Page 17 of Ensnaring the Siren

Nireed looked down and found that she’d bent the fork in half. “Sorry.” She blushed, setting the ruined utensil aside.

“It’s a theory.” Lorelei blinked, continuing, “A very strong theory. But what we need is proof. That’s the only way we can take them down.”

“Enough to take down a corporation?” Killian shook his head. “That’s going to be hard to get. And even with evidence, guys like those have deep pockets and the best lawyers.”

Nireed rubbed her forehead. She recognized most of those words, but their meaning was lost. Still, there was something she could contribute to this conversation. “I might have someone who’ll help.”

Both Lorelei and Killian looked her way, but it was Lorelei who asked, “The man you were talking to the other day?”

Nireed nodded. “He’s Coast Guard. If they get involved…”

Lorelei lit up. They’d spoken about this in theory before—that if anyone could ride out a lengthy Surface Dweller rules battle, it was their leadership. Or “government” as Lorelei called it. “If they’ve got a thumb on the pulse of this…”

Killian met Nireed’s eyes. “How’d you meet him?” She couldn’t tell if he sounded impressed or worried.

“The Merry Mariner,” was all she said, and his expression darkened, the meaning conveyed more than well enough.

“Has he agreed to help us?” Lorelei hedged the question. And really, Nireed couldn’t blame her for being uncertain. That shoreside conversation had gotten tense at several points, especially the part when Reid had called her a murderer.

“He seems open to it,” she answered truthfully. While he said he’d look into the matter, and Nireed believed he would follow through, because of his sense of honor and drive to help people, it was too soon to know for sure, and she didn’t want to give Shorewalker false hope.

Or herself.

“We’ll do what we can in the meantime.” Lorelei took Killian’s hand, threading their fingers together. When their eyes met, time seemed to slow, and something eased between them as they appeared to find strength and comfort in one another.

Nireed marveled at their open affection, all the little ways they sought each other out, always in each other’s orbit. A brief look, a touch, a smile. She’d never really paid much attention to such things before, but seeing how the two pledged their lives to each other in every moment of every day, it showed that real, romantic love was possible for their kind. And this was what it could look like. Something more than just two bodies colliding together again and again until a mutual end was achieved.

A deep ache split open her chest, swallowing her thoughts. It was her duty to the pod to find a mate and bolster their numbers, she knew that, and she genuinely wanted both of those things, but there weren’t many unattached merfolk left who could give her a baby. There had been someone a year ago, not long after she’d been freed from the tank, but it was a brief arrangement that hadn’t resulted in children, and now he was mated to another.

So many of the dedicated mating pairs in their pod, or groups in a couple of cases, began as short, task-oriented affairs, it was true, but that wasn’t the case now. Partners shuffled around, eventually finding their one true mate, or the original arrangements evolved into permanence. And yet even then, something was missing from these pairings. More of a rote process than a relationship.

Fuck. Impregnate. Carry to term. Give birth and raise. Repeat.

There was respect, yes. Kind courting gestures. Dedication and help rearing the little ones. But love? Affection? Not like this. At least, not that she’d seen in her lifetime.

And she wanted more.

“What’s your acquaintance’s name?”

Nireed snapped to attention. “Reid Kruetz.”

Surprise rolled off Shorewalker, flooding Nireed’s senses. “Kruetz?” She repeated shakily.

“What is it?” Killian leaned in, draping an arm across the top of Lorelei’s chair, all worry and protection.

“Nothing, never mind. Just not a name you hear every day.”

While Killian didn’t press any further, Nireed could smell the lie. What secrets was Shorewalker keeping?

Reid spent his spare downtime between cases combing through Nautic’s incident reports and witness statements accusing them of sabotaging their fishing competition—as well as news articles and blogs about the corporation.

He had to dig for it, but he eventually found dirt buried underneath all the latest news headlines about The Merry Mariner. The Coast Guard had released that merfolk were involved, and it was being called a massacre at sea by national media.

As Reid sifted through the files, making himself a tally of the reported incidents, a recording of a recent press conference played on his computer. The video was just getting started, a spokeswoman for Nautic Select Seafoods addressing the gathered crowd of reporters. But when she began introducing Nautic’s CEO, Hugh Fairfield, Reid looked up, watching as a middle-aged, silver-haired white man entered the camera frame with practiced ease.

Fairfield wore beige slacks, a white-collared shirt, no tie, and an off-the-rack navy blazer. Its one-size-fits-most cut was the opposite of the CEO’s usual polished, well-tailored styles. If Fairfield was going for a salt of the earth look to appeal to a working-class audience, mission accomplished.

“Eight hardworking fishermen were ruthlessly murdered this week.” The man gripped the edges of the podium, bowing his head for dramatic effect. But Reid saw past the somber expression, had already caught the cold, calculated glint in his eyes. It could easily be mistaken for empathetic outrage, but high-powered men like this cared more about their company’s bottom line than the people at the bottom of the corporate food chain. As vicious and lethal as the mermaids were, this man was a shark.

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