Wickedly Wonderful(61)
It roared at her like a jet plane, its bulk displacing the water forcefully, its jaws gaping wide, one dark eye staring into her soul. The power of its passage spun her around, and she was untouched but disoriented for a moment, unable to distinguish up from down in the murky depths.
Just as she glimpsed a hint of sunlight from above, the shark came back again. Its own length was all that saved her for the moment; the necessity of a wide turn bought her an extra second to get her knife in position for a wild slice across its gills. Clearly hurt, the shark lashed around in the water, almost missing her entirely. Only the jagged edge of one tooth tore through wet suit and skin, leaving blood leaking out from a wound in her left calf.
It wasn’t much. But in the end, it would probably be enough.
* * *
MARCUS SAT IN the dinghy and looked at his waterproof watch for the third time. According to the timepiece, which had always been reliable up until now, Beka still had four minutes until her next check-in. Four minutes until he felt that tug on the rope that meant she was okay. Much longer than that before her tanks started to get low and she should be heading for the surface.
But his skin prickled across the back of his neck in a way that hadn’t happened since Afghanistan. A soldier learned the hard way not to ignore that feeling. Not if he wanted to survive to fight another day, and all his buddies with him.
Muttering a curse, Marcus pulled on his mask, grabbed the spear gun he’d tucked into the dinghy just in case, and slid into the water. Better to look foolish than to spend one more minute in that tiny boat, sure that something had gone wrong in the blue-green depths below.
Heading directly down, along the path of the rope that Beka should be following back up, he didn’t have far to go before he came upon a scene that seared itself on his brain, joining the worst horrors of the battlefield to forever haunt his dreams like reels of black-and-white movies.
The largest shark he’d ever seen was just ahead of him, its colossal body almost hiding Beka from sight. She was backed against a rock formation, knife held iron-steady in one hand while the other clamped desperately around a seeping gash in her leg. Blood oozed viscously into the water, like a watercolor brush tossed into a jar.
He could tell the second she spotted him. The clear seawater between them showed her eyes widening behind her mask, first in hope, then in terror as the shark’s snout swung ponderously in his direction.
Arming the spear gun, Marcus held up three fingers, and then pointed to the surface. Beka shook her head frantically, attracting the great white back in her direction. Its huge head moved back and forth between them, hesitating, and Marcus held up three fingers again, gesturing at her bleeding leg. Reluctantly, she nodded, and braced herself against the rock.
He aimed the spear gun at the shark, released the safety, and held up one finger, then two, then a third. As Beka launched herself toward the surface, swimming as rapidly as she could, Marcus moved even closer to the shark and fired the spear directly into its dark and malevolent eye. It gave a massive heave, thrashing around in a frenzied dance of teeth and fins and tail, spiraling down toward the bottom of the ocean. In the twilight depths, gray-black blood stained the water.
Once Marcus was sure the shark wasn’t coming after them, he eeled his way to the surface, the muscles in his thighs burning as he pushed himself to his limits. Beka clung to the side of the dinghy, taking great gasps of air, a look of almost comic relief lighting up her face as he broke through next to her. He tossed the spear gun carefully into the bottom of the boat, and then lifted her in after it. Adrenaline got him out of the water almost without effort, although once they were both in and safe, he could feel the aftereffects pulsing through his system. Battle had always been like that—the rush, followed by the backlash.
His heart threatened to burst through his rib cage as he gazed at Beka’s bleeding leg. Closer examination showed him that the gash was deep but clean, and the shark seemed to have missed anything vital. They’d been lucky. Very, very lucky.
“Well, that was an adventure,” Beka said in a shaky voice as he pulled out the first aid kit and started to bandage her leg, brushing aside her protest as he cut through the expensive wet suit to expose the wound. The suit was ruined anyway. “Oh, and by the way, thanks for saving my life.”
“No problem,” Marcus said, keeping his tone casual and his eyes focused on her injury, so she wouldn’t see the emotion he couldn’t quite keep off his face. “All part of the friendly service. But don’t be surprised if my father adds on an extra charge.”
“It’s a good thing we went to that barbeque last night,” she said with an unsteady laugh. “I’m not sure I’ll be doing a lot of dancing in the near future.”