Page 34 of Fake Dating the SEAL
Sara moved to do the same.
“You’re staying on the boat.” Kenny spoke more sharply than usual.
“Nope.” Hands on her hips, doing her best to state her case and keep up the farce of not knowing they were being watched. “I don’t care if it’s just a few minutes to retrieve a dropped item; you never dive alone, ever. You know that.”
He stared at her, the muscle in his jaw working. Her logic was unassailable, rooted in the same safety protocols that had been drilled into him for two decades. Finally, he gave a single, sharp nod. “You stay within arm’s reach. No exceptions.”
“Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.”
The second descent was fast and urgent. They dropped straight down, bypassing the scenic route, their focus singular: find the camera. There it was, near a small cluster of fans its dark casing half-buried, almost invisible.
Kenny reached for it. As he secured the camera to a clip on his BCD, Sara turned. Hidden in the shadow of a large coral overhang, not more than ten yards away, were two divers. Unfamiliar divers. They must have slipped into the water from the far side of their boat while everyone’s attention was elsewhere. Kenny saw them a second later. His entire posture changed, from relaxed to coiled steel. He signaled to her—stay put, stay behind me.
He swam toward them, not aggressively, but with a clear, deliberate motion that said I see you. The site is not unattended. It happened fast. Startled, the larger of the two lunged, not with fists, but with a long, wicked-looking dive knife he pulled from a sheath on his leg. He came straight at Kenny.
The shock of it almost had her losing her regulator as her mouth threatened to open and scream. Thoughts raced through her mind; did she rush up, ignore safety speeds, and seek help from Kurt or Billy, or, did she do something herself. But what?There was no force under water and those two thugs were bigger than her.
Kenny was already in a wrestling match with the first guy, his hand manacled around the arm that held the knife. All she had to do was sneak up behind the bad guy, except, for a fleeting moment she’d forgotten there were two of them. Where had the other one…
She felt the grip around her ankle.Shit. How had she lost sight of him? Spinning around she did her best to kick her leg free. Whether it was adrenaline, desperation, or sheer dumb luck she had no idea, but she managed to break free.
Now Kenny had done the same and was speeding toward her, the other guy on his heels. What a blasted mess.
Arms flailing, doing her best to distract, she spun about, reaching for her own knife, flinging herself back around, she managed to catch her assailant off guard and slashed at his suit. He was close enough for her to see the shock in his eyes. Taking advantage of the moment, she swung again, this time nicking his air hose. The man would have no choice but to surface before he lost all his air.
Just as Kenny reached her, the assailant signaled his partner. In a tumbled blur, Kenny turned on the first guy, reaching for the knife as the man kicked away from him. Undeterred, Kenny grabbed at his leg. The guy swung at him with jerky, frantic motions. The shiny edge of the knife whizzed past Kenny and then with a good last kick, the thug broke free and swam away with his partner in crime. Sara saw a brief, bright ribbon of red cloud the water near Kenny’s bicep—a small nick.
Kenny turned to her, his eyes blazing. He gave her a frantic, head-to-toe visual scan. She gave him a thumbs-up, her own adrenaline making her hand tremble. He pointed to his arm, then gave another thumbs-up and signaled for them to ascend.
She nodded, turning to begin their slow journey back to the light when another shadow cut through the cool water. Not again. Mentally preparing for another confrontation, the shadow came into focus and the regulator suddenly felt huge and clumsy in her mouth. Her hand flew to her mask as a gasp she couldn’t voice seized her lungs—shark!
Chapter Fifteen
For a single, precious second after the thugs fled, a wave of pure relief washed over Kenny. Sara was safe. His mind quickly catalogued the next steps: ascend, report, regroup. Then he spotted her frozen in the water, her hand pressed to her mask, her eyes wide with a terror that he feared had nothing to do with the men who had just attacked them. He followed her gaze and his blood ran cold.
It wasn’t just a shark. It was a tiger, and a big one—at least twelve feet of slate-gray muscle and prehistoric menace. It moved with an unnerving, fluid grace, its blunt head swinging from side to side as it tested the water. Kenny knew exactly what it was doing. It had scented his blood, a faint but irresistible invitation in the current.
Every ounce of his SEAL training, every instinct honed over twenty years of survival, screamed to life. His mind became a steel trap of tactical assessment. Threat: apex predator. Location: open water, twenty feet below the surface. Asset to protect: Sara. Primary objective: get her out of the water. Now.
Moving to place his body between Sara and the shark, he grabbed her arm, his grip firm, trying to communicate urgency without inducing panic. He pointed emphatically toward the surface, his expression grim. Go. Now.
To his chagrin, she shook her head, her eyes locked on him, on the small, steady stream of blood still trickling from the gash on his bicep. She understood. The shark wasn’t interested in her. It was interested in him. And she wasn’t leaving him.
Blasted woman. Her courage was going to get them both killed. The shark stopped circling. It turned, its movements no longer curious but deliberate. It was closing the distance.
Kenny’s mind raced. Don’t act like prey. Don’t splash. Don’t flee. He drew his knife, not as a weapon to kill—that was a fool’s game—but as a tool of defense. A last resort. He pulled Sara behind him, positioning her back-to-back with him. They were a single, larger entity now. Harder to attack.
“Stay with me,” his words a useless rumble through his regulator. “Watch my six.”
He faced the shark, keeping his eyes locked on it, making himself as big as possible. The tiger shark swam closer, its dark, unblinking eye a void of predatory focus. It was ten feet away. Then eight. He could see the faint stripes on its flank, the raw power in the sweep of its tail.
His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the steady hiss of his regulator. This was a different kind of fear. In combat, you could predict an enemy’s moves, exploit their tactics. This was primal. Unpredictable. He was no longer a Senior Chief. He was just a man in the water, facing something that had ruled this domain for millions of years.
The shark lunged. Not a full-on attack, but a test. A bump. It came in fast, its massive head aimed at his side. Kenny shoved off the reef floor, using the momentum to swing himself and Sara out of its direct path. The shark’s rough, sandpaper-like skin scraped against his leg, a brutal, abrasive impact that sent a jolt through his entire body.
He regained his balance, turning to face it again. He had to keep Sara safe. The shark circled back, now more agitated.Kenny’s blood was a stronger scent in the water. He needed to stop the bleeding. Pressing his free hand hard against the gash on his arm, he tried to staunch the flow, risking a glance back at Sara. Her face was pale, but her eyes were clear and focused. She wasn’t panicking. And then he heard it.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
