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“W hat the hell did you do to cause that much damage?”

Echo rolled his eyes at the judgement in Hank’s voice. “The throttle stuck, and I came in too hot.”

“Too hot? Looks like you were on fire.” Hank sighed dramatically. “I estimate at least five hundred to repair the boat, about the same if you want me to overhaul that old engine, and twice that for the slip.”

Echo winced. “Never mind the engine. You can’t do the other repairs any cheaper?”

Silence hung on the line a few seconds. If it wasn’t for the distant clanging of the bells on the swaying boats in the harbor, he’d have thought Hank hung up on him.

“If I can get my nephew out here for the dock work, I might be able to cut it a bit, but not by much. That whole part of the pier needs to be replaced, including one of the dock posts. That’s not easy work, Echo. You slammed it and good.”

“It was an accident, Hank. I’ve already apologized multiple times. I said I’d pay for the repairs. What else do you want me to do?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hank sighed again, making a massive deal out of it. Echo’s damage was likely the most exciting thing that had happened to Hank in months, so he wasn’t sure why the old man was making that particular molehill into a mountain. “You want me to get started on the repairs on the boat or wait?”

“Start them, please,” Echo replied.

“And no to the engine overhaul?”

Echo paused a moment, mentally calculating what he had in savings. A thought hit. If the pod found out what he’d done, he might need that boat to escape a pitchfork-wielding mob. “Go ahead and do the engine work, too.”

“Fine. We’ll start in the morning,” Hank said, sounding much too pleased with himself. It didn’t last long before the complaining began. “Now I’ve got to go get three folks to move to other slips or listen to them bitch when they can’t get to their boats during our repairs. It never ends.”

Hank hung up without so much as a goodbye, just the grousing.

Echo clicked off his cell and pocketed it. After sliding the sample he’d been viewing before Hank’s call off the microscope’s stage, he added it to the set of new slides he’d made earlier in the day. Glancing up, he checked the clock beside the door and saw it was a little past five. He tidied his lab table, ready to get the hell out of there and hole up at home for the weekend.

Every night for almost a month, he’d packed up after work, grabbed takeout, and headed to the marina with dinner in hand, ready for a long, boring night. It was his first where he didn’t have to do that, and it felt strange. His mission wasn’t complete, but returning to orca waters would be a suicide mission after what he’d witnessed. He’d narrowly made it out alive as it was.

What the hell was he supposed to do with his nights?

Takeout and Netflix? That sounded lonely and depressing. Why, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t really all that far off from takeout and sitting in his boat all night, watching the moon and the waves for his entertainment.

An image of the orca swam into his thoughts.

“Knock, knock, Dr. Fisher.”

Echo flinched, shocked back to the present. He spun around and forced a smile. “What can I do for you, Dr. Diaz? ”

“I need you… to come out… and have drinks with us.” Diego, Echo’s colleague and best friend, grinned as he slipped inside the lab and leaned against the doorframe. “I know you’ve had your big secret project you’ve been working on, but can you spare an hour or two and come have one drink with me?”

Echo hedged. It did sound a little better than being alone, but he wasn’t sure he was in the right headspace for company, even if it was with his favorite person on the planet.

“You haven’t shown your face in weeks. We miss you. Come be social.”

Diego was right. The two of them hadn’t hung out much at all in weeks—but it wasn’t as if they’d be able to talk with a table full of coworkers around them.

“You miss me. I doubt the others care all that much,” Echo murmured.

“They do,” Diego said.

Echo wasn’t as close to the rest of the team employed by Dolphin Bay Coastal Management as he was with Diego, but then they were the only two lab rats. They stuck close to the office most days while the others were collecting samples out in the field. DBCM worked hand-in-hand with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration to survey and monitor the waters and beaches along the Washington State Coast. DBCM did most of the surveying and monitoring—and then delivered updates to NOAA on a regular or as-needed basis.

NOAA let them do most of the hands-on work, which was perfect for the pod. It meant fewer human eyes that might spot something unusual. Most, but not all, of the residents of Dolphin Bay were dolphin shifters, as were most of the field researchers, lab assistants, interns, and administrative staff he worked with. There were humans who lived and worked amongst them, but almost all had dolphin blood in their veins, descendants of the pod’s founder whose husband had been human.

Those humans knew the pod’s secret.

The outside world did not.

The entire pod lived in fear of the outside world. Visitors weren’t welcomed with open arms, but as the pod’s size had grown into the thousands, determining who was and wasn’t supposed to be there had become harder and harder. Echo knew most, but not all, of his own pod members.

He didn’t know every human who lived there, either.

“We all see each other nearly every day. They don’t miss me,” Echo replied.

“Okay, I miss you coming out and hanging out with us.” Diego frowned. “When’s the last time we hung out together?”

“It’s been a while,” Echo replied softly.

Diego crossed his arms over his chest. He narrowed his eyes, searching Echo’s face. “You’ve been unusually quiet today. What’s up?”

Echo shrugged. “A lot on my mind, I guess.” He slipped his grandfather’s journal into his backpack, weighing Diego’s offer. “Just so you know—that project I was working on? It’s now over.”

“Oh?” Diego asked, moving closer to his desk. “Is it still a state secret or can you talk about it now?”

“Still top secret, I’m afraid,” Echo answered.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Diego broke eye contact and glanced at the floor. The air seemed heavy with unasked questions. Diego likely felt a bit upset at being shut out, and under any other circumstances, Echo wouldn’t have withheld. They’d been friends since childhood and had few secrets between them. Echo trusted Diego implicitly, but he hadn’t wanted to drag his best friend into the mess he sensed he might make—and after the night before, he was glad for it.

Plausible deniability was the kindest thing he could give Diego.

Diego sighed and slowly lifted his gaze. “If your project’s over, does that mean we get your company tonight?”

Echo sighed, ready to go home and vegetate instead. “How about you and I hanging out instead? Without everyone else?”

Diego’s face fell.

“Wow, tell me how you really feel,” Echo murmured, feelings a bit bruised—but then maybe he deserved that after having bruised Diego’s.

“Noooo … I’ve been buttering Jenny up to get us that new centrifuge. I promised her I’d sing with her a couple of times tonight in hopes she’d finally say yes.”

Echo inwardly sighed with relief. For a few seconds he’d honestly thought Diego didn’t want to hang out. “Sing? Karaoke?”

Diego’s smile widened to evil proportions. “Yep.”

Echo groaned.

“Hey, after ignoring me for weeks, I believe you’re due a little penance. It’s a small price to pay and a means of showing me that you really do still love me.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Echo murmured. “Just don’t stick me with a shitty song.”

Diego wiggled his shoulders with delight—but his smile slowly faded again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I may have rekindled a war between dolphins and orcas with my stupidity—which almost got me killed by not one but two predators in the process. I’m not okay.

Looking back, something about the orca made him think he’d not been in any real danger. The great whites, yes, but not the orca.

“I’m fine. Tired from all those weeks of working late is all.” He forced a smile. “I have plans to sleep in all weekend to catch up. I’ll be fine by Monday.”

Diego didn’t appear convinced by Echo’s explanation. “If you’re that tired, maybe you should come next Friday instead. Go home and sleep.”

Echo opened his mouth to thank Diego, fully prepared to go home, but the words died on his lips. He couldn’t stand the disappointment in his friend’s eyes. “I think I can manage one drink.”

Diego’s lips curled up at the corners. He clapped his hands, rubbing them together as his smile grew wider. “Meet you at Skinny McPete’s in ten. You’re buying us our first drink.”

Echo winced. “Skinny McPete’s?”

Skinny McPete’s was owned by an exiled orca shifter who’d pleaded his case to the pod for refuge before Echo left for grad school. While the pod deigned to allow him to live amongst them, most avoided his establishment. They left that for the human residents in town.

The last thing he needed was to spend a night in an orca’s hideout, but he’d already agreed.

At least he wouldn’t make a fool of himself on stage in front of the whole pod.

“Keeley’s choice. Her name was pulled from the hat, so we go wherever the little human wishes this week,” Diego said as he walked backward toward the door. “Maybe if you hadn’t been ignoring us, you could’ve picked.”

“I wasn’t ignoring anyone!” Echo yelled as Diego slipped out into the hallway.

He shook his head and tossed a few more items into his backpack before heading to the outer door. Sliding behind the wheel of his Mini Cooper, he considered turning toward home instead of the bar. His cat had missed him more than his coworkers likely did. If it wasn’t for Diego, he wouldn’t be going at all.

A few seconds later, he sat at the intersection where the bar was a left and home a right. He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there when a car beeped behind him and jarred him out of his contemplation.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, making the left.

Before he could complete the turn, a sleek, black motorcycle came out of nowhere and sped past, forcing him to slam on his brakes.

“Asshole!”

Behind him, the car beeped again, and Echo cursed under his breath. He was the last to arrive at Skinny McPete’s.

Diego marched closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “There he is! I was starting to think you were going to be a no show.”

“I had to circle the block a few times to find a parking spot,” Echo replied, scanning the interior. The place had a small crowd, but nothing like the other bars in town on a Friday night. “By the amount of cars, I assumed they would all be in here.”

“You know full well dolphins don’t come here,” Diego said, leading him toward the bar.

“I wonder why,” Echo muttered, searching the interior for Pete and happy he didn’t see the guy.

Pete had been attacked by one of his own pod—the villainous monster Maelstrom Marino. He was left horribly disfigured from the encounter, with scars all over his face and body. He was also missing an eye. It wasn’t the first time Maelstrom had harmed an orca in his own pod, either. The story of him killing his own brother had circulated when Echo was in grade school.

Echo flagged down one of the bartenders with the wave of a hand. A horrendous singer belted out the first line of Wonderwall from the stage, their voice cracking more than his bones did when he shifted. “What bar does karaoke on a Friday night?”

“One that doesn’t get much business,” Diego replied, waving a hand around the half-full bar with its half-assed Pirates of the Caribbean on a budget theme. “Pete’s likely gotta do something to keep the doors open. People like indulging in their rockstar fantasies, so why not?”

The grizzled bartender finally appeared, and they ordered their beers. Once the bartender dipped back to grab them, Diego turned to him.

“Speaking of rockstar fantasies, it’s almost time for your punishment.”

Echo eyed Diego. “Which shitty eighties song did you pick for us?”

“Eighties songs are classics , man, not shitty.”

Two beers were placed on the bar in front of them. Echo handed the bartender a bill. “So which one is it?”

“Guess,” Diego said.

“I wasn’t even born yet ,” Echo argued, taking both beers. He handed one to Diego. “Most of what I know about eighties music, I learned from you against my will.”

“Against your will?” Diego asked, eyes wide. “Do I need to dig up the old videos of you and I lip syncing to Bon Jovi and Def Leppard? Because I will. I’ll put them up on YouTube and show everyone how against your will it was.”

Echo barked with laughter. “Go ahead, you’d be just as embarrassed by those as I would, old man.”

“Old man?” Diego scoffed, taking the bottle before he grumbled, “I’m only three months older than you.”

“Are you going to tell me which song I’m being punished with?”

“Nope. Not telling. You can be surprised when you get up there.” Diego scowled at him, but it was all for show. “I’m not sure one song will be enough to redeem yourself after calling me old.” He pushed away from the bar and turned to look at Echo. “I might have to make it two.”

“Nooooo,” Echo yelled as he watched Diego march toward the table with their coworkers. He shook his head before he followed, wending his way through the half-empty tables on the way.

“Echo!” their newest research assistant, Keeley, yelled over the sound of another terrible singer on stage. She clapped her hands together. “I didn’t think you came to these things.”

“I come on occasion,” Echo said, pulling out a chair.

“I’ve been here for nearly three months, and you’ve never come out for drinks,” Keeley said. “I assumed you were either a snob or antisocial.”

“Oof,” Jenny, their lead researcher, said before she tapped the top of her beer bottle against Keeley’s.

Echo blinked, sure that wasn’t right. He sat beside Diego. “It hasn’t been that long, has it?”

Jenny and another researcher, Finn, both nodded.

“It’s been that long, if not longer,” Finn replied.

Echo winced before eyeing Keeley. “I’m not antisocial. I’ve just been… busy. That’s all.”

“Busy doing what?” Finn asked, leaning closer across the table.

“I’m here now, so clearly not antisocial,” Echo said, ignoring the question.

“He might not be antisocial, but he is mean,” Diego said. “He had the nerve to call me old.”

“You two are both the same age, right?” Keeley asked, grinning wickedly. “Born in the nineteen-hundreds?”

“The nineteen-hundreds?” Diego roared, turning to gaze at Echo. “The nerve!”

Keeley looked far too pleased with herself.

“I consider the late 90s part of the 2000s,” Echo said to her. Before he could put the other half of his two cents in, Diego and his name were called to the stage.

“Let’s go, my old, deadbeat friend,” Diego said, rising from his seat.

Echo groaned before forcing himself to stand.

“See?” Keeley said, an evil twinkle in her eye. “Only old people groan when they stand up.”

“I’m still in my twenties!” Echo snapped.

“Not for much longer,” Keeley called out in a sing-song voice as he slowly marched toward the stage, taking his sweet ass time.

“Get your ass in gear, Dr. Fisher!” Diego yelled into his microphone from the stage, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, another microphone in the other hand ready for Echo.

“You can’t expect an old man to walk fast!” Jenny yelled from the table. “He’s probably got bad knees.”

Echo sighed, but he did offer Jenny a smile and a one-finger salute over his shoulder. As soon as he climbed on stage, Diego tugged him closer. “Are you ready?”

“My ears aren’t,” Echo replied, fighting a smile. With Diego’s bouncy excitement, it was hard not to absorb a little of it. He’d missed that energy outside of work.

I’ll miss it even more when the pod exiles me.

He forced the worry to the back of his mind and drew in Diego’s joy, instead. And why shouldn’t he? He’d faced down three predators and lived to tell the tale—not that he could tell that tale to anyone. There might be hell to pay soon enough. He might as well enjoy that second chance he’d been given while he still could.

“Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey appeared on the monitor facing them, and wild applause broke out from their table and a couple of others. The first familiar chords played, and they both sang the first verse without having to look at the screen. Diego brought his usual tone-deaf special touch, his booming voice making it easier for Echo to hide behind.

On the pause before the second verse, Diego eyed him. “Against your will, hmm? But you know all the words.”

Echo chuckled and sang the next verse. By the time they reached the first chorus, Echo belted it out just as loudly as Diego, letting go of the anxiety he’d been holding onto all day, if only for a couple of minutes.

Problem was—anxiety had already come walking in the front door.

Midway through the song, a breathtakingly handsome, dark-haired man with eyes as dark as onyx ambled closer to the stage, sipping from a beer bottle. His heated gaze was locked on Echo.

A sense of familiarity coiled in Echo’s belly, as if he knew the man—but he couldn’t remember them meeting before. There’s no way he’d be able to forget that face, though. The stranger was all sharp angles, heavy brow, and chiseled jaw. His skin was deeply tanned, yet his raven hair showed no signs of sun bleaching.

That and two other signs pointed toward him not being a part of their pod. Dolphin shifters had little-to-no body or facial hair, even their alphas, but he had a thin, neat beard. He was also massive—powerfully built with broad shoulders. Echo stood on a stage that had to be at least eight inches off the floor, but the man still seemed taller than him at a distance.

In their human forms, dolphin shifters were slender and rarely hit over six feet.

Human? Maybe, but Echo sensed otherwise. His gaze drifted down, looking for more evidence. The black, collarless leather motorcycle jacket and black tee under it gave no clues other than he was apparently going for a well-dressed, bad boy vibe. Echo couldn’t help but notice the huge, muscular thighs and a sizable bulge pressing against his blue jeans. Lower, he noticed big feet clad in black leather boots. The hand around the beer was enormous, too, with long, thick fingers.

Fingers Echo could only imagine wrapping around his neck as the man came into him from behind. Heat burned his cheeks at where his mind had raced. Echo’s face warmed even more when he lifted his gaze again and found the man still staring hungrily. Men like that didn’t usually notice geeks like him. That kind of attention wasn’t something Echo had practice with or knew how to handle.

Mr. Leather Jacket tilted his head a fraction of an inch and gave Echo a slow, dangerous grin. The words to the song were forgotten, and a tingling sensation prickled over Echo’s entire body.

Predator.

The sense of recognition hit, and his blood turned cold. There was only one predator he could think of in that moment, and his stomach did a somersault at the idea they might be one and the same.

Diego grabbed his elbow, shocking him out of his trance. He whipped his head and met Diego’s concerned gaze. “Song’s over… we can go sit down now.”

Echo turned back—but the predator was gone. He searched the crowd and saw no signs of bad boys, dark eyes, or leather jackets. Where did he go?

“Are you okay?” Diego asked, pulling the mic from his trembling hand.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Echo fibbed. He pulled his elbow from Diego’s hold. “I’m going to hit the head. Meet you back at the table in a minute.”

Diego frowned but said nothing.

Echo gave the crowd another once over. No sign. Maybe it hadn’t been the orca, but a human after all. Orcas didn’t exactly make a habit of walking into Dolphin Bay. He was jumping to wild conclusions without enough data or any facts. Allowing fear and a creative imagination to torment him was going to push him over the edge. Echo had to get ahold of himself.

He climbed down off the stage and headed toward the restroom to splash a little cold water on his face. Before he could make it to the men’s room, Echo was shoved against the back corridor’s wall, a massive forearm banded across his chest. Echo lifted his chin, struggling for breath.

Up close, the predator was even more handsome than Echo had first thought. A hint of fine leather filled his nose, along with a light, woodsy, masculine scent that curled his toes.

I’m in danger and all I can think about is how gorgeous he is? What the hell is wrong with me?

“Who are you?” Echo asked, his mouth going dry as the answer whispered through his mind.

“You know exactly who I am, Echo.”