“You’ll be there to rescue me.”
I groaned.
“You’re going to need my boat,” she said.
“We’ve got a boat.”
“Yeah, but do you have a shark cage? Or do you just want to get in the water without one?”
36
Ariel took the helm as we cruised through the sapphire swells. So much for not operating heavy machinery, but Ariel was a little headstrong to put it mildly.
The custom-made aluminum cat with twin Mercury outboards was the perfect dive boat. It was like a patrol boat on steroids. The all-enclosed aluminum wheelhouse had forward-swept windows and offered a panoramic view. With plenty of space for seating and gear, plus a large open deck, it could accommodate 8 to 10 easily. A knuckle-boom davit at the stern stood ready to deploy a shark cage into the water. A blue stripe accented the boat named the Siren.
Isabella told me where we could find the shark, and Ariel navigated to the spot. We dropped anchor, and the boat pitched and rolled with the swells. It was a beautiful day. But not a beautiful day to die. I had no intention of becoming a tasty morsel.
The Florida sun beamed bright, sparkling the clear water.
Ariel kept the outboards idling. The low-frequency vibration was a reliable way to draw sharks. You could also chum the water or slap at the surface, but I saw no need to incite a feeding frenzy.
The Siren was perfectly equipped for this type of adventure. This is what Ariel did when not posing for pictures on Instabook. She would take tourists out to dive with the sharks at known hotspots—sometimes with the cage, sometimes without. It depended on how brave you were and the type of sharks you expected to encounter.
Decked out in neoprene wetsuits with blocky geometric patterns that broke up the form, we were ready for adventure. The pattern helped keep you from looking like a seal. It wasn't foolproof, but it went a long way toward keeping you in one piece.
Ariel grabbed a mask, snorkel, and fins. When she was ready, she looked at me and said, "Are you coming?”
"The cage isn't even in the water yet.”
She rolled her eyes. "We're just going down for a look. Relax. I do this all the time.” Then she added the kicker. "You’re not afraid, are you?"
Well, now I couldn’t refuse.
I donned my mask and fins and plunged into the water with her. Like a fool.
It's okay. I'd been in plenty of shark-infested waters before.
I cleared my mask and followed Ariel as she plunged below. Did I mention how good she looked in that neoprene?
I'm just going to chalk this up to the ever-growing list of dumb things I’ve done in the presence of a beautiful woman.
The crystal clear water was an endless blue abyss. Rays of light pierced the water, looking majestic.
I kept my head on a swivel. My heartbeat may have elevated. The idea that there was a mammoth, hybrid, super-aggressive shark out there didn't exactly put me at ease. I don't care how many times Ariel had swum with great whites—that wasn't what we were dealing with.
My heart spiked a little higher when an actual great white faded into view. It lumbered through the water like an attack submarine. Those cold, dead eyes, that unimpressed toothy smile. This was a big one. It had to be 18 feet at least. Not the largest on record, but nothing to sneeze at. It circled the boat, keeping an eye on us.
Ariel smiled.
This is the kind of thing she lived for.
And I thought I was an adrenaline junkie. This was the edge of death. And Ariel stared at it as often as she could.
The shark circled the boat, and I studied it carefully. As ferocious and capable as it was, this wasn't the shark that had been causing all the mischief. It just wasn't big enough.
We rose to the surface, grabbed a breath of air through the snorkels, then plunged back down.
This was the time when most sane people would have gotten the hell out of the water.
