Drake Sisters 03 - Oceans of Fire

punch stick, she dove. Something hot sliced across her back and shoulder just as she hit the water. Salt stung, adding to the burning pain, but then she went numb with the combination of adrenaline and the icy blast of the ocean.
    She came up gasping, worried about more than just the pair of gun-wielding murderers. Ordinarily only sand and a few leopard sharks inhabited the harbor. The fishermen were meticulous about keeping any fish remains from the harbor waters, but several more dangerous species of shark inhabited the waters along the coastline, preferring the shallow channels. The area was known to have great whites as there was a seal rookery close by. With both her and Gene bleeding in the harbor’s water she knew she had to get to safety as soon as possible. She faced away from the harbor, toward the cliffs of Sea Haven, lifting both arms up and out of the water, still clutching the punch stick in her hand as she called the wind and sent it across the ocean in a message to her sisters.
    The speedboat was bearing down on her fast, both men firing at her. Bullets zipped through the water; one cut through the air so close to her ear she heard it as it whistled past and penetrated the water behind her. She dove again, kicking her legs up to get a faster push toward the deeper water, her heart pounding as the boat came up on her, the propeller cutting dangerously close.
    She had to hurry, had to get to Gene. Boscoe, if he was holding Gene at the surface, would be vulnerable to attack from sharks, should any be drawn into the harbor. The dolphin couldn’t hold the bleeding fisherman up for long if sharks became aggressive. Looking up through the motion of the water, she could see the two men peering over the edge of their now stationary boat, trying to get a shot at her.
    She moved carefully, knowing she had to come up for air and attack all at once. Kiwi brushed close to her in reassurance, and took off to the opposite side, drawing the attention of the two men by suddenly leaping out of the water almost in the face of the man in the plaid shirt.
    Kiwi signaled with a series of clicks as he leapt and Abigail lunged out of the water on the opposite side of the boat. Chernyshev’s gun was tracking the dolphin as his partner fell back in alarm. Chernyshev fired off a round just as Abigail slammed the end of the punch stick against his calf and triggered it. He screamed as the blow was delivered with tremendous force, the sound muting as she disappeared back beneath the water.
    The water closed over her head and Abigail kicked away strongly, swimming down a few feet for cover in the murkier depths and heading out to sea, away from where they would expect her to come up.
    Almost at once she felt the water tugging at her, grasping her body and rolling it. She was coming up on a shallow channel and the back wave was dragging her down.
    Kiwi bumped her, sliding his fin almost under her hand in invitation, and she grabbed with more instinct than thought. He took her through the stinging sand with a burst of speed and rocketed into the calmer waters of the harbor straight toward the pier. When she couldn’t hold her breath any longer, she let go and kicked strongly for the surface, coming up choking, spinning wildly around to keep the speedboat in sight.
    The speedboat was beside her own vessel and the man with the plaid shirt leaned in to grab something, Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    before shoving off out toward open sea. Kiwi nudged her again, presenting his fin. He was clicking and squawking, pushing at her in urgency. She caught his fin and went under, allowing him to pull her through the water at a pace she’d never be able to go herself.
    Kiwi halted abruptly just as Abigail was certain her lungs were deprived forever of air. She kicked strongly, anxious to rise to the surface. Something brushed against her back. Eerily, it felt like fingertips skimming across her shoulder blades and she spun around to find she was face-to-face with a dead man.
    His eyes were open and he stared at her in a kind of macabre horror, his dark hair floating like strands of seaweed and his face pale beneath the water. His arms were outstretched as if on a cross, yet swaying with the movement of the water, and he rolled with the incoming wave, his body bumping against hers.
    Her stomach lurched, and she gasped, losing her last bit of air and swallowing seawater. She kicked, desperate to