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Pulling in a breath, I dove deep, then put on a burst of speed. My bearings in the water were impeccable, and I knew the lighthouse was coming up fast. Valencia’s boat was right above me, and I kicked my tail hard to push up right next to it, shoving it hard from the port side.
“What the fuck?” That wasn’t Valencia’s voice, at least I was pretty sure, but in my shifted form, the water distorted my hearing. At least I had their attention.
Falling back, I waited until I had enough room to hit the boat again. This time, I stayed close enough to the surface that they’d be able to see my dorsal fin from the deck.
“Jesus Cristo. It’s a fucking killer whale.” Now, that was Valencia, and he sounded scared. Good.
Killer whales technically couldn’t smile, even shifter ones, but I did my best, showing Valencia and his comrade all my teeth that were made for tearing things limb from limb as Isurfaced just enough to really shake them up. Then I dove deep, pushed up with my fluke, and in a move that would have made Jesse fromFree Willyproud, I flew through the air for a few fleeting seconds before landing with an epic splash that rocked the boat off-kilter and soaked both the men and probably any merchandise they had on board.
“Go, go, go,” a dripping Valencia screamed.
But it was too late. Red and blue lights appeared in the distance on the shore, and I turned underwater so I could push the boat toward the docks near the lighthouse. Engines protesting, the guy driving trying valiantly to stay the course while being unceremoniously shoved toward the shore, but the boat’s engineering couldn’t withstand the force I was exerting, and I felt the engines die, a final grating grind echoing around me through the water.
With the boat now dead and within range of the docks, I dove deep and propelled myself up hard and fast with my tail. The beautiful thing about boats that were designed to go fast was that they weren’t good for much else, including withstanding turbulent water.
As I breached the surface again, whale smirk on full display, I saw Valencia’s terrified eyes in the watery dawn light that was just creeping over the horizon, and as I once again let my body fall back to the water, I heard the string of expletives that flew from his lips as he scrambled, reaching for his partner. But he knew it was over for them. When my body hit the surface, the boat jumped, and Valencia and his asshole friend were launched over the edge, landing in the water near the docks where a couple uniformed cops were already waiting in a rigid-hull inflatable dinghy with Seattle Police Department on the side, McMahon overseeing from the dry, relative safety of the shore.
Valencia came up sputtering and tried to swim away, furiously flailing his arms and churning the water. I pushedsome air out through my blowhole, and the asshole froze, terror etched into deep lines on his face. For as long as I lived, I’d never get sick of that look on the faces of guys who were little more than pond scum.
The officers in the dinghy hit the outboard motor and sped to where Valencia was now treading water and barely keeping his head above the surface. Once they had him and his buddy pulled into the boat and were reading them their rights as cuffs snapped around their wrists, I glanced toward the docks.
McMahon stood there holding a hand towel, wearing a smug expression. “I’ll meet you on the beach.”
I nodded as best I could in my orca form and navigated around the docks, careful not to make too many waves and disrupt the officers in their tiny boat. There was a time and place for that kind of thing.
I shifted back before the water got too shallow and swam in my human form toward the shore. The shift back was always a little disorienting, and I was grateful to still be in the water as I got my shit together and prepared to meet McMahon on the rocky beach. We’d been through this enough times that he didn’t even flinch when I emerged from the sea fully naked. Instead, he just held out the tiny towel.
“Really?” I took the terry cloth and used it to wipe my face before covering my junk in deference to modesty I’d actually lost a long time ago. Shifters and other paranormals didn’t care about nudity, but apparently, Puritan ideology ran deep in our fully human brethren, and it was too early to go offending anyone’s delicate sensibilities. Not that I particularly gave a shit.
“You told me to bring a towel. I brought a towel.”
“You’re a dick.”
“Takes one to know one.” He uncrossed his arms and turned to walk back up the beach. “SPD sweats are in the car,” he called over his shoulder. “I should start charging you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Put it on my tab.”
McMahon tossed me a pair of gray sweatpants from the front seat of his car, and I slid them on, tossing the towel over the roof to land at McMahon’s feet. “I’m not picking that up.” He toed the cloth away.
“Fine by me.”
“You’re a pig.”
“Never claimed I wasn’t.” But I did walk around to pick it up. Mostly I did shit like that because I knew it drove McMahon nuts, and after years of working with the mild to moderately uptight detective, I had to take my simple joys where I could get them.
Before I could needle him any more, the uniformed officers from the boat hauled Valencia and friend toward the cars. Valencia was pale, his eyes wide.
“You… I saw… Killer whale.”
I smirked. “I warned you not to get on that boat.” My lips widened into a smile, and I focused just enough of my energy that my teeth elongated and curved.
He stuttered to a halt and sputtered again, and the officer holding his handcuffed arms shoved him into the back seat of a second cruiser, the other officer directing the former boat captain to a third vehicle as he muttered something that sounded like “Fucking Shamu.”
My hands balled into fists at my sides. I could handle a lot of abuse, but I also had a lot of deep-seated anger for assholes who sold wild animals as entertainment. Every time some dickwad who thought they were funny called me Shamu, my blood boiled. The things that were done to those poor whales…
It was one thing for orca shifters to joke about Sea World, but it was a whole other thing when someone else did it. And people wondered why we were so pissed off all the time. It was no wonder why our nonshifter cousins had become more and moreaggressive in the wild. Anything to keep from being locked up in a too-small tank and forced to do tricks on command. A shudder rolled down my spine at the thought.
“Come on.” McMahon’s tone was as placating as the hand he set on my shoulder. “You can ride with me. When we get back to the station, I’ll make sure you get your body receipt.”
