Page 54 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

APPLES DON’T FALL

TERRY TOLER

CHAPTER

ONE

Rum Point

Grand Cayman Island

The manat the bar had a gun.

Ellie Austen had one as well. Hers was better hidden. Had to be since she was undercover for the CIA. And also on a date.

In sharp contrast, she sat across from a man who might be the most charming stranger she’d ever met. The soft light of the restaurant bathed his face, making his blue eyes sparkle as a warm smile with bookend dimples played on his lips.

“So, Ellie, what do your parents do?” he asked, his voice low and inviting, almost blending with the rhythmic murmur of the waves off the ocean-front patio. A hint of the aroma of grilled seafood lingered in the air, grounding the moment in a warmth that felt almost too perfect.

The question brought an immediate smile to her face though for reasons Mark couldn’t possibly fathom. Her mother, Jamie Austen’s reputation as the foremost lethal female assassin in CIA history was not exactly casual dinner conversation.

“They’re semi-retired,” Ellie said smoothly, her tone light as she pretended a sip of her drink was the cause for the delay inanswering the question. “My dad dabbles in computer stuff, and my mom, well, she’s enjoying life. Doing what she loves. She collects art, paintings.”

Her mom had always said to keep her cover story as close to the truth as possible. Not only did her dad, Alex Halee, dabble in computers, but he was also the foremost computer hacker in the world. Her parents used AJAX, an art distribution company, as a cover to run their covert missions around the world.

Mark chuckled. “Sounds like they’re living the dream. What about college? Where did you go?”

Ellie took another sip of her drink, then hesitated, the glass lingering near her lips. Tells had her worried. Subtle betrayals of truth. Her mother had spent years training them out of her, drilling composure into every word, every movement. But now, as the cool liquid slid down her throat, a thought unsettled her—did she always take a sip before she lied?

“University of Virginia,” she said, setting the glass down with a silent vow to leave it untouched for at least five minutes.

The truth. Somewhat. That’s where she graduated.

She needed a degree to become a CIA officer. Since she wanted to go undercover, her mom made her attend a different college each semester. Each time under a different name, from a different hometown, with a constantly changing back story. While she had loathed uprooting her life every semester, she had to admit it honed her skills at lying.

“Virginia? Is that where you grew up?” he asked.

Ellie nodded. When he didn’t ask a follow up question, she didn’t offer any more information. One of the things she learned in college was to say as little as possible. To make her lies simple. Easy to remember. Talking too much led to mistakes.

Mark’s questions were innocuous, but Ellie’s finely tuned instincts didn’t allow her to relax completely. A small voice in the back of her mind wondered if Mark’s curiosity was asinnocent as it seemed. She was trained to be suspicious of anyone and everything.

She mostly dismissed it since she was the one who approached him at the coffee shop earlier that morning. They had talked and eventually he asked her to dinner. She accepted since part of her mission was to integrate into the culture.

If she had known she’d like him this much, she might’ve declined. The unexpected emotions reminded her to be careful.

What if the meeting in the coffee shop hadn’t been by chance? What if he had targeted her?

Her senses were heightened, and that wasn’t a bad thing. Her mother’s relentless training left her no room for complacency, even on what was supposed to be a casual date.

This was her first real undercover assignment, and it had brought her to the Cayman Islands with a mission steeped in shadows and betrayal. She’d been tasked with uncovering a mole within the CIA, someone selling secrets to Iranian agents under the guise of covert cruise-ship meetings.

A pang of guilt came over her, and she hated having those thoughts about Mark. She was the one lying, not him. Every word, every gesture was part of her role, and she played it flawlessly. Part of her wanted to let her guard down, if only for one evening, and savor the way Mark’s gaze lingered on her as if she were the only person in the room.

Except she wasn’t the only person in the room.

Her eyes had caught something strange at the bar behind Mark’s shoulder. The man with a gun, in a dark blazer, sat alone, nursing a whiskey. Something about him had set her nerves on edge. His posture was too rigid, his eyes darted toward the far corner of the room where a well-dressed man sat surrounded by a small entourage and several pretty women.

Firearms were forbidden in Cayman, which was the first red flag. You couldn’t carry one without the permission of the Chiefof Police, and this guy wanted nothing to do with the police. His eyes were beady. Her mom had taught her how to spot a bad guy by looking at his eyes.