Drake Sisters 03 - Oceans of Fire

reach the surface, her head breaking through as she coughed and gagged. Her eyes burned from the salt, or maybe from tears, but she dragged air into her lungs and caught at Kiwi a third time.
    Something scraped down the back of her leg as the dolphin pulled her through the water. A gray shadow slid noiselessly by.
    Abigail fought the urge to try for the surface. She knew the skin of a shark was covered with hard toothlike scales, called dermal denticles, and when rubbed from tail to head felt like sandpaper, the exact sensation she had had down the back of her leg. Whatever had scraped her was following, trying to circle, but Kiwi was taking her through the water at a dizzying speed. Kiwi’s echolocation was so precise they nearly hit Boscoe, who was still valiantly keeping Gene’s face above the water.
    Astounded, Abigail watched as several dolphins began to ram sharks, driving them to the bottom with such force that debris rose from the floor of the ocean and churned in a dark mass. The normally docile sand and leopard sharks were aroused by the scent of blood. If a great white was in the vicinity, she was certain it would be rocketing through the water to join in the frenzy. She added to the melee, shoving her punch stick against a small shark and triggering the pressure block to deliver a forceful, powerful punch to the shark’s nose in an effort to deter it. She reset the stick as quickly as she was able and swam to the pier.
    Tossing the punch stick onto the wooden planks, Abigail attempted to pull herself out of the water. Her back burned and her arms protested. She fell back into the sea almost on top of a small shark. Kiwi rammed it, hitting it hard, driving it down toward the bottom as she made another try. Using one of the dolphins as a stepping-stone, she was able to drag herself out of the water far enough to gain a crosspiece of wood to use as a ladder.
    Immediately she reached down and snagged Gene’s shirt, pulling him around and freeing Boscoe so the dolphins could swim away from the sharks. She hooked him under his shoulders and dragged him, wincing as she scraped his back against the wood. He was a big man and his waterlogged clothing added to his weight. She struggled to hold him, whistling to the dolphins, begging for further aid. Boscoe returned, using his enormous strength to shove the unconscious man up and out of the water. She was able to pull Gene nearly all the way onto the pier, although his legs dangled over the edge. She saw Kiwi come up from a dive, blowing water from his airhole and dragging the dead man by the arm. As she reached down to get the stranger, she was horrified to see blood on the dolphin. The bullet must have skimmed him just as one had sliced across her. She dragged the dead man onto the pier, pulling him back behind her and away from Gene.
    Abigail signed for Kiwi to go out to sea, to head for Sea Lion Cove. More than anything she wanted him safe after all he’d done for her, but she had to try to save Gene. She knew her sisters were out on the captain’s walk. Worried. Waiting. Ready to help.

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    “Come on, Mr. Dockins, you can’t die on me,” she whispered. She had no idea how he’d gotten mixed up in this, but she didn’t believe for one moment that he could have done anything illegal. She’d known him most of her life. His wife, Marsha, had often comforted her when other children were afraid to play with her. Gene had taken her out in his boat often and told her tales of the sea.
    She could see where three bullets had torn into his body, one in the shoulder, one in the chest, and one that had shaved skin from his skull. He was bleeding profusely now so she clamped down hard on the two worst wounds.
    The back of her neck prickled in alarm. Somewhere, out at sea, a dolphin squawked a warning. She swung around, reaching for the punch stick, a pitiful weapon against a gun.
    “Don’t you move.” The voice was low and shook with rage and the accent was not as distinct, but it was definitely Russian.
    Abigail froze, her stomach clenching. The dolphins couldn’t help her now. She could only hope that her sisters had sent aid and it was on the way. She sensed movement behind her, but she didn’t hear footsteps. Her entire body tensed. She shifted slowly, enough so when she turned her head, she could see shoes and trousers. He was standing over the dead man.
    A stream of Russian