Page 71 of Secrets Beneath the Waves
Matthew squeezed her hands again. She made sure he couldn’t touch the burned parts. “Then we’ll deal with it. You’re not alone in this, Ellie. You’ve got me.”
He sounded sincere.
“Have you ever killed a man before?” she asked. The question was meant to see if he was more of an operative than he had led on.
“Well . . . no. I’m logistics. I support missions. I’m trained to use a gun, but I don’t even carry one. I might start now, though.”
She didn’t detect any sign of deception in his voice or his mannerisms.
“Probably a good idea.”
“If it gets too dangerous, we can call in your parents.”
Ellie stiffened at the mention of her parents, pulling her hand away. “No! They can’t know.”
“You said that in the text. Help me understand why.” Matthew’s tone was firm but not unkind.
“I have my reasons.”
“Ellie, they’re experienced professionals. If anyone can handle this, it’s them.”
“Exactly,” she snapped. “They’ll take over, and I’ll just be the helpless daughter who got in over her head. This ismymission, Matthew. My chance to prove I can handle myself. If they find out, they’ll never trust me to do this kind of work again.”
Matthew leaned back in his seat. “You’re not helpless, Ellie. Far from it. But there’s a difference between being capable and being reckless. If this gets worse, promise me you’ll call them.”
He was the second person who said she was being reckless. Her dad had used the word the day before. She glared at him, unwilling to make that promise.
“This is my mission and my call! I’m not promising anything.”
“Fine!”
“Just take me home.”
Matthew sighed but didn’t push further. He drove the rest of the way in silence, the tension between them as thick as a block of ice.
By the time they reached her house, the adrenaline had begun to subside, and Ellie started to crash. Her exhaustion had turned into bone-deep weariness. She stepped out of the car and winced as the movement sent sharp pains through her knees.
Matthew was by her side in an instant, his arm steadied her. “Let me help,” he said as he led her to the door.
Inside, the familiar surroundings of her small, rented home felt like a sanctuary. Matthew helped her to the couch, thendisappeared into the bathroom. He returned with a first aid kit and a damp cloth.
“Sit still,” he ordered gently, as he knelt in front of her. He inspected her scraped knees and hands with the precision of someone used to handling injuries. “These aren’t too bad. Mostly surface wounds. You’ll be fine.”
Ellie watched as he cleaned her cuts, his touch careful but firm. The sting of the antiseptic was a welcome distraction from the storm in her mind.
“Thanks,” she murmured when he was done.
“Do you want me to stay the night with you?” he asked.
She groaned in disapproval.
“I didn’t mean that,” he exclaimed. “I can sleep on the couch.”
“No. I’m okay. I’m going to get some rest.”
What she wanted to do was take a shower and fall into bed and sleep for sixteen hours. What she’d probably do is pack up everything and find another place to stay. Somewhere private. That Matthew didn’t know about.
She stood and started for the door. Matthew got the hint and followed her.
