No Place To Hide. Lisa Harris

About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Introduction

       Bible Verse

       Dear Reader

       Dedication

       ONE

       TWO

       THREE

       FOUR

       FIVE

       SIX

       SEVEN

       EIGHT

       NINE

       TEN

       ELEVEN

       TWELVE

       THIRTEEN

       FOURTEEN

       FIFTEEN

       SIXTEEN

       SEVENTEEN

       EIGHTEEN

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       ONE

      Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

      Ellie Webb made her way down the steep incline of the favela, where hundreds of homes sat packed together in a sprawling maze of steep streets and unpaved narrow alleys. While the working-class shantytown was home for thousands of lower-middle-class Brazilians, for her the tight-knit community had become the perfect place to disappear during the day while she taught English to local kids hoping for the chance of a better future. And for her, darker skin, along with an ability to speak fluent Portuguese, had allowed her to blend into the community.

      Almost.

      She caught the incredible view of Sugarloaf Mountain that sat at the mouth of Guanabara Bay and jutted out into the Atlantic as she headed past a family-run restaurant and dozens of other tiny shops and homes. In reality, she’d never completely fit in, just like she would never be able to forget why she was here. Long days at the center offering outreach programs and development opportunities had helped keep her busy enough to numb the pain, but she still missed her job and her friends. Still wondered if her best friend, Maddie, had found another maid of honor for her September wedding, and how Lucy, her miniature golden retriever, was doing.

      Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts, and she pulled it out of her back pocket, hoping it was Dr. Reynolds letting her know he’d arrived.

      “Hello?”

      “Ellie? Ellie, I can’t believe it’s you.”

      Her heart thudded in her chest. “I’m sorry...who is this?”

      “It’s Audrey.”

      “Aunt Audrey? Wait a minute. How did you find me?”

      Because it wasn’t possible. Her mother’s sister was the only family she had left, and yet even Audrey had been told she’d died in the same fire that killed her father. It had meant no communication that might risk Arias’s men finding her. No telephone calls or letters. No social media. Nothing that could bring the cartel leader and his hit men back to her. Not until he was back in prison along with whomever he’d hired for the hit.

      “I was visiting your father the night he was killed. I saw you run out. I went after you but lost you in all the commotion. After that I...I was so scared they’d come after me.” Her aunt paused. “Later when the authorities said you were dead, I couldn’t believe it. But I never stopped looking for you.”

      Ellie stood in the middle of the busy street, barely noticing the group of kids playing an impromptu game of soccer, or the loud hip-hop beat pumping through someone’s radio. Because her aunt’s revelation was like a punch to the gut. She’d kept her aunt in the dark in order to protect her, but if Audrey knew she was alive, who else did?

      She started walking again. “I don’t understand.”

      “I know you don’t, and I don’t have time to explain right now.” Her aunt sounded frantic. Terrified of something. “All you need to know is that I hired a private detective to find you, but he’s been murdered. He’d managed to track down your cell phone and where you are, but now I’m afraid that the men who killed him have that information and know where you are. I’m so, so sorry, Ellie, but you need to run.”

      Ellie’s mind fought to untangle her aunt’s words. Because nothing made sense. No one besides her father’s best friend, Jarrod Kendall, knew where she was. He’d assured her of that, and she trusted him with her life. He’d arranged for her false papers, a visa and even the leak to the media that her body had been discovered in the fire. Which was why everyone believed she was dead.

      “Where are you now?” her aunt asked. “Because you need to leave Rio.”

      “In the favela where I work. I was on my way to grab lunch for my team—”

      “You can’t go back to your work or to your apartment.”

      Ellie bit back the list of questions she needed to ask and looked behind her, feeling vulnerable even in the middle of the crowded favela. How had a private detective managed to track her down?

      “How much time do I have?” she asked her aunt.

      “Not long. They