Clayton didn’t pause, didn’t even question how on earth August planned on fetching such a creature for him. “Deal,” he said, sticking out his hand like he’d made this transaction a million times: a big favor for a tiger shark.

August took his hand and shook it firmly. “I’m going to need you to listen to me very closely,” he whispered.

Janice was counting the carbonated versus noncarbonated beverages in the drink cart when the first scream rang out. “Did I just say thirty-two or thirty-three?” she asked Thad Hartman, who was in charge of peanuts.

“Did you hear something?”

“Thirty-two or thirty-three? Which was it? I don’t want to have to count these all again.”

Another scream.

“You better go check that out,” Thad said, his arms full of small peanut bags.

Janice shot her worst glare at Thad and threw up her arms in disgust. “I’m completely lost. I’m going to have to start counting all over again!”

She flung open the curtain—which she had closed to have a moment of peace from the ever-needy passengers—and shuffled down the aisle toward the screaming. She could tell it was a young boy yelling. She slowed down. He was probably just freaking out after losing his Game Boy under his seat. Not exactly an emergency.

The scream blasted again, and a hundred tired eyes opened in response.

“Coming!” she said, hoping the boy would shut up and letting everyone know she had the situation under control. Were his parents deaf ?

The scream turned into a frantic wail. People were getting up out of their seats, their confused and irritated faces pointed toward the commotion.

“Sit down, everyone. Sit down,” Janice said, motioning for the people to return to their seats. She reached behind her to make sure the rubber band holding back her thick, brown hair in a ponytail was still in place. She’d once had a kid practically rip her roots out in a mad fit after spilling Coke on his pants, and she didn’t want to chance another such encounter.

“I think he’s having a heart attack!” someone said.

Janice sensed she might have misevaluated the situation. “Please, let me through!” she boomed, tearing down the aisle. The plane trembled, and she would have fallen if not for the kind arm of a businessman. “Could you get me a gin and tonic?” he asked, peeling back the edge of his noise-canceling headphones.

“Sir, we’ll be taking drink orders later.”

“I have to wait? I just want—”

“Sir. Please. Later. I have a non-drink-related emergency to attend to,” Janice said, pulling away and plunging headlong through the gathering throng. “May I remind everyone that the seat belt sign is still lit? Sit down now, or you will be docked frequent-flier miles!”

Everybody sat down.