Excerpt from the previous chapter:  It was a good throw, and Greg was able to grab the life ring almost before it hit the water. He squeezed his head and undamaged arm and shoulder through it, watching in horror as the torpedo shapes approached fast.

He looked up at the yacht, where he could see Terry, taking careful aim from the rail.

"You shoot a hundred percent! Not some stinkin' ninety-seven! Now! Shoot! Teresa, for pity's sake! Shoot, willya!"

Terry took careful aim, squeezed the trigger, and bang! One shark jackknifed and plummeted out of sight. She blinked away tears and aimed again.

Greg thrashed toward the boat, away from the oncoming carnivores.

Bang!

Another shark went under, but yet another closed in quickly.

"Here he comes! Here he comes! Shoot, Terry, shoot! Teresa! Please!"

Sweating heavily, but totally still, Terry aimed her rifle, followed the motion of her target, squeezed, and bang! A shark just inches from Greg's kicking feet went jerking and bleeding toward the bottom.

The remaining sharks turned on their wounded comrades and seemed to forget about Greg. In case some of them night change their minds, Terry spun the life-ring's line around the nearest electric winch and hauled Greg out of the water and up the side of the yacht as expeditiously as possible....

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  It's time to find out what happens to Irene and Stefan, Emerald and Teddy, and, of course, Teresa and Greg in the final chapter of Emerald's Secret.  Enjoy. 

The Emerald C's Resort was always an oasis of lights in the center of a dark sea of Florida wild land, but in the wee hours of this particular morning, even the roads and skies surrounding the resort glowed with red, white, and blue lights, spinning lights, pulsing lights, and noisy lights – some of them had blaring sirens attached. Police units and helicopters converged from all sides, every flak jacket in place, every weapon drawn.

Big C and Emerald, accompanied by the faithful Gino, arrived at the private hangar and hurried from their souped-up golf cart into the building containing their Learjet. Gino entered last, carrying the luggage from the cart.

Big C reached the hangar's pedestrian door and punched his security code into the digital locking device. The second of satisfaction provided by the opening door was cut short when a tall shadow blocked their entry.

They heard a click, and light suffused the doorway, revealing Stefan (Not-Dupree) – holding a gun and a badge in their faces. "I'm so terribly sorry," crooned Stefan. "This flight has been canceled."

Irene (also Not-Dupree) stepped up behind Gino and happily disarmed him before he could drop the luggage and reach for his shoulder holster.

Captain Bannon (still Terry's Uncle Kevin) stepped into the doorway behind Stefan and announced, "Coast Guard talked to Terry on the radio! They're okay! They'll be picked up before daylight."

Miles away, Teddy Ciano's yacht bobbed gently in Gulf Stream waters that were amazingly placid for the time of year. Beside the yacht, a Zodiac boat bobbed, tied securely to the bigger boat's gunwale cleats.

Irving was trussed up like a turkey for roasting. Terry rolled him over the yacht's railing and let him flop the few yards down into the Zodiac – which was already half full of Marco and a significant amount of cold, fishy-smelling, saltwater.

Having ensured that her prisoners were safely and securely stowed, Terry squatted in front of Greg, who was wrapped in blankets and sitting in the stern cockpit of the yacht. When she began tearing a towel into strips for bandaging, he pushed one hand out from beneath his cocoon to reach for the cloth.

"I can take perfectly adequate care of myself, sister dear."

"Then I wish to heck you'd start doin' a better job of it." She gently opened his blankets and pressed a folded cloth tight against his bleeding shoulder wound.

He twisted, and half of an involuntary groan escaped before he suppressed it.

"I'm sorry, baby, but I've got to keep pressure on it to stop the bleeding," Terry told him. "Don't think about the pain. Put your mind somewhere else. Think of something beautiful, remember? Something beautiful."

Greg looked at her, and gradually a tight smile showed despite the pain and exhaustion written on his face.

"Beautiful," he said. He seemed to study her for a moment before adding, "Teresa Cecilia Beatrice McCaskill ... Dupree ... Hallstead?"

"Teresa Hallstead! You're in shock, cowboy. I didn't ask you to marry me."

Greg reached up with his good arm and curled his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck. "You will," he said.

"Don't bet on it!"

She watched as his small smile disappeared, and something new filled his eyes. He softly brushed her hair aside with his fingers, leaned closer to her, and whispered, "Don't you bet against it, either. Gambling's illegal in this state."

His smile returned, and he pulled her lips toward his.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Thank you for reading Emerald's Secret.  Your votes and comments mean more to me than you know, and I rely on your feedback to help improve my writing.

The story has been relatively short (less than 27,000 words), but I hope it has been fast-moving and entertaining. I hope to release Emerald's Secret as a novella later this summer. Watch for it at your favorite online book seller.

If you have any suggestions for improvement before I make the novella public, I hope you'll let me know in the comments or by message here on Wattpad.  Many, many thanks.