“He’s not going anywhere—”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a greedy bird came diving down, plucking at the animal’s exposed side. He bleated weakly, unable to protect himself from their vicious onslaught. One after another, the winged predators attacked the pup, growing bolder, drawing blood.
“Damned shags,” Jason muttered. “I wish I had some rocks to throw.”
The young seal let out a loud bellow, whipping his head around. With a valiant effort, he heaved his body across the few feet of rock and slid off the edge, disappearing into the relative safety of the water.
Heart sinking, Daniela examined every inch of the surface, but the pup was gone.
“He’ll turn back up,” Jason said, making a stab at optimism. One glance at Sean told a truer tale. The only place this pup was going was a shark’s belly.
She sat down on the bench and hugged her arms around herself, feeling hollow. When the seal didn’t resurface, they continued on the tour, leaving the somber scene behind them.
But Daniela didn’t have time to let depression set in. A moment later, the engine made a strange hissing sound. It choked, sputtered a few times and then stalled completely.
Chapter 7
Thick black smoke plumed up from the engine, and the smell of burning plastic filled Daniela’s nostrils.
Sean leaped to his feet, striding to the back of the boat to inspect the damage.
“What the hell,” Jason muttered, hitting some switches on the dash before he joined Sean at the stern. There must have been a manual override, because he tried to restart the engine by hand. He yanked the cord, but it didn’t turn over.
Daniela’s stomach dropped. “What’s wrong?”
Jason tried again and again. Nothing happened. “It’s dead.”
“Oars,” Sean said, scrambling to open a storage compartment in the floor. He threw out a couple of orange life vests and a length of yellow rope, his hands searching. The notches that normally housed the oars were empty. “Did you take them out?”
Jason paled. “No.”
Sean thrust a hand through his hair, cursing fluently. They were only a hundred feet from shore, at the most. And it may as well have been a hundred miles. “This is unbelievable! Who would remove the oars?”
Jason picked up his radio, calling Brent at the tower. “We have a problem.”
Brent responded immediately. “What’s up?”
“No engine, no oars.”
“Copy that,” he said. “Should I call in an SOS? Surely there’s a boat nearby.”
Jason deliberated for a moment, exchanging a dark glance with Sean. Commercial ships and private vessels cruised in and out of the bay at all hours, but once the whaler drifted away from the island, she would be hard to spot.
Without GPS, even the Coast Guard would have trouble finding them. They could be stranded indefinitely.
“Screw this,” Sean said, yanking his sweater over his head. His T-shirt came with it. Bare-chested, he sat down to take off his boots.
Daniela felt the air rush out of her lungs. “What are you doing?”
He ignored her. “How much rope do we have?”
“Two fifties,” Jason answered.
“Tie them together.”
Jason secured the two fifty-foot ropes together in a fisherman’s knot while Sean made a loop at one end.
“No,” Daniela breathed, measuring the distance to the shore. “You’ll never make it.”
“She’s right,” Jason said. “I should go.”
Sean brought the loop over his head and arm, sling-style, so that it lay diagonally across his chest. “Why?”
He gestured at Daniela. “I don’t have a—”
Sean’s eyes locked on hers. “Neither do I.”
Every moment, they were drifting farther out. By the time he reached shore, there was no telling how far out the boat would be.
“Don’t do this,” she pleaded.
Sean jerked his chin toward the open sea. “Do you want to take our chances out there? At night?”
“Oh God,” she moaned, unable to fathom that fate.
“Go,” Jason said, making the choice for them. “Or I will.”
Sean didn’t have to be told twice. He dove off the end of the boat, cutting into the ocean like a knife. As soon as he surfaced, he began swimming toward the shore, his movements strong and sure. The water temperature must have been bitterly cold, because she could see the steam rising from his body. His shoulder muscles rippled in the afternoon light, shining wet and sharply defined.
Jason tied off the other end of the rope, giving as much slack as he could spare. He stayed in radio communication with Brent, but Daniela wasn’t aware of the actual words spoken. Her entire focus was on Sean.
He sliced through the water in powerful strokes, eating up the distance to the shore. Despite the chilly temperature, which robbed the body of energy and turned muscles into sludge, his crawl was well-executed and his pace steady.
Even so, she was frozen with fear for him.
From her research, Daniela knew there was an invisible ring around the island that the scientists called the Red Circle. It denoted a specific depth and distance from shore in which the incidence of shark attack was much higher. This area often corresponded with a steep drop-off or other underwater features sharks used for cover.
Seals and sea lions crossing this space exercised extreme caution, rarely swimming on the surface of the water.
And Sean was passing right through it.
Yesterday, they’d watched a shark devour a 500-pound sea lion less than a mile from this very spot.
She almost couldn’t bear to watch.
“He’ll make it,” Jason said.
Daniela’s heart was pounding against her chest, her pulse thundering in her ears. No sharks, her mind screamed. Please, God, no sharks.
“He’s going to make it,” Jason repeated, sounding more certain. “He’s almost there.”
The last few feet took the most effort. Sean’s rope stretched across the distance, taking up the slack. When he reached a rocky area near the bird blind, he struggled to haul himself out of the water, but the rope over his shoulder stayed taut.
The current was pulling him backward.
“Come on,” Jason urged.
Finally, Sean dragged himself out of the water, his muscles straining for every inch. He lay on the rocky shore for a moment, catching his breath. The rope tugged at him, threatening to yank him back into the water.
“He can’t bring us in,” Daniela said.
“No,” Jason agreed. “He’s going to anchor us. We’ll pull ourselves in.”
Easier said than done. There was a jagged rock near Sean, pointing up toward the sky. He slipped the rope off his shoulder and widened the loop, trying to make it fit over the rock. This took several tries, and extreme care, as the rope had a lot of tension.
If it slipped from his hands, all would be lost.
On the last try, he managed to slide the loop down over the jagged rock. It held tight, anchoring them to shore.
Jason gave a celebratory shout, pumping his fist in the air. “Yes!”
Daniela was right there with him, hugging his side and laughing, tears of relief streaming down her face.
At the shore, Sean lay flat on his back, panting.
“I’m going to need your help,” Jason warned, testing the rope.
Daniela wasn’t a physics master, but she understood that they had to use leverage to bring themselves in. When Jason started pulling, leaning back with his body weight, she wrapped her arms around his taut waist and heaved, adding her weight to his.
Jason wasn’t as big as Sean, and Daniela was small, even for a woman, but they both gave it their all. It took every ounce of their combined strength to get started. After a grueling initial effort, they made forward progress. The boat crept toward the shore, little by little. Jason’s hands moved across the rope, end over end.
Daniela was
able to release his waist and grab the rope, helping Jason pull them in. Her arms shook from exertion, and sweat broke out on her forehead as they gained momentum. Together, they made it to shore.
The next few minutes took on a surreal, dreamlike quality. Sean tied off the whaler and Jason helped her ashore. They waded through waist-high water and scrambled onto slippery rock. She’d never felt happier to be on land. Breathing hard and soaking wet, she lay back and stared up at the cold blue sky, giddy from relief and exhaustion.
When he’d recovered well enough to talk, Jason gave Sean a surfer handshake. “That was awesome, dude. You’re my hero.”
Sean laughed, shielding his eyes from the sun with his forearm.
Daniela knew both men were riding high on adrenaline, and so was she, but she didn’t find anything humorous about the situation. Sean could have been killed. A moment ago, she’d been paralyzed with fear, crying her eyes out.
And they thought it was funny?
Sean caught a glimpse of her face and sobered. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Despite her feelings of hurt and confusion, her heart filled with another, more tender emotion. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and press her lips to his throat. She wanted to hold on tight and never let him go.
Instead, she sat up, drawing her knees to her chest. She realized that he’d risked his life because of her. He knew she couldn’t handle drifting out to sea. She’d have gone mad, stuck in a tiny boat, surrounded by a vast ocean.
Maybe Taryn was right. Her presence here created drama, conflict—even danger.
“What do you think happened to the engine?” Sean asked.
Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. It looks pretty thrashed.”
“Do you have an extra?”
“Yeah. In the utility shed.”
Elizabeth and Taryn came scrambling over the rocks, their voices carrying on the wind. Brent followed close behind, a set of oars resting on one broad shoulder.
Their appearance felt like an interruption. Daniela needed some time with Jason and Sean, to process what happened. Over the course of the afternoon, and the past few harrowing moments, the three of them had bonded. Jason had become her friend.
And Sean would always be…something more.
As if in direct opposition to her thoughts, he rose to his feet, eager to greet the others. And Taryn rushed forward, launching herself into Sean’s arms.
Their embrace didn’t look platonic. She splayed her hands across his bare shoulders, plastering her slender body full-length against his. They fit together perfectly, a golden couple in the afternoon sun.
“That was amazing,” Brent said, his eyes bright with excitement. “I think I got it all on film, too. I left the camera at the tower rolling.”
Daniela pictured this scene in his documentary, fading to black after a romantic, aesthetically pleasing last frame, and she felt sharp pain in the center of her chest. She turned her face toward the horizon, telling herself it was only anxiety.
Sean didn’t know what the hell Daniela wanted.
One moment, she seemed relieved he’d made it out of the water alive. The next, she was looking at him like she wished he’d died.
It wasn’t as if he expected her to be overwhelmed with joy and throw herself at his feet, confessing that she still cared. But they’d been married, and he would always love her, so the evidence of her apathy didn’t just crush his ego.
It hurt, all the way down to his soul.
Maybe she thought he should have let Jason go instead of him. Although they were equally good swimmers, Sean was taller and more muscular. He’d been able to bring the rope to shore, so there was no reason for Jason to risk his life.
He understood that Daniela was sensitive to high-pressure situations, and he hadn’t meant to distress her, but he couldn’t let the whaler drift out to sea. The idea of her being stranded all night, struggling not to panic, had been unbearable.
He would protect her from that kind of trauma at any cost.
Besides that, it felt good to save the day. Damned good. He’d do it again in a heartbeat. He’d do it a thousand times over. He only wished he’d been able to come to Dani’s rescue two years ago, when she’d really needed him.
He’d never forgive himself for letting her down. Playing the hero this time didn’t erase his guilt, or make him forget about all the mistakes he’d made in the past, but it helped to soothe a raw place inside of him.
Taryn’s embrace soothed him further.
She wasn’t the one he wanted to hold the most, but he enjoyed having a woman in his arms and his feet on the ground.
“I thought you were going to get killed,” Taryn said, her hands on his face. “I thought a shark would eat you.”
“I’d be a poor meal for a white, after a diet of fat sea lions.”
“True,” she said with a teary smile, smoothing her palms over his shoulders. “You’re all muscle and bone.”
He didn’t want to give Taryn the wrong impression, so he let her go. He’d held her a little too close, for a little too long. Sharing an innocent hug with her was no big deal, and Taryn didn’t mean anything by it, but maybe his motives were suspect.
Using her to make Daniela jealous was pathetic. Not to mention futile.
“They probably wouldn’t come back for more than one bite,” Jason agreed. “But you’d still bleed to death.”
It was a common misconception that white sharks were indiscriminate diners. Although they would investigate almost anything, and rip it to shreds in the process, they usually wouldn’t continue to feed on lean meat. It was unknown whether attacks on humans were the result of mistaken identity or idle curiosity, but man was not part of their preferred diet.
Unfortunately, an exploratory bite from a great white was often fatal.
One glance at Daniela revealed her concern. Her face was pinched and pale, her eyes dark with emotion. She had been worried about him. And he’d comforted Taryn instead of her. Feeling like an insensitive bastard, he faltered, fumbling for the right words to make it better. As was all too common in his experience, they wouldn’t come.
So he scowled at Jason. “Was that observation really necessary?”
Jason shrugged, taking the oars from Brent. “Let’s get back to the landing so I can take a look at the engine.”
Jason was angry with him now, too, which figured. He’d wanted the starring role in Brent’s documentary—a part Sean had just stolen from him, unwittingly. And, perhaps because his attraction to Elizabeth wasn’t going anywhere, Jason also seemed interested in trying out for Daniela’s leading man.
This level of competition could generate some real hard feelings between them.
While the others walked back to the house, Sean and Jason stayed behind to take care of the whaler. It couldn’t be left at this location without sustaining serious damage to the hull. Sean untied the ropes and they waded through the water, climbing aboard once again.
Rowing the boat back to the landing wasn’t easy. In wet clothes, they were cold and uncomfortable. After pulling the whaler in, Jason’s arms must have been burning from exertion, and Sean was tired after a hard swim, but neither of them complained.
“These oars are from the supply shed,” Sean commented.
“Yep.”
“Any idea where the original ones went?”
“Nope.”
“When did you check them last?”
“I counted the life jackets last week, but I don’t remember noticing the oars. There’s no reason to remove them.”
“Maybe one got broken, and someone meant to replace the set, but forgot.”
Jason grunted a noncommittal response, rowing harder over the last stretch. Sean shut up and followed suit. The feat should have boosted his spirits, but it hadn’t. Knowing the toll his actions had taken on Daniela, he only felt…numb.
The instant they returned to the house, he went upstairs and changed into dry clothes. As he headed back down th
e hall, he noticed that the door to Daniela and Taryn’s room was slightly ajar.
He paused, rapping his knuckles against it. “Dani?”
“I’m on my way out,” she said, her voice husky.
He ducked his head in. “Can I talk to you?”
“Of course.” Her eyes were dark and luminous, her hair wind-tossed and her cheeks flushed from the time spent outdoors. She sat down at the desk with her hands in her lap, waiting for him to speak.
There were no other chairs, so he took a seat on the lower bunk, hunching his back to keep from hitting his head against the upper frame. It was awkward, but it wasn’t as bad as towering over her.
The situation reminded him of their counseling sessions.
For six months after the accident, they’d gone to a grief specialist. At the end of each session, the therapist had asked him to turn toward Dani for “sharing time.” Sean had always made eye contact and listened carefully, but he’d never known what to say.
“I’m sorry,” he said, moving his gaze from her clasped hands to her beautiful face.
She moistened her lips. “For what?”
In the past, his answer might have been, “For whatever I did wrong,” or, even better, “For upsetting you.” While perfectly acceptable, in his mind, those responses hadn’t gone over well with her. This time, he dug a little deeper and told her what he was really sorry about. “For not being there for you,” he said, meeting her eyes.
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. Tilting her head to one side, she asked, “What do you think you could have done?”
“Taken your place,” he said immediately. “You shouldn’t have been driving.”
Her brows drew together. “I suppose you think you could have avoided the SUV spinning out of control across the freeway.”
“No. I meant I wish it had been me. I wish I’d been hurt, instead of you. I’d have done anything to take your pain.”
“Sean—” She broke off, squeezing her eyes shut. The tears spilled out anyway, wetting her thick lashes.
Stranded With Her Ex Page 8