She leaned over the side of the ship, hair streaming in the cold, northerly wind. They'd been at sea for six days now, with three still ahead before they made land at Isenguard.

The heist couldn't have gone more smoothly. The Jaguar Pearls were stowed safely back in her cabin, the security tapes had been wiped and Mark had obliterated every trace of their DNA from the scene.

Mark. Where was he?

She turned to lean against the rail, squinting at the recreation deck in the dazzling, tropical sunlight. He was probably up there right now, all toned and bronzed and flirting with every willing person above the age of consent. Typical.

"Your champagne, madam." She jumped at the smooth tones of the waiter who had appeared at her right arm.

"I didn't order a drink."

"A gentleman," the waiter indicated towards the swimming pool, "asked me to serve you. He said it was your favourite."

She took the drink, intrigued and the waiter excused himself.

"I thought you told me you never accepted drinks from strangers," said Mark, coming up behind her and rubbing her shoulders.

"Only the handsome ones,"