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  But—damn it, her shoulder hurt with her arm twisted up and back in that position. She shifted a little onto her right side, trying to ease the strain but at the same time not get any closer to him, but that pulled the sheet even farther down and she couldn’t use her right hand to pull it up again. Awkwardly she fumbled with her left hand, but the angle was wrong and she needed an extra joint in her arm to get the sheet where she wanted it.

  Dilemma: She could either freeze, or she could wake him up.

  It was his fault she was freezing. It was his fault her shoulder was hurting. But if he was asleep, then she didn’t have to be scared of him and fighting for all she was worth to keep him from realizing that.

  She hated being frightened, but she was. She was terrified for both Sydney and herself, because she didn’t know what was going to happen and maybe she’d be even more terrified if she did. Just because she did everything they wanted her to do—whatever that was—didn’t mean that at the end of this she and Syd would walk away unharmed. Letting either of them go would be sheer stupidity and so far none of these people struck her as being stupid.

  If she knew what was going on, what they wanted, maybe she could reason with them. They weren’t after money—both she and Sydney were rich—and if money were the object then they didn’t need her, they could simply have grabbed Syd and demanded a ransom. True, with her added in that would have doubled the money, but she didn’t have any family they could bargain with for the ransom. She didn’t know where Jerry was, hadn’t heard from him at all in the seven years since he’d stolen twenty-five thousand from her, and even if he had been in a position to pay a ransom for her … good luck with that was all she could say. She doubted her father would have paid even a hundred bucks to keep her alive.

  So … money didn’t come into the equation, especially when she factored in what she’d seen tonight, after Cael had brought her back to the suite. He’d drilled a hole in the wall, threaded some wires through the hole, checked a monitor and some sort of recording device. And he’d ignored her the entire time he was working, no matter what she said. His concentration on the task at hand had been impressive, because she’d worked hard at getting his goat.

  Were they spies? Whether a real spy spy or industrial-type spy, Cael was definitely doing some spying.

  She felt her scalp prickle with alarm. The whole thing seemed too James Bondish, but they had to be. Nothing else made sense. There were too many of them, and they had too many apparent resources. The pertinent questions were: Who did they work for, on whom were they spying, what did they want, and, the most pertinent question of all, were they supposed to kill anyone who got in their way or threatened the success of their operation?

  If she knew who was staying in the suite next door, at least one of those questions would be answered, but probably knowing who had hired these guys would tell her a lot about how far they would go. So far, everyone she’d met was either American or had received enough extensive training to pass for one. If they were government spies, that meant they weren’t likely to kill either her or Syd … she hoped. A lot of different factors came into play with industrial spies, though, such as how much money was on the table, because she doubted they’d get paid if they didn’t deliver the goods. Put enough money in front of some people, and what moral boundaries they had seemed to melt away. Probably no one got into the business of being an industrial spy if his moral boundaries were very sturdy, anyway.

  The situation began to solidify for her. Okay, they were spies. They were after something—probably information, considering how much trouble they’d gone to to get a wire into the next suite—and they needed her to … provide cover. That was it! She was nothing but cover for them! They had probably had this suite booked, but when the assignment snafu occurred and the suites were switched around, they needed a reason to be in this suite without raising suspicion! But how could they have known far enough ahead of time to get this whole charade orchestrated?

  That was easy to figure out because, obviously, they had people working as crew members, in various capacities. Bridget was one. Jenner had no idea how far ahead of time a steward found out who was in which suite, or when a steward was even allowed onboard; she could have found out, or it could have been someone else. Maybe one of the ship’s officers was working with them. Throw enough money at a problem, and anything was possible.

  In the long run, other than confirming that they had people watching her whom she hadn’t met, how they’d discovered the suites had been reassigned didn’t matter. She and Syd had been the unlucky ones to get this suite, and Cael had cooked up the scheme to grab Syd and hold her hostage as a means of forcing Jenner to act as if they were lovers, so he could have access.

  She could be completely off base with all this supposition, but she didn’t think so. Everything fit. They needed her, and now that her nerves had settled down some and she could think, she realized that she had a modicum of power. Not much; she couldn’t make them let Syd go free, and as long as they held Syd she couldn’t notify ship security or even kick Cael’s ass out of her stateroom, but there was one very important thing she could do. She’d have to be careful, because until she had evidence to the contrary she had to assume that these were the bad guys, but the fact that Cael hadn’t strangled her earlier gave her a tad more confidence than before.

  Because she might lose that confidence if she waited, and because she hated feeling powerless and afraid, she shoved at his shoulder. “Hey!” she said, not quite shouting but definitely raising her voice.

  He didn’t bolt upright, which would have been very satisfying, but she succeeded in finding out that he woke up instantly alert because without hesitation or confusion he growled, “This had better be good.”

  “From my point of view, none of this is good,” she shot back. “I’m cold, you’ve kicked the blanket off, you have the sheet locked down like a prison, you have my arm twisted so my shoulder is about to be dislocated, and you’re breathing on me!”

  “God forbid I should breathe” he muttered.

  “Isn’t that amazing? God and I agree.” She yanked her right arm. “Handcuff me to the bed, or something. This is ridiculous.”

  “Take a look at the bed. There’s nothing to handcuff you to, no posts, no handy little iron rings. This is as good as it gets. The only other option is if I toss you overboard.”

  Jenner plowed on, ignoring what he said because she wanted to finish before she lost her nerve. “And what’s more, I talk to Syd every day or I don’t cooperate with you at all. Got that?”

  Silence. He hoisted himself to a sitting position and switched on the lamp. She blinked and instinctively shielded her face with her left hand until she became more accustomed to the light, which seemed unreasonably bright for such a small lamp. Then, because she didn’t like it that he was sitting up and she wasn’t, she struggled to an upright position herself. Too late, she remembered that she wasn’t wearing a bra; when she’d changed into her pajamas she’d been too tired to think of keeping her bra on underneath the tank top. The ribbed knit was thin; she was so cold her nipples had to be almost poking through the material. Well, tough. She’d be damned if she’d squeal and jerk the covers up like some scared little girl.

  He scrubbed his hand over his face, his beard scraping against his palm with a sandpaper sound. He looked tired, his eyes a little puffy from sleep, his dark hair mussed, but his voice was cold and flat. “You aren’t in a position to give any ultimatums.”

  “I haven’t been able to sleep, so I’ve been thinking instead,” she replied just as flatly. “I’ve decided I’m in exactly that position. You need me to give you cover for being here, in this suite. I don’t know why, I don’t need to know why, I just know that you do. Fine. My cooperation depends on whether or not I talk to Syd every day, and what she tells me. If she’s okay, I’ll play along to the best of my ability. If she’s hurt in any way, the deal’s off. That’s nonnegotiable.”

  “As long as I hold