Page 6 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

The small stone in her nose piercing glinted in the light overhead. Yeah, she was nothing like Kenna in a whole lot of ways. But she was also several years younger than him—maybe as much as ten. “How old are you?”

“How old do you want me to be?” She stared at him from under those long, dark lashes.

The elevator doors opened. Ramon stepped out, senses alert, just in case Miguel knew about this hotel room. Getting into another fight would be preferable to whatever that had been with Zeyla back there. She lived by her own rules, and that was her prerogative. Ramon wanted to live up to Kenna’s faith in him more than anything, so whatever bait she dangled out, he wasn’t going to bite.

He used the app on his phone to unlock the room door and held the door while she came inside. “I need to do a walk-through. Make sure no one has been in here.”

“I need a drink anyway.”

By the time he got back to the living room with the couch and armchair, a coffee table, and a TV on a stand, she was knocking back a glass of something. The tiny open bottle on the coffee table told him what he’d be paying for when he checked out.

“Start talking.” Ramon folded his arms.

“You don’t have to look so disapproving. It isn’t like I asked to find this.” For the first time tonight, she actually looked like she might not be okay with the contents of the box she motioned toward.

“Start talking from the beginning.”

Zeyla said, “You look like you need a drink.”

“I’m having a dry month.”

She eyed him quizzically, then sighed. “I’m looking for someone, but I’m nowhere near finding out his real identity or where to find him.” She picked her way around the coffee table and slumped down onto the couch, propping her boots on the tabletop next to the box and waving at it. “I was supposed to be picking up intel, and I get this? It makes no sense.”

Ramon grabbed the TV remote and used it to lift the flap of the box so he could see inside. “Why’d you open it in the mailbox place?”

A severed hand. Female, no wrinkles or that papery skin of older age, and this wasn’t the hand of a child. The fingernails were painted red, chipped off in places, and there was a scratch on the middle knuckle of the index finger.

“She fought back.”

Zeyla sucked in a breath.

Ramon repeated his last question.

“I thought it was intel! If there was a flash drive in there, I was going to pocket it and leave the packaging behind.”

“Instead, you found a hand.”

“How am I supposed to get intel from that?” Her voice rose in volume.

“Do you want me to help you figure it out?” After all, she seemed freaked, even though she would probably deny it. “Under the banner of making sure you’re all right, which is what I was sent here to do.”

“Wouldn’t want to let down Kenna.”

“No, I don’t.” He shot her a look. “She saved my life, and she got me my reputation back.”

This was the first he’d heard of any resentment from her. Not a good look when they were all supposed to be on the same side, fightingDominatusso they could take down the big evil in the world.

As soon as they did, another group would show up to fill the void. That was simply how it worked. And it left those who worked in law enforcement and the military feeling as if they were playing that carnival game where creatures continually popped up and you had to smack them down. Over and over. The minute you hit one, another flung up right after it, leaving you chasing the win.

“Maybe I don’t need your help. I haven’t so far, and I’ve done fine.”

“I get it. You don’t need anyone because it’s easier than letting people in and then getting let down when they turn out to be flawed. It’s easier not to care. Or to say you don’t.”

She had stiffened somewhere in there, while he was talking. Now, she said, “You think you know who I am? You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“Fine.” He shrugged. “I’ll admit I barely know you.”

“But you think you’ve got me figured out.” She relaxed back against the couch. “Why don’t you use your amazing powers of drawing conclusions with no evidence to figure out who the owner of that hand is?”