Does It Hurt? (19)
“She good to go yet?” Troy asks, referring to the shark circling in the massive enclosure.
A few years ago, I built this research center from the ground up—Vitale Oceanic Research for Selachians. It’s my life’s work and something I’ve been privileged to do since I got the funding for it from the government.
It’s a massive lab built a few hundred miles off the shoreline. The only way to get here is by boat or helicopter—one of my favorite things about being out here. It’s an oasis.
The surface is made up of mostly all boardwalks surrounding the four enclosures where we bring the sharks into. There’s a platform for helicopters to land—sometimes other scientists travel here to learn about what we’ve gathered—and a dock for the boats. Below the surface is where the research is conducted.
Not much is known about mating rituals for great whites, and I’ve spent my entire career trying to learn as much as possible about it. We bring them in every so often to conduct our research and then immediately release them with tags attached to their fins so we can hopefully gain insight into something humans know very little about.
“Yup,” I say.
“You’re a sourpuss today—more than usual. What stingray barb got lodged up your ass?”
My eye twitches with irritation at his shitty joke. Then again, his jokes are always shitty.
Troy has been with me since the beginning. We went to college together, and despite how much of a pain in the ass he is, he’s a damn good marine biologist and just as passionate about what we do as I am.
“Got my identity stolen,” I answer shortly, not really wanting to get into it but too furious to contain it.
Troy’s eyes widen, making him look like a cartoon character. He follows me as I make my way down the metal walkway. The sun is beaming down on my skin, and more than anything, I wish I was back down in the water. Where it’s cool and fucking silent.
“No shit? You fall for one of those phishing emails, you old fart?”
I sigh. I’m only a year older than him, but he loves to treat me like I’m ancient.
“No,” I bark, leaving it at that. I’m having trouble forcing myself to admit aloud that a girl swindled me. Troy would never let me live it down, and then I’d have to attach cinderblocks to his ankles and throw him in the ocean to find peace again.
Right alongside Jamie—or whoever she is. I’d bet my last dollar that’s not even her real name. Was the real Jamie another unsuspecting victim?
Jesus.
I rub my hand roughly over my hair, the short spikes soothing my frayed nerves. Hatred is churning deep in my stomach and polluting anything good I had thought about her previously.
I want to fucking hurt her. Even worse, I want to fuck her again while I do it. Her body was addicting that night—so addicting that I couldn’t leave her alone until the early hours of the morning. And it makes me sick that the craving hasn’t dissipated in the slightest.
“You’ll get it back, man,” Troy assures quietly, sensing my turmoil. He knows better than to push me. I’m already on the verge of snapping, and the last thing I want to do is take it out on the wrong people.
Nodding my head, I head into the small cement cabin, V.O.R.S. painted across it in bold black letters. There’s only an elevator within, and it’ll take me down a couple of hundred feet below sea level to my lab. Then, I will spend the rest of the day watching a camera feed of the female shark gliding throughout the vast blue ocean.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll get it back. Go tag her and then release her from the enclosure,” I order, pointing toward the female shark I was swimming with. “We got a lot of screen time ahead of us.”
Troy offers me a smart-ass salute, then turns to do as I say while I smash my finger in the button to open the elevator doors.
I will absolutely get my identity back. However, I’m not waiting on the legal process to accomplish that for me.
I’m going to fucking find her first.
The sand compresses beneath my feet as I walk the beach for the fifth fucking time today. If I ever get my hands around her throat, there will be no disputing that it was premeditated.
It’s been a little over three weeks since I fucked her, but I’ve been looking for her for only two days. There’s a sinking feeling that she could be out of town already, but I refuse to give up just yet.
Port Valen is a small beach town, and Jamie had mentioned in a passing comment that she’s still getting used to the ocean, so it’s the only place I can think to look, aside from the bar I had met her in.
A woman in a royal blue string bikini starts heading my way, a bright white smile on display beneath her obnoxious sunhat.
“No,” I clip. She stops in her tracks, the smile melting off her face as if it were a scoop of ice cream. In a matter of seconds, her lips twist into a scowl.
Except my attention is already drawn away from her, now locked on the source of all my anger.
Ecco la mia piccola ladra.
She’s walking the beach now, wearing a neon green bathing suit bikini, and tiny denim shorts, the matching bottoms to her top peeking through the unfastened jeans. Her lithe, tanned body is on full display, which only serves to brighten the hair curling down past her shoulders. The blonde is radiant beneath the sunlight, a soft breeze blowing the tendrils around her face.