Without Porpoise

by Tymber Dalton

  They all moved to the living room. Once settled, Joseph Nadel got down to business.

  “I truly appreciate you coming to hear us out, Floyd.”

  Floyd tipped his head to the pod Alpha. “I feel I owe it to you. Although, as I told you, we cannot make you any promises until we hear all the details and fully assess the situation.”

  Emery sat with his arm draped across Sean’s shoulders, listening, letting his father handle the retelling of events. A few times he locked eyes with Wyatt, who knew firsthand how dangerous their dinner guests could potentially be.

  It was only through Wyatt’s assurances that his father was right about calling them in that Emery had finally dropped his objections to talking with them.

  Wyatt had been through a lot, seen a lot, far more than Sean ever suspected. Emery owed Wyatt his life.

  A story he hadn’t told Sean yet and suspected he should hold back, at least until after the evening ended. He could sense Sean was freaked out enough by the sharks. He didn’t need to add to that anxiety, something the sharks would sense.

  When his father finished summarizing the situation with Erik, he clasped his hands on his knee. “So that’s why we need to take all possible precautions with the superpod.”

  Floyd’s gaze swiveled to and paused on Wyatt for a long, silent, uncomfortable moment before returning to Joseph. “You seem to have others in your sphere of influence who can help provide protection. I don’t see where our services would be of any help, unless I’m missing something.”

  “We have a lot of help.” Joseph pointed at Sam. “He’s assembled a very talented assortment of shifters to help man boats. And we will have outside dolphin and porpoise shifters on the outskirts. Unfortunately, very few people match your speed, skill, and stamina in the water. That is where we are still lacking in reinforcements.”

  “Yes, lizards aren’t very fast in the water, are they?” Floyd didn’t look at Wyatt when he said it, but Emery felt Sean stiffen next to him. Emery tightened his grip on Sean’s shoulders in a silent hint to not say anything. Sean might have gotten the crap scared out of him by Wyatt, but he also was fiercely protective of his friends.

  For his part, Wyatt didn’t move, didn’t even flinch.

  Floyd’s dark, liquid gaze moved over Emery, settling on him. “A gay Alpha mated to a gay human. Doesn’t that open your pod up to challenges from the outside, Joseph?”

  Next to him, Sean started to open his mouth, but Emery squeezed his shoulder to silence him and silently warned him through their mate-bond.

  “Easy, babe. It’s how they do things, testing for strength. Ignore it.”

  Joseph smiled. “It makes us stronger.”

  Floyd’s attention returned to Emery’s father, confusion painted there. Emery felt some satisfaction that it was the first genuine emotion he’d sensed from the great white all evening.

  “How so?”

  Joseph’s smile never faltered. “Because people will underestimate him and the strength of our pod. To their detriment. Our pod is larger than ever, and, as the events of the past couple of months have demonstrated, stronger than ever. Anyone stupid enough to challenge Emery as pod Alpha will soon find themselves wishing they hadn’t.”

  The shark blankly considered that for a moment, his fingers slowly stroking up and down his thigh. “I can see your point.” He looked at his wife, who nodded.

  Floyd sat back in his chair. “What are you proposing, Joseph?”

  “I know you consider this a chance to even out a debt, but the truth is, I’ve never considered what I did a debt needing repaying. I would have helped anyone the way I helped your brother. I see us joined not by bloodlines, but by common enemies. We’re all shifters. If one is endangered, we’re all endangered.

  “What I propose is that this is the beginning of an ongoing partnership, of sorts. A working relationship. As pod Alpha, and with Bob and Michael here also in agreement for their pods, and with the agreements of others I’ve talked with but who couldn’t be here tonight, we pledge a working relationship with the sharks. Any sharks, not just great whites.

  “In return, all we ask is the same consideration, as well as a conscious decision not to prey on our shifter kinds. We’ll pass the word among other pods, if you’ll do the same with the sharks. I know Florida doesn’t necessarily have as bad a problem with shark fishing as in other areas, but this could be a beneficially symbiotic agreement for both parties. Watching each others’ backs, as it were.”

  Floyd pondered that for a moment, his fingers once again stroking up and down his thigh while no one spoke. It seemed even on land, as in water, this shark couldn’t remain immobile for long. “I can’t guarantee everyone will be on board with the agreement, just as I’m sure you can’t guarantee all the marine mammals will be in agreement. But I’ve heard of these two Alphas. They have a strong reputation. That they are in agreement with you tells me this just might work.

  “I’ve never personally had an issue with the marine mammals, as I’m sure you know. My parents were practical and ethical and limited our consumption of marine mammals to ones who were already deceased, shifters or bio. I’ve taken great pride in adhering to that credo.” He glanced at Grace, who nodded again.

  Then he extended his hand to Joseph. “We will work with Sam on the logistics.”

  When Joseph shook with him, Emery breathed a relieved sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His own gaze once again met Wyatt’s, who tipped his head at him in a barely perceptible nod.

  He thought that might have relieved him even more.

  * * * *

  “So what the hell was that all about?” Sean quietly asked a few minutes later in the kitchen, where Emery had gone to get a drink of water.

  “What?”

  Sean made him face him. “You and Wyatt. What’s going on?”

  Emery tried for playful. “Jealous?”

  Sean rolled his eyes at him. “Dude, sooo don’t try to deflect like that. You know I’m not. What gives?”

  Emery realized he’d have to tell Sean the story sooner than he’d anticipated, but here and now was not the time to do it.

  Especially not with these particular sharks in the house. “Later, babe. I promise.”

  His mate’s brow furrowed. “Not even like this?”

  Emery shook his head.

  More relief when Sean let it drop and followed him back to the living room. He didn’t like thinking about what happened, about how a fishing trip to the Keys with friends had turned into a deadly showdown.

  About how having to defend himself and his friends led to the inescapable taking of a life.

  How if it hadn’t been for Wyatt, he and the others might not have survived. And how if it hadn’t been for independent witnesses, Wyatt might have found himself marked for death by the sharks as a result.

  * * * *

  It only took about another thirty minutes to complete initial discussions with the sharks and bid them a good evening. Everyone else helped pitch in to clean up. It was nearly eleven when Sean and Emery walked outside with Wyatt after saying good night to the Nadels.

  Emery leaned against the side of his car. “We really appreciate you being here, man.” He extended his hand.

  Wyatt’s face split into a beaming grin as he shook with Emery. “Aw, don’t go gettin’ all sentimental on me now, Flipper Junior.” He pulled Emery in for a hug before clapping Sean on the shoulder. “You know I always got your back. Just like I know you always got mine.”

  “You better believe it, buddy.”

  “Thanks, you.”

  As Emery expected, they’d barely pulled out of his parents’ driveway before Sean’s questions started.

  “You want to tell me now, or have me bug the crap out of you all the way home?”

  Emery ran a hand through his hair. “You won’t let this drop, will you?”

  “Dude, seriously? What do you think?”

  “Okay. But it’s not exactly something I’m pro
ud of.”

  “I don’t care. I love you, and I want to hear this.”

  “I warned you.” He gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “We went down to the Keys a few years back. I needed a vacation and Wyatt, Ambrose, and Stephen went with me. A guys-only trip.”

  Chapter Five

  Emery stared across the wide swaths of sawgrass flats lining either side of US-1 on the way south into Key Largo. Airboat trails and canals cut through them at irregular intervals, casting sunlight off the rippling surface of the water.

  “This is awesome,” he said.

  In the passenger seat, Wyatt nodded, his amber eyes shaded behind his mirrored sunglasses, tapping his hands on his thighs in time with the radio. “I told you, boys. Dis here gonna be the best time ever.”

  In the backseat, Ambrose and Stephen each looked out their respective windows at the landscape.

  “We have the boat for four days,” Emery said. “I plan on spending most of that time on the water.”

  “Doncha’ mean in?” Wyatt teased. “I suspect I’m gonna be the one on the boat, keepin’ track of your asses.”

  Emery grinned. “Yeah, that.”

  Emery felt a little guilty about not inviting Erik, but only a little. He didn’t like how clingy Erik got sometimes, a little jealous. It wasn’t an accident Emery timed the trip plans to coincide with Erik’s already booked trip to Washington state to visit his older brother.

  They were going to spend five days in Key West. What better place for a gay dolphin shifter to find a little regret and self-loathing than there? Wyatt and the others, while not gay, surely wouldn’t have any trouble charming any stray ladies who crossed their paths.

  By three o’clock they’d reached Key West and checked into their hotel suite. Because Emery’s and Wyatt’s credit cards had reserved the room and boat, they got the beds, while Ambrose and Stephen had to share the queen-sized sofa bed in the living room.

  By six o’clock they’d settled in at a nearby sports pub recommended by the front desk and were playing pool. Emery had left the car keys in their room, determined not to turn this weekend into a DUI to remember.

  Everything was going well until around eight that night, when the house band took the stage and a group of three drunks decided they wanted to play pool, too. Which was fine with Emery, except that one of the drunks, a couple of years older than them, was a real dick.

  And not of the fun, suckable, fuckable kind of dick, either.

  Adding to the issues, Emery could sense the man was a shifter, but couldn’t put his finger on exactly what kind of shifter.

  The four of them eventually gave up on their game, abandoned the pool table to the newcomers, and moved to play darts.

  Wyatt nudged him as they grabbed darts from the case holding the board. “You get that vibe?”

  “Yep. What are they?”

  “Don’t know, but I got a suspicion.”

  Five minutes later, the group followed them over to the darts area and started their harassment again.

  Emery’d had enough. “Dude, what the fuck is your problem?”

  The man sneered at him. “I don’t have a problem.”

  “Obviously you do.” Wyatt stood at his shoulder, while Ambrose and Stephen gathered close behind. “We were minding our own business when you came in here with attitude.”

  “This is our bar, Flipper.”

  The two guys with the asshole looked like they were a little closer to Emery’s age, or even perhaps younger. Uncertainty flashed across their faces before they both grinned and nodded.

  “Hey, we’re just here on vacation. If you want a pissing contest, you’re not getting one.”

  A bouncer appeared and stepped between them, his attention on the three drunks. “John, I told you before, play nice or get the fuck out. You don’t pay the mortgage or the bills here.”

  The head asshole’s face grew red, but his buddies apparently knew they didn’t have a leg to stand on and grabbed his arms.

  “Hey, come on, John,” one of them mumbled. “He’s a dick. Let it go.”

  “Why should I let it go when we were here first?”

  Another bouncer appeared, flanking the first. “Problem, Ken?”

  “Yeah, John’s up to his shit again.”

  “Look, we just let you off probation, asshole. Boss said we can ban your ass if you keep this crap up. Leave the tourists alone.”

  With a lot of coaxing from his friends, they finally got John headed toward the front door.

  The first bouncer turned to Emery and Wyatt. “We cool?” He held out a hand.

  Emery nodded and shook with him. He suspected this guy might also be a shifter, but didn’t know what species. “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Sorry about that. Shocker, apparently he’s single again. When a woman breaks up with him, he gets drunk, then he turns into a massive douche.”

  “I suspect he starts out as a massive douche.”

  “You’re not half wrong.”

  The four of them resumed their dart game. Emery tried to shake the feeling that whatever happened wasn’t over. He wanted to enjoy this vacation, relax, chill out.

  If he’d wanted to see a douche in action, he would have brought Erik and his expert cockblocking skills.

  Later that evening and well-lubricated with booze, Emery, Stephen, and Ambrose left the bar to head back to the hotel. Wyatt had stayed behind, chatting up two cute college coeds.

  They’d crossed the parking lot to cut through an alley when they heard steps behind them.

  Turning, they found the same three assholes from the bar.

  “Look, what the fuck is your problem?” Emery asked. “We were minding our own fucking business and you come in like some dick.”

  “That’s our bar, asshole,” John said.

  Emery was pleased to note the two guys with him didn’t look as confident now as they had earlier.

  Emery had enough. He went nose-to-nose with the guy. “Fucking bring it like a man.”

  When the guy prepared to take a swing, Emery had tensed, ready to duck the punch, when a brick sailed out of the darkness and hit the dude squarely in the back, taking him down to his knees. It would have seriously injured a normal human. That it only knocked the wind out of the guy reinforced to Emery that whatever kind of shifter the guy was, he was powerful.

  Wyatt’s voice boomed out of the darkness. “I wouldn’t be doin’ that, I were you, son.”

  The Cajun appeared, walking slowly toward them, lightly bouncing another brick in the palm of his hand. “Ain’t nobody wantin’ trouble, but I guaran-damn-tee you, you start it, I’ll be finishin’ it.”

  John climbed to his knees with the help of his two friends, a pained look on his face. “This isn’t over.”

  Wyatt, who stood a good three inches taller than the dude, reached out and grabbed him by the throat. Even Emery took a step back as Wyatt’s amber eyes seemed to pick up any stray hint of light and emitted an eerie reddish glow. “It over now,” he said, a deep, rumbling hiss overlaying his tone.

  The fearsome sound of an alligator bellowing.

  Wyatt pulled the guy close, the brick still in his other hand. “I tell you, now mebbe you all can’t shift on land, but I can. And ain’t nothin’ gonna help your dumb cracker ass if you make me do it. Fuck with me and my friends again, so help me, I will do it.”

  He shoved the guy back at his friends and lifted the brick. “I make myself clear, boys?”

  The two guys dragged John away without giving him a chance to reply.

  Emery shook his head. “Fuck, you have no idea how glad I am to see you. What the hell are they?”

  “Sharks. Great whites.” He didn’t take his eyes off the assholes’ backs. “Bouncer tol’ me. He’s a manatee shifter. When I tol’ him what I was, he tol’ me ’bout them.” He glanced at Emery. “I was chatting up them girls when I saw through the door those jokers startin’ after y’all.” He sighed. “So much for me gettin’ laid tonight.” />
  Emery clapped him across the back. “There’s always tomorrow night.”

  * * * *

  The next morning, after eating breakfast and stocking up on snacks and drinks for the cooler, they located the marina and headed out in their rental boat.

  They’d already put the incident with the sharks out of their minds. Emery determined he’d enjoy the hell out of the day. It’d be the three dolphins’ first opportunity to have some real deep-sea fishing of the shifted kind, with the steep drop-off on the Atlantic side of Key West nothing like the relative shallows they usually swam in the Gulf.

  Clear, deep, and teeming with fish of various species, the three dolphin shifters had a blast while Wyatt spent the day fishing the old-fashioned way from the boat, with a rod and reel in one hand and a cold bottle of beer in the other.

  They returned to the sports pub that night and didn’t run into the sharks, much to Emery’s relief.

  Day two on the water went pretty much like day one. Lots of fun, lots of sun, and lots of fishing. They again returned to the sports pub that night, enjoying their fun and the house band until early in the morning.

  Day three, Emery awoke feeling unsettled but wouldn’t let that get in the way of their fun. After picking up the boat at the marina, they headed out toward the Atlantic again for their next to last day on the water.

  He noticed a boat following them out of the channel, but didn’t pay it any attention. Lots of boats were out, even though it wasn’t lobster season, because of tourists on vacation and the great weather.

  It was Key fucking West, after all.

  When they picked a spot and anchored on the shallow side near the drop-off in about sixty feet of water, Emery also didn’t pay much attention when the other boat anchored several hundred yards away. They weren’t the only boats out there.

  Emery, followed by Stephen and Ambrose, dove in, leaving Wyatt in the boat, radio on, beer in his hand, hook already in the water.