Page 43 of Ensnaring the Siren

Reid didn’t think. He just leapt.

Celia was safe. They’d gotten her back, thank the Twenty-Armed Goddess. Now, Nireed just had to get to shore, had to explain what happened to Reid. If he thought the bloodbath had been without just cause, he and his people might retaliate. And hers would be utterly decimated.

Groaning, Nireed clutched her bleeding side. One of the fishermen’s bullets had raked across her flesh, leaving behind a gaping gash.

In the chaos that followed the fight, Nireed separated from the rest of the pod, but not before telling Melusina that she needed to make things right with Reid. Someone had to know she was on a mission, and not missing, which her friend acknowledged with a nod, but she was also so preoccupied with safely towing Fortuna, a badly injured podmate, that she didn’t argue with Nireed about her injuries.

Fortuna was the only reason Celia was still alive.

As the pod raced toward the little one, caught inside the rapidly cinching net, Fortuna, one of their fastest swimmers, ascended the depths at a dangerous rate. She darted up inside and took Celia into their arms as it closed, shielding her with their body from the mass of trapped fish pressing in.

Nireed would never forget seeing Delphine slam against the net from the outside, would never forget hearing her friend’s anguished screeching as she tried clawing her way in. But with the net squeezing in tight, it was a wall of fish-flesh she was fighting her way through, not just the net itself. The whole pod joined in on the frantic effort until Undine redirected them to the boat above.

They scaled the side, braving Surface Dweller guns when their singing did not work against the crew’s ear-protection. Not that it saved them in the end. Rage, necessity, and a desire to protect and to kill had launched Nireed into motion.

She’d lunged for the fisherman who was shooting her kin from behind a deck box, ripping the upper portion of his head clean off, but also took a bullet to her side for the trouble.

Everything after that happened so fast. Screaming. More gunshots. Screaming. Then silence. Someone had even shut off the engine. Or smashed it to bits, more like. It had been a rescue, then aggressive self-defense. Some retribution, too, and a show of strength, but Reid had to understand that. He had to.

Nireed swam on, each mile passing slower than the next. Her strength was flagging. But she had to keep pushing. If she stopped, if she passed out, she was shark food.

And one had been tailing her since the fight.

Chapter

Fourteen

The evidence they had against Nautic was gone. Destroyed. Reid leapt off Gale’s Promise, dove into the rising waves, and grabbed the evidence bag. He’d moved so fast it hadn’t the time, nor the weight, to sink very deep. But water had gotten inside and damaged the contents, despite his quadruple checks on the seal before putting it into the basket lift.

CGIS was going to try recovering the digital files, but it was more a formality than any real hope of success.

After a few hours of shitty sleep at the station, Reid stumbled his way to the head, tired, cranky, his guts a tangled mass of knots and stress. Someone was talking within, the voice too muffled to make out words, just harsh, clipped tones beyond the door. Reid went in, the hinges creaking, and beelined for the sink. Morning quarters was in fifteen minutes, and he could stand to look a little less like death warmed over in front of command.

“Gotta go.” A second later, Hatcher pushed out of one of the stalls, shoving his relic of a flip phone into his pocket.

Reid splashed water on his face. “Who were you talking to?”

“My mom.”

“While you were taking a shit?” Reid wrenched the faucet shut and straightened, roughly swiping water from his face.

“Man, mind your own business. Can’t even talk on the damn phone around here without someone butting in.” Hatcher grumbled the last bit as he tried brushing past, but Reid stood in the way, a wall of muscle and zero fucks.

“Don’t get pissy with me, fumble fingers.”

“Now who’s getting pissy?”

Dropping the evidence bag wasn’t some minor fuck up. Not only did Hatcher’s clumsiness derail an active CGIS investigation, but there were lives at stake, both human and merfolk. This setback put them all at risk. “What happened last night?

“The wind picked up. I lost my grip. You know the rest.” Once more Hatcher tried to skirt around him, but Reid blocked the door, the two of them teetering on a very, very fine line. One that bordered on shoving.

“The basket was right there. What were you doing, juggling the evidence bag?”

“No! God, it was an accident. Stress, maybe. I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”

“I’m not looking for an apology. I need to know if I can count on you. After last night, I’m not so sure.”

Hatcher reeled back, offended, pissed. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”

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