Burn (Page 59)

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.