Devil and the Deep (The Ceruleans Book 4) - Julie Ann Walker Page 0,40
and gettin’ our asses inside the fort?”
“You sure you can do this?” he asked.
“Does the Tin Man have a sheet-metal dick?” she responded.
Brave…
Once again the word whispered through his head. Because contrary to what some people believed, bravery wasn’t about not being afraid to do something. It was about being afraid to do something and still doing it anyway.
He would not have thought it was possible for his estimation of Maddy to grow any more. But right then and there, it did. Madison Marie Powers, oil heiress, philanthropist, Texas tornado disguised in a tiny teacup package, was one of the most courageous individuals he’d ever met. Which was saying something considering he’d made a career of working with the bravest sonsofbitches on the planet.
And then something else occurred to him. It wasn’t just his estimation of her that had grown, so had his feelings. What he’d thought were simple lust and like abruptly felt bigger. Wider. Deeper. More.
Chapter 10
8:04 p.m.…
“Mason first. You second. And I’ll be the caboose on this train,” Bran said, and Maddy tried with her whole heart to project courage even though she was feeling about as yellow as mustard with half the bite.
It wasn’t the upcoming swim that gave her the willies. It was the thought of the barracuda that had her blood running through her veins in a river colder than a cast-iron commode—another of Grandma Bettie’s faves.
It’s in here. With us. And it’s hungry.
When her teeth threatened to chatter, she clenched her jaw so tight she reckoned she heard a molar crack.
She glanced into the water, trying to see the silver flash of the fish. And barring that, she hoped to get a gander at the crack in the foundation of the fort. Unfortunately, neither worked. The barracuda was probably hanging back, suspended in the water, completely motionless in that terrifying way only predators of the deep could pull off. Brrrrr. And the tunnel? Well, it was down there. Somewhere unseen beneath all that dark water. And was it her imagination, or was it suddenly whispering up at her, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!”
“Use your arms to pull yourself along,” Mason instructed, his Beantown accent making it sound like use yah ahms ta pull yahself along. He could’ve stepped into a scene in Good Will Hunting without missing a beat. “And if you get scared down there, just keep going. Don’t turn back. Turning back is the worst thing you could do.”
“Got it,” she managed around the Rock of Gibraltar-sized lump that had grown in the back of her throat. “Use my arms. No turnin’ back.”
Holy moly. That last part sounds ominous.
“Ready?” Bran asked. He was paddling behind her, providing a barrier between her and the waiting barracuda. She was so grateful she could kiss him.
Oh, wait. I already did that. And it was better than good, it was gggrrrreat! In fact, she was determined to repeat the exercise. Repeatedly. But preferably under less dire circumstances.
“I was born ready.” She was pleased to discover her voice wasn’t shivering like the rest of her.
Bran flashed his pirate smile. “Woman, you got more guts than—”
“You can string on a fence,” she finished for him.
“What?” He cocked his head.
“It’s somethin’ my daddy always says to me. ‘You got more guts than you can string on a fence.’” She made a face. “What’s implied there is that my bravado usually outweighs my brains.” Not waiting on either Bran or Mason to agree or disagree with the sentiment, she continued, “That being the case, let’s make like a stump-tailed cow at fly time, and get busy gettin’ it done.”
“I know that last part was English.” Mason frowned. “But I’m not sure I understood it.”
Apparently he didn’t care to be enlightened because he sank low in the water, only his face above the gently lapping surface. She watched him blow out a big, blustery breath and suck in an even larger one. Then he just…disappeared. Allowed the water—the inhabited water—to swallow him up.
“Your turn,” Bran said.
She nodded, ignoring all the inner bells and whistles warning her that what she was about to do was completely, totally, utterly bonkers. It wasn’t too difficult, considering she’d been ignoring those inner bells and whistles most of her life. Leap before you look. Her father said she should have the phrase tattooed across her forehead. Maybe after tonight, she’d take the suggestion seriously.
Mimicking Mason’s moves, she kicked away from the side of the fort and allowed herself to sink into the moat