by Russ Elliott
In the center of the lagoon, he saw a growing number of small fins crisscross through the torch-lit surface.
He raised his gaze. Beyond the open gates, the red trail stretched as far as his eyes could see, blending in with the setting sun. Slowly, the alluring scent rolled farther out with the tide, reaching through the depths, beckoning to whatever may lurk within the deep, dark reaches of the Indian Ocean.
Read on for a free sample of Sea Raptor
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My special thanks to my editor, Janet Fix with thewordverve, for her keen eye, and enthusiasm for the project.
Also thanks to my friend Steve and his encouragement for this project from the very beginning, which helped push me through the challenging times.
ABOUT RUSS ELLIOTT
Growing up in a small town near Lynchburg, Virginia, one of Russ’s earliest memories is standing at the front of his first-grade class with his vast collection of dinosaur figures. One by one, he would explain in great detail the various characteristics of each creature to the class. The seven-year-old’s prehistoric presentation was so compelling that his teacher would then send him off to repeat it to every grade in the elementary school.
A move to Tampa, Florida, and nearly three decades later, Russ became an award-winning art director at a Palm Harbor advertising agency. Collecting over a dozen ADDY Awards for creative excellence (advertising’s equivalent to the Grammy), Russ later became intrigued with fiction writing. An accomplished painter and sculptor, he found that writing offered something new. It was a medium that could be easily shared. A good sculpture, for example, could only be truly appreciated when viewed in person, where one could walk around it and experience it in its world of light and shadows—an experience that could not be captured in a photograph, therefore not easily shared. But writing offered him something more; it allowed him to sculpt an image in the reader’s mind. Someone on the other side of the globe could read a scene and experience the images just as the artist had intended. Russ still considers himself a sculptor, though . . . only now, instead of clay and plaster, he uses words.
So nearly a decade ago, when one of the original “dinosaur kids” decided to pen his first set of novels, it was no surprise that his subject matter would be the greatest prehistoric predator that ever lived.
Other past and present hobbies include motocross and flat track racing, performance cars and competitive bodybuilding. In addition, Russ has two patents to his name. He created the art for his book covers and most of the images on his book’s website:
www.VengeancefromtheDeep.com.
He now resides in Tampa, Florida, with his wife Danielle and his Doberman.
ONE
Glenn Flynn wanted her, right the hell now!
Play it cool, man. Wait for your opening.
He wondered if he could wait much longer as the bikini-clad redhead bent over the cooler. Glenn ran his eyes up her smooth legs, stopping at her nice tight ass.
My God, she was hot!
“Yo, Glenn. Catch.”
Sara Monaghan tossed him a beer. Despite the gentle bobbing of the speedboat, he caught it.
“Woo-hoo! You got good hands,” Sara cheered.
“You don’t know just how good these hands are.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Glenn.” Sara giggled and blushed. She took a swig of beer and turned on the MP3 player. A deep, thumping beat blared from the speakers. Sara lifted her arms and swung her hips.
Glenn didn’t think he could get any harder.
“Don’t just stand there,” she said. “We’re here to party. C’mon.”
Glenn recognized the look in Sara’s eyes. He’d seen it before in many of his other conquests. That inviting look.
His opening.
Sara cheered as they grinded against each other. Glenn ran a hand up and down her side. She gave him a seductive smile.
High school girls are so easy. It didn’t take much to impress them. He played football for Temple University. He came from a well-to-do family. His father had a sweet boat which he let him borrow whenever he wanted.
To a 17-year-old hottie, he was god-like.
When they finished dancing, Glenn drained the rest of his beer. The cool liquid felt good going down his throat, what with the blazing July sun beating down on him.
“How about some more?” Sara shook her empty can in front of him.
“Sure.” Glenn would have rather had her than another beer, but this next one would be Sara’s fourth. In his experience, the more booze a chick had in her, the harder it was for them to say no.
One more and I’m in like Flynn. He smiled at the catch phrase the Temple broadcasters used whenever he caught a touchdown.
Sara chucked her empty can over the side. So did Glenn. He stared at Sara’s fine ass as she grabbed two more beers. When she straightened up, she looked at the water and tilted her head.
“What’s that?” She leaned closer to the side.
“What’s what?”
“That.” Sara pointed to a spot of water a few feet away.
Glenn stared hard, then shrugged. “I don’t see anything.”
“There was, like, a shadow. A big one.” She turned to him with a distressed look. “Do you think it’s a shark?”
“So what if it is. It’s not like they jump into boats. Besides, I’m here to protect you.” He put and arm around her waist.
“Glenn.” She giggled and pressed her body against his.
Yup, it was almost time.
He leaned in, ready to plant a kiss on Sara’s neck.
That’s when she squirmed out of his grasp.
“What the hell?” he blurted.
“Oh, keep your pants on. At least for another minute.” She flashed him a big smile.
Glenn looked down at the bulge in his swim trunks. He doubted he’d be able to keep them on another second, never mind an entire minute.
Sara reached into her handbag and pulled out her cell phone. “I wanna record this and send it to my friend Maddy. She’s gonna be so jealous that I hooked up with a stud like you.”
She leaned against him, one arm around his waist, the other holding out her cell phone. Glenn wondered if he could convince her to record them doing it. Some of the other girls he’d nailed had been willing, and his sex vids were always a hit with his friends at parties.
“Hey, Maddy. Just wanted you to see the really, really hot guy I’m with at The Shore. Think about me and think about him while you’re on your lame family trip to New Hampshire, because we’re gonna—”
A splash of water erupted behind them. Glenn turned.
Something heavy slammed down on the boat. The bow rose out of the water. Sara screamed as she and Glenn fell. He hit the deck hard. His head throbbed. He closed his eyes and grimaced.
Sara screamed louder.
Glenn’s eyes cracked open, then went wide.
A maw of razor-sharp teeth hovered over him.
He tried to move, to get the hell away. Fear paralyzed his muscles.
The teeth clamped down on his head. Glenn Flynn felt a moment of intense, piercing pain.
Then nothing.
Sea Raptor is available from Amazon here