Page 27 of Secrets Beneath the Waves (Beach Read Thrillers #2)

CHAPTER

FIVE

Two days later

This wasn’t how Ellie’s first mission was supposed to go.

She thought she’d be tracking the mole, peeling back the layers of deception until she had him in her sights. Instead, she was dodging shadows and playing cat-and-mouse with gunmen whose intentions were unclear.

One thing was certain: the three men were after her. She wasn’t paranoid; she’d seen them too many times for coincidence.

So, she decided to drop her disguise and make herself an easy target. Sometimes the best approach was the direct one. Her plan was to stay in plain sight, lure them out, and take them down one by one.

Ellie sat at a small table in a café, her back to the wall for a clear view of the room and of the busy street. The espresso in front of her had grown cold. She hadn’t touched her drink because she didn’t need more caffeine fueling her nerves.

She’d taken a cab to the area to keep her rental car unseen. As long as they didn’t know her new vehicle, she could move freely around the island. Her home’s location also had to remain a secret. It was her only refuge, the place where she could rest without fear of being ambushed.

That morning, she’d spent hours browsing shops, in and out of tourist venues, lingering on sidewalks. Eventually, she spotted one of the sedans. The other two showed up soon after the first man saw her.

Ellie made sure the sedan’s occupants saw her enter the open-air café.

About twenty minutes later, one of the men came inside and sat a few tables away.

He periodically glanced at her over the top of his newspaper.

The pages rustled and betrayed his unease.

Even if she hadn’t recognized him, his nervous behavior marked him as a threat.

The bulge in the back of his pants confirmed he was armed. Ellie noted his poor choice. A gun tucked in the back waistband was harder to draw than one in the front. Her own weapon rested snugly in her front waistband, ready to be pulled in half the time it’d take him.

Across the street, the other two men pretended to argue over a map. Their gestures were too exaggerated, their voices too loud. Ellie would have laughed if her insides weren’t screaming.

Her mother had warned her never to underestimate opponents, even if they seemed incompetent. Ellie couldn’t afford to. This was her first mission involving real threats. Training simulations were nothing compared to real enemies with guns.

Her heart raced and adrenaline coursed through her veins, but she forced a calm exterior.

Casually, she picked up her phone and used the camera to capture a photo of the man. She sent a quick message with a picture to Matthew: Three men. Middle Eastern descent. Tracking me. Need backup. Don’t tell my parents.

The last part felt foolish, but she couldn’t risk her parents storming the island like cavalry over what might turn out to be something she could handle herself. Matthew, however, was her designated backup. And with three against one, Ellie needed him.

Though she doubted the men would strike in public. Too risky. They’d wait for a more secluded spot. That was her plan too.

The man shifted in his chair and dipped his hand into his jacket.

Adjusting something? Or reaching for another weapon?

Ellie wasn’t going to wait to find out. She stood deliberately, as though lost in thought, and left the café. She crossed the street toward the two men. Their conversation halted mid-sentence as they stared after her when she abruptly changed direction.

Movement in her periphery caused warning bells to flash inside her. The man from the café was following her now, as she had expected. He tried to appear inconspicuous, not realizing she had already outed him.

The other two men disappeared. They likely spread out to flank her or returned to their cars to tail her in the sedans.

That was a worry. A drive-by shooting would be how she would do it if she were them. They could kill her and drive away. Ditch the cars and go straight to the airport.

With that dreadful thought, she turned into a boutique, the scent of lavender and leather enveloped her as the door chimed softly. She glanced at one of the reflective display cases, and from that vantage point, could see the man linger outside as he pretended to examine the window display.

She purchased a scarf, paid in cash, and slipped it into her pocket. As she left the boutique, she kept her strides measured. As long as he didn’t know she was onto him, she had the advantage.

At the next block, Ellie turned abruptly into a bustling market. The air smelled of spices, and haggling voices blended with laughter and music. She weaved through the crowd from the cruise ships as her sharp eyes scanned every corner for the other two men.

Newspaper guy pushed his way through the throng. His eyes locked on her when he spotted her, but she pretended to look past him.

When he was briefly out of sight, Ellie ducked behind a display of paintings and crouched low as she moved behind the stalls of the various vendors. She emerged on the other end of the market.

She held her breath as the man frantically searched for her. With his back turned, she slipped out of a side exit and into a narrow alley.

This was the type of place where she had envisioned killing the man. But security cameras hung over the market’s back entrance. Those complicated things if the man emerged through the door and she had to confront him.

So, she slipped the scarf over her head and walked back into the market, past the guy, and onto the street. She moved quickly until she reached a T-shirt shop. Inside, she loitered in the background and pretended to browse the merchandise.

Did I lose them?

That’s when she saw one of the other men on the street looking in all the shops. A second figure appeared behind him—the man with the newspaper.

When they got to her store, they spotted her immediately, and their eyes met briefly. Newspaper guy turned his head away quickly, but she saw the frustration in his eyes. Even the most basic spy knew not to be seen twice at different locations. A dead giveaway.

The Middle Eastern men huddled together in front of the shop, obviously discussing their next move.Without warning, the second man took off down the street. Newspaper man remained outside, staring at her. No longer holding any pretense of his actions.

Ellie took off the scarf and glared at him. She figured the second man intended to cut off the back exit.

Her breath quickened. These guys were better than she thought.

She didn’t let her panic show. Instead, she turned sharply and headed for the back exit.

Her hand grazed the handle of her gun, for a cold reassurance.

She stepped into the narrow corridor and kept moving, ignoring the restroom doors that were a potential hiding spot.

She didn’t want to get trapped in an enclosed room with only one exit.

At the end of the hall, an emergency exit sign glowed red.

Behind her, she heard the faint creak of a door opening, followed by soft, deliberate footsteps. It gave her an even greater sense of urgency as she pushed through the emergency exit and emerged into another alley. Ready to draw her gun if the second man appeared.

The alley was deserted.

The heavy door slammed shut behind her. The sound echoed like a gunshot, and she chastised herself for the noise.

She looked around for options. A rusted fire escape ladder hung down on the side of the building, although it might be out of reach. A row of overflowing trash bins lined the brick walls under the ladder. Too small to hide behind.

The high ground was usually a good alternative. She’d love to be on the roof shooting down at them, but it didn’t seem like a viable plan.

Running wasn’t an option. The area was too open. He’d get a shot off before she got to cover.

She looked at her watch. Twelve o’clock. A shootout at high noon didn’t seem like a good alternative either. Even if she wanted to end the threat once and for all.

The emergency exit door groaned open. Ellie stepped behind the door and pressed her back against the wall so he couldn’t see her. She dared not breathe or he’d hear her.

The man stood still for a moment and looked in both directions. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. His head tilted slightly. Confused. Like he wasn’t sure where she went.

He had his gun pulled now and began to walk in the other direction with his back to her.

She didn’t hesitate.

With puma-like movements, she was behind him before he had time to turn around. She put her right hand on the side of his forehead and her left hand under his chin and twisted violently. The sound of vertebrae breaking broke the still silence of the alleyway.

He collapsed to the ground in a heap. She checked for a pulse. He was dead.

The maneuver her mom taught her had worked to perfection. She’d practiced it a thousand times on a dummy but now knew what it felt like to use it on a man.

At that moment, the second man appeared around the corner. He took one look at her, then the dead man lying on the ground, and pulled his gun.

Ellie lunged for the trash bins. Her foot landed on the edge of one as she propelled herself upward. Her fingertips brushed the bottom rung of the fire escape ladder, and she fell back to the ground.

She gritted her teeth and jumped again. This time, she caught the rung and hauled herself up with a strength she had developed over years of training forced upon her by her insistent mother.

Her muscles burned as she hauled herself up the rungs as fast as she could, the rough metal biting into her palms. The fire escape was hot from the sun and felt like hot pokers on her hands.

A shot rang out below, ricocheting off the wall near her foot.

She let out a muted scream as her grip faltered for a moment before she forced herself upward, her chest heaving with exertion.

Her legs trembled as she pulled herself onto the rooftop, where she collapsed briefly onto the rough tar surface. She jumped up immediately as the hot roof burned her in several places. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts, the metallic tang of adrenaline now sharp in her mouth.

Stay calm, she ordered herself, the echo of her mother’s voice spurred her on.

Below her, the man cursed in Arabic.

She leaned over the edge and saw him check on his friend. Shooting him was an option.

He was distracted. That also provided a good opportunity for her to get out of there.

Instead, she took off running and jumped from one building to the next. When she reached the edge of the second building, she skidded to a stop, and her heart slammed against her ribs.

Second thoughts had jolted her mind to stop running. Maybe she should go back and kill him. Two of them dead would leave only one threat to deal with. While she was concerned about the fallout, she was more concerned about getting another opportunity to kill the man.

She dared to glance over the side of the roof again to see what he was doing. He had his phone to his ear and spoke rapidly into it. He was too far away to get a shot off.

She backtracked. Before she could get close enough to shoot him, one of the sedans pulled into the alley. They loaded the dead man into the car and sped off.

She assessed her situation.

Was she out of danger?

It seemed like it, but she needed to disappear. The roof didn’t have access to the building. The only choice was to go back the way she came or to continue on and jump over to another roof.

Going back didn’t seem like a good option. Her hands still felt raw from the burning metal. Her legs stung from landing on the hot tar roof.

Going forward wasn’t ideal either. The problem was that the gap between the next rooftop was wider than the first. Still wasn’t far, but her legs felt like lead, her body sluggish from the chase.

She took a deep breath, bending her knees. No time to hesitate.

She pushed off with a running start, and the wind rushed past her face as she soared over the gap. Her stomach dropped, and for a heart-stopping moment, she felt weightless, the ground far below.

She had misjudged the distance. Her fingers barely scraped the edge of the next rooftop. Her arms strained as she held on by her fingertips and willed herself up. She cried out as her burned palms against the edge of the building sent searing waves of pain through her.

She desperately tried to save her grip.

Mustering all her strength, she somehow managed to pull herself up. Once on the safety of the rooftop, her knees scraped against the side of the building, causing her to cry out again.

Sweat dripped into her eyes, and she blinked it away, her vision swimming.

Her entire body shook. She pulled out her gun and her fingers gripped it like a lifeline as she searched the roof and the street below for any threats.

She fought to slow her breathing, to steady her racing heart.

Assessing the situation, she spotted her next move. The rooftop pool deck of a nearby hotel bustled with tourists. Her legs protested, but she pushed through the fatigue, her focus razor-sharp.

She moved quickly but cautiously, making her way toward the hotel. When she reached the edge of the building, she dropped down onto a lower roof, then climbed a service ladder leading to the pool deck. Her burned hands cried out in disapproval.

The sound of laughter and splashing greeted her as she slipped through the crowd. She grabbed a towel from a chair and wrapped it around her shoulders like she belonged there.

Ellie kept her head low and made her way to the hotel entrance. She decided to wait in the lobby rather than risk going out on the street.

She messaged Matthew.

Where are you?

He messaged back that he was in the vicinity. She told him to pick her up in front of the hotel.

As she waited, unease gnawed at her. Her mind replayed the last hour—the precision of the men’s movements, their uncanny ability to predict her every escape route. These weren’t mere thugs; they were professionals. Trained. Lethal.

Matt pulled under the porte-cochère at the entrance of the hotel, his face etched with concern. She jumped in and slammed the car door behind her. She looked in every direction for any sign of the men.

“Drive!” she barked, her voice trembled but was firm. “Let’s get out of here.”

He sped off, stealing a glance at her face and her bloody knees. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Her hands shook as she stared straight ahead.

“What’s going on?” he asked with urgency in his voice.

“I just killed someone. My first one.”