Burn (Page 43)

He moved on to the closet, which was located on the other side of the bedroom, on the passageway wall. Through the open door she could see that her luggage had been unpacked, which meant Bridget had been back in the suite. Cael examined every garment, looked in every pocket, every shoe, every handbag, even though Bridget would have done the same thing while she was unpacking. The fact that he was searching everything again could mean either that he didn’t trust Bridget, or that double-checking the details was a matter of course for them. She hoped it was the former, but suspected the latter. So far, these people were frighteningly efficient.

Bridget knocked on the door, delivering the bucket of ice. Cael left Jenner restrained in the chair and went to let Bridget in. She heard Bridget say, "I have the ice you requested, sir."

"Thank you. Put it on the table, please."

"Yes, sir."

Their formality was obviously in case anyone in the passageway overheard them. The door closed, then Bridget appeared in the bedroom door, grinning like a jackass when she saw Jenner cuffed to the chair. Cael moved past her and retrieved a hand towel from the bathroom, then returned to the parlor. Bridget withdrew without saying anything, though her eyes were bright with enjoyment. Which she enjoyed the most, Jenner biting Cael or Cael tying Jenner to the chair, was up in the air.

"Ouch," Bridget said a moment later. "That left a bruise. Here, lean forward."

From where the chair was positioned in the bedroom, Jenner couldn’t see even a sliver of the living area, but she could hear them very easily and knew they would be just as attuned to any noise she made. She stared at the plastic cuff holding her to the chair. She could probably work it free, given that only one hand was restrained, but what would she gain other than the satisfaction of having thwarted him? She couldn’t go anywhere, she couldn’t call for help. She couldn’t do anything that would endanger Syd. She might as well sit right where she was.

At least she could use the time to recover both mentally and physically from her fright. She felt as if she’d been through a super-stringent workout, then been forced to run five miles. Her breathing was still too fast, her heart still beating too hard. The adrenaline burn had left her feeling weak and woozy, but her mental wheels were beginning to turn again.

First and foremost, she had to accept that, for good or ill, she was in this with them. They had Syd. She, therefore, had to do whatever she could to make sure they succeeded at whatever plan they had, because that was the only way she could do Syd any good. Doing what they wanted in public didn’t mean she wouldn’t raise hell by whatever means she could when they were in private, but if they wanted her to act as if she was madly in love with the bastard, then she’d give them an Oscar-worthy performance.

An ache in her arm finally got her attention and she looked down, to find the outline of his fingers plain in her flesh where he’d gripped her while she was trying to fight. He wasn’t the only one who sported a bruise, she thought, then realized something else.

"Hey," she called. "I need some ice, too."

"Tough," Cael replied, evidently not inclined to share his ice with her.

"A shirt will cover your bruise," she snapped. "I don’t have anything long-sleeved to cover my arm, and not one person on this ship who knows me would think I’d put up with abuse for one minute. So you’d better bring me some ice, to help these bruises go away."

Both Cael and Bridget reappeared. He was shirtless, holding the makeshift ice pack in his hand. She didn’t want to see all those muscles, so Jenner quickly looked away from the hair-dusted expanse of his chest, shifting her gaze to Bridget as she lifted her arm to show the reddened stripes.

"I’ll get the ice," Bridget said, turning back into the living area and returning in a few seconds with the ice bucket. She carried it with her into the bathroom, where she raised her voice a little to ask, "What did you two do, have a bare-knuckle street fight as soon as you were through the door?"

"She had one," Cael muttered. "All I did was toss her ass in the chair and tie her there."

That was literally true, Jenner realized. He hadn’t retaliated, hadn’t struck her, and had in fact tied her to the chair only after she bit him. But if he thought he got brownie points for that, he was sorely mistaken. "I don’t owe you an apology," she said fiercely. "Kidnappers don’t get apologized to, because they deserve what they get." Still, he hadn’t really hurt her. Scared her out of ten years of her life, yeah, but in retrospect she had to admit that had probably been inadvertent.

Something was going on here, something beyond the obvious. But what?

Bridget came out of the bathroom with ice wrapped in another towel, which she folded around Jenner’s arm. The cold immediately began to ease the stinging ache.

"Do you have everything you need?" she asked Cael. "I have to get back, in case anyone else wants something."

"If everything on my list is here, I’m good to go," he replied.

"It’s here. I checked it all twice."

"I’ll get started. Call me if he heads back to the suite."

Bridget nodded and let herself out.

Who was "he"? Jenner wondered. Because she wasn’t likely to find out anything unless she asked, she said, "Who are you talking about? Who’s ‘he’?"

"None of your business," he replied, removing a duffle bag from the closet. She’d never seen the duffle bag before, so Bridget had to have placed it there.

"Excuse me, but all indications are it’s very much my business who he is," she said, indicating the plastic tie with a wave of her hand. She wished he would put on a shirt, because she was getting tired of having to avoid looking directly at him.