Page 31 of Secrets Beneath the Waves (Beach Read Thrillers #2)

CHAPTER

NINE

The next morning

Cayman Islands Cruise Port

With her scuba diving showdown with Matthew looming in two days, Ellie continued to work every angle of her investigation. As she did most days, she was down at the cruise ports. Each day, five or more cruise ships unloaded over ten thousand tourists into the Cayman paradise.

At first, it seemed like finding a needle in a haystack, but every tourist passed through the same port of entry, giving her a clear vantage point.

Ellie had learned from her mother that blending in was an art form, not just a matter of wearing a hat and sunglasses. Each disguise she chose was deliberate, designed to match her surroundings and her objectives for the day.

Today, she opted for the casual-tourist look. A wide-brimmed hat, oversized sunglasses, and a flowy sundress with a tropical print. It wasn’t just about looking like everyone else, but was about ensuring no one would give her a second glance.

The biggest challenge was the bright, naturally blonde hair she got from her mother. So, she chose loose waves for the casual tourist, a sleek bun for the professional look, and, when she really wanted to disappear, a light scarf or baseball cap to cover it altogether.

Today’s disguise was perfect for her task. If someone looked her way, they’d see nothing more than a tourist soaking up the Cayman sunshine. If they looked closer, they might notice the way her eyes scanned the crowd with sharp precision, but she even knew how to hide that.

As Ellie adjusted her hat and glanced at her reflection in a shop window, she thought about Friday. Her upcoming scuba-diving date with Matthew. She was dreading it.

For now though she pushed those thoughts aside. Today was about the cruise port. Every precaution had been taken. She’d driven there in her car that no one knew about.

Not even Matthew, Mark, or Luke had seen her new car. If she scheduled a date with them, she met them at the restaurant or at their house and caught a taxi to meet them.

Her new house was on the beach in a secluded area of the island. None of them had been there. When she drove home at the end of each day, she spent nearly an hour doing evasive moves to ensure that no one was following her.

At this point, she didn’t know who she could trust, so she didn’t trust anyone.

Ellie turned her attention to the tourists as the first ones appeared from the exit.

She lingered at the crowd’s edge, her movements casual but her gaze sharp.

Most passengers fit the cruise ship profile: families herding children, couples holding hands, and retirees with fanny packs and cameras, their early energy likely to wane by day’s end.

Identifying a bad guy wasn’t hard for her. Her mother had taught her what to look for. Mostly, evil in the eyes. More objectively, anomalies, the ones who didn’t belong.

She scanned their faces, their body language, their subtle cues.

Not missing a single one. Looking for the man who avoided eye contact yet seemed hyper-aware of his surroundings.

The woman who shifted her weight from foot to foot, her fingers twitching near her purse as if debating a move.

The tourist who looked too much like a tourist. Loud shirt, camera, sunhat but stood rigid instead of relaxed, as if playing a part rather than living it.

Then there were the smaller tells. A clenched jaw.

A glance held too long or broken off too quickly.

Shoulders drawn too high, or a gait that didn’t match the casual rhythm of the crowd.

Hands that hovered near pockets, adjusting something unseen.

The ones who acted like they belonged but carried a stiffness that set them apart.

Her mom’s instincts were rarely wrong. She wanted to develop those same skills. Suspicion wasn’t about paranoia, it was about patterns, her mom would say. The way a predator watched before moving in. The same way a trained operative scanned a space before entering.

She wasn’t only looking for the obvious. She was looking for what felt wrong.

And something did feel wrong.

She looked closer. That’s when she saw him.

A prickle crawled up her spine as she locked onto a figure near the edge of the crowd, his posture too controlled, his focus too direct. Was she imagining it?

He was tall and lean, with an olive complexion and dark hair cropped close to his head. Dressed in nondescript clothes, simple button-up shirt and slacks. He moved with a precision that set him apart from the carefree tourists around him.

Ellie’s instincts flared. The man’s gaze darted around the port, his movements purposeful yet cautious. He wasn’t here for duty-free shopping or rum tastings.

Who are you looking for? Ellie wondered, keeping her distance as she followed him.

The man weaved through the crowd with ease, his head constantly moving in every direction. He was also scanning for anything out of the ordinary.

Ellie stayed far enough behind to avoid drawing attention. Her disguise helped, but so did her skill. Years of training with her mother had made her a ghost in plain sight.

The man stopped at a corner, his posture tense. Ellie blended into the flow of people and pretended to examine a rack of colorful sarongs at a nearby kiosk.

A few minutes later, a blue sedan pulled up to the curb. The Middle Eastern man opened the back door and slid inside.

Ellie recognized the car. The same sedan she'd seen before when she was being hunted by the three men. Her hands instinctively moved to her waist where her gun was hidden as a chill ran down her spine.

It’s all connected . The mole. The three killers. The cruise ships.

And now, the arrival of a replacement.

Her stomach churned as the realization set in. She had eliminated one of the men, but the enemy had simply sent another. The resources they had at their disposal would be endless. She couldn’t take them all down. Not before they got to her.

Ellie watched the sedan disappear. Her instincts screamed to follow, but she stayed put, unwilling to risk her cover.

Instead, she turned and melted back into the crowd as her mind raced with possibilities. The mole was still out there and was feeding information to whoever was behind this operation.

If Ellie had any hope of surviving, she needed to stay two steps ahead. And to do that, she needed answers. She had to find the mole.

If it’s Matthew . . .

Her fists balled and anger bubbled up inside her like lava inside a boiling volcano ready to erupt. She wasn’t sure how she would control her emotions until she got him far enough away from the land to confront him.

She went back to the port and waited for more passengers to file off. It seemed like a useless endeavor in that she had seen what she needed to see that day. As expected, the rest of the unloading was uneventful.

Her stomach growled, so she went to lunch and ordered Cayman-style fish tacos with rice and fried sweet plantains. After she finished the satisfying meal, she meandered around the many tourist shops, while keeping a sharp eye on passengers who were trickling back to the ships.

The sun was still a few hours from setting, but the afternoon glow cast the docks in a warm orange. Some of the tourists waited to get on the ship and strolled along the waterfront, shopping for last-minute trinkets or sipping cocktails at beachside bars.

Ellie had changed into a different disguise. A light scarf draped over her hair and a casual sundress that swayed with the breeze. She walked with the unhurried pace of someone enjoying the island, but her mind was anything but relaxed.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar figure walking along the boardwalk toward the cruise ship.

Luke.

What?

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as she recognized him instantly. He was still the same, intense, perpetually on edge, and carrying an air of vulnerability that made him impossible to ignore.

She saw him every Monday morning at their CIA staff meetings.

Other than that, they didn’t run into each other at work but talked almost every day.

He liked to call her at night, right before bed.

She often wondered if he called her at that time to make sure she wasn’t out on a date or that Mark wasn’t with her.

As to the investigation, he was somewhat off her radar even though he was on her CIA briefing list of suspects. Everyone who worked out of the office was on that list.

At first, she had suspected him but didn’t anymore.

Luke had always been a little too curious, a little too eager to insert himself into situations that didn’t concern him, but his naivete made it seem like he wasn’t capable of pulling off such a ruse.

Being a double agent and avoiding detection this long took great skill.

One thing still gnawed at her though and had now resurfaced.

On one of her dates with Mark, the pretty boy from the coffee shop, he casually mentioned that Luke had approached him, asked if they were dating and said he’d seen them together.

Ellie suspected that Luke had been following her.

Was it jealousy? Or was he fishing for information, playing his own game behind the scenes? She’d dismissed it at the time as an infatuation but seeing him at the port set her radar spinning.

As he got closer, Ellie could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Ellie forced herself to stay calm, to act as if she hadn’t noticed him. She turned her attention back to the water and pretended to admire the view.

What is he doing here?

She turned her focus back on him when he was past her.

Luke moved with purpose, weaving through the throng of tourists and vendors as if he had a destination in mind. Ellie followed from behind and kept her movements casual, glancing at trinket stands or pausing to look out at the cruise ships whenever he turned his head.

Years of fieldwork taught her how to tail someone without being seen, but Luke was different. He was trained too.

He turned into a quiet area of the port where crew members lingered. One man stood off to the side smoking a cigarette.

Ellie slowed, instincts urging caution.

Luke approached the crew member, a man in his early thirties with a weathered face and the unmistakable demeanor of someone who had seen too much of the ocean. Their conversation was hushed, their gestures subtle but purposeful.

Ellie’s pulse quickened as the crew member scanned his surroundings, his dark eyes lingered in her direction just long enough to make her stomach knot. She crouched lower and touched her face, the faint scent of sunscreen from her hands clinging to the humid air around her.

When she peeked out again, she saw Luke hand the man a small envelope.

What are you doing, Luke?

The crew member took the envelope. He pocketed it and walked away.

She watched as Luke abruptly turned and walked in the other direction. Away from her.

Ellie immediately pulled out her phone and dialed his number. The phone rang once, twice until he picked up.

“Ellie?” Luke’s voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, like he was caught off guard.

“Hey, Luke,” she said, keeping her tone light. “What are you up to?”

There was a brief pause. Ellie could almost hear him weigh his response.

“Just . . . eating an early dinner,” he said finally. “What about you?”

She glanced around. The crew member had vanished, and Luke stood at a street corner, ready to cross.

“Oh, nothing much,” she said, her voice casual despite the tension coiled in her chest. “I was thinking about how I haven’t been scuba diving in ages. I was wondering if you’d want to join me sometime.”

Another pause. Luke’s hesitation was barely perceptible, but Ellie caught it.

“Scuba diving?” he repeated, his tone lighter now. “Yeah, sure. That sounds like fun.”

“How about Saturday?” Ellie suggested, forcing a smile into her voice. “We can make a day of it.”

“Saturday works,” Luke said. “What time?”

“Morning,” she replied. “I’ll text you the details.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said, his voice warm but still guarded. “See you then, Ellie. I’ll talk to you tonight.”

As the call ended, Ellie let out a shaky breath.

Now she had two good suspects. A twang of regret shot through her heart as she thought about the romantic feelings she had for both.

She pushed the thoughts aside. There was no room for sentiment in this game. Friday, she’d take Matthew scuba diving. Saturday, Luke.

The Cayman Trench ran deep. Deep enough to bury secrets, lies, and perhaps, the men who carried them.