Page 32 of Secrets Beneath the Waves (Beach Read Thrillers #2)

CHAPTER

TEN

Thursday night

The evening began like something out of a romance novel. Ellie and Mark shared a candlelit dinner at a charming seaside restaurant, where the salty breeze carried the soft strains of acoustic guitar.

Mark was his usual carefree self, cracking jokes that made her laugh and sharing just enough about his life to keep her intrigued.

For a moment, Ellie let herself believe it was all real. The chemistry, the connection, the way he looked at her like she was the only woman in the world.

After dinner, they strolled hand-in-hand along the beach. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow on the waves that lapped at their feet. Mark stopped to pick up a seashell and held it out to her with a boyish grin.

“For your collection,” he said.

Ellie took it, her fingers brushed his. The small gesture sent a ripple of warmth through her, and she chastised herself for it. Don’t fall for him, Ellie . Remember why you’re here.

But when he leaned in and his lips brushed hers, her clear thinking evaporated. The next kiss was slow, deliberate, and everything she hadn’t known she needed.

For a moment, she felt her guard coming down.

Dating had been problematic for her as she grew up. In high school, she’d been so obsessed with training there wasn’t time. She had plenty of opportunities, but her dad asked so many questions about who she dated, it wasn’t worth the trouble.

And how could she bring them home to meet her parents?

They lived in a venerable fortress. With armed guards at the gate.

Her mom had been adamant that she couldn’t do anything to blow their cover.

Any meetings with prospective suitors had to be at a restaurant or somewhere far away from their house.

Symbolic of her dating life. Any boyfriend had to be kept at emotional arm’s length, somewhere far away from who she really was.

In college, she could date and did, but a serious relationship was impossible. How was she going to explain to the person that everything she had been telling them about herself, including her name, was a lie?

When she came to Cayman, dating wasn’t even on her radar for the same reasons.

She was obsessed with the mission, and her entire persona was a lie.

Matthew was the only one who knew her real identity.

Even CIA Luke didn’t know she was the daughter of Jamie Austen.

As far as she knew. He certainly didn’t know she was there to snuff out a mole.

Mark, however, came out of the blue. She hadn’t planned to have feelings for him.

And it felt good.

Tomorrow, she had to confront Matthew. The next day, Luke. For one night, she only wanted to feel normal.

Was that so wrong?

Mark made it easy. They laughed and teased each other as they ran along the shore and kicked up sand.

Until the unthinkable happened.

Mark came up behind her, catching her in a playful bear hug.

“I’ve got you now!” he said, his voice full of mock triumph as he lifted her in the air.

Ellie giggled and twisted in his arms. But then she felt his hand slide lower, grazing her waist. Her heart stopped as his fingers brushed against her concealed gun.

“What’s this?” Mark’s tone shifted instantly, his playful demeanor vanished faster than a vapor in the wind. He stepped back, held up the gun he’d pulled from her waistband. The moonlight glinted off the barrel, and Ellie’s stomach dropped.

How did he do that so fast?

Ellie froze. Her mind scrambled for an explanation that wouldn’t unravel everything. Every nerve in her body was on high alert.

“Mark,” she said carefully, forcing her voice to stay calm despite the pounding in her chest. “Give that back.”

But he wasn’t listening. His fingers curled around the grip, his gaze locked onto the weapon with an expression that flickered between shock and something darker. His nostrils flared slightly and his eyes burned with anger.

“A gun, Ellie? Really? ” His voice was low, almost a growl. Accusing. Disbelief laced with something more dangerous—mistrust. “You bring a gun on a date ?”

Her pulse kicked up a notch. She needed to de-escalate, fast.

“It’s for work,” she said quickly, carefully taking a step forward. “Please, just . . . give it back.”

She reached for it, but he moved, raising his arm higher, out of reach. The veins in his forearm tensed, his fingers tightening the grip. He wasn’t just holding it, he was weighing it, getting a feel for it.

“For work?” He scoffed, his gaze snapping to hers. “What kind of work requires this?”

“I told you,” she said, voice measured, every muscle in her body coiled tight. “Security.”

“For a bank ?” His laugh was sharp, humorless.

“Yes,” she snapped, willing herself to sound exasperated instead of desperate. “And I’m required to carry it.”

He stared at her, eyes narrowing, searching her face like he could peel away the truth layer by layer.

“Why do I think you’re lying to me?”

She swallowed the panic clawing its way up her throat. He was holding a loaded weapon, and the wrong answer could flip this entire situation sideways.

“I don’t care if you believe me.” Her voice was steel now, stripped of pretense. She took a step closer, her hand outstretched, palm open. “Mark. Now! ”

A beat of silence stretched between them. A single breath.

She held out her hand. He didn’t move. Instead, he flipped the gun in his hand, testing its weight with unsettling familiarity. The ease with which he handled it sent her mind spinning out of control.

“Where’d you learn to handle a weapon like that?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

Mark’s eyes flicked to hers. “My father is a policeman.”

Why did she think he was lying now?

“Then you, of all people, should know that some jobs require you to carry a weapon at all times.”

“The only people I know who have to carry a gun all the time are CIA operatives and Secret Service.”

How did he know what government employees had to wear guns even when off duty?

The admission was casual, but the way he said it made her stomach twist. Did he just make a mistake? Blow his own cover.

The waves crashed against the shore, their rhythmic pounding mirroring the frantic beat of Ellie's heart.

Each surge of water threatened to engulf her as the weight of her lies threatened to drown her.

The isolation of the beach, once a source of tranquility, now amplified her fear.

She was stranded on a desolate island of deceit, surrounded by an ocean of uncertainty.

A dance he seemed to be engaging in effortlessly.

“Who do you work for?” he asked.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Are you CIA?”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“No. I’m not CIA.”

His twisted lips told her he didn’t believe her.

“Right,” he said, skepticism lacing his voice. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

The tension between them had escalated considerably. For a moment, Ellie thought he might not give the gun back. She could see the wheels turning in his mind, the questions he wasn’t asking aloud.

Her mind raced through a dozen worst-case scenarios. She could feel the vulnerability in the empty space that the weight of the gun usually filled. Without it, she felt naked, exposed.

Mark narrowed his eyes. For a moment, she thought he might refuse to return it—or worse, turn it on her. If he were the mole, which she was convinced for the first time was possible, then he was a threat she had to take seriously.

What if she had to take it from him? She knew at least a dozen moves, but none that wouldn’t make him even more suspicious of her.

“Mark, I’m not playing. Give me my gun.”

She was seconds away from taking it from him.

That seemed to give him pause. Slowly, he stepped forward and held out the gun, grip-first.

When her fingers closed around it, relief surged through her. But the way he handed it over, expertly, deliberately, left her shaken.

She forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as brittle as it felt.

“I don’t like to be lied to,” Mark said, his voice low and steady, but his eyes betrayed something deeper, hurt, maybe even fear. “I thought . . . I thought we were starting to trust each other, Ellie. Was that just me?”

It seemed like he was genuinely hurt, but so many red flags were going off inside of her, she couldn’t sort them all out.

“Mark,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. “I’m not lying to you.”

Of course, that’s exactly what she was doing. Ellie’s heart twisted at his words. Trust. The tone in his voice hit her like a gut punch.

How could she explain that she hadn’t lied to him out of malice, but necessity?

She watched the flicker of something raw in his eyes. Disgust at her or a flash of evil?

“Whatever,” he said.

She was the one who didn’t believe him now. His statement that his father was a policeman replayed in her mind, and it felt like a rehearsed line, not a truth. Like her fake line, working in bank security.

The rest of the walk back to the restaurant parking lot was awkward, the easy laughter and warmth from earlier gone.

Ellie could hear the soft rush of waves behind them, but the sound only made the silence between them feel heavier.

When they reached the parking lot, Mark hesitated, his hands in his pockets.

“Goodnight, Ellie,” he said finally, his tone distant.

She nodded and watched as he climbed into his car and drove away, the taillights disappearing into the darkness. He didn’t even hug her goodbye.

How could she have let this happen?

She’d been trained to compartmentalize, to separate work from personal entanglements, but tonight, she’d blurred the line. Worse, she’d let her guard down. For what? A charming smile, a shared laugh, the illusion of normalcy?

I let him kiss me.

Stupid, Ellie.

She could hear her father’s voice in her head, sharp and reprimanding. Feelings get you killed, Ellie. You’re being reckless.

Could Mark be the mole? That’s the question playing in her mind. Her dad had warned that she didn’t know him.

By the time she reached her house, Ellie had made a decision. Whatever this thing was with Mark, whatever fragile connection they’d started to build, was over. She had to focus, to stay sharp. One of these three men could be the mole, and she wasn’t going to let her heart cloud her judgment again.

She couldn’t trust any of them, and yet she needed to get close to all of them.

She picked up her phone and sent a text to Mark as a new idea popped into her head.

Sorry about earlier.

She stared at the screen, her emotions a tangle of frustration and longing. Waiting for a response.

The phone rang. She jumped.

Luke.

She let it go to voicemail. She wasn’t interested in dealing with him at the moment.

Her phone pinged a few seconds later, and she expected it to be a voicemail from Luke. Instead, she got a response from Mark.

No worries. I accept your apology.

Anger boiled inside of her. Something about it rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe because he didn’t offer an apology of his own.

“I’m not the one who should apologize!” Ellie said aloud, roughly. “Who do you think you are? What right do you have to take my personal belongings and not give them back right away?”

She was so angry at him, she could barely see straight.

“And then you questioned me like I was some kind of suspect. It’s none of your business who I work for. Also, Mister, I can carry a gun if I want to.”

She paced the room now. Giving him a piece of her mind.

“Who do you work for, buddy? Are you the mole? I saw how you handled a gun. You know how to handle a gun because your father is a policeman? Why do I think you’re lying to me?” Her voice mocked the way he had asked her the same question earlier that night.

Ellie took a deep breath and picked up her phone and typed out a message to Mark. How about a diving date? We can go to one of your favorite spots you mentioned. I’ll rent a boat. To make it up to you.

She hesitated before sending it.

It could be dangerous, yes. But wasn’t everything she’d done so far? If Mark were the mole, she needed answers. And if he wasn’t . . . well, she couldn’t afford to wonder.

Her fingers hovered over her phone. Was this reckless or calculated? A mix of both, maybe. Either way, she hit send.

Mark’s reply came almost instantly.

Sounds great. When?

Ellie’s fingers hovered over the screen as she considered her options.

Sunday, she wrote.

Mark’s response was a simple thumbs-up emoji, but it was enough to make her heart race.

She set the phone aside and walked to the window, looking for any potential threats although she didn’t expect to see any.

Now, she had three suspects.

She had made the mistake of getting too close to each of them. That wasn’t happening anymore.

Now she was all business. One of them could be the mole. She wasn’t going to rule out anything at this point.

Another thought hit her like a semi-truck on a freeway.

They could all three be working together.