Burn: A Novel (15 page)

“I’ll be taking care of you and your quarters,” Bridget said, swiping her own key card and unlocking the door. She held it open for Jenner to enter. “If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

Jenner stepped into the living room part of the suite. In the past seven years she’d become accustomed to luxurious homes, but this room, in gold and white, screamed of elegance and old-world charm. The walls were decorated with oil paintings, not reproductions, and the frames were ornate. Beyond the wall-to-wall draperies was a sun-drenched balcony that called to her, even though they weren’t at sea yet.

“Sydney?” she called. “Syd?” When there was no answer, she turned to Bridget. “My friend, Sydney Hazlett, hasn’t arrived yet?”

“One moment,” said Bridget, taking out her radio phone and
punching in a number. Her smile remained calm and unflustered. Probably late-arriving passengers were part of the job description. A moment later she disconnected the call without saying a word to anyone.

Puzzled, Jenner said, “Is she here?” The words were scarcely out of her mouth when her own cell phone rang. Retrieving it from her bag, she glanced at the caller ID and breathed a sigh of relief. Syd—finally! “Never mind, this is her,” she said to Bridget, turning away as she answered the phone. “Syd, I just got here. Where are you? I’ve left two messages.”

There was a moment of silence, then Syd said in a tight voice, “Jenn. Do what they say.”

Jenner halted. “What?” She had one of those moments of blank confusion, because while the words made sense, the context didn’t.

“I’m okay, they haven’t hurt me, but you have to do what they say or … or they will.”

“What?”
Jenner asked more forcefully, actually taking the phone from her ear to stare at it for a second before putting it in place again. “What are you talking about? Do what
who
says? Is this a joke?”

A man’s voice, deep and unexpected, interrupted. “This isn’t a joke, Ms. Redwine. Do what you’re told, and at the end of the cruise both you and Ms. Hazlett will be released unharmed. Cause any trouble, and you won’t see your friend again.”

Her entire body seemed to lose all its heat. Shocked, abruptly terrified, Jenner began to shiver. “Who is this? Put Syd back on the phone
right now.”

Instead, the silence of dead air was all she heard. She looked at the phone again and saw that the call had been ended.

Gently, Bridget reached out and took the phone from Jenner’s nerveless fingers, slipping it inside her own jacket. “There’s no need to panic,” she said. “We don’t want to harm either of you, but we’ll do whatever’s necessary. As the man said, do what you’re told, and you’ll be all right.”

I
F THERE WAS ONE THING
J
ENNER DISLIKED, IT WAS
someone telling her to do what she was told. Anger began to boil in her veins. She’d been away from the tough streets of Chicago for a long time, but the old instincts remained. Her eyes narrowed and her chin lowered even as she took a step back to better assess her enemy.

“Don’t try it,” Bridget gently advised. “I can take you without breaking a sweat.”

Now that she had a good look at her, Jenner had to admit that was probably true. She herself was in good shape, but Bridget’s solid muscles showed under her trim uniform. Jenner had often wished for bigger boobs, but right now she didn’t give a damn about boobs, she wanted big muscles to go with those judo classes she’d taken.

The bad thing was, Bridget probably had more training than some classes that taught basic self-defense. And even more than muscles, she had something else: Sydney. Just the thought of her friend being held by people, whoever they were, was enough to squelch Jenner’s almost overwhelming urge to fight fast, fight dirty, and scream her head off at the same time.

Nevertheless, she was compelled to say, “If Syd is hurt in any way, I’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth.” Maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to say to someone who held all the cards, but she meant it, and the absolute truth of that glittered in her eyes—for all the good it did.

“Whether or not she’s hurt is completely up to you, and how good an actress you are,” Bridget returned, unperturbed.

Actress
? They thought she was an actress? What was going on? She’d fallen down the rabbit hole, Jenner thought, looking around the room for clarification, because, once again, what she’d heard didn’t make sense. “I’m not an actress,” she said, bewildered. “Do you have me mixed up with someone else?” That was far-fetched, but actresses did tend to be blond and skinny, and she
was
both permanently skinny and temporarily blond, so at least the possibility existed. “I’m Jenner Redwine. I’ve never acted in anything in my life!”

“Then you’ll need to learn fast,” said Bridget. “And there’s no mix-up. I wish we didn’t have to do this, but circumstances changed”—she shrugged, as if to say
what can you do
?—“and here we are. So have a seat, Ms. Redwine, and I’ll tell you what we want from you.”

Jenner didn’t see that she had a choice, but it still galled her to have to do as directed, which was proof that she never had been and never would be any kind of actress, good or bad. She sat down on the curved gold damask sofa, her expression mutinous and her eyes still flashing a promise of retribution.

Bridget sighed. “Better Cael than me,” she murmured, half under her breath.

“What? Who?” Jenner demanded, having caught only half of that.

Bridget sat, also, which Jenner thought was probably against all sorts of steward rules, but hell, she obviously wasn’t a real steward, she was involved in a kidnapping, so why would she care about a little rule like not sitting down in one of the staterooms? “First,” she began, “there are several of us onboard, and, no, I’m not
going to tell you who everyone is. You’ll meet a few of us, but there are more. You’ll be watched at all times.”

Clever, Jenner thought. She had no way of knowing if that were true or not, if she was being watched by unknown people, or if Bridget was saying that just to keep her in line. Either way, she’d have to assume the statement was true, because Syd’s life hung in the balance.

Her doubt and frustration must have shown on her face, because Bridget sighed again. “Don’t overthink it, just go with what I tell you.”

“Yeah,” Jenner said with heavy irony. “Because you’re so trustworthy.”

Bridget’s lips tightened a little, but her tone remained calm. “Whether or not I’m trustworthy has nothing to do with the situation.”

That was interesting, Jenner thought. A kidnapper who cared what the victim thought about her? She mentally filed that little tidbit away. Right now, Bridget and whoever was helping her had the upper hand, but every bit of information Jenner could glean might eventually come in handy. She might be able to play one of them against the other. But so what if she did? How would that change Sydney’s situation, except for the worse? It wouldn’t. She had to remember that, not let her anger and natural resistance lead her to do something rash. She had to remember Sydney.

“The phone in here has been disabled,” said Bridget, indicating the phone on the wall. “Likewise the phone in the bedroom. Feel free to check them if you don’t believe me.”

Believe her? Hah! Thinking how stupid she’d feel if she didn’t check the phones and later found out Bridget had lied, Jenner promptly got to her feet and checked them both. They were corded phones, or they were supposed to have been, but both cords were gone, so, yes, the phones had definitely been disabled.

Bridget had silently followed her into the bedroom, watching her. “You’re right,” Jenner agreed, stating the obvious. “No phones.” They were going to a lot of trouble to make certain she
didn’t contact anyone, despite holding Syd’s safety over her head. Either they thought she might be stupid enough to do something that would endanger Syd, or they took no chances, period.

Bridget inclined her head in acknowledgment, then said, “Here’s what’s going to happen. The first night at sea, there’s no formal dinner because everyone is too busy getting settled, but the casual restaurants and bars are open. You’ll go out to eat alone. If anyone asks, Ms. Hazlett had to cancel at the last minute because of a stomach virus. In a day or so, she’ll be allowed to call her father and tell him the same thing, in case someone here onboard sends an e-mail or text message to her father, asking if she’s okay.”

That meant they planned on Syd still being alive a couple of days from now, Jenner thought, and went cold at the realization that the exact opposite could so easily have been true.

“After you eat, go out to the Fog Bank, which is the aft bar on the Lido deck—”

“Where’s aft?”

Bridget paused, as if she wasn’t certain whether or not Jenner was pulling her leg.

“Look,” Jenner said testily, “I’ve never been on a ship before. I intended to rely on Syd to lead me around until I got things figured out, but you screwed that up, so if you want me in a particular place at a particular time, it’s up to you to get me there.”

“Aft is the rear of the ship,” replied Bridget with grim patience. “This suite is on the left side, the port side, of the ship. When you leave the room, turn right, and you’ll be heading aft.”

“Okay. Aft bar, Lido deck. Where’s the Lido deck?”

“The elevator buttons are named instead of numbered, as I’m sure you noticed when you took the elevator up to this deck. The Lido deck is the fun deck. The top deck is usually the sports deck, and the second deck is the Lido. The Lido is where games are played—”

“How appropriate,” Jenner murmured.

Bridget’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. Her calm was beginning to show a few cracks. Still, she ignored Jenner’s interruption and
continued, “A couple will get into an argument. Their names are Cael and Tiffany. They’re sharing a stateroom, but they’ll break up, very publicly. Then he’ll approach you, and it’ll be love at first sight.”

“Unlikely. I’m not the impulsive type. And I’m not known for picking up sleazoids.”

“Pretend,” Bridget said briefly, through clenched teeth.

“That I’ve suddenly lost all my common sense and taste? Ooookay.”

“Oh, jeez,” Bridget said under her breath. Then, more loudly, “Cael’s a good-looking guy, so your taste won’t come into question. He’ll hit on you, and all you have to do is act smitten. He’ll finesse the details, come back here with you, and from then on you’re his headache, I hope.”

“So he’ll be my guard?” she asked warily. Being at a man’s mercy made her uneasy, as it would any woman with an ounce of common sense.

Finally she’d asked a question that seemed to please Bridget, if her wide, bright, shark smile was any indication. “He’s more than that. He’s the boss. How healthy your friend stays depends entirely on how happy you make Cael.”

T
HE BIG SHIP EASED AWAY
from the dock, but Jenner missed the excitement of departure on her very first cruise because she was literally being held hostage in her own suite. Bridget had other duties to fulfill, but another woman had taken her place. This one called herself Faith. Whether or not that was her real name was anyone’s guess. She was tall and slim, as classically lovely as Syd, and had the same sort of style—the one that screamed Old Money. Her thick brown hair fell in a perfectly cut swath down her back, and her discreet makeup emphasized her high cheekbones and large hazel eyes.

Over the years Jenner had learned how to recognize designer clothing, so she knew Faith was wearing Roberto Cavalli sandals
that cost upward of eight hundred dollars. The diamonds in her bracelet, and the big solitaire nestled against her wedding ring, were genuine. Had she stolen them, or was she rich? And if she was rich, why was she involved with kidnappers?

Regardless of Faith’s beauty, and her good taste in clothes and jewelry, she, too, had that very fit, toned look that said she worked out regularly. And even if she wasn’t Bridget’s equal in the ass-kicking department, so what? Jenner was still over a barrel, because of Syd.

Syd must be terrified. Where were they holding her? Had they hurt her, maybe slapped her around, to make her do what they wanted? The image of someone hitting sweet, vulnerable Sydney made Jenner tremble with rage. Syd had never harmed anyone. She had no idea how to fight, and emotionally she was defenseless against any type of violence.

Jenner wrenched her thoughts away from Syd, because otherwise she’d become so angry she couldn’t think straight, not that she could anyway. Her thoughts seemed to spin in circles, as she asked herself the same questions over and over despite the complete lack of answers. Who were these people? What did they want? Evidently not money, because they weren’t holding Syd for ransom. Instead, they were holding her as a means of forcing Jenner to do … what? Act as if she’d fallen in instant lust with this guy Cael? To what end?

Did they have some kind of long con going on? From bitter experience with her dad, she knew cons, knew how they worked. If this was a con, it wasn’t like any she’d ever heard of before. Cons manipulated people into behaving in stupid ways, they didn’t involve elaborate kidnapping schemes—that took the con into the realm of a federal offense.

So, no con was involved. To go to this much trouble and expense, and to have as many people involved in the game as they did, they were serious. She knew of at least four people on this ship—Bridget, Faith, and the unknown Cael and Tiffany—and she’d talked to one other man, the one who had Sydney. That was
five people, at a minimum. Probably more than one person was with Syd. And if she believed Bridget, there were other people on the ship who wouldn’t be identified to her, so she wouldn’t know if she was being watched or not.

What terrified her was that they were letting her see their faces, giving her their names. The names could be fake, but their faces weren’t. Did that mean they weren’t worried about anything she might later tell the authorities? Maybe they didn’t intend for her to return alive from this cruise. After she’d done what they wanted, all it would take was a simple tip over the balcony rail, and she’d be gone.