Chapter Nine
Ella
From our hiding spot beside a harborside shed, we watch Tiero’s two SUVs disappear from view.
Phew. That was too close for comfort.
I can’t believe I got away… again. Only because Catalina pulled me out of the shed at the last possible second.
“Stay here,” she whispers, taking off her cap, her long dark ponytail springing free. She strips out of the worker’s overalls as she peeks around the building.
“I’m going to check that they’re all gone. If I’m not back in two minutes, move.”
She disappears before I can protest or offer to go with her.
In a daze, I lean against the metal wall, trying to calm down.
I wish I had just run a sprint race and that was the reason for my erratic heart rate, but no. There’s only one hunky Italian reason.
I felt him, like I always do. But this time I could sense his pain too. It was raw, as if still bleeding. It guts me.
Most disturbing of all, there was hope in his eyes. And I’m crushing it all over again, adding to his hurt.
The emotions I tried to bury over the past two weeks claw their way back to the surface, as if they’ve been waiting patiently for this exact moment. They tear open the wound of my broken heart anew. I’m so far from healed I can’t even see the horizon.
Sliding down the side of the building, I hug my legs to my chest. Tears sting my eyes, but I won’t let them fall. I’m done crying, no matter how much it hurts.
I close my eyes, willing the memories to fade, but they cling like stubborn vines.
Strangely, it’s not the pain of this last encounter that replays.
Triggered by that hopeful expression, it’s the laughter we shared.
The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
I saw so much of that when we were on the island.
And the nights we spent wrapped in each other’s arms. The memory still ignites a thousand stars inside me. We were so happy. Even if only for a few days.
Now it’s like a bittersweet film, reminding me of what I lost. What we both lost.
I hate myself for hurting him.
But I can’t allow myself to be pulled back into that vortex of love and sorrow.
“Are you okay?” Claudette asks, concern etched across her face as she sits beside me.
Am I?
I lift my hands to my face. They’re trembling.
I shake my head. No, I’m not okay.
But it doesn’t matter. We don’t have time for me to fall apart, and I’m grateful for that.
Claudette squeezes my hand, offering silent support, but it’s not enough to quiet the turmoil inside me.
“You did the right thing,” she says softly. Then, glancing at my stomach, she adds, “For her.”
My hands drift to the spot where Tiero’s and my baby is growing.
Have I really done the right thing?
Tiero didn’t look angry like I expected. He looked devastated.
Was I wrong?
He would love our baby even if it was a girl, wouldn’t he? He’d dote on her because she’s the result of our love.
But even if Tiero welcomed our daughter, his world wouldn’t.
I’m not doing that to her. There’s no going back.
The road ahead may be uncertain, but I’m determined to forge a new path. One that doesn’t lead back to Tiero.
“All clear, ladies. Sorry for the last-second change of plans.”
Catalina’s voice has me looking up.
Her eyes are kind yet focused as she takes us in.
“Why didn’t we take the car?” Claudette asks, helping me to my feet.
“I figured De Marco would assume Ella was in the pickup and follow it,” Catalina says. “The windows are tinted so he can’t see inside. His hacker will most likely access traffic cameras and CCTV, which would make it difficult to get away, even with Lex’s plan.”
“What plan?” I ask.
“Lex and Carl have a surprise up their sleeves,” Catalina replies. “But there’s always a chance De Marco follows the correct car. We needed to disappear from his radar.”
“The correct car?” Claudette echoes.
“Yes. Three identical pickups with the same number plate will join the one Robert was driving as soon as he leaves the harbor area. At the next intersection, they all head in different directions. De Marco won’t be able to track them all.
I’m counting on him noticing too late that you aren’t in any of them. ”
“Tiero will have left some men behind,” I say. “That was a gamble.”
“And why we need to keep moving,” Catalina agrees. “Or we lose the advantage we gained.”
We hurry down a narrow path toward the water’s edge.
“Is Robert going to be okay?” I ask, hating that another innocent person got dragged into this because of me.
“He’ll be fine,” Catalina says. “He’s a stunt driver who occasionally works for Freemont. Carl called in a few helpers.”
“What’s the plan now?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer.
“Is there a plan?” I try again.
“Of course,” she says calmly. Then she grins. “We’re going to wing it.”
How is that a plan?
At the water’s edge, a small skiff is tied to a pole.
“We’ll borrow this and go downstream,” Catalina says. “We’ll hop off once we’re far enough away, find a car, then drive to a place Carl secured for us. About an hour away. We regroup there.”
“A safe house?” Claudette asks, frowning. “That’s too risky. We have to assume Tiero found Ella by hacking your computers. It would be easy for him to get a list of Freemont safe houses. We need to get Ella as far away from here as possible.”
“It might’ve been facial recognition that tipped him off,” Catalina counters. “Freemont’s systems are secure.”
“Nothing is unbreakable,” Claudette says. “Don’t underestimate him.”
Does she know, or is she guessing? Since her eighty-twenty hit rate reveal, I’m not sure.
“We shouldn’t rely on Freemont resources until we understand how he found Ella,” Claudette insists. “I might have the perfect hiding place. The challenge is getting there.”
“First things first,” Catalina says. “Let’s get out of here.”
She starts the motor and steers us downstream, her attention split between the water ahead and everything around us. She doesn’t look tense, just prepared.
“Are you an agent like Lex?” I ask her.
Catalina certainly comes across as one. Since she dragged me out of that garbage cart, every move she’s made has been confident, her calm a stark contrast to the panic clawing at me.
“Absolutely not,” she laughs. “I wouldn’t last a week doing what they do.”
“Then what are you?” I ask.
She keeps her eyes on the river. “I’m the one who deals with clients before things ever reach that stage.”
“That sounds vague.”
“It’s meant to,” she says lightly. “My official title is Director of Strategic Client Operations. Senior liaison work, mostly.”
I blink. “That’s… very corporate.”
“That’s the point,” she replies. “I handle sensitive transitions. Documents that don’t get scanned. Asset transfers. NDAs that never see a shared drive. I sit in meetings where having armed security would make people uncomfortable.”
“And today?” I ask.
“Today I was already scheduled to be in the region,” she says. “I was delivering paperwork to a long-standing client nearby.”
“So I wasn’t a rescue.”
“No,” she replies, not unkindly. “You were a routine transit. Those are the safest kind.”
Her gaze sweeps over the passing fishing boats, alert without being obvious.
“You don’t seem rattled at all,” I say.
“Freemont trains everyone,” she replies. “Situational awareness. Emergency protocols. De-escalation. What to do when something deviates from plan A.
“Non-agents are not trained to fight. We’re trained to keep things from escalating.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
She chuckles. “You’ll see. Given you’re joining us, you’ll get the same training.”
I stare out over the water, the words echoing in my head.
Joining us.
The idea of learning how to stay calm when everything goes wrong doesn’t sound so bad.
I could really use extensive training.
Quiet settles over our little party, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
The rhythmic lapping of water against the bow slowly settles my nerves. Sailboats dot the horizon, their colorful canvas catching the golden sunlight. Gulls cry overhead as the scent of salt fills the air.
I tilt my face toward the sun.
This is lovely.
And my enjoyment of it feels wrong, given the danger we’re still in.
If Tiero catches us, God knows what he’ll do to Claudette and Catalina for helping me.
“How are we going to get a car?” I ask, forcing my mind back online. “I doubt there’s a rental place nearby.”
“We’ll steal one,” Catalina replies calmly.
“We can’t do that,” I exclaim, looking at Claudette for backup.
She just shrugs. “Desperate times.”
We pass a cluster of fishing boats, and Catalina slows the skiff and steers us toward shore.
“Lose the overalls,” she instructs. “They’re too distinctive.”
She ties up the boat and helps us out.
“You’ve done this before, Catalina,” I say as she leads us toward a cluttered yard.
“Call me Cat,” she replies. “I grew up sailing. It’s muscle memory.”
We don’t hide as we stride through the yard cluttered with rusted relics and car parts as if we belong. Though I worry someone will stop us and ask questions about what we’re doing here.
“This looks like a junkyard,” I say. “I doubt we’ll find anything useful.”
“It’s our best option for now,” Cat replies, scanning for something useful.
“It’s not looking promising,” Claudette echoes my thoughts.
Everything is in worse condition up close.
“If we find the car, at least it wouldn’t be missed,” I mutter more to myself.
Then Cat points. “There.”
A battered Ford Taurus sits half-hidden among rusted shells.
“Has it got an engine?” I call out, not wanting to get my hopes up.
Cat opens the hood and gives me a thumbs up. Claudette and I walk over just as she opens the driver’s door.
“Let’s see if it starts,” I say, reaching under the steering column, searching for the right wires to connect.
I hesitate for half a second. I haven’t done this in years.
Sparks flash. The engine roars to life.
We cheer.
“Looks like you’ve done this before,” Cat echoes my earlier comment.
“My grandfather was a mechanic,” I explain. “He taught me.”
I smile proudly at her. And she’s right. It’s all muscle memory.
“Then let’s move,” Cat says, urgency creeping in as she takes the wheel.
We peel out in a cloud of dust.
“Where to?” I ask.
“A gas station,” Cat replies. “Then Claudette’s hiding spot.” She looks at her in the rearview mirror in acknowledgment. “Have you been to that place? Could De Marco trace you back to it?”
“I’ve never been. A friend of mine lives there. It’s secluded in the mountains.”
“Mountains?” My ears prick up.
Yes, please. If I have to hide anywhere, then I want it to be in the mountains.
“What mountains?” Cat asks.
“The Rocky Mountains. Yoho National Park.”
Cat’s eyes go wide. As do mine.
“That’s on the other side of the country,” I say.
“I know,” Claudette replies dryly. “Not sure this old clunker is going to make it.”
“We’ll think of something,” Cat says. It seems she has an optimistic side.
Looks like another adventure is waiting.
Am I ready?
No.
But bring it on.