He glanced back, casually, gauged he had enough room if he made it quick. And signaled to Bran.
Annika didn’t mind walking with her two friends. She thought, perhaps, women would be less shy and nervous about sex.
“Can you tell me the rules of sex?”
“Rules?” Riley responded. “What rules?”
“I don’t know them, not here. Sawyer says there are many, and complicated rules. I don’t see why they should be complicated, but I can learn them. I like to learn.”
“Complicated.” Riley snorted. “I say simple. My top three? Both parties willing, available, and clean.”
“Those are very simple.” And very satisfying. “Your rules mean Sawyer and I can have sex.”
“I’m still trying to work out why he hasn’t jumped you yet.”
“Riley.” Sasha rolled her eyes. “Different rules for different people. Or not rules so much as . . . sensibilities, and it’s not always easy to explain.”
Riley ticked off on her fingers. “Willing, available, clean.”
“An important foundation,” Sasha agreed. “We really need a little more time and privacy,” she added as they passed people on the road.
“But you’ll explain, so I’ll learn.”
“We’ll do that.”
“Thank you! Then Sawyer and I can have sex like you and Bran. I’m sorry you can’t have sex,” she said to Riley.
“You and me both, sister.”
CHAPTER NINE
They focused on the eastern side of the island, diving the inlets and deep caves. Annika heard no sighs, no songs. Only once did she feel something in the water large enough to be human or shark.
But it was only another pair of divers—a man and a woman—more interested in each other, it seemed to her, than in the sea life.
After the second dive, she led the way back to the boat. She would be vigilant now until they had passed through Sasha’s painting, and all come out whole and safe again.
She pulled herself up, as always happy to take off the flippers, so awkward and odd, she had to wear when she had the legs.
Sasha came up behind her, then Sawyer. To be useful, Annika opened the chest with cold drinks. Sasha would want water, but Sawyer and Riley like the Cokes, and—
As she took out bottles, a bird swooped down to perch on the rail. She glanced over, smile ready.
Then carefully set the bottles down again, straightened.
“You aren’t a bird.”
Sasha, busy unzipping her wet suit, looked over. “Sorry, what?”
“This is her creature.”
The bird didn’t stir, though it turned its deformed head, stared with glinting yellow eyes as Sawyer reached into his pack for his gun.
“Don’t shoot it.” Sasha spoke in a whisper. “Wait for Bran, wait for the others.”
As Riley pulled herself on board, a second bird dropped onto the rail. “We’ve got company.” Riley pulled her knife from its sheath.
The birds were the size of pigeons, but with bodies sinewy, almost shriveled, and wide heads that turned front to back like owls’. The pair sat silently, and a third slid down to perch beside them. Their eyes, sickly yellow, stared unblinking. Oily black feathers remained tucked tight.