Chapter 26

The Farallon Islands: November

Grace sat in the boat as it bobbed in the water. It had been three hours in Shark Alley and no sign of any sharks. She watched the wavy, frothy surface, looking for boils that would indicate a great white beneath the surface, or a dorsal fin ominously appearing—or even better, a collection of gulls on the water indicating a recent kill. But so far, zilch.

“I wish we got phone reception out here,” Tony said, holding his cellphone up to the sky.

Half-asleep, Grace shook off her stupor and gave a nod, hiding her bleary eyes behind her sunglasses. She took a deep breath and glanced toward the rocky Farallon Islands nearby, jutting out of the water with their pointy granite peaks.

As she had nearly every day she’d been here so far, she felt her father’s presence. And oddly, it didn’t make her sad. For the first time since his death, she found herself at peace with the loss.

The weather was unusually nice today—blue sky, somewhat calm seas, windy but not gusty. She wondered if the sharks were taking a siesta as well. Maybe when the sky was dark, then their mood darkened as well, turning to thoughts of mayhem and slaughter. She supposed it was easier to hunt in such conditions since the churning sea would hide the sharks from the elephant seals.

It would be great, though, if they could tag one damned shark today. She had thirteen transmitters with her, and so far, they’d only managed to attach one. That had been three days ago.

What didn’t give her peace, however, was Alec. Her thoughts turned to him about every other minute. Idle time was the worst.

The remainder of the Guadalupe expedition had been anti-climactic, with Grace managing to avoid any more near-death experiences. Bonnie wasn’t spotted again, although Felix reappeared three days later, missing the tip of his dorsal fin. A bitemark was evident. The prevailing theory was that Bonnie had disciplined the randy young male, and the ongoing joke was that it had been done on Grace’s behalf.

Grace wondered if she would ever see Bonnie again and regretted that the shark hadn’t been tagged or biopsied.

Accompanying that regret was uncertainty about her and Alec, compounded by the fact that research space at the Farallones had become available immediately upon her return. When Grace was offered the spot, she couldn’t possibly say no. It was the first time she’d been to the island without her dad. Pride swelled in her chest that she had arrived, at long last, as a full-blown researcher.

I hope you’re proud, Daddy.

But she’d barely had time to unpack from Guadalupe before heading out on this month-long assignment. Alec had returned to the Bay area, and while he’d promised to stay in touch, it wasn’t always easy to get a signal out, and Grace had begun to wonder if distance had shown the sizzling chemistry to be what it was—an expedition hook-up.

“Let’s just chum the shit out of the water so we can call it a day,” Tony said. “I’m gonna make spaghetti tonight. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Only Tony could relate chum to spaghetti sauce. She supposed it was only fitting since both were blood-red. While in residence on the Farallones, it was Tony who did most of the cooking. The other three scientists—one shark biologist and two bird researchers—were happy as clams to eat his cooking. Tony lived up to his Italian heritage.

“No chumming,” Grace murmured.

The radio crackled with a connection. “Farallon Boat, this is the Sea Kelp, over.”

Tony grabbed the handset from his reclining position on the bench. “This is Farallon Boat. Go ahead, Steve.”

“Hey, Tony.” Steve Markham ran a whale-watching tour company out of the Bay area and sometimes ferried supplies to them. “I’ve got a passenger needing transfer. I’ll be near Mirongua Bay in about five. Over.”

Tony looked over at Grace. “You expecting company?”

Grace shook her head. “The others must’ve forgotten to tell us. Maybe it’s a young intern with a case of wine.”

Tony sighed. “We can only hope.” He clicked the transmit button. “All right, Steve. See you in a few.”

Grace took a sweeping view of the ocean surrounding them with one last hope of seeing a shark as Tony started the engine. In short order, he guided the small boat out of Shark Alley to meet the Sea Kelp.

Grace sat in the bow as the tour boat came into view, and Tony angled their watercraft beside it. The passengers for the day crowded the railing, obviously curious about the transfer. Grace suspected that whoever was about to jump into their vessel had already shared stories with the tourists about the Farallones, the great white sharks, and the strange and hardy researchers who lived on this godforsaken island that was filled with barking seals and pungent, ammonia-scented bird poop.

Tony brought their boat parallel to the Sea Kelp, and one of the Kelp’s crew members threw down a nylon rope, which Grace caught and tied onto a cleat. Then she craned her neck to ferret out their pick-up.

Her eyes locked with Alec’s.

Her heart jumped into her throat, and a jolt of adrenaline shocked her system, suddenly making her knees unsteady and her arms tremble.

“Dr. Mann,” he said and grinned.

Damn, he looked good.

The ball cap covering his head and the red fleece jacket and long pants couldn’t hide the physique that she decided was darn near perfect. She was glad for her sunglasses so he couldn’t see her hungry desperation.

“Alec, is that you?” Tony said. “How the hell did you get a ticket here?”

“Friends in high places. I’ve got a permit for three days.”

“To do what?” Grace finally found her voice.

“Film you. What else?”

He handed a duffel bag down to Tony, then several hard cases of equipment, which Grace was forced to grab. She’d never been fond of boat transfers. In choppy seas, the watercrafts would bang against each other, and Grace always feared she’d slip between the two vessels and be crushed.

But Alec made it look effortless as he hopped into their modest outboard under the intense scrutiny of the passengers. He brushed up against her, and she fought the urge to throw herself into his arms.

“Thanks, Steve.” Alec waved up to the Sea Kelp’s captain.

“My pleasure,” Steve said. “Have a good one.”

Alec also waved to all the passengers, and they reciprocated, smiles covering their faces, unquestionably entranced by Alec Galloway. Handsome, compelling, and filled with tales of the sea—Grace had no doubt he’d had a rapt audience during the two-hour ride.

As Tony started the engine, she and Alec untied the boat, and they edged away from the Sea Kelp. Once they were underway, Alec sat across from Grace.

“Are we going in, boss?” Tony asked over his shoulder.

They could—they should—but she needed more time with the sharks.

“No. Take us back to Shark Alley.” She turned her attention to Alec. “Sorry, you’ll have to tag along for a bit.”

“I’m easy.” Alec adjusted his ball cap, his eyes flashing with dark desire and reaching straight down into her abdomen with the unmistakable pull that was reserved for Alec Galloway alone.

Grace wasn’t sure what was more dangerous at this point—the sharks or Alec.

“How have you been?” he asked.

“I’m getting by.” It was the truth. She should have added barely, but she didn’t want to say more in front of Tony.

Alec gave a nod. “I told you I’d take you diving here.”

“You brought scuba gear?” She glanced at his pile of bags.

He shook his head and laughed. “No. I’m not too proud to admit I’m a total chicken, so I came to tell you in person that I’m reneging on that promise. But I do have a rough cut of the doc that I’d like to show you.” Then he added, his voice thick, “I’ve missed you, Grace.”

Once again, she was glad for the sunglasses so he couldn’t see her eyes filled with hunger and despair and an ache that had her clawing at herself during the long nights without him. Not trusting her voice, she bit her lower lip and snapped her chin in a clipped gesture.

“We’ve got a shark!” Tony whooped.

Grace stood and gripped the gunwale, peering over the side as Alec came beside her. An epic shadow cruised below them.

“That’s a big one,” Alec murmured.

Grace grabbed the tagging rod and double-checked that it was ready. “Bring us around, Tony.”

Tony angled the boat in a circle, all of them keeping the shark in their sights. She hadn’t deployed the decoy—a fiberglass shell that mimicked the shape of a seal—because lately, it hadn’t really been working. Somehow, the sharks had become wise to the ploy to get them to the surface, probably from the cage-diving companies who frequented the waters and overused the decoys. Still, Grace debated throwing it in the water at this point, if it would keep the shark interested long enough for her to tag it.

Grace braced her rubber boots against the side of the boat, her foot wounds from Felix still healing and sore, and stood poised at the side, harpoon in hand, ready to lunge at a moment’s notice.

The dorsal fin rose about twenty feet to port side, moving toward them. She saw a notch at the front.

“It’s Ginger,” she said, stunned.

“You mean the Professor’s Ginger?” Alec asked.

“Yes.”

Grace had seen Ginger in Baja last year and the consensus was that a big female such as her wouldn’t return for two years, and most certainly not to the Farallones, when her usual pattern was to visit Guadalupe Island.

Not only had Bonnie changed her migratory route, but so had Ginger. Incredible.

“She must’ve heard you were in town, Dr. Mann,” Tony said, on the other side of Alec and still at the wheel.

Ginger came straight at the boat and, in one powerful lunge, clamped her mouth on the outboard motor, knocking them all to the floor.

Grace screamed.

Alec fell on her. “Sonuvabitch!”

“She’ll eat the fucking engine,” Tony yelled.

Grace scrambled to stand, desperate to get a tag on her. As Ginger mouthed the motor, her pointy, freckled snout dripped water, and her magnificent rows of teeth were in full view.

“Alec, let me get closer.” Grace gripped his arm.

“No. If you slip, she could bite you by accident. And you can’t possibly tag her from this angle.”

Grace grumbled loudly. Self-preservation held her frozen in place, but hell…Ginger was a beauty, and she was right on their back doorstep. Grace made eye contact with the great white and grinned broadly at her. Opportunities like this didn’t come along every day.

Grace glanced back at Tony, who thankfully was filming on his handheld video camera. Ginger lurched, rocking the boat back and forth.

“Let me poke her before she eats the boat,” Grace said and pushed past Alec. She turned the tagging harpoon around and began to butt the tip at Ginger’s nose, careful to avoid her eyes. “Git! Get away!”

Ginger took the hint and released her metallic prey, sinking back into the water and disappearing underneath the boat. Grace jumped to the side to get a visual. They waited, the boat undulating on the water, and the seconds stretched into minutes.

Tony hummed the theme from Jaws.

“Cut it out,” Alec snapped. “This boat is too damned small to be out here with all these lethal fish swimming around.”

Alec was rattled, if his taut shoulders and rigid jawline were any indication.

Grace took a steadying breath.

Truthfully, she was a bit shaken, too. She knew that Ginger didn’t want to eat them, but that didn’t mean Grace wanted to end up in the drink in shark-infested waters after the giant female disassembled their boat from her curious shenanigans.

Grace gripped the harpoon pole with sweaty palms. Feeling overheated in the sun’s glare, she wanted to strip off her hat, buff, and fleece jacket but didn’t dare let her attention waver.

“I don’t think she’s coming back,” Tony finally said.

Grace’s shoulders sagged, her body overcome with a sudden fatigue. She’d been out for the better part of the day and was exhausted. “I think you’re right. Let’s head back.”

“I hope this thing starts,” Tony muttered.

The motor puttered to life, but the boat didn’t move.

“Is the prop engaged?” Alec asked.

“Yes!” Tony’s voice rang with frustration.

“It must be jammed.” Alec clambered to the stern. “Let me have a look.” He leaned over to inspect the propeller.

Ginger flew out of the water in another engine attack.

“Jesus!” Alec bolted backwards, slamming into Grace.

They fell in a heap once again. Alec jumped to his feet and yanked Grace up.

Grace grabbed hold of his arm. It was covered in blood, and he’d smeared a fair amount on her. A quick inspection showed a large gash above his wrist. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around his arm. He sat down on the bench as Ginger sank back into the water again and moved along the starboard side.

Grace grabbed the harpoon off the floor of the boat, leaned forward, and stabbed the tip just below the dorsal fin. As Ginger left in a giant thrust, the boat rocked wildly back and forth.

“Did you get it?” Alec asked.

She spun around and knelt before him, checking his wound. The towel was soaked in red. “Yes,” she answered, worried for him. “How do you feel?”

“I’m okay.” His eyes were clear as he watched her.

“Tony, we need to get out of here.”

“Put it in reverse,” Alec said. “Then go forward. Maybe Ginger lost a tooth and it’s jamming the prop.”

Tony did as instructed, and the boat obeyed this time, careening forward as they headed to shore. Once there, Grace helped Alec out of the boat and guided him up the pathway to the house where the researchers lived, while Tony secured the outboard.

Once at the house, she opened the door and led him into the kitchen.

Barry Croft, an ornithologist, appeared, his round face wincing as his eyes widened. “Good lord! What happened?”

Barry’s response made her look at Alec again. He was a bloody mess.

“This is Alec Galloway.” Grace pulled out a chair at the table so Alec could sit down. “It’s just a little shark bite,” she said, trying to convince herself that it was nothing. “Can you get the first aid kit?”

Grace spent the next half hour cleaning Alec’s arm and stitching up the rather deep gash. To fend off infection, she started him on the antibiotics she had on hand.

The other researchers, Mickey and Carl, showed up and helped Tony carry Alec’s gear to the house. Grace insisted Alec take some heavy-duty pain meds and put him in her bedroom upstairs, and he was soon asleep.

Alec opened his eyes to darkness and a howling wind lashing the old house. It creaked and shuddered, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the place were haunted. His arm hurt like hell, and the shark attack flooded his mind. Well, more like an accidental attack. Ginger had clearly been after the boat motor. But still....

He moved his other arm, and it bumped against something soft.

Grace.

She was curled up beside him, asleep.

Relief filled him.

If it took a shark bite to get her to come to him, then he owed Ginger a big thank you. He wanted to put his arm around her, but it was difficult without waking her. He rolled to his side, to face her, and brought his bandaged right hand to rest on her hip.

She opened her eyes.

“I suppose you let Ginger bite you to gain sympathy from me,” she said quietly.

He angled his face to hers and kissed her. He’d thought of little else for the past four weeks. She kissed him back, and he pressed his advantage, letting his pent-up hunger for her loose. He nudged her to her back and gave full attention to a frontal assault on her mouth.

Her hands slid around his waist then clawed their way beneath his shirt up to his shoulder blades. He moved fully atop her, careful of his injury, taking his weight more fully onto his left forearm. He sank onto her, a shudder of anticipation rippling through him.

He was rock hard.

And he was desperate for her.

She clung to him, her mouth consuming him in a ravenous display of need, and when she arched her back, he nearly came in his shorts.

“Take off your clothes, Grace.” He rolled away so that she could disrobe.

She made fast work of a long-sleeved white t-shirt and sports bra, then wiggled out of a pair of yoga pants. He watched her breasts in the gray light of the room, wanting to touch them, but only his injured hand was available at this angle. Instead, he used his mouth.

Grace gasped and pulled at his hair with her fingers. She pushed him to his back and popped the snap closure of his shorts, yanking them down. She gave up removing his shirt and instead pushed the bottom edge to his neck then leaned forward to bring her bare breasts to his chest.

He kissed her long and hard and deep, and she moved to slide onto him.

“Stop.” Shit. He only had seconds. “Where’s my gear? I have a condom.”

She bit his lip. “Your stuff is here.” She slipped off him. “Where?”

“My duffle bag. There’s a pocket inside.”

She unzipped his bag and fumbled through his clothing, then she was climbing back onto him and ripping open the square packet. He cupped a breast with his good hand while she encased him. Grace had great breasts, and he’d imagined holding, squeezing, kneading them until he’d been miserably aroused while separated from her.

Rolling her onto her back, he joined to her, and they came together in a flurry of heat and pleasure that bordered on pain.

He was lost in Grace.

He’d been lost since she’d left him.

But like Ginger who had relentlessly come after that boat motor, determined to understand what it was, even at the risk of hurting herself, Alec had come after Grace.

He couldn’t live without her.

That much he knew.