Page 55 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

Her stomach tightened.

She recognized the focus of the man’s attention: Victor Harrington, the CEO of a major healthcare conglomerate in England and one of the wealthiest men in the world. The Caymans were a haven for the rich and famous, and Harrington was known as a jet-setting playboy who often traveled there.

His presence at the bar wouldn’t be unusual—except for the timing.

A few days before, Harrington’s name surfaced in her CIA mission briefing. Nothing conclusive, but the report wanted him on her radar in case he was the one receiving secrets from the mole. Seeing him there, unguarded except for a single, distracted bodyguard, made her instincts flare.

She told herself the threat was none of her business. That the CEO had the means to provide for his own security. Only tonight, he had only one bodyguard, a burly man standing a few feet away. And the guard’s attention was on his phone, oblivious to the man at the bar who was watching Harrington like a hawk.

For a moment, she wondered if the whole thing was a setup.

Mark. The restaurant. Harrington. The bad guy.

Had she been led there? Fallen into their well-designed trap? She’d been taught to be suspicious of coincidences.

She dismissed it as overthinking.Maybe.

Ellie forced her focus back to Mark, offering a warm smile. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Mark grinned. “I was asking what you do now. For work.”

“Security consulting,” she replied, her tone practiced. “Helping banks shore up their defenses, both physical and digital.”

Mark raised a curious eyebrow. “Sounds intense. Ever have to deal with anything dangerous?”

“Oh, nothing too exciting,” she smirked beneath the words, the irony almost made her laugh.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man at the bar slide off his stool, his hand brushing against his jacket where his weapon was concealed.

Ellie’s pulse quickened. She reminded herself to keep her face steady and not give anything away to Mark.

Why the sudden movement?

It became clear when she saw Harrington stand as well and look like he was preparing to leave.

The next few seconds were critical. Harrington and his bodyguard headed toward the exit, a young woman on Harrington’s arm. The man at the bar followed, his movements deliberate, predatory, telling Ellie everything she needed to know.

Her training kicked in.

“Excuse me for a moment,” she said, standing abruptly. “Ladies’ room.”

Mark looked surprised but nodded. “Sure. I’ll be here.”

Ellie slipped away and weaved through the restaurant with practiced ease. Instead of heading to the restroom, she made her way to a side exit. For reassurance, she touched the concealed holster in the front of her pants, covered by the loose-fitting T-shirt.

The warm night air greeted her as she stepped outside, the faint scent of saltwater mingling with the distant hum of the few lights illuminating the path. A quiet stillness hung in the air, broken only by the muffled laughter and clinking glasses from inside the restaurant behind her. Shadows stretched long across the area, shifting as a breeze rustled the palm fronds overhead.

Harrington’s group was ahead, walking down a sidewalk next to the ocean. Probably headed back to a house somewhere down the beach. The man from the bar closed in from behind, his hand now firmly inside his jacket.

Ellie quickened her pace, her movements silent as a cat on the prowl.

The man pulled his handgun and raised it toward Harrington.

Without hesitation, Ellie darted forward, grabbed his wrist from behind, and twisted it with a sharp, precise motion, snapping his shooting finger. The gun clattered to the ground as the man let out a muffled grunt of pain.

Ellie didn’t give him a chance to recover. She shifted her weight and planted her foot in front of his. She used her momentum to drive him to the ground with her hand behind his head, forcing it into the concrete with a sickening thud, the sharp impact vibrating up through her arms.

For good measure, she delivered a precise rabbit punch to the base of his skull. The resistance beneath her knuckles reassured her he’d be out for a while. Her heart hammered in her chest as she crouched beside him to pat him down. Her fingers brushed over cold metal, finding a phone which she quickly put in her pocket.