Deep Water by Mark Ayre (best big ereader TXT) 📕

Alex had emerged like a butterfly from a cocoon. She stood. "Stay where you are."

She crossed to the side of the bed, keeping Louis pinned with the gun. Reaching the duvet, she bent at the knees and grabbed it with one hand. Shaking it, she determined there was nothing inside. Louis and Alex' sex games did not involve knife play, which was always a relief.

"Satisfied?" asked Louis.

"Not as a rule. Here." She tossed the duvet onto the bed and walked backwards to the armchair.

Louis covered his ugly toes, his legs, and half his torso. When he’d finished arranging the duvet, it concealed his hands and arms up to the elbows. Abbie gestured to them with the gun.

"Come on, don't take the piss."

Smiling, Louis placed his hands atop the duvet, palms down.

"You've done this before," he said, the smile holding, as though he found her fascinating. People often did. Before she killed them.

"Once or twice," she accepted.

"But do you know how to use that?" he said, nodding at the gun.

Abbie glanced at the weapon, then back at Louis.

"Wrong question."

"Is it?"

"Of course. Do I know how to use the gun? Yes, I'm an excellent markswoman. But anyone could know how to use it, given a little firearm training. Plenty of people could be an outstanding shot were they committed enough to put in the practice. In theory. The question is never, Can you shoot? It's, Will you shoot? Putting a bullet through a paper target is one thing, but can you put a bullet through the heart or head of a man or woman when they're a couple of feet away? When you know a twitch of your finger will extinguish a life forever. That's the vital question, and, for most people, the answer's no."

As Abbie spoke, she held Louis' eye. The way his smile faltered told her he already knew the answer to his next question.

"And you," he said. "Will you shoot?"

"Yes, Louis," she said without hesitation, "I will."

A cold silence fell between them. An old, ticking grandfather clock would have fit the quiet perfectly, but there was none. Nothing broke the silence until Louis cleared his throat and spoke.

"Have you been sent to kill me?"

"Why would anyone want to kill you?"

"Don't play dumb. Even if you're not an assassin, you walked into this room with Anthony Mitchell, which means you're wrapped up in that family, which means you know at least one person who wants me dead. Tony said you were here to talk about his sister. He didn't mean Alex, did he?"

The name Mitchell had only confused Abbie for a second. Of course, Rayner was Morris’ surname and was shared by Alice and Morris’ two daughters—Ariana and Aurora. Mitchell was either the surname of Anthony and Alex’s father or Alice’s maiden name. Abbie guessed the former.

In answer to Louis’ question, she said, “No."

"He meant Aurora."

Abbie nodded.

"So I ask again, have you been sent to kill me?"

Abbie saw no value in lying. "If I'd been sent by Alice to kill you, would she have allowed Tony to accompany me?"

"Maybe he was supposed to verify my murder."

"I could have filmed it."

"You could, but technology is so unreliable. Footage can be doctored. Tony's eyes cannot."

"But if Tony was to be here anyway, would Alice not give him the gun and save herself my fee?"

"Money means little to Alice," said Louis. "Besides, we can return to your question, can't we? Will you shoot? Would Tony?"

"Fair point. Tony doesn't have it in him, but Ariana and Angel do. What's more, they would consider it a pleasure to end your life."

"I'm sure they would, but is that what they want? Alex tells me they don't view my murder as punishment enough for killing Aurora."

"Interesting," said Abbie.

"What is?"

Abbie had been talking to herself. Having spoken aloud, she decided to include Louis in her thought process.

"You and Alex have been talking about some pretty heavy topics," she said. "Discussing the plans her sisters might or might not have regarding revenge against you for Aurora's murder."

Louis said, "What's your point?" but his expression indicated he knew he'd been caught out.

"Tony guessed Alex would fill the final day of her twenties with bad decisions," said Abbie. "He predicted sex or drugs would be involved. What could be a bigger screw you to turning thirty and growing up than having a meaningless one-night stand with the dangerous man much hated by your family? But Tony and I didn't walk in on a one night stand, did we? You don't bring your trysts home, but you brought Alex, and you've been doing more than having sex. You've been talking, discussing. We didn't disturb a hook-up, did we? We disturbed a relationship."

The frustration in Louis' eyes grew. Now Abbie had caught him out, he could no longer hold the smile.

"If you're not an assassin," Louis asked. "Why are you here?"

Louis was desperate to move on from Alex. Abbie could have pushed him, but what was the point? She didn't plan to torture or kill Louis, so she needed to build some degree of trust to get him to open up. If he wanted her to leave his relationship with Alex alone, she would. For now.

"My aim is simple," said Abbie. "I want to ensure Alice survives until the end of her sixtieth birthday, and preferably much longer than that."

"You're her bodyguard?"

"If I were her bodyguard, I'd be guarding her body. No, I'm not in Alice's employ. I'm a stranger, a wanderer. I'm a nobody, but a noble nobody. I’m noble Miss No One, or at least, that's what I like to think. I exist to save lives."

"You sound like Jack Reacher.”

Abbie sighed. "A little, I suppose. Except I'm scarier. Also more likely to win rear of the year."

Louis tilted his head. "Given you're yet to turn your back to me, I don't know if that's true."

"Eyes up," said Abbie, shifting in the chair. "What would Alex say?"

Louis did as told. He examined Abbie, trying to work her out. She was not your everyday breaker and enterer, after all.

"Why Alice?" he