Page 2 of Secrets Beneath the Waves (Beach Read Thrillers #2)

CHAPTER

TWO

She had someone following her. Someone who wasn’t him.

Ramon ducked into the shadow of an alley and peered around the corner of the wall. Hiding was nothing new, even if he had every right to not have to hide ever again. Still, it was second nature to stick to the dark places of the world and move around unseen.

He had as much claim to the light side of life as anyone, but something kept him here. In the night and the shadows, a place as familiar as his own skin.

The express grocery store across the street had three stories of apartments above, and the building stretched almost the whole block. A dark shadow crept across the roof, carrying a duffel bag. Hood up. Moving fast.

Sniper.

Instinct had Ramon backing up, but not because of the threat. He’d heard chattering. A young couple strode along the sidewalk on his side and ducked into the alley. He stayed out of sight, tuning out their conversation as they passed him.

He waited for a break in the traffic and sprinted across the street. The city skyline had too much light for stars to be visible overhead. Night had a chill to it that darkness had brought, but he liked the moodiness of it. This was a good place to go unnoticed.

Ramon slid out his phone and checked the location app. Zeyla had entered the storefront, an independent shipping business that had mailboxes for rent.

He stowed the phone and found the door where her shadow had entered, propped open with a paint can.

Ramon sprinted up the concrete stairwell, trying to keep the echo of his footsteps to a minimum.

He’d gone years without being discovered, and now that he lived on the right side of the law, he didn’t intend to get caught breaking it.

He’d been in the FBI only two years when he was given that shot at an undercover operation in Mexico. The young FBI agent had been crazy excited and didn’t screw up too bad trying to ingratiate himself with a cartel leader.

What happened next wasn’t something he’d ever have expected.

Long story short, his handler at the FBI turned out to be dirty and screwed him over.

Given their personal history and what he knew about her family, maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised.

Guess that made him the chump who realized too late that he’d been discredited and everyone thought he’d gone rogue.

Trying to contact the FBI and explain had created a backlash that left him almost dead. The person who’d made sure he was nursed back to health? The cartel leader.

So, Ramon had become what everyone at the FBI thought he was.

Until the day a dark-haired woman walked into their compound, and he knew in that moment everything was going to change. Kenna Banbury was just that way. She didn’t leave an injustice alone if she could do anything about it.

Ramon had been cleared—they’d taken down the dirty agent and exposed the whole family for what they’d done to manipulate politics in the US—and he was now free of that life. He wouldn’t have believed it was true if he hadn’t been so involved in it.

These days Ramon worked with Kenna and her family for Banbury Investigations, all of them tangled up in taking down a dangerous group that had kidnapped Kenna a few months ago.

They’d rescued her, and now she was having some much-needed downtime with her husband Jax, so everyone—including Ramon—was giving her some space.

At least, he had until she’d called and asked him to track down Zeyla and make sure she was all right. Kenna’s cousin—or half-sister, depending on how you looked at it—was more of a wild card than Ramon, which was saying something.

The door at the top of the stairs marked Roof had also been propped open, this time with a piece of wood angled into a door stopper.

Ramon pulled his gun free of the holster on the back of his belt and thumbed off the safety before he eased the door open slowly enough to make no sound.

He stepped to the side and let the door retreat back to where it had been.

There was an outdoor living area on the roof, featuring trellises stuck in planters and thick vines snaking up the supports. Giving the whole area an air of privacy and greenery. A couple of round wrought iron tables and their chairs were currently unoccupied.

He kept to the shadows, watching for the man he had seen until finally spotting him. The guy was lying on the rooftop with the rifle set up. Readying himself to make the shot.

Ramon held his gun up and approached. “Back up from the rifle and put your hands up.”

“Why? You aren’t a cop.”

“I’m not going to let you kill my friend.”

The man didn’t even turn around. He shifted to look through the scope, presumably watching the mail store that Zeyla had broken into.

“You pull that trigger, there’s a chance you might miss,” Ramon said. “But when I squeeze mine, I won’t.”

The man chuckled, shifting back and turning. Levering himself to his feet in a smooth move that told Ramon he was physically agile and strong. “That was a good one.”

Cold washed over him. This man’s face was one that had been etched on Ramon’s nightmares for years, the kind of specter of the past that never let go. “Miguel.”

Ramon didn’t lower his gun.

“Gonna murder me on this rooftop?” He moved with loose limbs, rolling his shoulders and bringing his hands up as if readying to fight. “You ain’t that guy anymore. You’ve gone soft.”

“Wanna find out how much that isn’t true?” He slid the gun back in his holster.

Before he’d even brought his hands forward again, Miguel slammed into him. Ramon turned and shoved the guy away, using Miguel’s force against him. The other man whirled back around and launched himself at Ramon again, jumping and coming down toward Ramon with a vicious right hook.

Ramon didn’t quite manage to deflect it, but he did sweep his leg around and knock Miguel’s feet out from under him.

Miguel caught him, and they both went down.

Ramon grunted at the impact, rolled, and slammed a punch into Miguel’s nose. “Who sent you to shoot her?”

Miguel grinned, his teeth bloody, and rolled over Ramon. Hands grasping at Ramon’s neck, determined to squeeze the life out of him.

Ramon punched the guy in his side, several times over. Pushed against his chest. Tried to pry his fingers free. Lifted one leg and kicked at the guy. None of it worked to get Miguel off him.

He raised his knee so he could draw the knife from the sheath in his boot.

His vision sparked with white spots that pricked across the sky and sent painful shards into his head.

He jabbed the knife into Miguel’s side in one quick motion, in and out, and finally, the other man’s grip on him loosened.

Ramon shoved him off and scrambled to his feet. “Tell me who sent you here to kill her.”

Miguel didn’t stay down. He pushed off the ground and straightened, groaning. One hand on his side. “You’ll pay for that.”

“You should go to the hospital. Or call whoever hired you and get them to send their private doctor.” Sure, a little smugness laced his tone.

Why wouldn’t it? This guy thought he could kill Zeyla, kill Ramon, and then collect his paycheck?

No way. “That is, after you’ve told me everything I need to know. ”

He was about to get his gun out again when Miguel ran at him.

Ramon backed up when he should’ve sidestepped. In the end, he didn’t avoid the full force of the other man’s truck-like tackle. Ramon’s back hit the ground, and his head bounced off the concrete floor.

Breath hissed out from between his teeth.

Miguel loomed above him with that bloody smile.

He dragged Ramon across the roof by his wrists.

Ramon tried to pull his hands free or kick his way out of the hold, but his head swam, hampering his efforts.

He turned far enough to see blood coating the side of Miguel’s T-shirt.

The other man neared the edge of the roof.

Ramon used Miguel’s hold on his arms to plant his feet and lever his body up to standing. Miguel swung him around, and Ramon flew over the edge of the roof.

He sailed through the air, wind rushing against him.

The fact that he was about to die surprised him in a way it maybe shouldn’t have.

But a second wasn’t long enough to process everything he should’ve done or wanted to make amends for. And the fact he’d never finished that conversation with Kenna about Christianity.

Ramon slammed into the ground.

But it gave under him and absorbed the impact. Around him, the edges of a dumpster swirled. Pain echoed through his body. Whatever he’d landed on was hard but hadn’t killed him.

Above all of it, at the top of the roof, Miguel looked over at him.

Ramon pulled his gun—which he’d landed on—and aimed it at the man on the roof. Miguel disappeared before Ramon could fire a shot.

He let out a long groan.

“Do I even want to know?” A low female voice reached him from the left.

When he looked, Zeyla was peering over the edge of the dumpster. “Just kill me.” He tried to move and only managed to groan again. “Put me out of my misery.”

“I mean, I could do that. But you could help me instead. Take your mind off it.” Her voice held almost no tone, but he could imagine the look on her face, currently in shadow. “Assuming you’re here to interfere with what I have going on.”

“Maybe you could give me a second.”

He heard her chuckle.

“Make sure he isn’t going to shoot you from the roof. He has a rifle.”

“Copy that.”

Ramon didn’t have the energy to roll his eyes, even if he’d wanted to. He used what strength he had to sit up and scramble out of the dumpster. It turned out to be surprisingly difficult, considering the trash seemed to want to suck him back into its depths.

“Today is bringing all kinds of surprises.” He swung a leg over the edge and sat on the lip, trying to find the energy to climb down.

“Want me to go catch him? I mean, he did push you off that roof.”

“You saw?”

“Thought you were gonna die.” She stepped back so he could hop down, and he scanned her wide-leg jeans and cropped T-shirt, over which she’d pulled a black leather jacket.

Hair loose and barely touching her shoulders, all that thick dark hair was straightened to within an inch of its life.

Though they had similar coloring and features, she was a whole lot more edgy than Kenna.

But then, she had reason to be that way after everything that had happened to her at the hands of their enemy.

What was it she’d said? Right. She’d thought he was gonna die.

Ramon hopped down off the dumpster. “You and me both.”

“You need a minute?”

Ramon said, “I need about a week.”

“We don’t have that much time. I have a problem.” She glanced around. “We should get out of here.”

Did she offer to help him walk? Of course not.

It probably wasn’t that she didn’t want to help him out if he needed it. More that she didn’t touch him at all, ever. Like it was some kind of unwritten rule. Simple enough to understand.

Things were a whole lot more complicated on his side.

“Fine, let’s go.” Ramon limped because that was all he could do. “What did you find in the mailbox place?”

She glanced at him, but he didn’t look at her.

“You know about that?”

He shrugged one shoulder.

“Of course, you know that.” Zeyla sighed. “Kenna sent you to check on me?”

“What do you think?”

She glanced at him again. “I think if you’re gonna hang around, then you can help me locate the owner of the severed hand I just found.”

Ramon flinched. “You found a…what?”