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“Sylv,” Brian said, repeating the shortened version of her name he always used. “Why don’t you get out of here for the night? And for the record, I think you need to see someone. That shit you went through…that was madness. Maybe you’ve got that post-traumatic stress stuff going on.”
Post-traumatic stress. Sounds about right.
Sylvia had never thought about it before, but that made sense. Maybe she needed to see a shrink. For now, she only wanted to leave work and go home. She wished so badly she could call Penny like she used to and discuss her problems with her. In the past, Sylvia had always been the one to say, “Get over it. Who gives a shit? Life goes on. Stop whining and complaining and live your life.” Come to think of it, she’d been a shitty friend. Penny had been diagnosed with leukemia and was always feeling down. Rather than deal with the fact that her best friend was suffering and might not make it much longer in this life, she’d chosen to ignore it, to try and convince her friend that not giving the disease room to breathe might actually kill it. Penny had been silently suffering while Sylvia had been loudly ignoring her pain. Now, Penny was gone, cured, and living her life somewhere with the shark people.
The shark people.
The thought of it made her feel like she’d stepped into some cheesy movie with sharks flying around in tornadoes or piranhas growing feet and chasing college coeds on vacation. It hadn’t been long ago that people didn’t know paranormal shifters existed. Now, they lived among the humans, and it was hard to tell which was which or whom was whom.
When Sylvia reached her apartment, she pulled off her clothes and climbed into a hot bath. It was the only thing that made her feel good. Holding her breath underwater, leaving the breezy emptiness that hit her ears at all hours, and plunging herself into a truly silent world, made her feel at peace. Nothing could bother her under water. She wondered if that was how Thane and his shark shifter people felt. Did they feel an escape from the real world when they were under water?
No, fuck sharks. They attacked me. They killed so many of those kids. Thirty-six deaths that day. Amber, Michelle, Rodney, Eduardo, Cynthia, Rose, Claudia, Michael…Anthony.
The list went on and on. She’d committed most of their names to memory but found herself forgetting at least one of the names each day. When that happened, she read the newspaper article she’d saved. She owed them that much. So much blood. So much screaming. Girls falling overboard, guys thrashing around in the water, so many kids gripping the wooden deck, trying desperately to climb back onto the barge with their limbs floating away in bloody pools. The images hit her again and again. They woke her up at night. Even holding her breath in the bathtub wasn’t working tonight. She needed a drink, a very strong one.
Sitting alone at her kitchen island, Sylvia poured herself a shot of tequila. She drank it and poured another. Three shots later, she wept into her folded arms.
Why can’t I go back to the way I was before? Why can’t I rewind time and never get on that barge? If I’d never talked Penny into going to Australia with me…
But if she’d never talked Penny into going to Australia with her, her best friend would still be dying from leukemia. Sylvia would be better, but Penny would be worse, and she knew that wasn’t a fair trade. If keeping things the same meant she had to suffer inner turmoil and her friend would live a long healthy life, she wouldn’t change it for the world.
Sylvia reached for her purse and dug through it, searching for the newspaper clipping she always carried around with her. Reading the list of names had become a nightly ritual. Another shot of tequila helped dull her demons, but she became frustrated quickly. Tequila alwa
ys brought out her bitchy side, and that’s why she chose to only drink it when alone. Tears and a wicked tongue usually accompanied the golden liquid. Dumping the contents of her purse onto the kitchen counter, she finally found the folded-up clipping and peeled it open to reveal the headline: Slaughter Barge Down Under. She hated that headline. It was too much like the title for a horror movie, and what she’d seen wasn’t a fun-filled fear fest to entertain the masses.
As she read off the names, one by one, her teary eyes blurred. Reaching for a pack of tissues that had tumbled out of her purse and onto the island, her hand touched a hard, rectangular piece of folded-up paper. She opened it and saw the information for the hotel where she’d stayed in Queensland. She held it up and read it, turning it over in her hand a couple of times. She’d never discarded it because she’d always hoped it would help her get in touch with Penny if she ever needed to. She’d actually forgotten it was in her purse until now.
Why now?
The pamphlet in her hand felt like an omen, like it was a trail left behind by her friend. Like she needed to find Penny and see if the life she’d described was all she’d made it out to be. She could call the hotel and ask how she could get to this Shamrock Island Penny always talked about. It couldn’t be that hard. Penny had told her about a man named Juan Diego and his boat. If she could get in touch with him, maybe he could help her find Penny. She wasn’t sure why, but she was suddenly hit with the overwhelming feeling that she needed to return to Australia.
I’m so fucked in the head. In what world is it smart to return to a place that terrifies you?
Yes, she was fucked in the head. That was the conclusion she came to. What she needed was to be truly and royally fucked…in a bed. Her fear turned to rage which in turn transformed into desire. She wanted the world Penny had left this one for. She wanted, no, needed to understand these sharks. She needed to either accept them and overcome her fear, or she needed to have one fuck the fright right out of her. She needed a man like Thane, one who’d not only protect her from the evils of this world, but would train her how to protect herself from the evils of theirs.
“I’m too scared,” Sylvia said out loud as she reached for her laptop and opened it up.
Scared of what? I’m afraid of the sharks. I saw people ripped apart. I can’t get the images out of my head. Yet, I feel somehow drawn back to the water. Drawn back to Australia. Penny is so happy there. She tried to tell me that her shark friends weren’t behind the attack and I didn’t listen to her. I pushed her away when she was home. Lately she’s all I can think about. Her…and the sharks.
She’d convinced herself that her intention was to find her friend, to locate her, and then what? She wasn’t sure. All that was a lie though. Yes, she wanted to see her friend again. She missed Penny so fucking much. But that wasn’t the real reason she had her laptop open to a page with flight comparisons. She’d sensed Thane’s power. She’d seen the way he looked at her friend. She’d heard Penny’s stories even if she’d pretended not to. Penny’s tales of loyalty and honesty and trust and the way her man completely devoured her with his love and…and…the sex. As disgusted as she was with the sharks and as much as the blood made her stomach turn, she also felt herself getting wet when she fantasized about being on the island surrounded by shirtless, shark shifter men.
I need to shake what happened from my mind. I need to get back to the real me. The wild, fun, sensual me. I lost that part of me in Australia. I think the only thing that will get me over this slump is to face a shark…and tame it.
She chuckled softly to herself as her finger hovered over the button to buy a one-way airplane ticket to Australia. Her hope was she’d find Penny and would never need to return. She looked around the kitchen and into the living room. She glanced over her belongings and realized none of them were important. She had no old family heirlooms. She had no photo albums. She had no trinkets from past lovers. She had nothing. And that excited her even more.
This is crazy.
She clicked the button and smiled through the nerves building up inside her. She was doing it.
Fuck this life. I’m going rogue.
Chapter 2 - Rafe
“Come here, you little shit.”
Rafe Daniels lay on the beach, his blond, wet hair smoothed back away from his face, so the sun could dry up the final beads of ocean water on his cheeks. The grainy sand beneath him was like skateboard grip tape against his back. Yet, it was the most comfortable feeling he knew next to dipping underwater and meeting the shore break face-on. He loved that rough slap to the jaw and the way it massaged his face. These thoughts were interrupted by the squeal of a seagull followed by the annoying voices of the men he’d seen moments before tossing a ball back and forth.
He’d seen the three men playing his favorite sport, or their version of it, when he’d first made his way out of the water. They were assholes. He could tell. One sucked the ocean breeze past his cigarette pursed lips and tossed the ball into the air again and again while his buddies had waited for him to throw it their way. His tattoo covered right arm looked like a parlor catalogue, as if he’d walked in, pointed at all the cool shit he saw on display, and ordered the artist to replicate it on his arm. Rafe tried not to judge people, but these guys had rubbed him the wrong way when they’d all turned to stare at him making his way up the beach. He’d nodded in their direction and none of them had nodded back. That was bro code for “go fuck yourself.” He always nodded back when someone offered him that unspoken greeting.
