Burn (Page 48)

The situation began to solidify for her. Okay, they were spies. They were after something – probably information, considering how much trouble they’d gone to to get a wire into the next suite – and they needed her to … provide cover. That was it! She was nothing but cover for them! They had probably had this suite booked, but when the assignment snafu occurred and the suites were switched around, they needed a reason to be in this suite without raising suspicion! But how could they have known far enough ahead of time to get this whole charade orchestrated?

That was easy to figure out because, obviously, they had people working as crew members, in various capacities. Bridget was one. Jenner had no idea how far ahead of time a steward found out who was in which suite, or when a steward was even allowed onboard; she could have found out, or it could have been someone else. Maybe one of the ship’s officers was working with them. Throw enough money at a problem, and anything was possible.

In the long run, other than confirming that they had people watching her whom she hadn’t met, how they’d discovered the suites had been reassigned didn’t matter. She and Syd had been the unlucky ones to get this suite, and Cael had cooked up the scheme to grab Syd and hold her hostage as a means of forcing Jenner to act as if they were lovers, so he could have access.

She could be completely off base with all this supposition, but she didn’t think so. Everything fit. They needed her, and now that her nerves had settled down some and she could think, she realized that she had a modicum of power. Not much; she couldn’t make them let Syd go free, and as long as they held Syd she couldn’t notify ship security or even kick Cael’s ass out of her stateroom, but there was one very important thing she could do. She’d have to be careful, because until she had evidence to the contrary she had to assume that these were the bad guys, but the fact that Cael hadn’t strangled her earlier gave her a tad more confidence than before.

Because she might lose that confidence if she waited, and because she hated feeling powerless and afraid, she shoved at his shoulder. "Hey!" she said, not quite shouting but definitely raising her voice.

He didn’t bolt upright, which would have been very satisfying, but she succeeded in finding out that he woke up instantly alert because without hesitation or confusion he growled, "This had better be good."

"From my point of view, none of this is good," she shot back. "I’m cold, you’ve kicked the blanket off, you have the sheet locked down like a prison, you have my arm twisted so my shoulder is about to be dislocated, and you’re breathing on me!"

"God forbid I should breathe" he muttered.

"Isn’t that amazing? God and I agree." She yanked her right arm. "Handcuff me to the bed, or something. This is ridiculous."

"Take a look at the bed. There’s nothing to handcuff you to, no posts, no handy little iron rings. This is as good as it gets. The only other option is if I toss you overboard."

Jenner plowed on, ignoring what he said because she wanted to finish before she lost her nerve. "And what’s more, I talk to Syd every day or I don’t cooperate with you at all. Got that?"

Silence. He hoisted himself to a sitting position and switched on the lamp. She blinked and instinctively shielded her face with her left hand until she became more accustomed to the light, which seemed unreasonably bright for such a small lamp. Then, because she didn’t like it that he was sitting up and she wasn’t, she struggled to an upright position herself. Too late, she remembered that she wasn’t wearing a bra; when she’d changed into her pajamas she’d been too tired to think of keeping her bra on underneath the tank top. The ribbed knit was thin; she was so cold her nipples had to be almost poking through the material. Well, tough. She’d be damned if she’d squeal and jerk the covers up like some scared little girl.

He scrubbed his hand over his face, his beard scraping against his palm with a sandpaper sound. He looked tired, his eyes a little puffy from sleep, his dark hair mussed, but his voice was cold and flat. "You aren’t in a position to give any ultimatums."

"I haven’t been able to sleep, so I’ve been thinking instead," she replied just as flatly. "I’ve decided I’m in exactly that position. You need me to give you cover for being here, in this suite. I don’t know why, I don’t need to know why, I just know that you do. Fine. My cooperation depends on whether or not I talk to Syd every day, and what she tells me. If she’s okay, I’ll play along to the best of my ability. If she’s hurt in any way, the deal’s off. That’s nonnegotiable."

"As long as I hold her, you’ll play along, regardless."

"You know what? That threat will work only as long as I trust you not to hurt her, and I have to tell you, there’s no trust on the table. The only way I’ll know for sure she’s still alive and unhurt is if I talk to her myself – every day." The risk she was taking was so huge she felt nauseated, but at the same time she knew she couldn’t back down. This was the only way she could keep Sydney safe, the only weapon she had, so she’d be stupid not to use it.

He watched her, his eyes hooded. She held her breath. At least he was thinking about it, considering all the angles. He had nothing to lose – unless Syd was already dead. Oh, God, if he refused, what would that mean? That they’d killed Syd immediately after the initial phone call?

The thought was like a knife in her chest. What would she do without Syd? There wasn’t a sweeter, nicer person in the world; she didn’t deserve any of this happening to her, but to think that she might have been murdered – no! Jenner surged to her knees, her lips trembling and tears stinging her eyes. "You bastard," she said raggedly, barely able to breathe. "If you’ve hurt her – "