Flood Rising (A Jenna Flood Thriller) Read Online Free PDF Page B

what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
    Jenna froze. It was an instinctive response, and in the back of her mind, she heard Noah chastising her for not being more aware of her surroundings, not being in control of her reactions.
    Freezing, she knew, was just another way of fleeing a situation, mentally at least, and hoping that things would get better. Usually, they didn’t. Freezing up was a way of surrendering control, letting luck and circumstances guide the outcome rather than a conscious decision.
    Your gut reaction to a threat will be to either run away, Noah had told her , or to blow through it head on, which is what you would do because you’re a teenager and you think you’re invincible.
    Run away?
    John was between her and the exit. Nowhere to go.
    Blow through?
    Yes, she could do that. She could swing the SCUBA bottle at him, knock him down and then run… No, that would defeat the purpose of coming here.
    Throw the tank at him, and then when he’s distracted, go on the attack, just as she had with Zack. A couple of punches to the jaw… Maybe hit the sweet spot and knock him out on the first try…or a kick to the solar plexus .
    I can take him.
    The very idea of attacking this man, not a killer with a gun but one of her neighbors, kept her rooted in place.
    But a lot of times, Noah had continued , those are the worst choices you could make. You might make a bad situation even worse, or you might miss out on a real opportunity.
    Most people are an open book. Watch a stranger for a few minutes and you’ll know everything there is to know about them—their body language, the way they move their eyes when they talk.
    Jenna had exchanged pleasantries with the shop’s grizzled namesake, but not much more. He was the epitome of a crusty old beach bum: mid-sixties, a full head of white hair, skin bronzed and eyes faintly yellowed from too many years of staring at the sun-dazzled water. She didn’t know if he recognized her. The only thing she saw in his eyes was the fear of what might happen next.
    Opportunity .
    She shifted her posture, trying to mimic his alert stance, then slowly, visibly relaxed. Her spine straightened, her neck stretched, making her appear taller, more confident. She smiled.
    “John!” She said his name like he was an old friend she hadn’t seen in years.
    Uncertainty flashed across his face. She saw his eyes flicker upward, ever so slightly, as he searched his memory, trying to find the right connection to her.
    “Hi, John,” she said again, repeating his name, reinforcing the familiarity. “Where do you want me to put this stuff?”
    “What?” His eyes were moving wildly now, the biological equivalent of a computer hard-drive spinning to access data scattered across dozens of file locations.
    Shape his perceptions , she told herself, control the finished product . When Noah had first taught her these techniques, she had been doubtful regarding their effectiveness. It seemed like something right out of the Jedi Knights’ handbook. Surely, real people couldn’t be that malleable. But thereafter, she had become acutely aware of how often people were easily tricked.
    “For the trip out to the reef, John. Remember?”
    “Ummm…”
    I’m losing him , she thought. These aren’t the droids you’re looking for .
    She mimicked his pose again, narrowed her eyelids, and used the small muscles of her eyes to change her focus and dilate her pupils without releasing his stare. It was a hypnotist’s trick, but she had no idea if she was doing it right, much less if it even worked at all.
    “John, did he forget to tell you?” Her voice was lower now, almost seductively soft, but full of sympathy and commiseration. She made a conscious effort to avoid using any other name but his own. If she mentioned Noah, it might trigger a memory cascade that would connect her to the destroyed boat, and the spell would be broken.
    “Do you want me to call him, John? I’ll bet he can get this