She simply snorted, circling her boat a bit closer before pulling up on the stern. A pair of ladders hung off her port side, each wave spraying water across the ends. She scanned the hull, looking for any suggestion of trouble, only to stop cold.
A handprint.
Bloody.
Smeared up and over the deck as if someone had been trying to climb over the edge but had been dragged backwards.
Atticus cursed. “I assume by the way your mouth’s hanging open, you see the blood, too.”
“Hard to miss.” She worked the throttles, getting impossibly closer without crashing. “It looks fresh.”
“That could be from the waves.”
“We both know that if the spray was responsible, the entire side of the hull would be wet with some drippingoff the deck.” Saylor shook her head. “That’s likely not even an hour old.”
“We’ll wait for backup?—”
“Like hell, we will. If this is the result of pirates, they’re gone. If this is something else… What if there’re still people alive? Who can’t wait the hour it’ll take for a cutter to get here? Or even the forty-five for a chopper? I swore an oath to serve and protect. To endeavor to do more. I can’t let that slide because the odds might not be in my favor.”
“Ourfavor. Because if you think I’m going to let you go up there, alone…”
“Someone needs to stay with the boat.”
Atticus waved off the statement. “We’re miles from shore. I think we’ll notice if someone tries to sneak up on us and steal your boat.” He leaned over the side. “Get it in close. I’ll go up, first. If no one tries to kill me, you can hop over and join me.”
“I’ll go first.”
“You’d make an old man jump to that ladder?”
“Of course, not. So, it’s a good thing I don’t know any.”
“Saylor…”
“Fine. You want to go have a look? Then, grab the ladder, tie us off and we’ll go together.” Saylor crossed her arms when he balked, allowing her boat to drift away. “It’s either that, or I jump overboard, swim to the ladder and leave you here.”
Atticus huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine.”
Saylor babied the throttle, timing each incrementalmovement with the waves until Atticus could simply reach out and wrap his fingers around one of the rungs. He tied off the line, holding the boat steady as she checked her supplies, then made her way over.
She waved Atticus ahead. Not because she wanted him to go first, but she knew the man too well, and he’d bitch for the next year if she didn’t allow him at least one concession. He smiled his thanks, then heaved himself onto the first rung, holding firm for a few moments before deftly climbing the metal rungs.
Old man, her ass. He’d practically run up the ladder.
Saylor climbed over the edge, then started up, her Beretta at the ready. Atticus waited until she’d caught up before scanning the deck then jumping over the lip. She followed suit, sweeping the area as they stood side-by-side at the stern. The hull groaned as the ship rocked against the waves, each impact listing the vessel a bit more. What would eventually capsize it if they couldn’t get it moving.
Atticus nodded at her weapon. “You got a spare?”
“Are you seriously telling me you jumped on my boat without a weapon, knowing we were coming out here?”
“Unlike you and Foster’s crew, I don’t drive around armed for bear.”
“Which was your first mistake.”
“You’ve definitely been hanging around Zain too much.” He arched a brow. “Or maybe, not quite enough.”
“We’re not discussing anything to do with Zain or me while we’re in the middle of a situation.” She snagged her spare out of her ankle holster, then handedit to Atticus. “Don’t shoot me in the ass with that, by mistake.”
“Just because I didn’t bring my own doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly forgotten how they work. I was running maneuvers while you were still in diapers.”
