Nick raised an eyebrow, more at her encyclopedic memory than the mean-looking cannons. But she ignored him because she was already at the break in the railing. She paused, scanning the deck around her, looking for something she could use. Luckily, one was never far from rope on the deck of a ship.

She skirted over to a coil resting by the base of what appeared to be a heavy copper tying post. She grabbed a thick length of the rope and used her weight to drag it back to the break in the railing.

“Hailey, is this really a good idea?”

Hailey handed her backpack to Nick. Then she looked around herself again.

“I’m going to need some sort of tool to pry it loose.”

She looked left and right, but there was nothing within range. Then Hailey noticed that Nick had pulled something out from the waistband of his jeans. He held it toward her.

It was a tomahawk.

Hailey judged him with a look.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he said. “Hey, you were fine with selling the stolen Gardner paintings. What’s the difference?”

“There’s a big difference between making money off something that’s already stolen and stealing it yourself. It’s what separates a card counter from a cheat.”

Nick rolled his eyes, as Hailey grabbed the tomahawk from him. She slid it into the waistband of her skirt, then took the end of the rope in both hands. Nick moved farther down the line, dropping to his knees on the deck and gathering rope into his own hands.

“Will you be able to handle my weight?” Hailey asked.

“You just hang on to your end. It’s a long drop down.”

Hailey turned and looked over the ledge. He was right, the water would feel a little like concrete if she fell from that height. But she didn’t intend to go all the way to the water. Her gaze focused on a ridge about halfway down the stern, where something wooden and white and ornate had been affixed to the hull.

She clutched the rope with both hands, then climbed over the break in the railing and began her descent.

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

Slowly, foot by foot, Hailey clambered down the stern of the boat, using the toes of her tennis shoes to find purchase in the small gaps between the planks of the ship’s hull. She could hear the water lapping beneath her, and the grunt of Nick belaying her from above—but she was focused directly ahead on the ornate fixture now just a few yards below.

“Be careful,” Nick hissed. “And hurry. This is one big, damn boat, and we’re not going to be alone on it for very long.”

Hailey worked the muscles of her arms and legs, her hands white against the rope, lowering herself, closer and closer.