Free Dead Over Heels by MaryJanice Davidson Page B

setting sun.
    “That hammerhead shark is back,” she said casually.
    He nearly shrieked. “Hammerhead?” Then, “Back?”
    “Yes, it occasionally noses around, mostly while you’re uncon—asleep. I keep warning it away.”
    “Oh—the telepathy. You talk to fish, too?”
    “Of course. But she’s heavy with pup and is not inclined to listen. I—oh, in the king’s name,” she said, exasperated, and this time he could see the fin arrowing out of the water toward Ree.
    “I will come back,” she said, and dived to meet it.
    “Ree!” he screamed. “Get in the boat with me!” But she couldn’t hear him, so he lunged over the side—and sank like a stone.

Chapter 9
    L uckily, he’d taken a big breath before hitting the water, and even better, the water was warm, but the salt stung his eyes and for a moment he couldn’t see anything.
    Then he saw Ree darting to meet the shark, which looked like it had about a zillion teeth. He wished he was telepathic; he’d tell her to get the fuck away from it. He wished he’d thought to grab the oar on the way down. He wished he’d taken those swim lessons at the Y.
    He clumsily swung his arms in the water and made about half a foot of forward progress. Meanwhile, Ree had deftly caught the shark—an eight footer!—by the jaws and was holding them open. Then she reared up, let go of the jaws, and grabbed it by the hammer-thing. It snapped, but Ree was too quick and it missed her tail by about four inches.
    Then—he wondered if the salt was blinding him, because he was having trouble believing his eyes—still holding onto the hammer, Ree somehow lunged forward—and took a bite out of the shark’s back!
    The shark tried to rear away from her and she let it, giving it a smack on the fin as it sped away from her, trailing blood. Then she turned and her eyes widened as she saw him.
    He managed a wave, still sinking, trying to drown without being too much trouble, and she arrowed toward him, seized him under the armpits, then darted toward the surface. He was amazed; she was swimming, with his bulk, even faster than he had sunk.
    They popped to the surface and he took a breath, then coughed. “Lucky I was there to save your ass,” he gasped, suddenly conscious of her breasts pressing against the back of his T-shirt.
    She heaved him into the boat like a sack of potatoes—Christ, she was strong!—not once letting up with the scolding. “What were you thinking, stupid Con? You cannot swim! You would have had no chance against a pregnant shark, particularly that breed. She was starving, which is the only reason I did not kill her, but if she comes back I will kill her, and you, too, if you do such a foolish thing ever again.”
    “Couldn’t let you get eaten on my account.”
    “We are the top of the food chain in the ocean, as you are on land, stupid Con! I was in no danger.”
    “Now you tell me,” he mumbled.
    She paddled agitatedly around the boat for a minute, then said, “I cannot put this off any longer. You need land.”
    “Now you tell me,” he said again.
    “I do not know how long it will take. It may take too long.”
    “Whatever,” he said, yawning.
    She seized the bow (or was it the stern?) of the boat with one hand and started to swim. Slowly, the boat started to move. He tried to sit up, thinking he could help row with the (broken) oar, but saw at once it was no good—he’d cracked it too thoroughly on her head.
    So he flopped back in the boat and dozed. He had no idea what she was up to, but felt perfectly safe. Anyone who could fight off a hammerhead in ten seconds could certainly manage his destiny.

Chapter 10
    H e woke up to a gorgeous sunrise, to see Ree stumbling through the surf, dragging the boat behind her. “We are here,” she croaked, looking at him with enormous dark-ringed eyes. She staggered forward onto the sand of the small beach and collapsed, deeply asleep almost at once.
    He scrambled out of the boat (which she had