Chapter Two

E llie glanced around as others walked past them. "I should go." She didn't move. There was something about him that pulled her in. He exuded confidence, but not in a cocky way. Compassion softened the hard planes of his face. Ellie glanced down at her frayed jeans and plain blue T-shirt. Did he think she was a tourist? Or worse, homeless?

She couldn't remember the last time she'd trusted anyone, no matter how nice they seemed. Letting down her guard made her vulnerable. The kindness she saw in this man could all be an act. She might be looking at a Mossad agent sent here to bring her in.

Stop it . Her brain had been trained to automatically treat every new person she met as a threat. As much as her head told her this encounter was purely accidental, her gut wouldn't let her dismiss it so easily because she knew bad guys were not always easy to spot.

He was at least six-five and fit. Probably a jogger or maybe into some type of water sports given the island setting. He carried himself in a way that pegged him as having a military background. Dressed casually in a blue pullover and jeans. Boots that looked as if they'd been well broken in. His short, chestnut hair combed back from a wide forehead, he sported a neatly trimmed beard and mustache.

She realized he was assessing her in the same way she had him, further confirming he'd seen battle of some type .

"Again, sorry to have bumped you. I hope you have a nice day." When she didn't respond, he shrugged and turned toward the entrance of the coffeehouse.

Once he was out of her personal space, Ellie blew out a breath she hadn't realized she'd kept in. The encounter had her rattled because it served as a reminder she was a long way from a hundred percent if even the slightest touch had sent splinters of pain shooting from the contact point. If her enemies came after her now, she wouldn't stand a chance against a direct attack.

A sense of unease slithered into the pit of her stomach. She tugged sunglasses from her pocket and slipped them into place. Over the years, she'd changed her hair color almost as many times as she'd changed her name. Currently, it was a golden brown. The first thing she'd done upon arriving on Hope Island was to darken the blonde color she'd worn in Oregon.

The man who bumped her now reached for the doorhandle and opened it, sending her a final evaluating once-over look before going inside.

What is wrong with you? Ellie gave herself a mental shake. She was normally much better at keeping her emotions to herself. She blamed it on the years on the run and her recent injuries. She'd come as close to dying in Oregon as she had the night Daniel was murdered, and yet she was no closer to understanding what had happened. Her training told her the rumor about a mole inside Mossad was true. Someone had tipped off Syrian Intelligence, and it hadn't been Daniel's contact within that agency.

Ellie became aware of the foot traffic passing her by. Her attention returned to the help wanted sign, and she made up her mind.

Peering through the window, Ellie noticed the man she'd bumped into stood near the door scanning the room for someone. A woman with startling red hair waved to get his attention. A smile creased his face as he weaved his way through the tables and gave her a hug. A couple? She wasn't so sure. They seemed friendly enough, but their body language hinted at more of a working relationship perhaps.

She waited for several people to leave the coffeehouse before she went inside. As her gaze connected with the man who'd bumped her, she realized he'd been watching her since she entered the establishment. Those intense brown eyes narrowed as he continued to try and figure her out.

The redhead appeared amused by her friend's attention.

Ellie pulled hers away from him and headed for the counter.

A young blonde woman in her early twenties smiled at Ellie's approach. "Welcome to the Hopeful Coffeehouse. What can I get you?"

Ellie hesitated. Was she sure she wanted to become a barista? She certainly lacked that bubbly personality this woman presented to the world. She could fake a smile, but she'd never been accused of being perky. Hopefully, perkiness wasn't part of the job description.

A glance over her shoulder confirmed the man's attention still rested on her. Though he spoke to the redhead, he continued to watch Ellie.

For the first time since arriving on Hope Island she became concerned. She'd moved across the country for a chance to heal and regroup. Shades of the beating she'd taken in Oregon bled into the moment. Her body still held the marks of how close to death she'd come. The swelling had gone mostly. She'd used heavy makeup to cover the remaining bruises, yet she needed rest and the peace of mind that would allow her to get it.

Coming back to the moment, she realized the blonde waited for an answer.

Ellie crooked her thumb toward the help wanted poster. "Actually, I wanted to ask about the barista position."

The woman's smile slipped a little as she took in Ellie's clothing. Her hair tangled from her walk along the beach earlier. She hadn't exactly expected to go to a job interview today.

"Let me get Hank. She runs the place." She turned before Ellie could respond and disappeared through the opening behind her.

Ellie somehow hid her surprise. Hank was a female. While she pondered what she'd say to the owner, a noise out on the street had her on alert. A pop that sounded like gunfire made her jump, no doubt drawing more attention. Ellie's gaze went to the window and the passing people. No one out there appeared nervous.

"That's Fred Wilber's old Ford. It backfires a lot."

Ellie jerked toward the deep male voice she recognized. The man from earlier was now alone.

"Fred brings fresh produce in for the local restaurants every day." His smile transformed his face to handsome. He was an attractive man, and he had a nice smile. "Name's Boone Langston." He held out his hand.

Boone. The name sounded made up.

"Yeah, I know. My parents had a weird sense of humor. My mom is a huge Daniel Boone fan." The smile remained in place though his gaze zeroed in on her reactions.

Ellie broke eye contact and realized he still held out his hand. She shook it awkwardly. Human contact had been limited to the occasional hand touch whenever she paid for something. "Ellie." She kept the handshake to a mere second before pulling hers free.

His only reaction was a slight twitch of his lips. "Nice to meet you, Ellie. You must be new to the island. I don't think I've seen you around."

Already this was getting too personal for her. She never gave information about herself away. "That's right. I'm just getting the layout of the land."

He nodded at her odd answer, his gaze going past her to something else. Ellie realized she was being approached and turned.

The blonde returned with a woman Ellie pegged in her fifties. This must be Hank.

"Hank." Boone nodded his greeting, confirming Ellie's assumption.

"Boone. I thought that was you. Where's Janine?" Hank clearly knew him.

"She had to pick up the kids."

This grabbed Ellie's attention immediately. Kids. Had she been wrong about Boone and the woman called Janine's relationship? Boone didn't wear a wedding ring. She understood some men preferred not to, but still.

"She and her husband and little ones came in the other day. Those kids are growing like wildflowers."

Boone's laugh washed over Ellie. It was nice. Normal. The kind of laugh she wished she had the ability to possess. "They are indeed. I don't know how she does it. I watched them for her for an hour once while she met with a client. I had no idea how much energy kids have." He shook his head. "Well, I should be going. I'm meeting with a client." His attention returned to Ellie, unsettling her again. "Nice to meet you."

Ellie watched him leave before realizing she'd left her potential employer waiting.

The older woman appeared amused as if Ellie had been watching Boone because she was attracted to him. There was no good way of saying it was out of self-preservation.

"I'm Hank. I hear you're here to apply for the barista position?" Hank held out her hand. Were all the locals this friendly?

Ellie took it. "Yes." Ellie's attention was divided between watching out the windows as four men slowly walked past the establishment and listening to Hank's questions.

The men disappeared from her line of vision. There was something about their appearance on the island that put Ellie on edge. She couldn't explain it other than her survival instincts had grown stronger through the years. Maybe it was the way they were dressed that didn't fit with an island outing.

"Are you okay, honey?"

Ellie whipped her head back to Hank. She was failing her interview badly. "Yes, yes, I'm sorry."

"Why don't you come through to my office and we'll talk."

Ellie forced a smile. "Thank you." With a final uneasy glance outside, Ellie shelved her concern for the moment. She followed Hank past the order station, where the blonde flirted with a couple of young men, to an office crammed into a small space.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name?" Hank latched onto her gaze and held it.

"It's Ellie. Ellie Jamison."

"Nice to meet you, Ellie. Please, have a seat." Hank pointed to one of the chairs in front of her desk.

Ellie slipped into it and clasped her hands together. The sound of the truck backfiring out front as well as the four men had served as a reminder that she couldn't afford to let her guard down for a second. If she got this job, there was a very real chance she might have to leave the island at a second's notice without letting Hank know anything about her reasons why.

"So, tell me a little about yourself, Ellie," Hank asked while settling into her chair.

Seconds ticked by while Ellie recalled her fake bio. "I'm thirty-four. I've just recently moved to Hope Island."

Hank's smile didn't hide her doubts. "This is a great time of the year to be here. Summer is almost over. Fall is breathtaking on the island." Hank tossed back her long, silver braid and picked up a pen, rolling it between her fingers. "I've run Hopeful Coffeehouse since it opened ten years ago right after I moved to the island following my divorce." Her expression softened. "Starting over can be hard."

Ellie cleared her throat. "It can."

"How long has it been since you lost him?" she asked gently.

Ellie fought emotions she'd thought had been shut off a long time ago. "Seven years," she said, her voice a rough whisper.

Hank leaned forward, her pale blue eyes intense as they focused on Ellie. "Have you worked as a barista before?"

Ellie decided the truth was the only way to go with Hank. "I haven't, but I'm a quick learner."

Hank sat back, tapping the pen against the desk as if trying to decide. "I believe you. When can you start?"

Wait—had she just gotten the job? "Now."

Hank laughed. "Good, because Suzanne is going back to college soon and there won't be much time to train. And if we continue to get more of those thunderstorms they're predicting, I'll need someone to help get this place ready for possible flooding." She rose with a purpose. "Come with me, and I'll introduce you to Suzanne."

Hank started back to the shop. A heartbeat later, Ellie scrambled to keep up. The woman moved like a lithe cat.

As they approached the counter, Ellie remembered the men from earlier. An involuntary shiver trailed down her spine. Her gut screamed they were the enemy. Had they somehow followed her here to Hope Island? If so, then finding a job was of little importance. While the last thing her weary body needed was another move, she'd do it because the alternative was unimaginable.