Page 11 of Shark Bait

Fis would ask me where I’d been, and I would tell him I got scared and hid under his bed. He seemed to think that was funny and compared me to a little mouse. He never doubted my explanation or thought I could possibly be smart enough to save myself by hiding in a hole where I knew he’d never look.

I think the hole saved my life.

The man sitting with me, Shark Daddy, slayed every soul onboard the ship, and I think if I hadn’t been in the hole, hiding, he would have ended me too. But then I remember he missed. Did he miss, though? I look at him over the rim of the cup.

“I’m thinking about you, Shark Daddy.”

He quietly sips his morning brew, watching me.

I continue. “I’m thinking about our meeting yesterday on the deck. You missed on purpose.”

Now that the adrenaline of yesterday has dissipated, and I’m not in survival mode as much as I have been for the past few months, I’m coming to terms with the fact that my life is, yet again, changing with this man around to take care of me…or end me. I want some answers from him, but I’m scared of the answers, scared of knowing too much about him or my situation.

He dumped twenty-eight bodies into the sea and called it work. I’m a witness. A liability. Yet, he aimed and missed me on purpose.

It might be because he felt sorry for me. Or it might be that he has principles about not hurting pregnant women. Or it’s because he’s protecting me from the things that were done to him in different ways by different people. For whatever reason, God put us together so Shark can rescue me.

“Don’t you want to know what I’m thinking?” I ask.

“Not really, no.”

“You’re not curious at all?”

“I’m curious. Just not about what you’re thinking right now.”

“Imma tell you anyway.”

He chuckles. “All right.”

“I’m trying to figure out why you missed on purpose, and I think it’s because you couldn’t hurt a pregnant girl, which tells me you’re merciful and will help me.”

He nods. “All true, but you’re not going to like how I intend to help you.”

“Why not?”

He presses his lips together. “Because of various reasons.”

“Which are?”

“Mine for now. When I’m really to talk to you about them, I will.”

I sigh and change the subject. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Mostly on my back,” he says.

“You can’t know how you sleep.”

“I can if there’s a camera in the room recording the bed.”

I look away. “When I asked you how you slept last night, I meant how do you sleep so well after you…”

He springs out of the chair and sits on the coffee table in front of the couch. He covers my mouth with his palm, bumping the cup of tea, causing it to spill on the blanket.

Shark presses a forefinger to his lips. “Shh. You saw nothing, remember? If asked, this is what happened. You were inside a small space in the engine room, and you came out to use the bathroom. That’s when you saw me, the new owner of the yacht. For all you know, the other men departed, leaving you behind.” He removes his hand. “Is that clear?”

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