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

Reaching the top of the stone steps, Abbie looked towards Alice's house. The night was dark, the moon nothing more than a wisp in the sky, but lamps on the front of Alice's home lit a section of driveway. Abbie could see a couple of cars and someone pacing. Gender undetermined.

The person almost certainly worked for Pedro. There was a chance Angel had shown her new friends Abbie's picture before they set off on their little adventure, but Abbie doubted it. After all, Angel had always planned to kill Abbie in the house, and she didn't strike Abbie as the kind of woman who often anticipated failure and planned accordingly.

Hoping the person in the driveway was A) a straight man or gay woman, B) into women who looked like Abbie, and C) had not been warned by Angel that a wet woman in little to no clothing might come along the driveway seeking entry to the house, Abbie came along the driveway seeking entry to the house. She was wearing nothing but her underwear unless you counted her T-shirt bandage. She wrapped her arms around herself and aimed for a look that could be described as 'sexy but pathetic'. The type of people who assorted with criminals like Pedro tended to go for that.

The pacer was male. Abbie noticed this seconds before he saw her coming. Even in the dark, Abbie could see his eyes move up and down her body in a way that did not indicate anything as simple or innocent as curiosity. That was a good sign.

As she approached, he stepped towards her. The light from the beams on the front of the house fell over his shoulders and revealed a Mediterranean complexion.

They neared each other. Pedro's man was wearing a thick, comfortable-looking jacket and a woollen round neck jumper, both of which would be perfect for Abagail, even if his trousers would almost certainly not be a great fit.

"Stop," he called when a few feet separated them.

"Oh, thank God," she said, throwing open her arms and rushing towards him. This would have been the ideal time for a professional to draw his gun and aim it at her head while demanding she halt.

He did try to do this. Unfortunately, as Abbie's arms spread, his eyes first went to her chest. It was only a second, then he went for his gun, but by that point, Abbie was with him.

"Thank you," she said as she took his shoulders and kneed him in the groin.

"So much," she continued as she stepped back and smashed her knee into his stomach.

The rocks had attacked her knees; both were bruised. His groin and stomach were soft. Each hit still sent waves of pain up and down her leg.

There was no time to recover. Abbie's victim was falling, and Abbie lowered simultaneously. When he hit the concrete, Abbie punched him in the face and snatched his gun.

Although there was almost no chance he had the strength to strike, she still stood and took two steps back, pointing the gun at his head.

"Nice weapon," she said. "Silenced, too. That's handy. Obviously, it'll still make a sound but outside, with the wind coming across the sea, no chance anyone's going to hear me put a bullet in your face.”

The man had folded in two, his hands on his groin. Though he was groaning, Abbie was sure he was also listening.

"Are Angel and Max still inside?"

Still groaning, he said nothing. Abbie kicked him in his back, and he released a low, pitiable howl.

"Are Angel and Max still inside?"

"No English. No English."

Abbie rolled her eyes. Muppet. He'd already spoken English to her. Then again, what other lie could he try?

"That's a shame," said Abbie. "You won't understand what I'm saying, but your lack of English isn't good for you. Means I'll have to kill you and see what I can find inside."

She stepped forward.

"No, no, no. I speak a bit; I speak a bit."

"A bit," Abbie smirked. "Enough to understand everything I just said and what it meant for you. Enough, I think, to answer my question. Are Angel and Max still inside?"

"Max, yes," said the guy. "Angel, she went."

"Where?"

"Don't know. Angel didn't say. She never speak before she went."

"She was on her own?"

The guy hesitated. Abbie stepped forward, used her foot to roll him onto his back, then pointed the gun into his face.

"Was Angel alone?"

The guy shook his head. "No. A boy. Teenager."

Ollie. Shit. Abbie tried not to let her frustration show.

"Is there anyone else inside, except for Max and Angel's family? Any of your people?"

"No. No more. No more."

"Good," said Abbie, looking up at the house. "Good, that's all sorted. Means, from you, I only need one more thing."

"Please don't kill, please."

"Not that," said Abbie, stepping forward. "The only thing I need... is your clothes."

Twenty-Nine

Abbie donned her victim's jumper and jacket but left him his jeans. There were very few things she considered likely to derail her attempts to take out Max. Her trousers falling around her ankles was definitely one.

Leaving the English speaking liar unconscious, Abbie took her bare legs and now snug torso to Alice's front door. Crouching on the step, she had the lock sorted in thirty seconds.

Soundlessly, she opened the door and slipped into the hall. To her right were the entrance to the office and the stairs, but Abbie disregarded these at once. It was possible Angel had led her family from the balcony to the living room before leaving, but Abbie found this to be an unlikely scenario.

For Angel, tonight was not only about getting revenge on Louis and taking control of the family business. It was also about power plays and punishing the people who, in her warped view, had let her down. These punishments came in all shapes and sizes. One that was easy to handle but which would bring Angel joy would be to leave her family stranded on the balcony, in the cold, where Ariana