9. Elena
9
ELENA
I ’m going to have to watch myself around this man because he sees everything. I should have realized that when Brooks talked so highly of him and their time in service together. To be fair, the man is infuriating, which caught me off-guard, and I let my character slip, especially when he said he knows the Clark sisters and they are not bitches like me. That’s when I noticed I was acting more like me, not Ellie. I messed up. I’ve been playing stone-cold Emerald for so long that turning into sweet Ellie Clark isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I thought spending these past weeks with the sisters that some of their sunshine would have rubbed off onto me. Guess I was wrong.
And what the hell is with my nickname kitty, anyway? If he keeps that up, I’m going to shoot him. Which would be a shame as the man is hot. Sophie neglected to mention that to me. Nash has the whole beach bum vibe going on, with his shaved head, a bit of scruff on a square jaw, and glistening blue eyes, almost the same color as the ocean. Tanned, muscular arms, that show that even though he looks like he does nothing but sit around his beach bar and drink beer and smoke pot, he does work out. He’s dressed in a white surf brand muscle top that opens all the way down his sides almost to his hips, which gives me a peek at the six-pack he is hiding underneath the material. He’s in a pair of baggy board shorts and flip-flops. Complete opposite of the men I’ve had to seduce these past five years. Not that I want to seduce him. But I am going to have to rely on him to help me find Pearl, so if I do need to seduce him to get the information, it wouldn’t be a hardship, especially as he started out flirting with me at the airport before I shut him down. Not the right move, Elena, you need him on your side.
After our reset in the Jeep, the conversation flowed between us until we arrived at his home.
“This is it, nothing flashy, so welcome home,” he says, stopping the Jeep out the front of a large wooden beach shack right on the beach.
Wow.
I can see the turquoise ocean through the jungle of palms, it wasn’t at all what I thought it would be. The shack is set up off the sand on stumps on one level. There is a large deck out the front made of wood and a rickety wooden railing all around. There is a brightly colored towel hanging off one side of it and a set of surfboards stacked up against the stumps. There’s a table and chairs on the front deck, too, with a couple of empty cans of beer sitting there.
It's cute.
I step out of the Jeep, my shoes hitting the white sand beneath us, while Nash grabs my bags from the trunk. I take a look around and get my bearings, the shack is surrounded by thick, tropical jungle, palms all tightly growing together. Sounds of unfamiliar birds echo around us as I walk toward the shack.
“It may not look like much, but it’s home,” Nash says as we stop at the top of the stairs, and he pins in a code on the front door. Interesting. We walk through the sparsely decorated home. The same wooden floor as the deck outside snakes its way through the kitchen and dining area at the front of the house. It’s a whitewashed kitchen, small but functional, with an island in the middle with three bar stools pushed up against the concrete top. A bowl of lemons and limes is on the island, with state-of-the-art appliances. Does he like to cook? I’m a hopeless cook so that might be helpful. I continue to follow Nash down the corridor toward the back of the house. There’s a powder room off the left-hand side, beside the kitchen as we enter the living room. A tan sofa and two armchairs made of sticks look out to a large window, which takes up the entire wall, and now I understand why, there is nothing but white sand and turquoise ocean right off the deck, which has an infinity pool that looks like it joins the ocean on the horizon. This was not at all what I was expecting from the look of this home.
Wow.
“Your room is over here,” he explains, turning to the right and walking through the living room where there is a door. He pushes it open and walks in with my bags, which he puts down beside the bed. “There’s air con, and the bathroom is through there. I’ll let you freshen up, holler if you need anything. I’m heading to the bar to check on things,” Nash explains to me.
“Thanks,” I say, giving him a genuine smile. I have just turned up on his doorstep with no warning other than Brooks vouching for me, and with his military experience, he is smart to be skeptical of me. I’ve invaded his home and taken up his morning, then rolled my eyes at his lame attempts to try to break the ice. I need to get it together. I haven’t been this rattled since my first job, and I’ve done hundreds since. Let’s blame it on coming back from the dead.
“The bar is back out the front. Follow the path past the car and you can’t miss it,” he says, giving me a nod before turning on his heel and leaving my room. He closes the door behind him and it’s the first time I’ve been able to unfold my stiff shoulders from my neck. The room is gorgeous, there’s a rattan king-size bed with white sheets and cushions, matching bedside tables, a TV on a console, and a desk area. Behind the bed looks to be the door to the ensuite. When I pull back the linen curtains, I find my own personal deck that looks out over the pool and beach.
Stunning.
I open the sliding door and let the outside in, then take a couple of steps out onto the deck and inhale the salt air. I close my eyes and try to center myself, letting the sound of the ocean wash over me. I was so frantic to get here and find Pearl that I lost focus.
Usually, I would try to center myself before setting out on a mission and get into the role I need to play. But this time, I was so desperate to get to Mexico that I forgot all my training, which is crazy when it’s second nature to me. This is what you get for taking time off. This is why assassins don’t take holidays.
Another deep inhale of the tropical air, and I let my mind become blank as I try to get Ellie Clark to slide over my skin and settle into place. I need to be one hundred percent transformed into character if I want all of this to work. But who the hell is Ellie Clark? Am I Ellie Clark from Ibiza, Zoe, Grace, Sophie, and Mackenzie’s adopted sister or am I Mexico mission Ellie Clark?
I let out a shaky exhale for the first time. I’m unsure about who I should be, the new me or another version of me. I’ve never been conflicted before. My phone buzzes in my bag and I head over and pull it out. It’s a message from Mackenzie.
Mackenzie: Did you make it okay?
I decide to press CALL and hold the phone to my ear.
“You made it,” Mackenzie says excitedly when she answers the phone.
“I did. I’m about to have a shower and wash off the jetlag,” I tell her.
“Ew. So … what do you think of Nash?” she asks.
“I’ve known him for two hours, not much to say really,” I answer her.
Mackenzie chuckles. “He’s hot, isn’t he?”
“Some people would think so,” I answer.
“Firstly, I’ve met him. The man is fine, and secondly, you just outed yourself,” she says, bursting out laughing.
“How?”
“Pretending you don’t find him attractive.”
“I have jetlag, I wasn’t really looking.”
“The big bad assassin has jetlag, boo hoo,” she jokes.
My mouth falls open at her comments before a giggle falls from my lips. I don’t know what kind of voodoo Mackenzie has, but she always has me cracking up.
“You’re crazy,” I tell her.
“Probably. Now show me where you are staying,” she asks.
I tap video on the phone, and her face fills the screen. Walking back out onto the deck, I turn the phone around and show her my view.
“You’re shitting me?” she curses.
“Isn’t it stunning? I thought Nash was taking me to some rundown beach shack and then it turns into this.”
“That looks like paradise.” Mackenzie sighs.
“It truly is beautiful and unexpected.”
“You should relax while you’re there. Have a mini vacay,” Mackenzie states.
Turning the phone back around to me, I remind her, “I’m here to search for Pearl.”
Mackenzie’s face falls. “Sorry, you’re right,” she says, shaking her head. “Do you think it’s going to be hard to find her?”
“Actually, I need your help?” I tell her.
This perks her right up.
“I don’t think Nash is buying the story that I’m your adopted sister. He said that I don’t act like a Clark girl. I’m not sure what that means.”
Mackenzie’s eyes narrow. “I’m not sure what that means either. Like I said, I’ve met Nash maybe once, and I don’t think Zoe and Grace have met him that much more. Maybe he’s comparing you to Sophie? Or the stories he’s heard from Sophie,” she explains.
Maybe she’s right. He was probably trying to throw me off because I got snarky with him.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to act, Kenzie?” I tell her honestly.
“Oh,” Mackenzie says as the phone falls silent between us. “Isn’t that kind of your thing? Being a chameleon?”
It is, but I don’t know why this time I’m unsure. “I am, but this time I don’t know if I want to taint the name Ellie Clark.”
“Oh,” Mackenzie says again before falling silent.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m getting all up in my head for no reason. I’m overthinking it.
“Do you feel like Ellie Clark is now the real you instead of Elena Vasilov?” Mackenzie asks the question that I have been asking myself deep down inside.
“Yes,” I answer honestly.
“Aw, babe. You really are a Clark girl now.”
I roll my eyes at Mackenzie.
“Nash knows you are Ellie Clark, right?”
I nod.
“Then explain to Nash that while you are here you will go by another name. He knows Brooks and Sophie and the things they are into. Telling him you need to change your name while in Mexico is not something he would balk at. He’s ex-military he knows the drill,” she tells me.
Maybe she’s right.
“You think so? I don’t want him getting suspicious?” I say.
“You could always suck his dick to make him forget,” she says as she bursts out laughing.
“Kenzie,” I squeal at her.
“Sorry, you know I have no filter,” she adds still chuckling.
“I don’t need to get laid. I need to find Pearl.”
“Sorry, I’m being utterly inconsiderate.”
No, she’s not. Her jokes are exactly what I need to fix my funk.
“I’m projecting my own thoughts,” she grumbles.
“What about Damon?” I ask her.
Mackenzie’s eyes widen, and her cheeks turn pink. “No, he’s not into me like that.”
My brows pull together. “I saw you kissing him behind the bushes at the wedding.”
Mackenzie’s jaw drops and she splutters over her words. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she asks.
“Wasn’t my place,” I add.
“Do you have any idea how I have been wanting to talk about what happened that night? But I promised I would never say anything.” She moans.
Oh. I had no idea. “So, nothing’s happening between the two of you?”
She shakes her head. “He told me he was drunk and that he shouldn’t have kissed me. That he loves working for my family and blah, blah, blah.”
“Maybe he signed something saying no fraternizing?” I add.
“You think? Or he’s not into me.”
“That kiss said otherwise.”
“It was a good kiss. Underneath all the nerd is a man who knows what he’s doing.” She sighs.
“Then why have you not done anything more?” I ask her.
“I’m respecting his boundaries, and I feel rejected. I’m going to die alone.” She fake sobs.
I shake my head at her dramatics. “Why don’t you ask Tomas or Mateo to take you into town to go clubbing?”
“They aren’t going to leave Zoe while she’s pregnant.” She moans.
“I’d say ask Sophie and Brooks, but they are away.”
“I’m stuck here on top of a mountain and the only single male isn’t interested.”
“Why don’t you get off the island and head to Barcelona while everyone is away.”
“Oh my god, you’re brilliant,” she squeals.
“Go get laid either by Damon or someone else. Because we are going to need you when I bring Pearl back,” I tell her.
“You be careful.”
“Kenzie, you know who I am.”
“I know you’re a badass and could probably take down the entire world with your pinky finger. But you’re my sister and I care about you. It’s the same thing I said to Sophie when she left, and I’m saying it to you. Stay Safe. And I am here for you,” she tells me seriously.
Aw. I’ve never had anyone look out for me because they cared not because they needed something from me.
“I promise you. I will be careful and won’t do anything stupid,” I say, reassuring her.
“Good. Now go take the day to relax before you start being a badass. You can have one day to decompress,” she says before saying goodbye.
Maybe she’s right. An hour in the pool getting my head on straight isn’t going to affect the mission.
I need a game plan.