Austen (The Minnesota Kingstons #4)

Chapter 1

ONE

Rule number one: Don’t run away from the shark.

Of course, when Austen said exactly that to her two dive clients, they stared at her as if she’d told them to stand in front of a moving freight train.

“Listen. You panic, you start splashing and swimming away—you become prey.” She’d been checking their tank connections and opening the air valves as she said it.

Elise Jameson sat on the seat of the dive boat, holding on as the private charter banged through the waves. Spray coated the deck, but it landed warm, refreshing, the sun high as it baked the cloudless day.

It would be a perfect day to dive the USNS Vandenberg , seven miles off the coast of Key West. The waters glistened a deep blue, and the sun’s rays just might reach all the way to the massive sunken ship, some ten stories tall, over five hundred feet long, and settled into the sandy bottom at one hundred forty-five feet.

The artificial coral-reef habitat of moray eels, green turtles, stingrays, barracuda, and, of course... sharks.

Mostly nurse sharks and nonaggressive reef sharks, but okay, occasionally Austen had seen a tiger shark snoozing in the shadows of the upper decks.

Hence the warning.

“I heard you should just hit them on the nose.” This from Hunter Jameson, Elise’s husband and a seasoned diver, so yeah, Austen might have guessed he’d heard that.

She pulled on her BCD and tank, strapping them on and reaching for her mask. “If they get that close, it might be too late.”

The boat slowed, and she reached out to steady herself, glancing back at Hawkeye, who stood at the center console, under the bimini, his hat on backward, wearing aviator sunglasses, sporting a tan against his white Ocean Adventure Divers swim shirt.

He pointed, and she followed his gaze to the dive buoy, an orange floating ball onto which Hawk would moor his forty-foot dive skiff. The divers would follow the line down, sink into the quiet, and...

And she’d be flying. It happened every time she dove. As she descended, the ocean turned into the sky, and even as she swam through schools of fish, somehow the world dropped away into peace, only her heartbeat and her rhythmic, slow breathing tethering her to reality.

For those brief moments, she was free.

She turned to Hunter. “Just follow me, and should we startle anything down there, remember these rules: Don’t panic, maintain eye contact, and back away slowly.

Feel free to shout through your regulator, to blow out bubbles, but don’t thrash.

Even better—tuck your hands under your armpits.

Your gloves can reflect light and look like fish, so?—”

She stopped talking at Elise’s wide-eyed look.

She held up her hands. “Listen. This is a great dive. The ship is covered in barnacles and green and yellow algae, with coral already growing in areas. It’ll be inhabited by all sorts of fish.

We might even see a goliath grouper, and definitely parrotfish and angelfish, lionfish, maybe silvery tarpons, and hopefully, Millie, our resident loggerhead.

” She pulled on her mask. “Just stay with me. I promise—I’ll keep you safe. ”

Then she sat on the edge of the boat and backrolled into the water.

Promises, promises.

She’d seen Hunter and Elise dive before—they knew how to handle themselves in the water. And Hunter had been in the military, so he didn’t seem like a guy prone to panic.

They descended the line, no problem, and Austen had called it—the light pierced the depths even this far, although she needed her dive light to illuminate the inner passageways of the ship.

The first time Austen had dived the former transport ship, the length had shaken her.

The second-largest intentionally sunk dive ship in the world, it stood ten stories tall, with nooks and crannies and stairwells and compartments.

But she’d dived the wreck for the better part of the last four years, so she easily guided them along the upper deck, then down a stairwell to the mess hall, where a bright green eel emerged from the empty burners of the large rusty stove.

They watched a parrotfish scrape algae from a bloom on a railing, the crunch echoing in the depths. And Millie rose from one of her favorite spots under an anchor winch on the bow, paddled into the current with her flat oar arms.

Hey, Flash, Austen wanted to say as Millie struck out for the great beyond. Wait for me.

Austen checked her time—thirteen minutes down. Four more minutes and they’d head up. Time enough for a quick trip to the satellite dishes.

Rule number two: Keep your eyes on the shark.

It might have helped if she’d seen it lurking, but she’d already swum through the spokes of the satellite array.

Not until she turned did Austen see Elise at the bottom, her tank hooked on the array.

In all her attempts to break free, she’d kicked up dust and splashes and... yep, awakened a tiger shark sleeping in one of the superstructure sublevels.

It edged out, curious.

Hunter swam down to help his wife, and the two got jammed up in one of the spokes. Worse, Elise’s mask had dislodged, and she struggled to clear it.

So she was clearly not watching the predator as he circled.

When the shark darted in and veered off, Austen knew she had to engage. She swam down, outside the satellite, reaching back for her tank tapper, the metal ball strapped on a band that encircled her tank. The tapping might scare him away.

Nope. He circled just below them, then darted in again.

Elise had broken free, her mask on but still half filled with water, in full-out panic as she swatted and kicked away.

No—stop!

The tiger shark jerked away, but Elise’s movement only fueled his curiosity.

Austen grabbed Elise’s hands. Shook her head. Glanced at Hunter.

He got it, nodding, and took Elise’s hands. She struggled, but Hunter gripped her BCD, stilling her.

Of all the places to have a panic attack, a hundred feet down on the ocean floor might be the worst.

Stay calm. Austen tried to communicate with her eyes while also looking for the tiger.

Go down. She pointed to the upper deck of the structure, flattened her hand, and indicated that they should sink down to the platform.

Sharks typically attacked from behind or below?—

Hunter pointed behind her, his eyes wide.

Austen turned, and yep, he’d come in for another look-see.

A shout filled her regulator. The sound echoed in her head, but it might startle the shark. Then she blew out hard—bubbles rising around her.

The shark jerked away some six feet from her.

Glancing down, she spotted Hunter and Elise on the platform, also blowing bubbles. Hunter had put himself in front of Elise— sweet —and pulled out his dive knife.

Okay, everybody calm down.

Austen sank down to them, held up her hand, shook her head. Indicated that Hunter should put the knife away. But he shook his head and she turned. Oh no. The tiger wanted a taste.

Most likely it was just very, very curious about these erratic seals. But she faced him, stayed vertical, and despite the thundering of her heart, she kept her eyes on the animal and Didn’t. Move.

At the very least, the tiger wanted a bump, but she put her arm out, kept her elbow stiff, and caught it on the snout.

It had opened its mouth, but she deflected it even as it started to roll.

She pushed with her other hand, moving herself away from the shark.

It darted away, probably a little stunned. Hunter was right about the snout being sensitive, but she hadn’t hurt it.

The shark swam around the end of the superstructure as if retreating. Her watch beeped, a tiny shrill in the depths. Austen gestured toward the line leading to the surface, and Hunter grabbed his wife’s hand.

Turning her back to them, Austen searched for the shark as she grabbed the thick rope with her glove.

Then she let out the air in her BCD and started to ascend.

Twenty feet from the ship, a dark shadow still circled the superstructure.

She didn’t take her gaze from the shark as they rose to their deep deco stop at fifty feet.

Her dive watch settled into a three-minute countdown and she searched the water.

So much for flying. She hung here like bait, waiting, the outline of the ship below.

A shadow in her peripheral vision caught her eye and she glanced over. Stilled.

A barracuda. Long and silvery, but not a threat as long as No. One. Panicked.

Her timer beeped, and they ascended up the line to their fifteen-foot safety stop. From here, the white hull of the boat dipped in the water, and Hawkeye had already put down the ladder.

Elise seemed to have calmed, but Austen’s gaze swept the depths, her breaths hard. A glance at her O2 levels said her tank had emptied faster than usual. Well, no duh.

The alarm dinged and Elise shot to the surface, Hunter behind her. Austen hung on the line, floating up slowly, watching.

Elise pulled off her fins, unsnapped her BCD, and let her tank float in the water. From above, Hawkeye fished it out of the drink.

Hunter did the same, disappearing next, and Austen was just reaching for the ladder when she spotted him.

Tiger, back, and maybe angry.

He darted from the depths, hot for the surface, probably attracted by the splashing. She kept her eyes on him, her hand on the ladder, her heartbeat in her throat.

Stay calm.

She put him at a good eight feet, so not the monster great whites she’d seen in Hawaii, but big enough to inflict damage.

She preferred to keep all her appendages.

There was shouting above her, but she sank in the water and put the ladder between her and the tiger.

Then she hung below it, waiting.

He came at her faster than mere curiosity would explain, but not in full attack, so maybe intending to bump her again. She hung on to the ladder with one hand and set her other cupped hand on his snout. He reared up, and she rode with him, her elbow stiff.