Shark shifter Ian Mackey works alone.
His job is important: to protect the guys in his covert rescue swimmer unit—from predators, from the press, from each other.
So what if he lives alone, too? And eats alone? And sleeps alone?
Solitude works for him. Lets him focus on work and a few favorite extracurriculars.
The last thing he needs is a rescue partner.
Especially one who’s prickly and stubborn and distractingly hot.
Trick Harper doesn’t need a damned babysitter.
He’s a veteran rescue shifter. He embraces the mission, he gets the job done, and his deafness is an asset.
So what if he does things his own way? Goes a little off-plan? Gets creative?
Autonomy works for him. Or it did, until the one time it didn’t.
Now he’s chained to another shark, a hulking bruiser who pushes every button Trick’s got.
Especially the ones that haven’t been touched in a while.
If Mackey takes matters into his big, scarred hands, ignoring him is going to be impossible.
Characters in Entry Shock use several modes of communication, including American Sign Language (ASL). This author’s note lays out the reasoning behind how I rendered the ASL in the story.