Jill Sorenson: Stranded With Her Ex

Sean watched Daniela’s throat work as she swallowed back her nausea. She was holding up well, considering. As a marine biologist, she’d interacted with dangerous animals before. They’d worked in the field together on a regular basis, so he knew her level of expertise.

He’d seen her reach out to stroke the slippery back of a stingray, grin with delight when visited by a school of blue sharks, stand up to a braying Northern seal and get bitten on her pretty little backside as she beat a hasty retreat.

Daniela had a way with animals, a confidence gained from experience and a natural ease that couldn’t be taught. She wasn’t a shark expert, however, and the great whites at the Farallones were like no other predator on earth.

With her unsteady nerves and devastating personal history, she wasn’t the best candidate for this kind of research.

The sight of a white shark breaching, or propelling its massive body above the surface of the water during the initial attack was heart-stopping. There was also no way to predict this occurrence, so footage of it was rare. Unlike in the movies, most sharks didn’t advertise their locations by flashing fins before a bite.

Feeding frenzies were also unusual. After the kill, whites ate with economical efficiency, and they weren’t the most dexterous of fish. If their movements caused the surface of the water to bubble like a pot of seafood gumbo, it was because they were powerhouses, not because they were doing underwater gymnastics.

Sean knew what to expect, but the wait always created tension. Anticipating Daniela’s reaction made the situation more uneasy.

The whaler was only fifteen feet long, and it seemed to shrink as time dragged on. A patch of coastal fog settled over the upper half of the island, bringing with it an eerie quiet, a silence charged with dread and unholy glee.

At Skull Rock, beady-eyed scavengers shuffled their clawed feet.

When the shark broke through the surface of the water, Daniela startled, almost dropping the video camera. She took a series of short, quick breaths, fright apparent on her fine features, the rapid beat of her pulse visible in her slender neck.

Sean didn’t need a Ph.D to diagnose her anxiety, or any special intuition to realize she was reliving the trauma of the wreck. Her face was so pale, he feared she would faint. He considered dropping the tagging equipment to offer her his assistance. Brent, whose attention should have been focused on directing the underwater camera, seemed concerned by her distress. And it went without saying that Jason was enraptured.

Just as Sean was about to call off the shoot, Daniela pulled herself together. Spine straightening, she held the video camera in a steady, if white-knuckled, grip.

The evidence of her courage caused a strange welling of emotions within him. Pride, and sadness and regret. His eyes watered and his throat closed up. How ironic, he thought, if he turned out to be the one who couldn’t hold it together.

After a moment, the pressure in his chest eased and he was able to drag his gaze away from her. The white had moved in and was nibbling a big chunk of flesh from the decapitated sea lion’s side. By the looks of it, the shark was an adult, and good-sized, too. At least eighteen or nineteen feet.

“It’s Shirley,” Jason said, a grin lighting across his face.

“It sure as hell is,” Sean replied, returning his smile.

Shirley was a breeding female, and that was always a welcome sight at the Farallones. She had a crescent-shaped scar above her left eye, small but easy to recognize, and she was often spotted with her full-figured friend, Laverne.

The pair had been named by Sean a couple of years ago. Jason had seen them both last year, but hadn’t been able to tag either. The number of great whites in the world was ever-dwindling, and the circle of shark researchers was small. Although Jason and Sean didn’t know each other that well, they knew a lot of the same sharks.

They studied Shirley in reverent silence while she tore and chewed and swallowed. A flurry of greedy seagulls dogged her every movement, snatching up stringy bits of gore, wings flapping. While the effect wasn’t aesthetically pleasing, the mood on the boat was no longer sinister, and any hint of animosity from Jason was gone.

Still smiling, he eased the whaler in closer.

“Wh-what are we doing?” Daniela asked, one hand reaching out to grab the edge of the hull, steadying herself.

Sean’s blood turned to ice. “Keep your hands inside the boat.”

“Why? It’s over there.”

“One of them is over there,” he corrected, trying not to visualize Laverne breaching beside the boat, taking most of Daniela’s arm with her.

She snatched her hand back. And just like that, she lost her focus. Letting the camera sag, she searched the surface of the water with terrified eyes, pressing her palm to her lower abdomen in a way that was familiar and absolutely heartbreaking.

Sean wanted to kick himself. He didn’t know what he should have said differently, or what to say now to calm her down.

“Look at me,” Jason said.

Gulping, she met his steady gaze.

“We’re going in closer to tag her. It only takes a minute. And Sean’s a pro. You know that, right?”

Her eyes darted from him to Sean. “Yeah,” she said, moistening her lips.

“Good. You just keep filming. You’re doing a great job.”

Brent nodded helpfully. “You’ll be fine.”

Like a trooper, she put the camera back up to her face and resumed filming. Her movements were stiff, even robotic, but she was working through the fear, maintaining her composure and refusing to let the past overwhelm her.

He hazarded a glance at Jason, who merely shrugged and maneuvered the whaler into position. Sean should have felt grateful that someone had been coolheaded enough to help Daniela. Instead, he was sick with envy.

And Brent knew it. Sean could tell by the way he averted his eyes, turning his attention back to the surface of the water.

Unlike Jason, Sean didn’t have an easy way with words. He wasn’t suave, expressive or articulate. His inability to communicate his feelings to Daniela had played a major role in their breakup. And just now, his thoughtless comment had caused her panicked reaction.

By trying to keep her safe, he’d only put her in more danger.

A muscle in Sean’s jaw ticked as he located the tagging equipment, clicking the various components into place with swift, angry motions. This was what he knew. Scientific gadgets and cold-blooded animals.

Here, no words were necessary.

Coming here had been a mistake.

Sean was right. Daniela knew that now.

Why had she thought she was strong enough to keep her cool on a tiny aluminum boat in turbulent, shark-filled waters? She wasn’t. Anyone who found this type of situation exciting, or even remotely safe, was certifiable.

The whaler they were sitting in was a joke. What would prevent one of those ferocious beasts from bumping it? One nudge, and they’d all be overboard, swimming for their lives in noxious, red-tinged water.

She almost gagged. The air smelled like a rendering plant.

What would stop Shirley from biting into the boat? A great white had some of the most powerful jaws in the animal kingdom. Those teeth could cut through the hull like it was a soda can.

Shirley had devoured a 500-pound sea lion in less than a dozen bites.

Jason and Sean had watched her chow down with identical expressions of pride on their handsome faces, grinning like the maniacs they were. Brent’s demeanor was more circumspect, but no less pleased. He was getting great footage.

As they moved in closer, Daniela’s unease grew. The shark was not only longer than the boat, she was wider. Her mouth gaped open, larger than the circle of Daniela’s arms, ringed by rows of serrated white daggers.