Page 28 of Secrets Beneath the Waves (Beach Read Thrillers #2)

CHAPTER

SIX

Ellie thought that killing a man would feel different. When she heard her dad and mom talking about it, it sounded glamorous. Exciting. Euphoric.

At the moment, she felt none of those things.

Memories of her mother’s training sessions flashed through her mind: precise movements, calculated strikes, no room for emotion. One thing she hadn’t spent much time talking to her about was the aftermath.

Ellie couldn’t seem to shake the image of the man’s face as the life drained from his eyes.

Did I enjoy it? Was there a thrill?

She recoiled from the thought, horrified by the possibility.

Her hands gripped the seatbelt across her chest as Matthew’s car sped away from the hotel. Adrenaline still pulsed through her like water through an open dam. Her body was on the verge of shaking uncontrollably.

Matthew glanced at her sideways, his brow furrowed in concern. “Ellie,” he said. When she didn’t respond, he tried again, more firmly this time. “Ellie, talk to me. What happened back there?”

“Nothing.”

She kept glancing behind them to make sure they weren’t being followed. What she needed was a concoction her mother taught her to calm the adrenaline. A mixture of soda and an energy drink.

“You said you killed a man.”

“Take me to my house.” Her throat felt like sandpaper, and when she spoke, her voice cracked.

She could make the drink there. Too risky to stop at a convenience store.

“I think I deserve to know what happened. Don’t you?”

“The less you know, the better.”

Matthew scoffed. “We’re kind of past that, don’t you think? I’m driving the getaway car. That makes me an accomplice.”

“This won’t come back on you. I promise.”

That was probably true. The men had done her a favor by loading the body into their sedan. They’d probably dispose of it in the ocean or bury it somewhere on the island.

“You texted me and said you needed my help.” Matthew’s tone turned angry. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

He had a point.

She hesitated and struggled to find the right words. “Like my text said, three Middle Eastern men were following me. They were armed. I don’t know why they targeted me, but they did. I tried to lose them, but they were too good. They knew what they were doing. I . . .”

She stopped, her breaths came in shallow gasps.

How did they know those things?

She was sent to Cayman to find a mole selling state secrets to Iran. Almost immediately, she was confronted by three Middle Eastern killers. The two events had to be related.

Could Matthew be trusted? Ellie still didn’t know for sure.

Trust no one , her mother’s words echoed in her ears.

What if Matthew is the mole? What if he’s the one who tipped off the men?

She hated even entertaining the thought. Matthew had been nothing but supportive since this mission began and was obviously romantically attracted to her.

He didn’t seem or act like a traitor. But one unanswered question gnawed at her psyche: Who told the men she was in the Cayman Islands?

The circle of people who knew that information was small. Her parents, of course. Her handler at the agency. And Matthew. That was it as far as she knew. Her parents and handler could obviously be trusted. That left Matthew.

If he was the mole, it would explain everything. How those men had known exactly when to strike, where she’d be vulnerable. He could even tell them where she lived.

The thought sent fear shooting through her body. That meant she wasn’t safe anywhere on the island. Matthew could be leading her into a trap right this minute.

“Where exactly were you when I texted you?” she asked, her voice casual on purpose.

Matthew’s lips twisted to the side, but his focus remained on the road. “At my apartment. You know, working.”

Ellie frowned. Turned her head to the side so he wouldn’t see her skeptical reaction.

His apartment was on the other side of the island. If he’d been there, how had he gotten to her so quickly after her text? Something about his answer felt . . . off. Was it the slight upward lilt in his tone, like he was trying to sell her on the idea?

She didn’t have the answers but filed the detail away. She bit her lip to keep from pursuing her concerns. Maybe she was overthinking. She didn’t really know how much time passed between when she texted him and when he picked her up at the hotel.

Matthew’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “So, you shot one of them. How did that go down?”

“I didn’t shoot him. I broke his neck.”

The admission hung in the air. She watched carefully for a reaction. See if he grimaced or showed any sign of disappointment.

She demonstrated the motion with her hands, then let them fall limply to her lap. It wouldn’t hurt for him to know that she could snap his neck in a second as well.

“I didn’t even think twice. It was automatic. One second he was alive, the next . . .” Her voice trailed off, and her hands still shook as she stared at them. She couldn’t believe she’d killed a man with those hands. It all seemed like a dream.

Matthew reached out and gently covered her hands with his. “Ellie, listen to me. You did what you had to do. If you hadn’t, he would’ve killed you. You know that, right?”

He really seemed genuinely supportive. If he were lying, he was good at it.

She regretted having doubted him.

“There’s still two of them out there,” she said, feeling vulnerable.

Matthew squeezed her hands again. She made sure he couldn’t touch the burned parts. “Then we’ll deal with it. You’re not alone in this, Ellie. You’ve got me.”

He sounded sincere.

“Have you ever killed a man before?” she asked. The question was meant to see if he was more of an operative than he had led on.

“Well . . . no. I’m logistics. I support missions. I’m trained to use a gun, but I don’t even carry one. I might start now, though.”

She didn’t detect any sign of deception in his voice or his mannerisms.

“Probably a good idea.”

“If it gets too dangerous, we can call in your parents.”

Ellie stiffened at the mention of her parents, pulling her hand away. “No! They can’t know.”

“You said that in the text. Help me understand why.” Matthew’s tone was firm but not unkind.

“I have my reasons.”

“Ellie, they’re experienced professionals. If anyone can handle this, it’s them.”

“Exactly,” she snapped. “They’ll take over, and I’ll just be the helpless daughter who got in over her head. This is my mission, Matthew. My chance to prove I can handle myself. If they find out, they’ll never trust me to do this kind of work again.”

Matthew leaned back in his seat. “You’re not helpless, Ellie. Far from it. But there’s a difference between being capable and being reckless. If this gets worse, promise me you’ll call them.”

He was the second person who said she was being reckless. Her dad had used the word the day before. She glared at him, unwilling to make that promise.

“This is my mission and my call! I’m not promising anything.”

“Fine!”

“Just take me home.”

Matthew sighed but didn’t push further. He drove the rest of the way in silence, the tension between them as thick as a block of ice.

By the time they reached her house, the adrenaline had begun to subside, and Ellie started to crash. Her exhaustion had turned into bone-deep weariness. She stepped out of the car and winced as the movement sent sharp pains through her knees.

Matthew was by her side in an instant, his arm steadied her. “Let me help,” he said as he led her to the door.

Inside, the familiar surroundings of her small, rented home felt like a sanctuary. Matthew helped her to the couch, then disappeared into the bathroom. He returned with a first aid kit and a damp cloth.

“Sit still,” he ordered gently, as he knelt in front of her. He inspected her scraped knees and hands with the precision of someone used to handling injuries. “These aren’t too bad. Mostly surface wounds. You’ll be fine.”

Ellie watched as he cleaned her cuts, his touch careful but firm. The sting of the antiseptic was a welcome distraction from the storm in her mind.

“Thanks,” she murmured when he was done.

“Do you want me to stay the night with you?” he asked.

She groaned in disapproval.

“I didn’t mean that,” he exclaimed. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“No. I’m okay. I’m going to get some rest.”

What she wanted to do was take a shower and fall into bed and sleep for sixteen hours. What she’d probably do is pack up everything and find another place to stay. Somewhere private. That Matthew didn’t know about.

She stood and started for the door. Matthew got the hint and followed her.

“Thank you for being there for me,” she said sincerely.

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said. “I’ll check in on you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, forcing a small smile.

It seemed like he wanted to kiss her but hugged her instead. Holding it long enough for her to feel the sentiment behind it. She wondered if the whole romantic thing was a ruse. It felt real.

“Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

She nodded, and with that, he was gone, leaving the house eerily quiet.

Ellie made the energy drink concoction, then sat back down on the couch.

After downing it in only a few gulps, she leaned back and closed her eyes.

Images from the day replayed in her mind: the man’s lifeless body collapsing in the alley, the sound of his neck snapping. Matthew speeding to the rescue.

Her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts and was stern and unyielding.

You should’ve killed the second man.

I was afraid of the fallout. The police. Newspapers. Television stations.

You had him in your sights, but you hesitated. Hesitation will get you killed, Ellie.

I know. You’re right. I screwed up.

The gun had been in her hand. One squeeze of the trigger, and the second man would’ve fallen like the first. It should’ve been simple—a textbook decision.

Why didn’t she kill him?

Her mind was now splintered into fragments of memory that went back years.

Ellie was nine years old. She crouched in the darkened hallway outside her parents’ study, her knees pressed into the cold floor. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but her mother mentioned her name, and it had drawn her in.

“Hesitation will get you killed, Ellie,” her mother said to her dad. “That’s what I told her.”

Ellie had peered around the edge of the door, watching as her mom simulated a killing maneuver on a doll she had in her hand. Bringing back a traumatic memory from earlier that day.

“I tried to teach Ellie how to snap a person’s neck, but she started crying. She didn’t want to hurt the doll.”

Her dad chuckled. “Let her be a kid for a while, would you?”

“I’m not sure Ellie has what it takes. She’s too caring. In this world, mercy is a weakness. A luxury we can’t afford.”

“Don’t push her too hard. Ellie is sensitive. I don’t want her to lose that quality.”

“I don’t either, but if nothing else, she needs to learn self-defense.”

“She can already do a roundhouse kick that would knock out a two-hundred-pound man.”

“She says she wants to be a spy like me.” Her mother’s voice was cold. “If she doesn’t have that killer instinct now, I can’t instill it in her later.”

That night, Ellie had lain awake in her bed and stared at the ceiling. The words echoed in her mind: Mercy is a weakness. It was then she decided she didn’t want to be like her mother.

And yet she was. She’d snapped that man’s neck without even thinking.

She suddenly felt angry.

Was this what you wanted for me, Mom? To become a killing machine, void of empathy? Well, it worked. Are you happy now? I’m just like you.

Her mother’s voice snarled in her mind: You aren’t like me. I would’ve killed the second man.

The words were condemning.

Ellie’s voice was faint but defiant as she answered the thought, “You’re right. I’m not you. I couldn’t do it.”

She immediately regretted the words even if the debate was only in her mind. There’s no one on this earth she admired more than her mother. Yet she’d seen that ruthless side of her. The relentless drive to rid the world of bad guys.

She thought she had it as well. Now she wasn’t so sure. The doubts overwhelmed her to the point that tears streamed down her face.

Was she cut out for this? Was she vicious enough? Did she even want to be?

Did she have what it took to navigate this dangerous world she’d chosen?

Could she trust herself to make a life-or-death decision the next time she needed to?

Ellie’s tears finally stopped, leaving her drained and empty. The silence in the house was suffocating, and every creak and whisper of wind seemed amplified, reminding her of the looming threats.

She got off the couch and started packing so she could get out of the house as quickly as possible. If Matthew was working with the Iranians, he’d certainly tell them her location.

Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind.

Trust no one completely—not even yourself.