Page 10 of Winter’s Heart (Three of Hearts #1)

“OH, GOSH, I’M so sorry.” Nikki looked stricken as she stared down at the mess she’d made on the floor.

But Jacob was more worried about the woman than about the vomit.

He’d ended the call with the deputy commissioner, saying he’d call him back soon, then stood behind her, rubbing small circles on her back, watching her thin shoulders shudder until her violent retching had finally ended.

Now as he stood over her, a strange impulse to take her into his arms, to protect her from what was to come, nearly overwhelmed him.

He hunkered down beside her, careful not to kneel in the muck.

Her face was so pale, her eyes so big and wide, it made her seem childlike and vulnerable.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, fighting back the urge to gaze deep into her eyes and tell her everything would be alright, that he vowed to keep her safe.

God, he wanted her to be safe. But he’d always been a man who kept his promises, no matter what.

And after his failure to protect Tristan, this wasn’t a promise he was sure he could keep.

“I’ll clean it up,” she said, and made as if to stand, but he kept a steady pressure on her shoulder.

“I’ll do it. You need to stay off your feet.

” He busied himself finding a bucket, a cloth, and some rubber gloves in the small laundry off the mudroom.

The horrific details of how and why her friends had died, added to the threat now placed on her life, had been too much for her.

He wanted to kick himself for letting her join in the conversation.

As a cop, he’d become desensitized to this sort of thing, and he should’ve remembered that.

At least she hadn’t fainted this time. But in some ways, this had been worse.

The look of pure terror in her eyes was like a spear through his gut.

It would’ve been better if he’d talked to the deputy commissioner alone.

That way he could decide what to tell her and when, keeping it on a need to know basis.

Now she knew everything, and the idea terrified her. And him.

When he came back into the room, he found her standing, a grimace of pain on her pretty face as she took a step away from the table.

“Where are you going? Sit down,” he commanded.

“But...” she gestured to the recently digested soup now spread all over his floor.

“No buts, I said I’d clean it up.”

She gave him a murderous stare and continued to stand, holding out her hand for the cloth and bucket. Stubborn woman. At least the desperate fear was gone now; that was a small mercy. A woman’s tears had always been his kryptonite.

He ignored the daggers she was shooting in his direction and filled the bucket at the sink, pulled on the gloves, then got down on his hands and knees to wipe the floor clean.

A small growl of frustration erupted from behind him, and he had to hide a smile.

She might be stubborn, but his mother had always said that he was as headstrong as they came; she was no match for him.

As a way to distract her, as well as try to get his head around the facts of this case, he asked, “What do fish farms have to do with court cases and people wanting to commit murder?” Without taking his gaze away from his task, he noted in his periphery that she sat back in the chair.

For a moment, he thought she might not answer, but eventually, she said, “It’s kind of a long story.

” At least her voice sounded stronger now, not helpless, as it had before.

Good, at least she was thinking straight again.

Using that scientific brain and not allowing herself to descend into chaos.

“Do you know much about where the salmon in all the supermarkets comes from?” she asked.

He lifted onto his knees to wash the cloth in the bucket and shook his head.

“Ocean-based fish farms produce roughly seventy percent of the world’s salmon. And Norway supplies over half of that farmed fish.”

Jacob gave a surprised whistle. It wasn’t something he often thought about.

He rarely ate the tasty, pink-fleshed fish, but when he did, it was usually with his family.

And they used their Sámi traditional methods to catch them in the early summer from the rivers as they came to spawn.

He was one of the lucky few who were spoiled with the luxury of eating wild-caught salmon.

“Yes, it’s a multi-billion dollar industry,” she replied.

“But the Norwegian government has always allocated farm licenses sparingly; they understand the need to protect the pristine waters of their fjords. Which is a great thing for the environment. However, even with all their protocols in place, the aquaculture operations, especially those in the fjords, are putting huge stresses on the waterways,” Nikki emphasized the words by tapping the tabletop, and Jacob stopped what he was doing to raise his gaze.

Her face had become animated, her big, blue eyes, which had been full of despair, were now sparkling, her forehead puckered as she leaned forward, intent on her conversation.

“So, Norway has been looking for ways to make a change. For starters, the Chinese and Norwegian governments have collaborated to build the world’s biggest mobile fish farm.

A huge floating monstrosity that gives me the creeps.

” She shuddered theatrically, and he smiled at her touch of melodrama.

“But it has revolutionized the way they farm fish in the ocean.” She lifted her shoulders as if to say the big boat may be better than the farms, but she still didn’t have to agree with it.

“In the past few years there’s also been a movement toward creating land-based fish farms, which will ease the pressure on the oceans considerably. ”

“That all sounds positive. So what does all this have to do with you?” he questioned, wondering how she and her team had been dragged into a court case if everything was slowly winding down to be converted to terrestrial farming.

“As you can imagine, a lot of the old aquaculture practices are now becoming obsolete, and Norway is looking to reduce the number of leases and start shutting down the farms—apart from the more sustainable large-boat ones, that is. Needless to say, some of the companies are very unhappy about this and are refusing to go. Some of the smaller businesses and individuals were already winding down anyway, as they struggled to compete with the bigger corporations, who’ve signed huge contracts to export fish to Japan or America.

But a lot of the larger ones are resisting.

One Chinese company in particular, Diàoyú Aquaculture, is turning out to be a thorn in the side of the Norwegian government, using delaying tactics such as pleading their case to the courts and tying everything up with red tape.

It also seems there’s a bit of dissent within Norwegian ruling lines as well.

Some of the left-wing politicians want the farms to stay and are—unbelievably—on the side of the Chinese company.

I personally think there’s a lot of corruption going on.

Who knows, maybe the Norwegian administration is even getting some political pressure from the Chinese administration.

Or a more likely scenario is that one or more of the leading political figures are receiving under the table payments to keep the fish farms right where they are.

” She pouted, pursing her pretty lips into a bow.

“Anyway,” she continued, shaking her head as if to rid it of wayward thoughts.

“One way to force them out is to prove they aren’t complying with the strict environmental regulations. ”

A light bulb went on in Jacob’s head. “And that’s where you come in?”

“Yes,” she said with a delighted smile. “Russell… Dr. Morgan, was asked to put together a team to document levels of plastic pollution from Diàoyú farms by the Norwegian minister for fisheries and oceans. To become a world leader in aquaculture, Norway has relied on its rigorous guidelines, close monitoring and sustained commitment to development. And now they can hopefully use the same guidelines to help them shut down this Chinese company. One of the biggest problems with ocean-based fish farms is the amount of plastic pollution they produce. I’ve been documenting the types and quantities of plastic these farms release into the ocean over the past seven years, and the stats would blow your mind. ”

“I’m sure they would.”

“If the Norwegian government can prove Diàoyú is breaking the regulations set up to guard against plastic contamination around the farms, then they can get rid of the company once and for all.”

“And you and your team have that proof?” Jacob said slowly.

“Yes, we do. Or we did,” she added, faltering slightly.

“The data still needs to be collated, but there was obvious evidence that Diàoyú hadn’t put any of the procedures in place to stop plastic waste from entering the waterways.

They were flouting the law and didn’t give a shit—pardon my French—about anything but making more money.

It’s a lot cheaper if they just let all the plastics float away, clogging up the aquatic environments and killing the marine life, rather than set up complicated methods to control and dispose of it. ”

“I see.” Jacob got to his feet, taking the bucket with him, the floor now clean and vomit-free.

“Give me a second,” he said, and took everything to the laundry where he cleaned up and pulled off the gloves.

“Go on.” He returned to the kitchen area, leaning one hip lightly against the tabletop as he listened to her speak.

“It’s not just the plastic debris you see washed up on the beaches that’s the problem, although it makes up a large part of our data collection.

It’s the microplastics that are often more cause for worry.

And the issue is, it’s sometimes so hard to quantify.

We still don’t really understand the long-lasting effects of microplastics on the planet.

” She rested her chin in her palm and stared out the window, unseeing, her mind caught up in figuring out this environmental riddle.

Her long, blonde hair fell down over her shoulders, all those silken tresses mesmerizing him for a moment, so that he almost forgot what he wanted to say, giving her time to continue talking.

“The rapid rise of the aquaculture industry is scaring quite a few people. Right now it’s touted as one of the world’s most sustainable ways to produce protein for human consumption.

But plastic pollution from fish farming is often underquantified.

If left unmanaged, we’re afraid it will have huge detrimental effects on both marine environments and people’s health. ”

She continued to stare out at the dark forest. “Tammy and Antoine believed implicitly in what we were doing. We all wanted to save the ocean environment from annihilation by greedy companies who only want one thing. Money. They were both so passionate about this cause. They were trying to rescue us from ourselves. And now they’ve paid the ultimate price for their altruism.

Why?” She turned to look at him, her mouth downturned, a single tear trickling down her cheek.

Her hands were clenched into fists on the tabletop.

“Why did they have to die? What’s the point of it all?

Why are human beings so intent on destroying everything they touch?

” Another tear fell, and Jacob moved to stand closer to her chair.

“Why?” It was merely a whisper now, almost like a plea for salvation. Fann , here came the tears.

“I don’t know,” he answered. He’d seen the absolute worst of humanity in his role over the past ten years.

He knew people killed for all sorts of reasons, avarice and greed often big motivators.

At times, he’d become jaded and embittered by society; it was M?rten who usually buoyed him out of his dismal moods.

M?rten always found a silver lining; he was the optimist of their partnership.

Without M?rten’s positive attitude, it was up to him to help her out of this dark place.

“But it’s people like you who make this world a better place.

” Gently, he covered one of her hands with his, careful of her sore fingers, and she looked up into his face.

She wore her pain and compassion in the downturn of her lips and the scrunch of her forehead.

Even with red-rimmed eyes and tears leaking down her cheeks, she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

Without thinking, he leaned in and used the thumb of his other hand to wipe the teardrop from her cheek.

She stilled beneath his touch, her eyes widening.

Up close, he could see a darker smudge of indigo outlining the baby blue of her irises.

His gaze traveled down her face, landing on her mouth. What would her lips taste like?

Oh, faan , he wanted to kiss her. The realization hit him like a punch.

He tried to conjure up images of Freya, hoping to distract himself.

His current lover was bright and intelligent, with a considerable aptitude for sex.

But instead of distracting him, thinking of Freya only heightened his need for Nikki.

He hated to admit it, but Freya’s lips came in a poor second to Nikki’s luscious, plump ones. He leaned in just a little closer.

This wasn’t good. Not good at all. He was letting his libido get in the way again. If he kissed her, it’d jeopardize this mission, jeopardize her safety. But, oh, she was so…tempting.

A buzzing sound cut through his conscience, but he was so ensnared by her mouth that he ignored it at first. It wasn’t until she broke their gaze and turned her head toward the noise that it dawned on him. It was coming from one of the alarms he’d set up as a warning if anyone approached the hut.

Shit. Someone was coming.

He had to get her out of here to safety, no matter what the cost.

“We’ve got to go,” he said, tugging her to her feet. “Right now.”

He couldn’t fail again.