Page 73 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

The words were condemning.

Ellie’s voice was faint but defiant as she answered the thought, “You’re right. I’m not you. I couldn’t do it.”

She immediately regretted the words even if the debate was only in her mind. There’s no one on this earth she admired more than her mother. Yet she’d seen that ruthless side of her. The relentless drive to rid the world of bad guys.

She thought she had it as well. Now she wasn’t so sure. The doubts overwhelmed her to the point that tears streamed down her face.

Was she cut out for this? Was she vicious enough? Did she even want to be?

Did she have what it took to navigate this dangerous world she’d chosen?

Could she trust herself to make a life-or-death decision the next time she needed to?

Ellie’s tears finally stopped, leaving her drained and empty. The silence in the house was suffocating, and every creak and whisper of wind seemed amplified, reminding her of the looming threats.

She got off the couch and started packing so she could get out of the house as quickly as possible. If Matthew was working with the Iranians, he’d certainly tell them her location.

Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind.

Trust no one completely—not even yourself.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Ellie finished packingand set the luggage and duffel bag full of weapons on the floor by the door. She didn’t know where she’d go yet, but staying there was no longer an option. The house felt tainted now—its safety an illusion, shattered by the day’s events.

Compromised.

The word echoed in her head and confirmed what she already feared: the Middle Eastern men knew too much, and someone on the inside had betrayed her. Her thoughts darted to Matthew again, but she shoved the suspicion aside. No time for second-guessing now.

A faint noise outside made her freeze. A car door shut. Normally, she wouldn’t have noticed, but her senses were on edge. Her breath left her, and she strained to hear more. It couldn’t be the Middle Eastern men. They wouldn’t be that obvious.

Was Matthew back?

A sharp knock at the door sent a jolt through her, adrenaline surging instantly. Her heart pounded, lodging itself in her throat as she instinctively closed her fingers around the gun on the coffee table.

Moving silently, she crept toward the door, resisting the urge to check the peephole. Her mom’s warning echoed in her mind. If someone dangerous was on the other side, they could spot the peephole darken and fire straight through it.

Instead, she edged to the side and carefully parted the curtain while standing in the shadows. Mark’s car was in the driveway. Relief warred with dread. She hadn’t expected him tonight, and his timing felt too . . . convenient.

Taking a deep breath, she struggled to calm her racing heart as she tucked the gun in her side waistband. She opened the door and forced calm into her voice. “Mark. Hi. What are you doing here?”

He raised an eyebrow. “We had plans, remember? Dinner, maybe a walk on the beach? Did you forget?”

Ellie slapped her forehead, groaning as she realized she had completely forgotten about their date. For a brief second, she had forgotten about the raw, blistered skin as well. The price she’d paid climbing that hot ladder.

The moment her palm met her skin, a sharp sting shot through her hands, yanking her back to reality. She hissed in pain, her burned fingers protesting the careless movement. Clenching her jaw, she flexed her fingers carefully, willing the pain to subside. The last thing she needed was Mark noticing and asking questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

“Right. Is that tonight? Sorry, it’s been a crazy day. Come in.”

She quickly motioned for him to come inside as her eyes darted to the street, scanning for any threats. She closed the door and locked it as her mind raced faster than a formula one car on an oval.

As he leaned in to kiss her, she grabbed his hands and guided them away from her waist where the gun was now hidden.Her stinging hands almost made her cry out a second time. She bit her lip to keep from doing so.

“Sorry,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I . . . I’m a little jumpy this afternoon.”

Mark’s brow showed his concern. “Are you okay? You look . . . I don’t know. What happened to your knees?”