enormous.
The old oil rig soared to the sky. It was all metal and scaffolding, hard and cold and echoing.
The connecting ring clanked as waves pushed the pieces in close and pulled them hard apart. The top was solid and wide enough to drive a dump truck around the whole oval.
They faced the glass structure. Beneath the surface, it was a fishbowl, but above the surface, it was a futuristic glass pyramid. A wide walkway encircled it, big enough for several full-sized trucks, in a sculpted pavilion. Smaller circular disks floated like empty teacup saucers, although in this case, each saucer was the size of an apartment.
Gailen stood beside her.
She was here to do a job.
A construction worker in thick boots, a hard helmet, and a bright orange full-body suit and jacket crossed the pavilion, and Gailen announced them.
The worker eyed their tridents and daggers. “Those aren’t allowed on the platform.”
“We will carry these until the enemy who endangered Starr is taken by human justice.” Gailen’s normally friendly tone brooked no disagreement.
She leaned against him.
He focused on the worker.
Which was good, but… Something felt wrong.
Maybe he was nervous.
Fine. She couldn’t focus on this now. She needed to do her job.
Calm descended on her.
Gailen’s frown deepened, and his grip on his trident tightened. “Take us to your leader.”
The worker gestured for them to accompany him into the glass pyramid. “The site manager’s having his breakfast with the old owner’s son.”
This company, Ryerson Deep Water Construction, had been founded by a man named Cal Ryerson. He’d died before the mermen ever appeared, and his son, Merrit Ryerson, had…well, not taken over, exactly. He answered to a board of directors and an executive team. But he was in charge of the mer project and touched every single part of the platform.
They followed the worker into the sheltered glass. The wind died, so she could finally pull her hair out of her eyes.
Inside, the ground sloped into the bowl. The empty tables and chairs were washed in blue.
The worker turned away and followed a ramp up the interior of the glass pyramid to a loft restaurant. Hot food steamed in an open kitchen, where a few people help themselves to what looked like steaks, shrimp, and mashed potatoes. When the sun was out, this would probably be bathed in light, but for now, the threatening clouds gave everything a stormy cast.
The workers looked at her and the warriors. Conversation died.
That wasn’t creepy or anything.
Their gruff guide pointed up the ramp to a third level. “In the VIP lounge.”
He remained behind with the silent workers.
In a private alcove—although there were plenty of empty tables and chairs up here—three men sat at a far table with a 360-degree view of the platform area. Nearby tables were arranged around them with maps and plans.
One miserable-looking old man leaned back in his chair, ankles and arms crossed, face pinched. He wore an orange suit, and his coat was slung across another table. That must be the site manager. The other two wearing ordinary business suits were Merrit Ryerson and his assistant.
Dannika thought one of these men headed the Sons of Hercules.
Which meant that any one of them could be trying to kill her.
Or possibly, all three.
Eight
Starr studied the three men who had life-or-death control over the platform.
And, apparently, her.
The site manager gazed miserably out the windows. “Even if the weather holds, it’s going to be nasty work to reroute that plumbing. Nastier, of course, to marinate in offal.”
“I won’t have my city smelling like a sewer, Bob Haskins.” Ryerson followed his gaze out the windows away from them. “Everything must be perfect for—”
His assistant, a quiet man with square glasses, tugged his sleeve.
“What?” Ryerson followed the man’s gaze and saw her with the warriors. He froze and then took a deep breath. A smile forced itself across his broad face. “Starr Langley, back from the dead!”
All three men rose.
Ryerson put down the roll he’d been eating and wiped his hands. “Ryerson. Merrit Ryerson. So good to—”
“No, no, no.” Bob the site manager waved irritably at the warriors. “We have a rule on this platform. No weapons. Take those out of here.”
Gailen rested his trident against the ground. “You failed to protect Starr. Until the criminals face human justice, we will protect her with our lives.”
“Protect her with your lives, but take those blasted tridents out of here. They don’t fit in our halls. You can barely pass with a pool cue, much less one of these. Bad enough you