Siren's Treasure. Debbie Herbert

race at risk of exposure.”

      He gave a disarming grin. “Ah, come on, sweetie. Don’t get melodramatic on me now.”

      Of all the nerve. “You really are a son of a bitch, you know that? You knew about my nightmare.”

      His brow crinkled, then cleared. “The aquarium thing?”

      Jet dug her nails into her fists, concentrated on the painful half-moon indentations in her fleshy palm, recalling one of the few times she’d shown her vulnerability to Perry. She’d awakened one night from that recurring nightmare, gasping for air, and spilled all about it. “Yeah, that thing,” she snapped.

      “Never going to happen. But if it does—” he flashed a grin “—I’ll rescue you like a knight in shining armor.”

      Right. Perry would be a hero only if it suited his own purposes. Jet sucked in the pheromone-filled air of the tiny room. The man grinned so confidently, as if the past three years had never happened. As if he’d been some noble person when he’d ratted her out.

      “Why are you here?” she asked.

      “Why wouldn’t I come back?” He ran a hand down her hair and neck, pausing slightly as his fingers brushed the trace of her gills. “I missed you.” His lips brushed her forehead. “Missed this.” His lips dropped to her mouth.

      Jet gasped as Perry’s hands cupped her ass and drew her against his body. It would be so easy to surrender, enjoy the moment before—

      “No.” Jet tore away and drew in a few ragged breaths, unexpectedly grateful for the IRS meeting earlier. Landry Fields’s questions served to make her more wary of Perry’s lies and manipulation. “I need to set you straight on a few things.”

      Perry scowled and flung himself onto the sofa. “I explained why I told the police you were a mermaid. What else do you expect me to say?”

      “For starters, how come I didn’t hear from you the whole time you were locked up?”

      “They wouldn’t let me post mail.”

      “Bull. And you’ve been out for weeks before showing up here.”

      Perry narrowed his eyes. “How do you know when I was released?”

      “You don’t know?” No reason not to tell him. “The deputy sheriff, Carl Dismukes, told me. You remember him.”

      Perry slapped his palm to his forehead. “Of course, the crooked cop. But how did he know I got out?”

      “I’m not sure. Maybe because your last driver’s license listed you as living here in the bayou and they notify law enforcement when an ex-felon is released.”

      “Well, we aren’t paying him shit anymore. He had a lot of nerve, blackmailing us for his silence. I don’t know how he figured out what we were doing.”

      Jet bit her tongue. Dismukes might be despicable, but distant merblood ran in his veins, and she wouldn’t betray his secret to a human. The deputy knew everything that happened on land and guessed a great deal about what happened undersea.

      Perry narrowed his eyes. “Do you hear me? Dismukes gets nothing.”

      “Obviously. There won’t be anything to split. You and I are history.”

      “Come on, baby.” His voice grew husky. “Let’s do one more job together. Give me a chance to prove I love you.”

      Her stomach clenched in response to Perry’s gruff, low tone and his familiar declaration of love. Stay strong. “After what you’ve pulled, I’d be crazy to do it.”

      “I told you, babe! I honestly thought it was the only way to get you to jump ship and save yourself.”

      Liar. Could he learn to love someone other than himself? Her thoughts shifted from Perry’s dark brown eyes to the ice-blue eyes of the IRS agent. Those penetrating, no-bullshit eyes that cut through her defenses. Landry Fields would burn through Perry’s charming facade like dry ice on tender skin. Too bad her eyes didn’t have a similar effect on Perry.

      And why was she thinking of Landry Fields anyway?

      “Please, Jet,” Perry wheedled in that tone he used when he wanted something. “One last big haul to help me get back on my feet.”

      Her mouth widened in surprise. “What do you mean? You should have plenty of money socked away from all we’ve collected.”

      He hung his head. “I, um, had lots of lawyer bills and stuff.”

      “What about your fancy Mercedes-Benz? Your jewelry?”

      “Gone.” His face tightened. “I bought everything on credit and when I got thrown in the slammer, everything went to shit with my finances. All that stuff got repossessed.”

      Jet gave a low whistle. This was the real reason Perry had returned, of course. The guy was broke and needed her. Angry as she was, Jet couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for him. “Maybe there is some way I can help,” she answered evasively. Perhaps she could buy him off and get him to leave her alone. “What did you have in mind?”

      He brightened and Jet tried to ignore the gleam of triumph in his chocolate-brown eyes.

      “There’s a site with a huge potential profit at Tybee Island, Georgia,” he answered promptly.

      “Never heard of any shipwreck there.”

      “It’s an old Spanish ship supposedly loaded with gold and silver colonial coins.”

      Jet frowned. “Seems I would have heard about it. What’s the ship’s name? Do you have the cargo manifest?” It always amazed her that Perry got such great tips on treasure sites.

      Perry waved a hand dismissively. “Leave all the research and details with me.”

      “I’ll think about it.” Jet bolted for the door. She had to get out quick, before he suckered her into a commitment. That would be colossal stupidity on her part.

      Perry overtook her and laid a hand on the door. “Don’t make me beg. All I’m asking for is one more job.”

      Jet swallowed hard and stiffened her spine. He’d left her hanging for years with no word. She could make him wait a day or two. Let him be the one to sweat it out. She had to get out of the cottage and think over everything rationally. Despite the years of silence, Jet knew Perry wasn’t finished with her—she was much too valuable for him to completely abandon. Without her, he’d be back in the same boat he’d been in before they met, living a hand-to-mouth existence with the few treasures he could scavenge alone.

      There must be some way to get Perry out of her life without agreeing to another treasure excavation. If she turned him down flat, there was no telling what he’d do for spite. “I said I’d think about it.” She yanked the doorknob, sending Perry stumbling back a few steps. “See you around.”

      She stepped into the swirling rain and made her escape.

      * * *

      Jet was no fun anymore.

      Perry kicked over the coffee table. She was playing a game. Trying to show who was boss, especially when he’d tried to stop her from leaving. Damn her abnormal mermaid strength.

      But that freaky bitch still wanted him, would eventually cave in, and they could pick up where they’d left off.

      Or maybe not. Sylvester Vargas claimed this Tybee Island thing was BIG. Enough money in it for all of them to live easy the rest of their lives. With enough dough, he’d move far away to someplace that didn’t stink of bilge and shucked oysters like this bayou.

      And then he wouldn’t need Jet. At first, it had been fun, an ocean salvager’s dream come true. She knew where the nearest, best stuff lay on the ocean floor. And once he got over his initial revulsion about touching a mermaid creature, the sex had been great. But