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

From afar, this would look like romance. To him, she whispered, "Our lives are in danger; you must do as I say."

His eyes went wide. "What?"

"Do not move your head. Keep your eyes on mine. Over by the sea are two men pretending, badly, to watch the ocean." He tried to twist his head. Abbie held him fast. "I said, don't look. They're here for us. In a second, I'll kiss you again, then drag you between the rocks. They'll assume we're going to get hot and steamy. That's what we want."

"It's acting," said Tony, his voice numb.

"That's right, and we're doing a far better job than them. You ready?"

"You were only pretending to kiss me."

"No, that really happened. Are you ready?"

"You know what I mean. I'm not a prop. You remember I wanted to take you to lunch? I wanted that to be a date."

"Tony, please, now is not the time. Tell me you're ready."

He stared at her. His eyes swam with hurt, like Bobby’s had, in her imagination, as she started to lose herself in the kiss.

"Tony—"

"I'm ready," he cut in.

Once more, they kissed. Broke apart after a few seconds.

"You were a little stiff that time," said Abbie. "And not in a good way."

Before Tony could respond, Abbie took his hand and dragged him to the cave. Not allowing his hurt to get the better of him, he came along. A few seconds later, they disappeared into the small crevice between the rocks.

"Hold this," said Abbie, shoving her empty coffee cup into Tony's hand while examining the space. As she turned, Tony took a step towards the opening, trying to get a glimpse of their enemies.

"Don't," said Abbie, taking his arm, pulling him back. The cave was like a potion bottle. The entrance was narrow, opening into a small circular area, big enough, as Abbie well knew, for a slim woman, a stocky man, and a kneeling teenager—so long as the man and woman kept their backs pressed too opposite walls—with enough room left over for a cameraman in the cave entrance. Abbie pushed Tony against one wall, putting him out of sight of the cave entrance. Pressed her body against his, so their faces were a couple of inches apart.

"What now?" Tony asked. "Can I drop this cup? It’s empty.”

"That would be littering, so no."

"How do you know these guys are after us? And if that kiss was acting, why did it feel amazing?"

"I know because this is my field of expertise. I've been here before. As for the kiss, it felt amazing because I'm an amazing kisser. I wouldn't read anything into it."

"I read lots into it."

"More fool you. Now shut up, I'm listening."

"I think you felt what I felt."

"Oh, dear God."

"It was electric, wasn't it? Like a bolt of lightning.”

"I wish it had been like a lightning bolt. Then we'd both be dead, and I wouldn't be having this conversation. Now, shut up."

"I don't want to hold this coffee cup. I may need both my hands to—"

Abbie grabbed the cup and hurled it to the floor. When Tony tried to speak, she slapped a hand across his mouth.

"No more."

Keeping her body pressed to his, her hand over his mouth, she tilted her head and listened for the sounds of approaching enemies.

It was difficult. Abbie could shut Tony up but couldn't silence the sea. Yet. The lapping waves would mask Blondie and Baldie's approach, possibly until they were right at the cave's mouth.

She titled her head a little farther, a little farther again. Then cried out.

Tony had licked her hand.

"What the hell?" she said, pulling back.

"What's going on?" he said. "I'm stuck here with you. I deserve to know."

Abbie sighed. She wanted to put her hand over his mouth again. Maybe punch him in the stomach to encourage obedience. But he had a point. It was not only Abbie in danger.

“The assailants were waiting by the sea for us to pass. If we had, they’d have followed, snuck upon us, and attacked. That was their plan, so I had to break it, preferably while lulling them into a false sense of security. So we kiss, make it look like we're ready to get hot and heavy, then run in here. They won't want to wait around. They have an empty beach at the moment; they'll want to get this done and get gone before that changes. That means waiting’s not an option. They'll have to come get us."

Tony's eyes were even wider than before. With her chest pressed to his, she could feel the rapid beat of his heart.

"Come get us how?" he said.

"They probably won't have guns."

"Oh God, they're going to shoot us."

"Won't have gons, Tony. Won't, won't. Do try to keep up. Guns are loud. They'll want to get this done without being noticed. Best case scenario, they're planning to rough us up with fists alone. Worst case, they've brought knives. I'd prepare for worst case if I were you."

Tony gave a low, frightened moan and began to slide down the wall. Abbie held him up, pressed more firmly against him.

"When they leave the seafront, they'll want to get as close as possible to us without being seen. That means they'll come up to the rocks, then move along towards the crack. All I have to do is be ready. Everyone hinges on me taking one of them out immediately."

"What happens if you fail?"

"They rough me up, maybe kill me. Who knows? I might still get the better of them. It depends on how good they are. Now, we don't have much time. I need you to be ready."

"What do you want me to do," Tony said. Tony squeaked.

"Stay alive," said Abbie. "I'll try to keep them away from you. If one or both slips past me, shout your name in their faces."

"My name?"

"Yes. You do know your name, don't you?"

"Anthony Mitchell.”

"Good excellent. Say that, or Tony instead of Anthony or go for your mother’s current married name rather than your father’s surname. Any of those