning out everything else? Larkin slammed the door; Isaac heard that.

He lifted his head and turned off the vacuum. "Mr. Larkin. I didn't expect you back so soon."

"Obviously," Larkin said as he stepped into the room.

Isaac was about Larkin's age, but he looked a good ten years older. He was too thin, his hair white instead of a distinguished gray, and he had deep wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He wore years of hard menial labor on his face; his shoulders were stooped, his hands gnarled with arthritis. And yet Larkin was the one in pain, the one who was dying. Where was the fairness in that?

But if he had to die, he'd make sure he wasn't alone. Like everyone else on this fucking ship, Isaac was about to die, too; he just didn't know it yet. The satisfaction of that thought made Larkin feel a little better. Even his headache seemed to ease.

"Get me some aspirin and a glass of water," he said, crossing the room to the sofa and gingerly sitting down. Every movement, every sound hurt, but he couldn't let his pain show beyond this room. "I have a headache," he said softly as Isaac disappeared into the bedroom to fetch aspirin from Larkin's Dopp kit in the closet. Through the open door, Larkin noted the made bed and realized that Isaac's chores were almost done. Thank God.

Isaac did as he'd been instructed, as always, quickly delivering two aspirin and a bottle of water.

"Would you like a glass and some ice for the water, Mr. Larkin?"

"No, this will do." Two aspirin wouldn't make a dent in his pain, but he didn't want to rouse even Isaac's suspicions about his physical condition-though it was unlikely Isaac would be alarmed, even if Larkin had demanded the entire bottle. Isaac was not particularly intelligent.

After he'd swallowed the aspirin, Larkin snapped, "Come back later to finish your chores." He didn't need to offer a reason or make an excuse; Isaac simply followed orders, as always. He silently left, taking the damned vacuum cleaner with him.

When he was alone, Larkin went to his Dopp kit and grabbed a small handful of aspirin. He popped them all, washed down with long swallows from the water bottle. At this point, what did it matter if he ended up with an ulcer? Enough aspirin sometimes made the pain fade, and he needed that now. He needed just a few damn minutes with no pain.

Cancer had ruined him.

The sound of a knock on his door shot through him like a knife in his temple. If Isaac had come back, if he'd returned knowing that Larkin had wanted to be alone ... he wouldn't live to see the bombs go off.

But it was Dean Mills at the door. Larkin let Dean into the suite, and gently closed the door behind him. A slam would've relieved some of his temper, but the sound ... he couldn't take the noise.

Dean said, "Sir, a couple of the men have some questions about the getaway after the-"

"We're not going to discuss this," Larkin said sharply. "I have everything organized."

"But-"

"Do you think I'd leave anything to chance?" he snapped.

"No, sir," Dean replied, maintaining his composure as always.

Larkin never left anying to chance.

He'd needed assistance in carrying out his plan, and since none of the people he required for help were suicidal, he'd had to concoct a reason for their presence and what they were doing. A handful of security personnel, who had helped him bring the bombs onboard and place them, thought there was going to be a robbery on the high seas, during the return trip to San Diego. They believed they were going to rob all these rich people of their jewels and cash and then escape. The jewels and cash alone wouldn't make such a heist worthwhile, but added to the artwork that was supposed to be auctioned off, it would all add up to millions.

A million wasn't what it had once been, but it was still enough to entice a few morons.

Larkin had assured them that he'd taken care of all the details. They'd take a lifeboat, then be met by a larger boat that would take them all to South America. Once they were well away, the bombs would be detonated, so there would be no one left alive to identify the robbers.

The plan was full of holes, but that didn't matter, because the bombs would be detonated before the planned robbery, not after. So far he'd handled any questions he couldn't answer with an offhand or irritated assurance that he had the matter under control. Who were these idiots to question him? So far, the lure of a big payoff had kept them all satisfied.

There were nine bombs, all carefully placed to take the ship and its passengers to the ocean floor. When the time came, the would-be thieves would arm the bombs. A couple of them, Dean included, thought they had the triggers for those bombs, but in truth, Larkin had the real trigger. He'd choose his own exact moment of death ... and the deaths of so many of the rich idiots who had either inherited their money or, like the Redwine bitch, won a fucking lottery. Stupid fools. None of them had earned their money, worked for it the way he had. They didn't deserve to have it, any of it. They didn't deserve to live.

AFTER ALL THE TROUBLE Jenner had caused him at lunch, Cael didn't think twice about handcuffing her to the chair that afternoon, and she hadn't asked him not to. She knew better. She still looked very pleased with herself, as he retrieved and set up his equipment so he could catch whatever had been digitally captured from Larkin's suite while he and Jenner had been on the deck, lounging around and lunching with their new friends.

"Yoga, my ass," he muttered under his breath.

"What's that?" she asked sweetly. "I didn't hear you."

He didn't respond, but sat down with his equipment. Larkin had been on deck for a while, so there shouldn't be much catch-up work required. Cael watched Larkin's private steward cleaning, making the bed, vacuuming. Exciting stuff. Then Larkin arrived.

The exchange between Larkin and his steward was telling, personality-wise. Basically, Larkin was a shithead ... a shithead who was taking a shitload of aspirin. Cael had already noticed that he often cradled his head when he was alone. Was he ill? Or just prone to headaches?

Then Dean Mills came in, and that was much more interesting from Cael's point of view. Getaway? What in hell did Frank Larkin have "in hand"? Other than his own dick, of course. Was Larkin planning on disappearing after the meet in Hilo?

Cael removed the earbud, retrieved the cord for the stateroom phone from his locked briefcase, and reconnected it as he did each time he ordered room service. He dialed, and in a calm voice requested extra shampoo, at the steward's convenience.

"What's going on?" Jenner asked as he removed the cord and once more locked it in his briefcase.

"Nothing," he replied.

"Seriously, you look as if you're worried about something."

He ignored her and went into the parlor, just in time for Bridget's knock on the door and her entrance on the heels of that knock. She carried several miniature bottles of shampoo in her hands.

"I think Larkin is up to something other than the Hilo meeting," he said in a lowered tone. The less Jenner knew, the better.

"Such as?" Bridget went into the bedroom area and Cael followed. She turned left, to go into the bathroom and deposit the shampoo. He glanced at Jenner, who was sitting cuffed and annoyed in her chair, spine straight, expression openly curious. Bridget came out of the bathroom and glanced at Cael, wondering about his silence. He nodded toward Jenner, and a light of understanding came into Bridget's eyes.

Jenner got it, too, and she didn't like it at all. "I'm in this as deeply as either of you," she argued as Cael and Bridget returned to the parlor. "Deeper!" she called after them. "And I didn't have a choice about it, either!"

Bridget grinned, and Cael briefly closed his eyes. He moved farther away from the door and lowered his voice even more. Trust her? That would be like trusting a teenage boy to drive across country the day after getting his license. "Have Sanchez keep an eye on Dean Mills and any other crew members he meets with on a regular basis."

"What did you hear?" Bridget asked.

"Treason may not be the only deal Larkin has going." He told her what he'd heard about the "getaway," and everything else Larkin had said. As he finished, he heard a thump, a scraping sound, then another thump. He froze. Surely not. She wouldn't. Oh, hell, who was he trying to fool? Of course she would.

He turned his head and there she was, clumsily lifting and dragging the heavy chair with her, moving it into the doorway between the two rooms of the suite.

"I saw the expression on your face," she said, sitting down in the chair as if its placement was perfectly normal. "Don't expect me to stay in the dark while you rally the troops." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do I need to be worried about something or someone other than you? How bad is it?" Looking from him to Bridget and back again, she added, "I've never seen a weapon on any of you, and I think if you'd had them I would have. Do you need help?"

"I don't need your help," he said pointedly. "And I don't need a weapon." Though, damn, he'd love to have one right about now.

She snorted. Yeah, he had her intimidated, all right. "So you're telling me if I get out of hand you'll kill me with a paper clip?"

That was actually possible, but he didn't think she needed to know it. "I make do with what's available, when I have to."

Bridget was trying to keep from smiling, and in an effort to deflect the argument she said lightly, "Anything's possible. Samson slew a thousand men with the jawbone of an ass."

"What a coincidence," Jenner exclaimed, then jerked her head in Cael's direction. "We can use his."

Bridget's eyes almost bugged out in her struggle to hold in a laugh. "I'll get word to our man in security," she said, which was way more than she should have said in front of Jenner, and all but tore the door off its hinges in her haste to get out of the room before she exploded.

Cael scrubbed a hand over his face, hiding his own expression. He had to laugh, or he'd kill her. She thought he was worried? Larkin was selling classified stuff to the North Koreans, something else besides that was going on, and in the meantime he had to deal with her. Why should he be worried?

He really didn't like the idea that Jenner could read his expressions so easily that she'd looked at him and immediately realized something was wrong. It wasn't as if he was running around in a panic; he was concerned, but in control. Most people would say he pretty much had a poker face. Unfortunately, she wasn't most people.

"You aren't part of this," he finally said. "So don't make demands. I'll tell you everything you need to know."

"No, you'll tell me what tiny bit you think I need to know, which up until now has been nothing."

She wasn't afraid of him anymore, he realized, and if there had ever been an unwelcome thought, that was it. She was worried for her friend, but the fear was gone. That was a problem, since only fear would truly keep her in line. He didn't think he could seriously threaten her with physical harm, at least not seriously enough to make her believe it, because he'd have to go further than he was willing to take something like that-at least with her. But he did hold the key to her cooperation.

He said coolly, "One more word, and you won't talk to Syd today."

She knew him well enough to see that he wasn't bluffing, and she clamped her lips shut.

Oh, yeah. He was worried.

Chapter Twenty-three.

ON THE MORNING THEY REACHED HILO, HAWAII, JENNER woke with her nose almost pressed to Cael's chest. They were lying facing each other, one of his legs inserted between hers. Familiarity was a terrible thing; she'd become accustomed to being handcuffed to him while she slept. He still kept the room too cool at night for her, so when she went to sleep she ended up rolling into him, instinctively seeking out his warmth. Several times during the night a movement restricted by the cuffs would wake her, a little; she'd move away from him as much as possible, and when she woke again she was in the same sort of position, all but on top of him.

He didn't seem to mind. Hell, he didn't even stir, though she knew if she tried to go for the key again or smother him with a pillow, he'd be awake and aware in an instant.

In the past couple of days they'd come to an uncomfortable truce. She didn't push for details he refused to share, even though it galled her to be left out of the loop; he continued to let her speak to Syd. Yesterday the conversation had even gone on a few moments longer than usual. She'd had the chance to really hear Syd's voice, and note the lack of fear. They didn't exchange details that might endanger the precious concession their captors had made, but it was clear that Syd was surviving the ordeal as well as Jenner was.

Cael had even gone to yesterday's early-morning yoga class, though he'd made it clear to her that one class was to be the last. Just as well. She'd been looking forward to watching him try to contort himself into knots, and keep his balance at the same time, but she'd been disappointed. As muscled as he was, he still hadn't had a bit of trouble with any of the positions, which made her think he'd done some yoga or tai chi before. He was, however, a definite distraction in a room full of women-a pleasant distraction, but still ... he threw the entire class out of whack just by being there, and being who he was.

The world was filled with all sorts of men, but damned if she'd run into any quite like this one.

She moved away from him and dozed off again, because it was still dark out, but morning was coming and according to the schedule they would reach Hilo about seven a.m. When she woke the next time, light was peeking around the heavy curtains and she was once again curled up against Cael's side. There had been a time when she'd have panicked at being so close to him, but not anymore. Unfortunately, she liked it. There was no way in hell she'd ever let him know it, but she liked the dip of the bed where his big body lay, the warmth she got from him, even the way his skin smelled.

This time, she didn't roll away. She couldn't; he'd thrown one heavy arm over her body. Her face was tucked close to his chest, again, and her feet were entwined with his. It was as if her body wanted to be close to him and every time she let her guard down by going to sleep, it automatically moved closer.

He'd kidnapped her, bullied her, scared her. She had no idea what he was up to and he refused to enlighten her; he made it clear day after day that even though she'd done her best to do what he demanded without giving him too much grief-not too much by her standards, that is-he didn't trust her. Damn it, that wasn't fair. She wasn't the kidnapper here; she wasn't the one who had proven to be untrustworthy.

And yet, she wasn't afraid of him; hadn't been for days. She was wary, as any right-minded person would be in these circumstances, but she wasn't afraid. Did that make her a good judge of character, or a fool who was letting her hoo-ha do her thinking for her?

But she was thinking. She was thinking that, no matter how she provoked him-and God knew she'd done her best to really tie him in knots-he hadn't hurt her, and had in fact responded with sharp humor that slipped under her guard. The "slimy" comment about Larkin, coupled with the "treason" she'd overheard, made her think Cael was one of the good guys. His hat might not be white, but it definitely wasn't black. Gray, maybe. She could handle gray.

When she realized that Cael was waking up, she crept out from under his arm and turned her back to him, as best she could considering her restraints. She had to pull on his arm, which completely woke him up, and in a matter of minutes he was unlocking the cuffs, and their day was under way.

Less than an hour later she was standing at the railing on the private balcony, sipping coffee on a gorgeous morning, as they neared Hilo. She could allow herself a moment to relish the illusion of being alone, even though Bridget was on the other side of the door, keeping an eye on her while Cael showered. Jenner was tired of telling them that she had no intention of causing them any trouble. Well, no serious trouble. When she knew that Syd was safe, she'd do her best to cause them all kinds of grief.

No matter what their intentions, no matter what Larkin might've done, they'd kidnapped her and Syd, and she couldn't just let that go. It wasn't in her nature to take a beating, figuratively or literally, and slink away. She wouldn't go to the authorities, but she'd do something. She just had to figure out what.

For now, though, she enjoyed the moment. If she was in another situation, she'd get lost in the magnificent view before her: the water, the lush green of the island, the crisp blue sky and puffy white clouds. She made a point of taking it all in, because once she got off the Silver Mist she was finished with sea travel. If she ever returned to Hawaii, she'd be admiring the view on approach from the window seat of an airplane.

Her illusion of privacy was interrupted when the door behind her opened. She turned as Cael stepped out to join her. She almost smiled. He wore khaki pants and a traditional Hawaiian shirt, loose fitting and brightly colored. The outfit was a far cry from his usual silk shirts and exquisitely tailored pants, but he looked perfectly comfortable, and of course the whole point was for him to look like every other tourist. To her he didn't look anything of the sort, but then she knew him.

She wondered if she'd even be considering that he was more than he claimed to be if he didn't look this way. If he was short and scrawny and ugly, would it even cross her mind that he might be one of the good guys? That there might be a reason for his behavior? She didn't want to be so shallow that her hormones affected her judgment, but what red-blooded woman wouldn't look at Cael Traylor and fantasize just a little bit.

"Get a quick shower and get dressed," he said bluntly. "You have thirty minutes. We're going ashore."

"Why you silver-tongued devil," she said. "What an invitation."

"It isn't an invitation, it's an order. You're a part of the costume."

Oh, yeah? She was on the same level with his atrocious flowered shirt?

As she went past him he caught her hand, forcing her to stop and look up at him.

His expression was deadly serious when he added, "And today you will be on your best behavior."

THEY FOLLOWED LARKIN IN SHIFTS, he and Jenner, Faith and Ryan, and Matt-who'd sneaked off the boat wearing a pair of baggy shorts and a T-shirt, a dark wig, and sunglasses, as well as a large well-worn backpack-trailing for a while then breaking off when another team had him in sight. All they knew was that Larkin had a meeting set for Hilo, their first stop in the islands. They didn't know where or when, but as Larkin had been one of the first passengers to disembark, maybe they'd get lucky and the meeting would take place soon.

The man they were following might not think twice about catching a glimpse of a few of his fellow passengers while he was out and about, but if that went on for too long and he continued to see the same people again and again he'd get suspicious, and might even call off the meeting. If that happened they were back to square one, so they were careful to stay out of sight as much as possible, even though they were swapping out the lead in following him.

Tiffany, who'd spent so much time near Larkin in the past few days that he probably would think twice if he caught sight of her in his orbit on the island, was staying aboard the ship. Bridget would keep an eye on the suite, as usual. Sanchez remained on board, as well, but Cael didn't trust the hired man the way he trusted his own people. The rest of the team followed Larkin, communicating through a state-of-the-art system that was all but invisible, the components were so small.

Larkin usually had a bodyguard with him wherever he went, but this morning, when his rented car dropped him off on a street corner, he'd continued on alone, walking briskly, taking quick, frequent glances over his shoulder. Cael and Jenner, who'd been in a cab close behind Larkin, notified Matt-the least recognizable of the group in his disguise-of the subject's whereabouts, and had watched from a distance until Matt informed them that he had Larkin in his sights. For two hours this had continued, the three teams leapfrogging, keeping Larkin in view, until Cael found himself, with Jenner on his arm, at the colorful and crowded farmer's market.

Larkin weaved in and out of the crowd, stopping now and then to admire flowers, exotic fruits, and even exchange a word or two with the locals who had set up shop to sell their wares. He even stopped at a table of homemade preserves and nuts, spent several minutes admiring the offerings, and eventually made a purchase. Cael carefully watched the exchange, wondering if this was it, but he saw no exchange other than cash for what looked to be a jar of jelly.

Thank goodness the market was bursting at the seams with people. Cael had no trouble keeping a buffer of several customers between him and Larkin. A gray-haired man in a dark suit was easy to spot in the marketplace, which was teeming with casually dressed locals and tourists. It struck Cael that it was a stupid mistake on Larkin's part, to dress in a way that made him stand out in a crowd. Either he didn't care, or he thought he was smarter than everyone else and would spot anyone trying to follow him.

Maybe Larkin wore the suit because he needed the jacket to hide a weapon. Cael and his people hadn't been able to get weapons on the ship, hadn't thought they'd need them for surveillance, but security personnel had weapons-not many, but a few-and Larkin had connections with security through Dean Mills. While they hadn't seen him with a weapon in his possession, there had been moments when he'd been momentarily out of their sight, so it was possible. And since it was possible, Cael preferred to proceed as if Larkin was armed, especially when he and his people were not.

Cael would much prefer to do this job without Jenner in the mix, but if Larkin caught sight of him, it would be best if she were with him. They'd been inseparable since day one, a couple everyone was accustomed to seeing together. And considering where they were at the moment, he was doubly glad to have Jenner beside him. Bringing a woman to the market made perfect sense, but alone ... alone he would stand out as much as Larkin did.

Eventually, Larkin moved through the length of the market and into open air. Cael remained beneath the cover of the tarp that shaded and sheltered the market, and spoke to Matt, who would be more easily able to move close without calling attention to himself.

The kid had already changed clothes-and wigs-a couple of times, and now had longish light brown hair, jeans, and a shirt much like the one Cael wore. The backpack was slung over one shoulder, and in that backpack were the shirts and wigs-as well as the equipment they'd need to hear Larkin's conversations from a distance. A flip of a switch, and the sound of any conversation could be amplified and recorded. Matt had designed the system himself.

Beyond Matt, Ryan and Faith were playing tourist. Faith shielded herself behind other people and wielded her digital camera like any enthusiastic visitor, taking pictures of the market, the people-and Larkin, especially as he crossed the street and neared an Asian man who waited beneath a banyan tree. The waiting North Korean, if the information Cael had collected thus far was correct, was obviously annoyed and anxious.

The North Korean was also wearing a suit. Did that mean he, too, was armed? Wouldn't it be a lucky break if these two shot each other? Yeah, he should be so lucky.

Cael took Jenner's arm and guided her to a position behind a tall display of birds of paradise, among other brightly colored flowers. She'd been oddly cooperative and blessedly silent today, but then he'd warned her, as they'd left the ship, that compliance today was mandatory. If she felt compelled to needle him, it would have to wait until tonight.

He put a hand to his ear, the ear containing the earbud that gave him access to the rest of the team, and listened. Matt repeated what he heard, though they'd have clearer, more complete audio on the digital recording in his backpack.