The Steel Shark

Chapter 9

Heart pounding, Vivian bolted upright. Daylight pierced her bedroom curtains. A quick glance at her sister’s rumpled bed. Thank God Lucy wasn’t there. She didn’t want to explain herself to her snotty teenage sister.

She leaned against her pillow and willed her heart to stop pounding. She’d been having a nightmare about being trapped inside the submarine. When she’d started to drown, she woke up. She shuddered, then slowed her ragged breathing. She was home. Lots of things could happen to her here, sure, but drowning was pretty damn unlikely.

The painkillers they’d given her at the hospital had started to wear off, and her arm ached. She touched the cast with her other hand. She wouldn’t be able to work until her ulna healed. And she wasn’t the only one who depended on her income — her mother and Lucy did as well.

“Vivian?” her mother asked softly from the other side of the door. “Are you awake?”

She debated pretending she wasn’t, but her mother would know, even through the door. She always knew. “I’m fine.”

Her mother bustled in and handed her a cup of coffee. “The police are stopping by soon to have you sign your accident report.”

Vivian took a small sip of coffee. Strong and black, it tasted like heaven. “It wasn’t an accident. That sub meant to ram us, or ram the prince.”

“Murder by submarine?” Her mother gathered a pair of socks from Lucy’s bed and smoothed the bedspread down flat.

“Something like that.” The caffeine was already clearing her head. “No one gives a rat’s ass about me, so they must have been after Tesla.”

“Or the prince or his bodyguard.” Her mother sat on Lucy’s newly made bed. “After all, his bodyguard is the one who’s dead.”

“And he was rammed by a submarine. That’ll be an international incident.”

“Assuming it’s not swept under the rug.” Her mother was on her feet, tidying Lucy’s dirty clothes into the empty hamper. Vivian’s side of the room was, of course, spotless.

“What do you mean?” Vivian asked.

“My goodness.” Her mother stopped long enough to give her the look she used whenever Vivian was being unbelievably stupid. “Weren’t you in the military long enough to know the easiest thing to do is to pretend nothing happened?”

“But something did happen. I told them about it in my accident report.” Someone from the Harbor Patrol had taken her statement in the hospital. Sadly, not the cute guy who’d performed the rescue. “Plus, they have a dead guy to explain.”

“Just a bodyguard,” her mother said. “And you hit your head, dear. You were probably imagining things.”

Vivian touched the stitches in her scalp. “I didn’t hit my head hard enough to imagine a giant submarine.”

Her mother’s piercing eyes stared into hers. “Maybe you did.”

Vivian didn’t answer.

“Get up, take a shower,” her mother said. “You told me that cast on your arm is waterproof.”

No lying around in bed at her mother’s house, near-death experience or not.

An hour later, Vivian had showered and gotten dressed. She was already tired of having a broken arm. She followed the smell of Portuguese sausage into the kitchen.

“Let me make you a plate. Sit right there,” her mother said.

Usually, she hated it when her mother fussed, but today she was grateful for the food and attention. Something felt off, though.

She looked around the kitchen. “When did you get a new refrigerator?”

“While you were sleeping. From Mr. Tesla. They took away the old one, and we’re not sending it back.” Her mother put a plate of eggs, sausage, and toast in front of her.

Vivian didn’t even know where to start on the refrigerator thing. Maybe she ought to take Tesla’s full-time-job offer. Then she could pay him back for the fridge. But he’d offered her a big raise, and it made her uncomfortable. Plus, she didn’t like the idea of having a single employer. Too much like the Army. She tugged on her sling.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” her mother said. “They gave you pills. Take the pills.”

“They make me stupid.”

“You think maybe you’re going to cure cancer today without them?” Her mother glared up at her, hands fisted on her round hips.

“We won’t know if I take them, will we?” She knew she was being contrary.

Her mother held out two pills. Vivian hesitated before scooping them up and washing them down with a sip of coffee. So she wasn’t going to cure cancer today.

The door buzzer rang.

“We can’t keep the refrigerator,” Vivian said before going to answer the door.

Just as she opened the door, her mother yelled, “If your Mr. Tesla wants to give us a refrigerator for saving his life, we’re keeping it!”

A woman in a worn navy blue pantsuit stood in the doorway. “Vivian Torres?”

“How can I help you?”

“I’m with the New York City Harbor Patrol. Officer Bellum.” She showed Vivian her badge.

“I gave a full statement.” The pills were making her too tired and slow. She needed to wake up. “And please also deliver my thanks to the officers who rescued us.”

She motioned for Officer Bellum to step inside.

“I was going over your statement.” Officer Bellum held up a sheaf of papers. “So, Mr. Tesla has a history of drugs.”

“He got slipped a mickey once, and I injected him yesterday. That’s not much of a history.”

“A refrigerator is a pretty big bonus.”

Thanks, Mom, Vivian said silently. “He gave it to my mother as a gift.”

“It might not be seen as a gift.”

“No?” Vivian asked.

“It could be seen as a bribe.”

“Is there anything else you need to go over in my statement?”

Officer Bellum walked her through her statement again. They stood in the hall — Vivian didn’t want her in the rest of the house. By the time it was over, Vivian was ready for another nap. She wanted to be angry about the whole situation, but she was too tired. Once she woke up, she planned to make trouble.

Big trouble.

She’d been run over, nearly drowned, and now she was accused of taking a bribe for who knew what reason. She was going to find out what was going on and kick someone right in the ass.