Burn (Page 96)

As he watched Larkin disappear into the stairwell, a touch of cold metal brushed his neck, and a deep voice whispered, "Don’t do anything stupid, pal. Why are you following Mr. Larkin?"

Cael didn’t give any hint that he realized the metal touching his neck was a gun. He turned, stumbled slightly. "I’m not watching anybody," he said, sounding a little bit drunk, reeling back when he saw the gun. It was unlikely that the security guard would take the chance of firing the weapon. There was no suppressor, and it would make a helluva noise. "Whoa. You shoot people for pissing off the top deck?"

The guard wasn’t buying it. "Funny, you didn’t walk like a drunk five minutes ago."

So, the security guard had been watching for a while. The footsteps from the stairwell. He’d probably taken the elevator one floor up and walked from there; he’d been here all along.

"I think Mr. Larkin might want to talk to you. He doesn’t like being followed."

Couldn’t happen, Cael thought coolly. Larkin absolutely could not find out that the man who was staying in the stateroom next to his had followed him onto the sports deck in the middle of the night. He and Jenner and everyone they’d talked to during the cruise would end up shot and tossed over the side, noise be damned.

Cael evaluated the man before him – thin but strong, calm, not easily distracted, armed – and looked for weaknesses. For one thing, he was one of Larkin’s underpaid, overworked security guards. He couldn’t be the cream of the crop.

The guard had waited for Larkin to leave before he made his move. Was it a power play, a chance to shine as he delivered a spy to Larkin’s door, or was he worried about maybe irritating his boss in a public place, where someone else might see his instability?

The ping of the elevator arriving was loud on the all but deserted deck. The security guard didn’t waver; the gun he held on Cael remained steady as he stepped to the side and turned his body so he could see Cael as well as whoever was arriving by elevator.

Cael looked over his shoulder, expecting another guard, Larkin, or an innocent passenger who was about to find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He did not expect to see Jenner, armed with a fucking shoe.

JENNER HAD TAKEN A CHANCE. Up or down. Fifty-fifty she’d end up going in the same direction as Cael. Maybe sixty-forty Odds were up, she guessed, because that was where all the action was at night. The Lido deck was the most crowded, so she decided to check out the sports deck first. If Cael wasn’t there, then she’d walk the Lido deck. Inside the elevator, she fidgeted. Maybe she should’ve stayed in the room, but she was certain something was wrong, and she was damn tired of being left out of the loop. It was more than curiosity that spurred her on. She didn’t like being helpless or worthless.

The dinging sound the elevator made as the doors opened surprised her. So much for stealth. She’d remember that next time, if there was a next time, and take the stairs.

She stepped off the elevator and just ahead, there they were – Cael and a man in a security uniform. The man in the uniform had a gun, and it was pointed at Cael. Oh, Jesus, a gun. Her heart leapt into her throat; her knees went weak and she began to shake. But she didn’t lose her ability to think. Panicking wouldn’t help Cael at all. She’d blown her chance to be stealthy, so she might as well charge onward and pretend she’d never intended not to be seen.

"You’re arresting his ass. Good!" She shook her shoe at Cael and walked boldly toward him. "A three-way? The nerve. I thought you were different. I thought you loved me." She sniffled loudly and turned her attentions, and her shoe, on the man with the gun. He wore the somber uniform of a security guard, along with a brass name tag that read Johnson – yeah right, Johnson. On this ship nothing was as it seemed. If the security guard was innocent, Cael would say something, he’d tell her, somehow, to back down. He didn’t.

Johnson didn’t let the gun waver at all. It was still aimed at Cael’s chest, and that sight made her knees feel weak again. The weakness didn’t last; she wanted to be a partner, not a hindrance. "Maybe I’m being too hasty," she said, letting the shoe fall a bit. "A lot of people think three-ways are just peachy. Maybe I should give it a try. What do you think, big boy?"

Johnson looked a little shaken at that question. Finally, the gun shifted, just a little. Johnson looked at her and his eyes narrowed. "Hey, I recognize you. You two have the suite next to Mr. Larkin’s."

Cael moved like a snake striking, grabbing the guard’s arm and pushing his gun hand away, then he delivered a cross to the man’s jaw. Jenner stumbled back a half step as she tried to get out of the way of the blow to the man’s jaw. Johnson stumbled back, too, into the rail. He gathered himself, the gun came back around and Cael went for it, but Johnson wasn’t letting go so easily. He shifted, freed his gun hand from Cael’s grip, swung out, and popped Cael in the side of the head with the weapon.

Cael’s head snapped around; Jenner choked on a cry as a streak of blood bloomed just above his temple, she instinctively rushed toward him as he began to go down, dropping, as if he were falling to his knees. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Johnson shifted his aim until the gun was pointed at her. He actually smiled.

And Cael’s direction shifted. Instead of going down he shifted his weight and surged upward, hitting the armed guard under the chin with his head and sending Johnson reeling backward so hard the armed man slammed into the railing and almost tumbled over. Cael helped, grabbing one leg, lifting, and giving a shove.

Johnson went over, but fighting for his life gave him strength and speed; he managed to catch the rail with one hand as he fell. He hung there, which couldn’t have been easy, considering how fat the railing was. Two hands might give him a chance, but as Jenner looked over the rail she saw that he still hadn’t let go of his gun. Cael lunged toward her, the words ripping out of his mouth as he reached for Johnson. "Are you all right?"