Page 35 of Secrets Beneath the Waves (Beach Read Thrillers #2)

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

Ellie pressed herself against the cold metal of the wreck.

Her lungs burned from holding her breath, demanding a deeper breath she couldn’t risk taking too quickly.

Her instincts told her she needed to preserve oxygen.

She had no idea how long this confrontation might last, and her pressure gauge was dangerously close to zero five minutes ago.

The intruders swam toward the wreck. Their sleek forms cut through the water with predatory precision. Each carried a spear gun, their intentions as clear as the crystal waters of the Caribbean.

She glared at Luke, who remained unnervingly still beside her. The suspicion gnawed at her.

He led them here, didn’t he?

Of course, he did. No other explanation made sense.

Luke’s body was tense. He had a knife in his hand and looked prepared to defend her to the death. His actions felt both protective and threatening. He could easily turn that knife on her if she let her guard down. Which she didn’t intend to do.

She glanced at the approaching divers, then back to Luke.

Her decision solidified. She couldn’t stay there.

If she did, she’d be outnumbered against bigger, stronger foes who were better and faster divers.

Her heart pounded in her ears as she propelled herself away from the wreck, kicking with deliberate force to gain distance.

Luke reached for her, but she didn’t stop.

Is he trying to protect me or make sure I don’t escape?

Trusting him was no longer an option. He’d betrayed her, and now her life depended on getting away from him.

The sudden movement caught the attention of the closest diver. He veered toward her; his body cut through the turquoise depths like a shark on the hunt.

Ellie’s pulse spiked as she swam harder. Adrenaline flooded her system. She glanced over her shoulder to see him close the gap. He raised his spear gun and almost toyed with her as they both realized she had nowhere to hide.

She didn’t have a plan. Her options were limited. Perhaps on land, she might have a slight advantage, but she remembered there were three of them. More than likely, the third one was on the boat with a gun ready to shoot her as soon as she surfaced.

Ellie kicked harder as she tried to gain distance from the approaching diver. But her movements felt sluggish and awkward. The fins strapped to her feet made her legs heavier than she was used to. Every kick sent her off balance, forcing her to flail to steady herself.

Her arm shot out to grab a nearby rock for leverage, but her glove slipped on the slick surface.

She grabbed at her knife strapped securely to her thigh, but just reaching for it felt like her hand moved too slowly.

The resistance of the water made every motion feel like she was fighting through quicksand.

A burst of bubbles escaped her regulator as panic set in. She couldn’t afford to waste air, but her inexperience was costing her precious seconds. She tried to remember what her mother had said during her crash course: Stay calm, keep your movements controlled. Breathe slowly.

Calm? That was easy to say when no one was chasing you with a spear gun.

Her mind frantically searched for an escape route. She couldn’t outmaneuver them in the water—she wasn’t fast or skilled enough. She’d have to outthink them instead.

She reached shallower water and dove into a patch of coral, the jagged formations offering a semblance of cover.

Spotting a chunk of broken coral, she grabbed it, the rough surface scraped her palm even through her glove.

With a knife in one hand and the coral in the other, she felt confident that it gave her a fighting chance.

The diver was almost upon her. She could see his face now, behind the dark visor of his mask. Once he got within range, he aimed the spear gun directly at her.

Her mother had always said to make her first move a surprise.

Rather than wait for him to act, Ellie surged upward, swinging the coral at him with all her strength. The jagged edge slammed into the front of the diver’s mask, cracking the tempered glass.

He obviously hadn’t expected her to come toward him and had fumbled away his opportunity to aim and fire his gun at her.

He reeled backward, momentarily disoriented. She didn’t wait for him to recover.

In one fluid motion, she drove the blade of her knife into the man’s side, just below the ribs. A muffled scream bubbled from his regulator as blood clouded the water around them.

The diver’s body spasmed and his grip loosened on the spear gun. Ellie shoved him away, her breathing labored as the man’s lifeless form slowly sank to the ocean floor.

Before she could process what she’d done, the second diver appeared. He moved faster, more aggressively, his spear gun already aimed.

He fired.

She let out a scream.

Ellie twisted her body, narrowly avoiding the projectile as it zipped past her and lodged into the ocean floor. She grabbed the rope of the spear and used it to propel herself toward him.

Another unexpected move. His eyes widened in surprise. She bridged the gap between them before he knew what happened.

Bubbles exploded around them as he fumbled to reload, his movements frantic. Ellie didn’t give him the chance. She reached for his arm and gripped his wrist with all her strength. The force of her momentum sent them spinning.

He struggled, thrashing against her hold, but she used the water’s resistance to her advantage, twisting his weapon away from her. His mask shifted slightly, and for a split second, she saw his eyes—wild, panicked, realizing too late that he’d underestimated her.

She drove her knee into his ribs. A muffled grunt vibrated through the water. He recoiled, but she didn’t let go. Instead, she used his momentary loss of control to rip the spear gun from his grasp. As soon as it was in her hands, she dropped it, so it’d go to the ocean floor.

Her lungs burned, her heart pounded, but she maintained her composure.

He had recovered his bearings as well and reached for her.

Ellie dodged his half-hearted attempt at a blow, but he connected enough to send her off balance. The force of his attack pushed her backward, and she slammed into a coral outcrop. Pain flared in her shoulder.

She still had the knife in her hand. She swung it wildly, aiming for the diver’s side, but the water slowed her movements, dragging on her arm like wet cement. Her blade missed its mark by several inches.

She shouted in frustration.

Her training had been rigorous, but it had all been on dry land. There, she could throw a punch, drive a knee, twist an opponent’s arm with precision. Here, she was clumsy, her motions exaggerated and imprecise. She felt like a novice all over again.

The diver grabbed her wrist and twisted it painfully. She tried to kick him. The move was instinctive, something she’d practiced a hundred times in the gym. But the resistance of the water rendered her kick weak, barely enough to graze him.

She realized how little her land-based instincts could help her here.

Her mind screamed for a solution. If the usual moves wouldn’t work, she’d have to improvise.

Adapt, Ellie. Do something.

She managed to free her arm. Instead of going to the surface or swimming away from him, she decided to dive deeper. Maybe on the ocean floor, she could get some stability under her feet.

He followed immediately. Both landed at the same time. Only a few feet from each other. They faced off like two boxers in a ring.

Ellie moved toward him and threw a punch, aiming for his head. But the water slowed her arm like it was moving through syrup, and she barely grazed his wetsuit.

The diver retaliated, his hand darting out to grab her wrist again. She tried to twist free, but the water turned every motion into a clumsy, exaggerated effort.

She kicked at him, desperate to create distance, but her fins dragged awkwardly against the water, throwing her off balance. Her heel connected with his thigh, but the strike had no force behind it.

I can’t fight like this, she realized, panic creeping in as he raised his knife.

Her mind raced for a solution. She couldn’t match him in strength or speed—not here. He swung wildly, with the same problem she faced. The knife lacked any speed or momentum behind it. She easily avoided it.

But she now had a greater worry.

She glanced down in horror to find that her oxygen tank was at zero. She took a breath but found barely enough oxygen to fill her lungs one last time. She panicked when she realized no more was coming.

She struggled to wrestle with him and keep his knife away from her. Her limbs screamed from the effort of fighting the water’s resistance. Every motion felt like it was draining her faster than normal.

I can’t keep this up, she thought, as she scrambled for her knife, now half-buried in the sand at her feet.

He was unrelenting. He held both of her arms now and managed to push her to the floor of the sea. Using the momentum to land on top of her, he grabbed at her mask. She clawed at his face.

When it seemed like he might get the upper hand, she saw movement to the side.

Luke.

He had come to help the diver finish her off. There’s no way she could stop them.

To her shock, he slammed into the diver with a force that sent them both tumbling. Like a linebacker tackling a runner in the open field. The sudden impact freed Ellie, and she gasped, sucking for a breath that wasn’t available.

She watched, stunned, as Luke grappled with the man, his movements fierce and calculated. For a moment, confusion paralyzed her. He’s helping me?

The fight was brutal as each man struggled for dominance.

Luke managed to disarm the diver, sending the knife spinning into the depths.

But not before the man had landed a glancing blow to Luke’s side.

Bubbles erupted from Luke’s regulator as he flinched, clutching his ribs.

Blood seeped from a shallow wound, darkening the water around him.

Ellie’s shock gave way to resolve. She spotted her knife glinting in the sand below and dove for it. Her fingers closed around the hilt just as the diver gained the upper hand, pinning Luke against the ocean floor.

Ellie surged upward, gripping the knife tightly.

She swung with all her strength, slashing through the intruder’s oxygen hose.

The hiss of escaping air was immediate and violent, bubbles erupting in a chaotic stream around the man’s head.

His hands flew to the severed hose, clawing desperately to stop the leak.

For a moment, Ellie hesitated, as she watched the diver flail. His movements were erratic, his body twisting as his air supply rapidly depleted. Fear radiated from him, even through the dark visor of his mask.

Before she could decide her next move, Luke had regained his footing.

She flinched as he raised his knife in the air.

It struck with brutal efficiency. But not at her. The blade plunged into the man’s chest. Blood clouded the water as the diver’s body convulsed. His hands still clutched at the useless hose. He thrashed weakly. His legs kicked as if trying to swim upward, but he had no strength behind the effort.

His limbs slowed, and his struggles faded into a lifeless drift. The man’s body hung suspended for a breathless second before beginning its slow descent to the ocean floor.

Ellie tried to reconcile the scene before her. Even as the diver’s body disappeared into the sandy floor below, the vivid image of his panic remained burned in her mind.

Luke’s hand gripped her shoulder, snapping her back to the moment. His eyes were hard, his chest heaving as blood seeped from his wound.

There wasn’t time to think. They had to move.

Ellie pointed upward, toward the surface. She put her arm around him and pushed them upward, forcing herself not to let them rise too fast.

Then she remembered the third man on the boat. She swam a small distance, so she’d surface next to the boat. Not in the open where he could see them.

Her vision blurred as blackness crept in from the edges. Still ten to fifteen feet from the surface, her chest screamed for air, every second an eternity. She couldn’t give in.

Ellie’s head broke the surface. She gasped, her lungs burning with desperation. She pressed herself against the hull of the boat, keeping her movements silent, her eyes darting upward.

Luke surfaced beside her, clutching his wound, his breaths sharp and shallow. Ellie slapped her hand over his mouth, silencing him before he could give them away. She shot him a sharp look, then pointed toward the boat, her meaning clear: He’s still up there.

Luke nodded faintly, his eyes narrowing as he pressed himself flat against the side of the boat.

Ellie’s mind raced, her exhaustion battled with the adrenaline that still coursed through her veins. They couldn’t stay in the water for long—not with the blood clouding around them like a beacon for whatever else might be lurking.

But climbing aboard the boat wasn’t an option either.

She looked deep into Luke’s eyes, trying to determine his intentions. All she saw was pain from the wound to his side. Still, even in the water, his posture radiated tension.

Her mother had taught her to be skeptical of everything.

Was Luke protecting her or did he sacrifice one of his men to earn her trust?

Her mother’s words rang in her ears. “The only thing more dangerous than an enemy behind you is a traitor beside you.”