Cael jumped up. There was no time to call anyone else on the team. He was the one on duty. By the time he woke Ryan or Matt and got them here, it would be too late. Jenner, of course, immediately woke and came up on her elbows. "Where are you going?" she asked sleepily as he headed for the door.
"Stay here," he commanded.
"But where are you ..."
"Stay!" he hissed, and then he stepped into the hallway. Larkin wasn't in sight; Cael heard the ding of the elevator. Up or down? He sprinted to the elevator bank and checked the indicator.
Up.
Cael headed for the forward stairs at a run, glad there was no one else in the hallway at this late hour as he went up them two and three steps at the time. As he entered the stairwell he heard what sounded like footsteps a level higher, at the Lido deck. He stopped to listen, decided it was an echo, and continued upward.
JENNER THREW BACK THE COVERS and jumped out of bed. Stay? Was he kidding? She wasn't a dog. She didn't stay. She didn't roll over or play dead, either.
Besides, she knew Cael better than he realized. The expression on his face, as he'd left the room, had been intense. Something was going on, and if he didn't like it, she didn't like it.
It didn't take her two minutes to pull on a pair of capris and a T-shirt, and step into a pair of tennis shoes. She didn't take the time to put on a bra, but it wasn't like she had a lot to harness.
Putting on a bra would take precious minutes she didn't want to waste. If she was certain she wouldn't run into anyone, she would've followed Cael in her pajamas.
Damn it, if only Bridget and Cael hadn't completely cleared the suite of anything that might be used as a weapon! Maybe Cael could kill bad guys with a paper clip, but if she was headed into dangerous territory, she wanted something more substantial. Considering this was Frank Larkin's ship, and that Cael was obviously worried, she hated to go out alone without some kind of protection. As she was tying her shoe, she had a thought and glanced up. On the top shelf of the closet, several pairs of shoes sat. Most were casual, sandals and flip-flops, but there were a few pairs of dress shoes. A couple of them had narrow, very high heels. She reached up, grabbed a shoe, and ran for the door.
LARKIN GOT OUT of the elevator on the sports deck, which was thankfully deserted at this hour. He hadn't been sure it would be; there were a couple of insomniacs and quite a few night creatures on this cruise. But fortunately, most of those who were still awake were in the ship's various bars.
Even though the spa and golf activities were closed at this hour, the sports deck was well lit. The Silver Mist was a bright, shining city, an expensive amusement park for adults. There were long shadows, dark recesses, but most of the deck was as bright as day. Once, he thought he heard a step behind him, but when he whirled around nothing was there. Was the damn cancer playing tricks with his hearing now?
He walked toward the putting greens, unconcerned. If anyone was watching, they'd think he was enjoying the peace and quiet of the night. He wasn't, of course. Larkin didn't care much for peace or quiet; he never had. In his mind he was picturing the display that would begin in less than forty-eight hours. One of the incendiary bombs was hidden in a closet, disguised by the false bottom in a storage bin, in the men's steam room at the aft end of this deck. When it went, the sight would be spectacular. He could almost see it. Flames would burst into the air, spreading and climbing, incinerating anyone who had the misfortune to be on that end of the deck, sending a tower of flame into the night sky as, at the same moment, a different type of bomb destroyed a portion of the hull and a large part of the crew, and other bombs added their fire and roar of destruction. What a display it would be ...
He didn't want to wait any longer, but it would be better if the Silver Mist was well away from Hawaii, and the navy vessels there, when she blew. He wasn't going to make it so easy for those who would survive. Let 'em wait for their rescue. Make 'em bleed and scream and wonder if help would arrive in time. God, he hated them, hated every minute he wasted in their company. All these years he'd put up with them, and now it was almost over. Everything was almost over.
A few months ago he hadn't known anything about explosives, but thanks to his wealth he was in a position to obtain and learn about anything that struck his fancy. The bombs had been constructed by a man who'd participated in a few arms deals Larkin had put together over the years. The same man had instructed Larkin on how to arm the bombs, when it was time, and had been the one to suggest that some devices be set to go off by timer alone, while others that were in close enough proximity to one another could be set to respond to the same trigger device. Why put all his eggs in one basket? If for some reason he wanted to get the party started earlier than planned, he had the power to do so. The timed devices could be programmed well in advance, and if something happened to him before he could trip the switch on the others, the Silver Mist would not continue on unscathed.
Larkin was torn. He'd intended all along to die quickly, and he doubted he'd change his mind. But oh, he did want to see the Silver Mist and the people aboard her burn.
He didn't stay on deck very long. His impatience was growing; being outside didn't make his pain any better, it didn't make the time pass any faster. Instead of heading back for the aft elevator bank, he walked to the forward stairwell, which was closer. His floor was just two stories down. Even in his condition, he could manage that much. At least being close to the bombs had given him a little bit of satisfaction.
CAEL STOOD IN SHADOW and watched Larkin from a distance. There was no one else up here; no meet, no contact. Shit. He'd taken the chance of blowing his cover because the nut job wanted a breath of fresh air.