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Aunt Rachel would say it was in her blood. Her fucking blood, Misty corrected inside her own head. Zig was passionate about this. Hell, Misty thought she knew Zig pretty well and she’d never seen her this passionate about anything.
And she was good at what she did. Her little one-woman podcast had uncovered a dognapping ring last fall. A handful of losers had been working the dog parks in wealthy neighborhoods, snatching pedigreed pooches, then re-selling them. Several prominent Saratoga Springs women got their best friends back thanks to Zig’s investigation, and their gratitude had paid a whole semester’s tuition, which was saying something.
“I have two sponsors this season, did I tell you?”
“Several times,” Misty said.
“So, I can pay you to help me.”
That got Misty’s attention. “How much?”
“Fifteen percent of the take.”
“Define take.”
Zig lifted her brows. “You sure you’re not pre-law? Whatever the sponsors pay me, I’ll give you fifteen percent.”
“That’s meaningless if I don’t know what they’re paying you.”
“It’s impossible to say, it depends on the hits and clicks and shit. What do you want, a fucking prospectus?”
“Thirty percent. And I’ll help you get those hits and clicks up.”
She crooked one eyebrow. “You’re an environmental science major.”
“I’ve been helping my aunt with her social for years.”
“Who’s your aunt?”
It had never come up. Misty didn’t bring it up because it would’ve felt too braggy.
“Rachel de Luca.” She nodded at the phone in Zig’s hand as she said it.
Zig tapped her thumbs so fast they blurred, then went, “Whoa. Okay, thirty percent. You do our social and help with the investigation. You uh— have any experience with crimes and investigations?”
“A little.” She extended her free hand and Zig shook.
And that was how it started.
* * *
RACHEL
If the bullshit I wrote about was true— and I’d pretty much decided it was— then I wouldn’t be drowning.
My eyes were squeezed tight, but I forced myself to open them, to try to see my underwater world. Something was waving in the darkness— sea grasses, I realized, and there were oversized flowers so big they looked fake. They were fake! The sides of my world were smooth and made of glass, but it was even darker beyond them, and I could see my reflection.
I was not me; I had long, curly hair, darker than my own chestnut brown, and sparkles on my cheeks. I wore a clam-shell bra, and I had a long, gorgeous tail, covered in scales of iridescent blue— lighter at the top and darker at the tail. I tried to move it, and the tail swept through the water, startling me so much I almost gasped. I wanted to gasp, I realized.
I had to gasp.
I needed air. I had to breathe!
I flexed everything from my abs to my toes, and my powerful tail propelled me upward through the water. I expected to burst through the surface and drag in a big breath of air. Instead, my head smashed into something solid and pain shot down my spine. The dancing sea grasses made stripes of light and shadow as I sank through them to the bottom.
Then I lay there on my back and opened my eyes for what I feared would be the last last time. But I was in my own warm bed, beside my sexy cop. He was tipped up on his side, looking at me. My little bulldog lay across my feet, snoring like a chainsaw.
“What?” I asked.
