by Judi Fennell
Reel’s eyes flared. He dropped a rusty something, cursing when it landed on his foot. But he didn’t take his eyes off her.
“Reel?”
“Ahem. The plan. Right. Well, the marlins will take us to my guarida in Puerto Rico where we’ll hang out for a few days. Ceto’ll know we’re there, but if we don’t make a move, she’ll be more amenable to a visit.”
“Wait. Showing up in her waters with this arsenal isn’t going to tip her off?”
“Hades, no. What moron would travel pirate seas unarmed? Trust me, that ventway we were on is nothing compared to where we’re going.”
“That’s not reassuring me.”
He picked up a large knife and approached her.
“Sorry, sweetheart, but better you know what we’re up against before something surprises you.”
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“Trust me, everything surprises me here. And what do you mean, pirate seas?”
“Blackbeard, Calico Jack, Jean Lafitte? You’ve never heard of them?”
“Of course I have. But they’re humans, er, Humans. What do they have to do with your people?”
“Turn around so I can attach this to your belt.”
His fingers skimmed her skin. She felt it in her toes. Then she remembered where they were and what they were about to do, and she shut down the toe-tingles.
“We knew about your pirates. The Mers who lived back then passed down the stories. Some of the younger crowd got the notion of creating their own gangs of pirates. Even took the names. The Caribbean has been a rough place ever since.”
“Great,” she muttered, running her palm over the knife hilts at her waist. “It’s not bad enough they’re sharks—
now they’re pirate shark gangs. Just what I need.”
“Hey, you’ll be fine. You’re with me.” He finished attaching the knife, turned her around, and dropped a light kiss to the tip of her nose. “What more could you want?”
Oh, that kiss gave her a pretty good idea. But, sheesh!
He was a Mer. Aquaman. Able to swim ventways in a single day, command marlins with the flick of a wrist, beat great whites into submission… She was not attracted to him. The toe-tingling had to be… oh, worry. Yes, that was it. Worry and being nervous about facing a deadly sea monster—the mother of all deadly sea monsters. That was all. Not his gorgeous face or how he treated his family and her—
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There went her theory. He got under her skin on his own appeal, and nerves had absolutely nothing to do with it.
Reel patted Erica’s back to make sure the knife was in place. Well, that was his excuse if she asked. So, yeah, maybe he let his fingertips linger a bit too long on that slight dip of her spine. Maybe the knife didn’t need to rest quite so low on her hips, but he could only take so much.
Hades, what had his sisters given her to wear? It covered more than her previous suit but looked like she wore nothing, tantalizing him—and at least one part of him was game. Maybe he should give his ex a call. Nah. Alana’s teal scales, which had at one time held such appeal, were nothing compared to that smooth tanned skin of Erica’s. Alana was nothing compared to Erica.
Reel blinked. Where had that thought come from?
He cleared his throat and gathered the net of food his mother had prepared for them. “Ready?”
“Would it matter if I said no?” Erica muttered.
“Not if you want to stay alive. The High Councilman might be my father, but that proclamation was very real. I’ve finally pushed him too far.” He led her out the doorway.
“Aren’t we going to say good-bye?” Erica grabbed his foot.
He stopped, hovering above the coral sculpture in the entranceway. “No. They know we’re going and aren’t happy about it. Why prolong the misery?”
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Not to mention, he’d heard his father come in late last night and the argument between his parents that had followed. He didn’t relish an early morning rehashing. It was better to just leave.
It always had been.
He kicked free from her grasp. “Come on. It’s going to take a while to get there.”
He had to slow down so she could keep up. That gave him time to take a good look at his childhood home. He’d always taken this place for granted, that it would always be here for him. That his family would always be here for him. Well, his mother, sisters, and Rod. His father just couldn’t find it in him to accept Reel as he was.
Reel was tired of trying to earn the old guy’s approval. Truth was, he’d given up long ago. If it weren’t for Erica, he wouldn’t even be doing this.
Because—not that he’d admit it—he wasn’t all that sure they’d make it back. Oh, sure, he could get into Ceto’s lair—no problem. Getting out was the part that worried him. He didn’t know what kind of security she had, and bringing a Human—a female Human—was bound to get her scales up.
If he were alone, the risk wouldn’t matter. He’d never been particularly cautious where his activities were concerned once he realized nothing would please Fisher.
“Let the scales fall where they may” was his way of thinking. It wasn’t like it’d be a big deal to the hierarchy if he screwed up and got himself killed. Not with Rod the Magnificent taking the helm someday. But now he had Erica to think about.
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Who was he kidding? He’d been thinking about her nonstop for selinos. Taking care of her was what concerned him now. He couldn’t screw this up. It wasn’t just his life at risk.
His snort turned into a cough. He. Reel. Caring about someone other than himself. Wouldn’t ol’ Fisher have a chuckle over that one?
They were heading out the front entrance into morning traffic when Chum came wriggling up to them, his screech heard over hundreds of fluttering fins.
“Reel! Wait up!”
Not something Reel wanted to do. Someone else to put at risk. Besides, if he was on the tail end of his life, he wanted to spend it with Erica. Alone. “Chum, you can’t come. Too dangerous.”
Erica turned quickly, her seal brown hair wisping across his face and that soft, rounded, delectable
“tail” of hers bumping his arm. “Oh. Sorry,”
she said.
He wasn’t. He wanted her to touch him. Hades, he wanted to run his hands all over her, trace every muscle in those beautiful legs, on up to those soft shell-fillers, pull her against him—
Chum, gulping water like there was no tomorrow, shook his suckerless head. “No kidding it’s dangerous.”
In went another gulp. “The Council. They’ve—” He took another gulp. Then another.
“What about The Council?” Erica asked, poking him in the ribs.
Chum glared at her. “That hurt, missy. Maybe I won’t tell you.”
Reel flicked the fish’s head. “Spill it, Chum.”
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Chum tumbled back into a school of young angelfish being herded along by their headmistress. The kid he bumped into stopped swimming to gape at Reel, which sent the entire school into a jumbling mess.
“Pisces,” said the headmistress, nipping the student’s dorsal, “we don’t gawk at the royals. Get moving.” She nodded at Reel. “My apologies, Sir.”
Reel waved her apology away then winked at Pisces before turning to Chum. “You were saying?”
The remora’s sigh was bigger than he was. “Fine. The Council’s letting yo
u use the Travel Chamber.”
Reel had to replay those words. “You’re kidding.”
That damaged head swung back and forth. “’Fraid not, bro. You merit the special treatment.”
“Good morning, Sir.” An eel slithered by. Reel raised his hand automatically in acknowledgment, but Erica grabbed hold of it. Oh well, Murray would never notice his greeting hadn’t been returned. He wasn’t about to let go.
“Care to explain, Reel?” A line appeared in her forehead above those Caribbean blues, which were now the color of storm-tossed waves.
The Travel Chamber. They weren’t taking any chances.
“It’s a way for us to get somewhere fast. Only authorized Mers are allowed.” He slid his fingers between hers.
“And now you’re one of ’em, buddy,” said Chum. Whoop-dee freakin’ doo. First time for everything.
“Honestly, it’s safe. Would I steer you wrong?”
Reel touched Erica’s shoulder as they floated before InOverHerHead.indd 121
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the opening in the white sandy mound that was the Travel Chamber.
Atop the largest rise in Atlantis and shaped like an oversized igloo, the Chamber was guarded by a trio of sawfish patrolling the shark-cage enclosure that Salvage Workers had recovered from a Human adventure gone bad. No one got near the Chamber without official approval. Oh lucky him; they’d decided to send along Council members as well. They were taking no chance he’d back out of the deal. He was surprised they hadn’t sent armored guards.
Henri and Nigel monitored his compliance from beyond the locked gate. Chum tried wriggling between the posts, but Henri pulled him back by the tail. Reel could hear the remora’s arguments, but he blocked them out. They had to get going.
And now his traveling companion was playing flounder, trying to stick her head in the sand. “Come on, Erica. Just swim in.”
Erica closed her beautiful eyes for a moment, dropping the kelp wrap his mother had prepared for breakfast. An emerald crab popped out from a crevice to yank it inside. “I can’t go in there.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t.”
“You have to.”
“Isn’t there another way?”
Reel exhaled. “Yes. There is. However, it involves three days and a dozen marlin changes, not to mention a string of red slate from The Council. Go in and we’ll be there in less time than it takes the sun to filter to a coral reef. Come on, Erica, before they change their mind.”
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She was terrified. He didn’t get it. It was just an empty tunnel. The white sand trapped daylight inside, so it wasn’t like it was some dark, spooky hole. Sure, there was a vortex in the middle that spewed them out where they wanted to be, but it wasn’t dangerous. The Council traveled this way all the time. Those fools wouldn’t put themselves in danger.
“Any day, Spare… er, Reel,” Nigel taunted. Reel ignored him, which was the best way to deal with that patronizing, pompous wrasse.
“Why don’t you go first?” Erica nibbled on her bottom lip.
“Because there’s no guarantee you’ll follow.”
She did a few more nibbles. While he enjoyed watching her lip plump up, her tongue darting out to wet it, it was getting to the point where he was going to have to carry her. And, yeah, maybe that would serve another purpose, but they really had to be on their way.
“You’re not scared, are you, sweetheart?” That ought to tick her off enough to get her moving. He’d caught on that she had something to prove. To whom, he didn’t know, but right now he was going to use it to his, no, their advantage.
“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart.’” She glared at him then looked back at the Chamber. She took a deep gulp.
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
Now if the look in her eyes would catch up with her words, there’d be some confidence behind them. But anger would do. For the moment.
“Atta girl.” He hiked the harpoons up on his shoulder and swept his hand toward the opening. “After you.”
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She took another deep gulp and charged in, the muscles of her derrière flexing enticingly in that bodyhugging suit. Now there was a view.
He followed her, ready to face Ceto with a smile on his face if it killed him.
Which it just might.
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Chapter 15
SWEETHEART!
Erica stormed into the tunnel, her arms and legs flapping madly. Sweetheart! Who did he think he was? Just because she was out of her element and in his didn’t give him the right to treat her like… like…
Like Joey had.
Like her brothers.
Damn it. He was smooth. And she’d fallen for it. She’d done exactly what he’d wanted because he’d goaded her into wanting to prove she wasn’t afraid. Well, screw him. She was over that, remember? She didn’t have to prove anything to anyone but herself. And if she didn’t want to go in some creepy sea cave, she didn’t have to.
She somersaulted around but stopped mid-somer. If she turned back, where was her pride? She’d conquered some of her fear, had weathered what the ocean had thrust upon her so far…was she just going to talk big or did she have the cojones to back it up?
And not because Reel had taunted her or because Council members were outside the gate. If she was going to get out of this ocean alive—and she was—facing Ceto was the only way. She couldn’t hope to evade that painof-death edict without the diamonds, but once she had
’em, she had her bargaining chip. She was going to get her life back. On her terms.
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She flipped back over and saw light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. Funny, it hadn’t been there when she’d entered.
“Almost there, sweetheart,” Reel called from behind her. She glanced back. “How many times, Reel?”
“Times?”
“Do I have to tell you not to call me sweetheart?”
“As many as it takes. Sweetheart. ”
Her retort was cut short by blinding sunlight as she exited the cave into crystal clear water. A rainbow of fish surrounded her, every kind she’d ever seen and then some. Brilliant queen angelfish with rose stripes held court with bicolored fairy basslets and spotted goatfish. Stoplight parrotfish fought their red-banded cousins for the prime seaweed grazing areas, while orange starfish inched along the white sand bottom. A pod of bottlenosed dolphins zipped by, calling out a greeting to Reel even she could hear.
“This is gorgeous. Like a Wyland painting come to life.”
An electric-green moray eel slithered by—all six feet, two-thousand teeth of him. Four lionfish stood sentry just outside the exit. They flared their banded spines. Effective. She didn’t want to swim anywhere near them. They raised their pectoral fins in salute as Reel reached her side.
“Gorgeous, huh?” Reel had that irrepressible grin going. Was Mr. Smug talking about the scenery or himself?
“Yes, the water is beautiful, but where are we?” The twitter of sea-creature gossip danced along the current like garbled Muzak. A giant manta ray glided up from the bottom, its wings barely fluttering as it swam over them. Silhouetted, it blocked the sunlight. InOverHerHead.indd 126
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“What do you mean, where are we? Puerto Rico.”
“That quick? We were only in the tunnel for a few minutes. How is that possible?” Shafts of sunlight pierced the water as the manta swam away with one graceful arc of his wings. The play of light danced over Reel’s torso, highlighti
ng the planes and angles.
“You can’t tell me you don’t believe in magic?” He put his hands on his hips. Rippled stomach muscles contracted, outlining that six-pack like none she’d ever seen. His fingers made little dent in the hard muscles of his abdomen. She traced that line near his hip with her eyes, taut and cut, down to where it dipped low into—
“Erica?”
What was the question? She shook her head. “Magic. Mers.” Him. Standing there like some Greek god—
Oh, right, he was descended from them. “I don’t know what I believe any more. Half the time I think I’ll wake up on the deck of Joey’s yacht with one hell of a headache, and this will all just be one big hallucination.”
One minute he was at arm’s length, the next, less than a whisper away. “Oh, Erica, never doubt it. Never doubt… me.”
The kiss took her by surprise. His lips on hers, his tongue tracing the seam. His fingers threading through her hair at her nape, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones, trailing fire in their wake… Oh, sweet Lord, the man could kiss.
Wasn’t she supposed to be mad at him? Something about…
His tongue stroked her teeth, his lips warm with just the right amount of pressure… She tilted her head back, angling it just so. Oh, God, yes. Soft little nips. He InOverHerHead.indd 127
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sucked on her bottom lip and fireworks exploded behind her eyelids. She shouldn’t be doing this, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember why. It certainly felt like something she should be doing.
His arm slid to her shoulders, drawing her closer to that chest, and she gave up trying to figure it out. Heat scorched the tips of her breasts when they made contact with those pecs, blistering her nerves as if a well of magma had burst to life. She kissed him back, uttering a soft groan as her tongue sought his. Erica slid her hands beneath his arms, up over hard, tight muscle to his slick, strong shoulders, her belly pressing against him, against the evidence that he was as affected as she was.
Reel’s fingers traced the mesh below her breast, a teasing slide of skin seeking skin. She shivered. A wanton game of hide-and-seek.
