Page 2 of Secrets Beneath the Waves
He had as much claim to the light side of life as anyone, but something kept him here. In the night and the shadows, a place as familiar as his own skin.
The express grocery store across the street had three stories of apartments above, and the building stretched almost the whole block. A dark shadow crept across the roof, carrying a duffel bag. Hood up. Moving fast.
Sniper.
Instinct had Ramon backing up, but not because of the threat. He’d heard chattering. A young couple strode along the sidewalk on his side and ducked into the alley. He stayed out of sight, tuning out their conversation as they passed him.
He waited for a break in the traffic and sprinted across the street. The city skyline had too much light for stars to be visibleoverhead. Night had a chill to it that darkness had brought, but he liked the moodiness of it. This was a good place to go unnoticed.
Ramon slid out his phone and checked the location app. Zeyla had entered the storefront, an independent shipping business that had mailboxes for rent.
He stowed the phone and found the door where her shadow had entered, propped open with a paint can. Ramon sprinted up the concrete stairwell, trying to keep the echo of his footsteps to a minimum. He’d gone years without being discovered, and now that he lived on the right side of the law, he didn’t intend to get caught breaking it.
He’d been in the FBI only two years when he was given that shot at an undercover operation in Mexico. The young FBI agent had been crazy excited and didn’t screw up too bad trying to ingratiate himself with a cartel leader.
What happened next wasn’t something he’d ever have expected.
Long story short, his handler at the FBI turned out to be dirty and screwed him over. Given their personal history and what he knew about her family, maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised. Guess that made him the chump who realized too late that he’d been discredited and everyone thought he’d gone rogue.
Trying to contact the FBI and explain had created a backlash that left him almost dead. The person who’d made sure he was nursed back to health? The cartel leader.
So, Ramon had become what everyone at the FBI thought he was.
Until the day a dark-haired woman walked into their compound, and he knew in that moment everything was going to change. Kenna Banbury was just that way. She didn’t leave an injustice alone if she could do anything about it.
Ramon had been cleared—they’d taken down the dirty agent and exposed the whole family for what they’d done to manipulate politics in the US—and he was now free of that life. He wouldn’t have believed it was true if he hadn’t been so involved in it.
These days Ramon worked with Kenna and her family for Banbury Investigations, all of them tangled up in taking down a dangerous group that had kidnapped Kenna a few months ago. They’d rescued her, and now she was having some much-needed downtime with her husband Jax, so everyone—including Ramon—was giving her some space.
At least, he had until she’d called and asked him to track down Zeyla and make sure she was all right. Kenna’s cousin—or half-sister, depending on how you looked at it—was more of a wild card than Ramon, which was saying something.
The door at the top of the stairs marked Roof had also been propped open, this time with a piece of wood angled into a door stopper. Ramon pulled his gun free of the holster on the back of his belt and thumbed off the safety before he eased the door open slowly enough to make no sound. He stepped to the side and let the door retreat back to where it had been.
There was an outdoor living area on the roof, featuring trellises stuck in planters and thick vines snaking up the supports. Giving the whole area an air of privacy and greenery. A couple of round wrought iron tables and their chairs were currently unoccupied.
He kept to the shadows, watching for the man he had seen until finally spotting him. The guy was lying on the rooftop with the rifle set up. Readying himself to make the shot.
Ramon held his gun up and approached. “Back up from the rifle and put your hands up.”
“Why? You aren’t a cop.”
“I’m not going to let you kill my friend.”
The man didn’t even turn around. He shifted to look through the scope, presumably watching the mail store that Zeyla had broken into.
“You pull that trigger, there’s a chance you might miss,” Ramon said. “But when I squeeze mine, I won’t.”
The man chuckled, shifting back and turning. Levering himself to his feet in a smooth move that told Ramon he was physically agile and strong. “That was a good one.”
Cold washed over him. This man’s face was one that had been etched on Ramon’s nightmares for years, the kind of specter of the past that never let go. “Miguel.”
Ramon didn’t lower his gun.
“Gonna murder me on this rooftop?” He moved with loose limbs, rolling his shoulders and bringing his hands up as if readying to fight. “You ain’t that guy anymore. You’ve gone soft.”
“Wanna find out how much that isn’t true?” He slid the gun back in his holster.
Before he’d even brought his hands forward again, Miguel slammed into him. Ramon turned and shoved the guy away, using Miguel’s force against him. The other man whirled back around and launched himself at Ramon again, jumping and coming down toward Ramon with a vicious right hook.
