“What? Stay here? Where the hell can I go?” She pulled her feet up onto the seat, scared now that something might suddenly appear and lunge for her. Why the heck had her imagination gone into such overdrive?
Because the danger was real. She knew that in her very core.
The Jet Ski tugged against the pull of the current. Wyatt was yanking at the net.
“Please hurry.”
Something to the right caught her eye, an unmistakable sleek silvery shadow beneath the surface. And then her biggest fear. A shiny dark fin broke through the water. A symbol of horror. Her worst nightmare.
Shark.
She snatched in a breath. Adrenaline shot into her system. They were doomed. Wyatt was doomed. She was about to watch him be brutally attacked. The ocean would froth with his blood. His limbs would float away, mangled and torn. “Wyatt! Shark. Shark. Get the hell out of the water.”
Still, the Jet Ski tugged as he continued working on the net. It was likely he hadn’t even seen the shark because he was concentrating on the task at hand.
It was nearly impossible to keep her eye on the huge creature. The water was undulating, small waves tapping together and creating snow-white bubbles that obscured the surface.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God.” She couldn’t remember when she’d last been so scared. So utterly terrified. Her stomach was a tight ball of fear. Her mouth was dry and goose bumps peppered her skin.
“Wyatt, please get out.”
She spun around, trying to get a three-sixty visual. Where had it gone? Perhaps to the depths so it could race to the surface with speed and catapult him out of the water in its jaws. She’d seen that on YouTube.
“Wyatt, get out! Please.” She tipped closer to the water. Through the darkness, his torso was visible with his legs kicking out.
She shoved her hand in, trying to reach for him, to warn him. A surge of terror raced up her spine, and then she touched him.
Within a second, his face appeared.
“Get out! There’s a shark.”
“What?”
“A damn shark. I saw it, over there.” She pointed.
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
“I’ll take a look.”
To her absolute horror, he disappeared below the surface again.
“What the hell … do you have a death wish?” Why hadn’t he leaped onto the Jet Ski and thanked whatever god he believed in for having all his arms and legs intact? What bat-shit crazy bastard wentintothe water to look for a shark?
“Wyatt!”
His hand appeared with a fist full of net.
She grabbed the wiry tangle, bunching it up and out of the water.
And then he was gone again.
“Oh, God.”
To her relief, he suddenly burst upward, heaving himself onto the Jet Ski, his biceps bulging and water slicking down his solid body.
Scrabbling for his shorts as purchase, she dragged at him.