Burn

"No, we haven’t met," Cael said, even though Ryan had asked the question of her.

"That makes the whole scene even more ridiculous, doesn’t it?" Ryan said with a rueful laugh, man to man. "Jenner Redwine, this is Cael Traylor."

"Pleased to meet you," said Cael, extending his hand, and Jenner had no choice but to extend her own. His hard warm fingers enfolded hers, and she felt calluses on his palm. She looked up and met cold blue eyes that were watching every move she made, reading every flicker of expression that crossed her face.

They had set up a situation that showed both Cael and herself in a more positive light, she realized, than if he’d dumped Tiffany and immediately made a move on her. Bridget must have passed along the comment that Jenner had made, that hooking up with sleazoids was out of character for her. They didn’t want anyone suspicious of their sudden "romance." By making Tiffany look obnoxious and drunk, they had tilted public sympathy toward the new couple. And now here they were, being properly introduced by a man who was, to all appearances, perfectly harmless and acceptable.

Slick, she thought warily. These people were slick. It wouldn’t pay to underestimate any of them, not that she could do anything except play along with whatever scenario they set up. That didn’t mean she’d roll over and play dead; that wasn’t in character for her, either.

Her chance would come when Syd was safe. She had to believe that Syd would be released unharmed, and she had to believe that somehow she would be able to make these people pay for what they were doing to her, and to her friend. To dwell on any other possible outcome would have the power to incapacitate her – and she couldn’t let that happen. Until her chance arrived, she had no choice but to do whatever this Cael told her to do.

It was the thought of survival – and payback – that kept her from screaming as she stood and made small talk with Ryan and Cael, keeping it casual and inconsequential for the people who were still avidly listening. Cael thanked Ryan again for the offer to use their extra bedroom, then he turned and retrieved Jenner’s drink from the bar, as well as the Ghostwater he’d ordered.

He looked at the Ghostwater, grimaced, then set it aside. "That was for Tiffany," he said to Jenner. "She’d had one already, and insisted on having another. That’s how I knew they hit hard and fast."

She nodded, but didn’t reply. Let him work a little harder at this instant romance.

He looked around the crowded bar. For the most part, everyone had returned to their own conversations. The music had started up again. He nodded to a couple of people – acquaintances or more of his own group? – then said, "Let’s get out of this crowd and walk. I could use some exercise."

"You two go on," said Ryan, not giving Jenner a chance to accept or decline. "I’ll see how Faith is doing getting Tiffany settled."

In short order Jenner found herself strolling beside Cael on the sports deck, because the Lido deck was too crowded with both chairs and people. Even though they were just one deck above the Lido, the noise level was considerably diminished, and they had very little company. They didn’t talk; she stared straight ahead as she marched along, at least until he caught her arm and pulled her to a slower pace. "You look like you’re trying to run away from me."

"Imagine that," she said sarcastically. She hated that he had such a smooth, deep voice, that he was tall and good-looking and well-dressed. She’d been expecting a common thug, someone she could dislike on sight. After all, he was a kidnapper, a low-life scum. A kidnapper was far worse than a mooch, no matter how good-looking he might be. Her heart was thumping hard and fast, from fear, from dread, from the effort she was making to appear, at least from a distance, that she was in the beginning stages of a shipboard romance.

"Think of your friend," he replied without inflection, but lowering his voice even more. Sound carried on the wind, and up here the breeze caused by the ship’s movement was even more brisk, lifting her hair away from her face. She shivered, rubbing her hands over her bare arms.

"I am thinking of her. That’s the only reason I haven’t pushed you overboard."

"Then you’d better think harder, because you’re doing a piss-poor job of selling the idea that we’ve got a thing going."

"Who am I selling it to? There’s no one up here," she retorted, and that was mostly true. There were a few couples strolling around, like them, and a lone man who had come up for a cigarette and was standing well away from everyone else. She wasn’t as good an actress as they’d like her to be, and no amount of threat could change that. She definitely wasn’t like them, able to pretend to be someone she was not on command.

"I decide when you need to sell it, not you. And I’m telling you to sell, now." Effortlessly he swung her around to face him, so close that once again his body heat wrapped around her. The ship was well lit, but the black night that enclosed them threw harsh shadows across his face, making his bone structure look harder and more severe. He looked down at her for a long moment, then moved his hands to her waist and pulled her full against him. "You’re not taking your friend’s health as seriously as you should."

"I’ve done everything you’ve told me to do!" She’d hated it, but she’d played along. What choice did she have? Panic laced her tone, because did that mean they’d already hurt Syd?

"Kiss me like you mean it," he ordered, and bent his head to hers.

She didn’t. She couldn’t. Even though his mouth was warm and his lips firm, his taste pleasantly clean, she couldn’t make herself forget who and what he was or that Syd’s life was at stake. She stood stiffly, holding her breath, her arms at her sides as he kissed her. If he had an ounce of compassion he’d realize that she was terrified and he’d back off, but she suspected that was an ounce more than Cael possessed.