Page 84 of Secrets Beneath the Waves
“It’s for work,” she said quickly, carefully taking a step forward. “Please, just . . . give it back.”
She reached for it, but he moved, raising his arm higher, out of reach. The veins in his forearm tensed, his fingers tightening the grip. He wasn’t just holding it, he wasweighingit, getting a feel for it.
“For work?” He scoffed, his gaze snapping to hers. “What kind ofworkrequires this?”
“I told you,” she said, voice measured, every muscle in her body coiled tight. “Security.”
“For abank?” His laugh was sharp, humorless.
“Yes,” she snapped, willing herself to sound exasperated instead of desperate. “And I’m required to carry it.”
He stared at her, eyes narrowing, searching her face like he could peel away the truth layer by layer.
“Why do I think you’re lying to me?”
She swallowed the panic clawing its way up her throat. He was holding a loaded weapon, and the wrong answer could flip this entire situation sideways.
“I don’t care if you believe me.” Her voice was steel now, stripped of pretense. She took a step closer, her hand outstretched, palm open. “Mark.Now!”
A beat of silence stretched between them. A single breath.
She held out her hand. He didn’t move. Instead, he flipped the gun in his hand, testing its weight with unsettling familiarity. The ease with which he handled it sent her mind spinning out of control.
“Where’d you learn to handle a weapon like that?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.
Mark’s eyes flicked to hers. “My father is a policeman.”
Why did she think he was lying now?
“Then you, of all people, should know that some jobs require you to carry a weapon at all times.”
“The only people I know who have to carry a gun all the time are CIA operatives and Secret Service.”
How did he know what government employees had to wear guns even when off duty?
The admission was casual, but the way he said it made her stomach twist. Did he just make a mistake? Blow his own cover.
The waves crashed against the shore, their rhythmic pounding mirroring the frantic beat of Ellie's heart. Each surge of water threatened to engulf her as the weight of her lies threatened to drown her.The isolation of the beach, once a source of tranquility, now amplified her fear. She was stranded on a desolate island of deceit, surrounded by an ocean of uncertainty.
A dance he seemed to be engaging in effortlessly.
“Who do you work for?” he asked.
“I can’t tell you.”
“Are you CIA?”
Her heart skipped a beat.
“No. I’m not CIA.”
His twisted lips told her he didn’t believe her.
“Right,” he said, skepticism lacing his voice. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
The tension between them had escalated considerably. For a moment, Ellie thought he might not give the gun back. She could see the wheels turning in his mind, the questions he wasn’t asking aloud.
Her mind raced through a dozen worst-case scenarios. She could feel the vulnerability in the empty space that the weight of the gun usually filled. Without it, she felt naked, exposed.
