"Is he there?" Ryan asked.
"Yes. What's up?" she asked casually, in case the bartender was paying attention, even from a distance.
"Don't look at him, don't react."
Tiffany stiffened. This couldn't be good.
"Larkin has planted several bombs on the ship." Ryan's voice was crisp, and she didn't interrupt him to ask questions. This wasn't the only call he'd have to make. "We don't know how many or when they're set to detonate, but it looks like tonight. Since he set his e-mail program to send out a couple of e-mails in approximately forty-five minutes, we should have at least that amount of time to get things under control."
"Shit." It took all her willpower not to turn and look at Larkin, to stare at the monster. I can take him, she thought.
Ryan knew her too well. "Don't make a move. Cael's calling the captain, and Sanchez is trying to get some weapons for us. For now, stay on Larkin. I'll be in touch."
The call ended, and Tiffany dropped the cell back into her purse. With every fiber of her being, she wanted to run across the room and strangle Larkin with her bare hands. But she didn't. She returned to her barstool, smiled at the bartender even though her heart was pounding, and waited. Her self-preservation instincts were shrieking Bombs! Bombs!, but what the hell could she do? She was in the middle of the freakin' ocean with nowhere to go.
* * *
CAEL HADN'T SPOKEN to her directly about what was happening, but Jenner had heard his end of the conversation, and she knew enough. More than enough.
Bombs. That psycho Larkin was going to blow up the Silver Mist. Jenner thought about the people she knew, the passengers and crew she had never met, the friends she had made here. Friends, not mere acquaintances.
If Cael and his team weren't following Larkin, if they hadn't kidnapped her and Syd and set up surveillance, Larkin would've gotten away with this. It wasn't a given that he might not still get what he wanted.
It took Cael precious minutes to get the captain on the phone, and they didn't have a minute to lose.
"Captain Lamberti, this is Cael Traylor. There are bombs on this ship and they're going to blow tonight. You need to begin evacuation procedures immediately." Cael grit his teeth as he listened to the captain's response. "No, this isn't a bomb threat. It's a warning." He looked at Jenner. "Fine, arrest me. Lock me up. But before you do that, please get the passengers off this floating death trap." He listened a while longer, his patience fraying, and then he said two very important words, "Frank Larkin."
Cael hung up the phone, and two seconds later, the alarm sounded. A voice - the captain's - spoke loudly over the shipwide intercom. "This is not a drill. Please proceed to your Muster Stations. Repeat, this is not a drill." Cael ran into the bedroom and grabbed the two PFDs, then he took Jenner's arm and led her to the door. "Move it, sweetheart. You're getting off this ship now."
"You mean we, right?" she said as he ushered her into the hallway. Her heart was pounding. Well-dressed people who hadn't yet moved to the upper decks for the evening were beginning to leave their rooms, some with PFDs, others empty-handed and confused. "You mean we."
She freed herself from his grip and knocked on Linda and Nyna's door, hoping to hurry the ladies along.
No one answered, and Cael wasn't in any mood to wait. Knowing how important this was to her, he stepped back and kicked at the door Jenner had been knocking on. It splintered, cracked, swung open crookedly.
She called out; received no answer. Linda and Nyna weren't there; their stateroom was empty. Cael grabbed her and half-dragged her to the stairwell where they joined the others who were fleeing. Holding on as best she could, she prayed the ladies were already on deck and headed for safety.
The siren continued to blare; some of the passengers in the stairwell were crying, and one man pushed another aside.
"Don't panic," Cael called in a calm but inflexible voice that carried well. He gave the man who had pushed the other a look that said he'd toss his ass to the bottom of the stairs if he didn't settle down. "Everybody will get off the ship if you all remain calm. We have time." Not a lot of it, but some.
"Time for what?" one of the more impatient men shouted. "What do you know that we don't?"
"I know if you keep shoving, someone's going to get hurt," Cael said. Jenner wanted to kick the man's ass on general principle, but Cael was right. Panic didn't help anyone.
Without warning there was a deafening blast from below. The boat shook, lurched wildly to one side, and Jenner grabbed onto the stairwell railing to keep from falling. Some dust and debris filled the air as she bent down and wrenched off her shoes. She should've gotten out of these heels before leaving the suite, but changing into running shoes hadn't been on her mind. In front of her, Ginger Winningham stumbled and almost fell. Her husband, Albert, caught her; so did Cael, offering a steady hand.
Then he turned and looked at her with those deep blue eyes she'd come to love so very dearly. And she saw in those eyes what she, and all these other people, suspected.
They might not make it off this damn ship alive.
Chapter Thirty-two
FRANK WAS HAPPY, CONTENT, EXCITED ... AND THEN the alarm sounded. Dean jumped to his feet. "What's happening?"
"You idiot," Frank said, his voice tight but calm. "Obviously someone's found one of the bombs." He suspected that one of the devices that had been placed belowdeck, those he hadn't personally hidden, had not been properly hidden. This was what happened when you were forced to leave important tasks to morons.
Most of the handful of customers in the bar were heading for the exits, but some remained. One old man insisted he wasn't leaving until his drink was finished. A couple on the other side of the room thought it was just another drill. The Marsters woman had become hysterical, and was apparently trying to call someone on her cell phone instead of following instructions and making her way to the lifeboats.