Burn

She just hoped Jenner was tough enough to get past killing her first man – and tough enough to handle Cael.

"Where are the lovebirds today?" Buttons asked.

Hiding until Jenner can show her face without also showing too much of the truth. "Oh, you know those two," she said suggestively. She lifted her hands to demonstrate, but realizing what she was about to do, Buttons gently slapped her hands down, laughing.

"It’s like one of those old movies," Buttons said with a gentle smile. "You know, the shipboard romance, the two beautiful people who find each other in a crowd and …"

"Doesn’t someone always end up dead in those movies?" Tiffany interrupted.

Buttons laughed. "I guess you’re right." Penny stirred, then slipped back into her afternoon nap.

Tiffany sighed. How had she gotten into this mess? "Hey," she said, sitting up. "We need to get Penny out of the sun before she’s extra crispy."

DEAN WAS RARELY at a loss when it came to handling a situation, but even as he knocked on the door of Mr. Larkin’s suite, he wasn’t sure he’d made the right decision.

"Come in," Larkin called, and Dean used his key card; Larkin was expecting him. He wouldn’t dare let himself in otherwise, pass key or no pass key.

It had been more than twenty-four hours since anyone had seen Johnson, who should’ve been keeping an eye on their paranoid employer last night. So, had the bonehead jumped ship before they’d left Maui? Or had Larkin caught the security guard tailing him and tossed him off the boat? You wouldn’t think, at first glance, that Larkin could take Johnson in a fight, but Johnson wouldn’t expect resistance, caught following Larkin or not, and truth be told, crazy people could surprise a man.

Larkin was hunched over his laptop computer; he seemed more annoyed than usual.

"Sir, I have some bad news," Dean said after he’d closed the door behind him.

Larkin slapped his computer closed. "Just what I need. What now?"

If Larkin had killed Johnson, and Dean told him that the man had stayed behind, then he’d know it was a lie. If he found out one of his employees, one of his partners in the planned crime, was simply gone, he might panic. This had to be handled just so.

"Johnson’s missing," Dean said simply.

Larkin rose up out of his chair. His face turned an odd shade of red. "What do you mean, he’s missing?"

"He hasn’t been seen since we pulled out of Maui. I’m afraid he might’ve had second thoughts and found a way to stay behind."

"How the hell could that happen?" Larkin was so upset, it seemed unlikely that he knew more than he was letting on.

"He’s in security, he could have pulled it off, found a way to bypass being accounted for. The main thing is: Can we handle the job one man short?"

Larkin’s face returned to a normal shade, and he sat. "Of course we can." He looked up at Dean, his eyes steadier than they had been a moment ago. "It’ll be more difficult, of course, but we can’t let Johnson’s absence stop us. Too much planning has gone into this."

"He knows too much," Dean said, thinking that Johnson might have truly jumped ship, after all.

"When this is all over, you might want to track him down down and slit his throat."

"Yes, sir. Good idea."

"Now get out. I have things to do."

Dean nodded and slipped into the hallway, sighing once the task was done. All in all, it could’ve been worse.

THE LETTER STILL WASN’T QUITE RIGHT, and he had the five bombs that were above deck to program. It wouldn’t take long, and the tasks could be done at any time in the next twenty-four hours, but there would be some risk involved. He couldn’t be seen, couldn’t get caught. Not that he could trust anyone else to do the job.

Maybe he’d take his time getting the timers set. The one in the theater tonight; the one under the bar on the Lido deck very early in the morning. The others as the day went on. If he did the job gradually, casually, piecemeal, no one would be the wiser. It wasn’t as if he could run from deck to deck setting them all at once without raising someone’s suspicions.

Fucking Johnson. He knew about the bombs; he was supposed to be here when they went off. Larkin hadn’t even gotten started, and already there was a survivor.

He opened his draft file and read what he’d written, then deleted it all and began again.

You fuckers, I wish I could blow you all to hell.

Maybe that simple truth would do.

Part Three

NO LUCK AT ALL

Chapter Thirty-one

CAEL COULDN’T GET LARKIN’S CONVERSATION WITH Dean Mills about Johnson out of his mind, as he dressed for the night’s big event, the art auction. The upside was that Johnson’s disappearance wasn’t going to cause a ripple. The downside was that he’d been right all along; something was up. Second thoughts. One man short. Slit his throat.

The only thing that immediately made sense was a robbery, to be pulled off at some time before they docked in San Diego. With all the security on a cruise ship you’d think the passengers would be safe enough, but if members of the security detail were in on the deal, it could certainly be done.

Cael had already informed his people by phone that something was likely to happen, tonight, tomorrow night, or the next. Matt was going to talk to Sanchez to see if there was any way to get weapons for their team. The ship security team would have access to a few weapons, but it wasn’t as if there was an arsenal onboard, so getting some weapons was a long shot. Still, with Mills and his men armed, Cael would feel better if they had some kind of backup.

He wanted Johnson’s gun more than ever. Damn, what a waste that it had gone over the side with him.

If the robbery, if that’s what it was, proceeded without violence, it was possible that the best course of action would be for him and his people to hang back. Stuff could be replaced. A shootout between the pirates – sea robbers was more accurate, and sounded less romanticized – and his people would likely lead to innocent people getting hurt or killed. If they simply took their loot and made their escape, he wouldn’t move a muscle. Let them go; it was safer that way.