Chapter Six

"I t's going to be okay," he whispered while she continued to cry. The pig settled at her feet seemingly making up its mind about Ellie like Boone had. She was a good person—he'd sensed that about her from the beginning. But her story was going to be dark, he could almost feel it. He'd told her he could help. But what if he couldn't? What if Ellie was beyond his help?

Please, God, give me the words and the wisdom to help her.

She sat up straighter and wiped her hands over her eyes. He let her go and rose. Ellie needed a minute to compose herself before facing him.

"I'm sorry. I don't usually fall apart." Her attention fell on the pig. She petted the animal.

"I think that pig likes you." Boone was rewarded with a watery smile.

"Want some coffee?" she asked and stood abruptly. She didn't wait for him to answer before heading to the kitchen, the piglet running after her like a shadow.

"Coffee would be nice." Coffee was the last thing he needed but if she wanted it so did he. "You know you're going to have to name that pig." He wanted to lighten the moment and was happy when she laughed.

"You're right. Any thoughts?" Ellie went about making coffee while he considered the white female pig with dark spots.

He had no idea how to name a pig. Back home they'd had a group of sled dogs that were named, but the dogs were working animals and not pets. He hadn't really had a pet his entire life. Kind of sad to think about.

"Dottie?" he finally said.

Ellie stopped pouring water into the coffeemaker and considered the pig. "Dottie. I like it." The smile she gave him transformed her worried expression and confirmed his first impression of her. Ellie was strikingly beautiful.

The thought hit him like a blow. He hadn't thought about a woman in such a way since Victoria. They'd dated during his time in the Navy. He'd thought once he was done with his tour with the SEALs and came back to civilian life he'd marry her. When word reached him that she'd died in a car accident, Boone had been devastated. He understood the loss Ellie went through because he'd been there himself.

"What was his name?" he asked when she handed him coffee.

She didn't answer right away. Ellie poured herself a cup and then added creamer and rock sugar. When she offered the creamer and sugar to him, he shook his head.

She indicated the table as she pulled out a chair and sat.

Boone sat across from her and sipped the dark-roasted coffee. It was so strong it had him cringing.

She smiled. "Sorry, it takes some getting used to. It's called, botz or ‘mud coffee.'"

He recognized the term immediately from his time in Israel, where he'd had the espresso once. He nodded without questioning her and wondered what her connection was to the country. The strong coffee worked its way down to churn up his stomach. He waited. Something told him her story wasn't going to come quickly.

"To answer your question, his name was Daniel," she said so softly he almost didn't catch it. "We were going to be married. He was murdered."

Hearing the truth spoken so calmly and without emotion was a shock, but he had a feeling Ellie had gotten good at holding back emotion.

"What happened?" This was the question that would either prove she trusted him—or at least wanted to trust him.

She fiddled with the rim of her cup. "We worked together. We were on a mission, and he was killed."

A mission. He put two and two together. "You're Mossad."

Ellie seemed to be in a struggle within herself. Would she tell him the truth or deny it? He had a feeling there was so much more to the story than what she'd told.

She kept her attention on the cup. "I was Mossad until Daniel died."

"Who killed him, Ellie? What happened to you?"

Her startled expression went to him. "What do you mean?"

"You've been hurt, and I don't believe you fell. Did someone do this to you?"

She blew out a breath and rose, pacing the small kitchen. "Daniel was killed but I have no idea who was responsible for his death. Either Syrian Intelligence or . . ."

"Or who?" he said softly.

"Or our own people."

Soon, the whole sordid tale began to unfold, and he tried to take it all in. She'd been set up to take the fall for Daniel's murder. Ellie was being hunted by her own people as well as others.

"I'm a wanted person. My former comrades believe I killed Daniel. They've been searching for me for seven years."

His heart went out to her. Sure, he didn't know her that well, but being in the CIA had taught him quickly to trust his gut. She wasn't a murderer.

"I've moved more times than I can say, changed my name just as many times, yet they keep finding me."

"Who? Mossad or Syrian Intelligence?"

"Both. Mostly Syrian Intelligence."

His frown deepened. "There has to be a way. Do you have anything from the past that they could use to track you?"

She shook her head. "I left everything behind except for the engagement ring Daniel gave me." She returned to her seat. "When I escaped the box, after I was shot, I somehow managed to get away. I had the clothes on my back and my weapon." She told him about going to her director only to be told he couldn't help her. He believed her guilty.

"How did you get away?"

"I had an asset that Daniel and I used from time to time. He was able to get me a new identity. I wanted to stay close to Israel to work some of our other assets, hopefully discover who was behind the plot to kill Daniel."

"And did you?" He knew the answer. Why else would she be on the run?

"No one knew anything, or perhaps they weren't talking. I never knew the name of the asset Daniel used to get intel on the Syrian Intelligence Agency and their efforts to corrupt one of our own."

Boone sat up straighter at this. "So, you were told someone from Mossad was dirty?"

She nodded. "According to Daniel, his contact told him he'd give us the name of the person when we met. That meeting never happened. We were set up. Daniel died. Shot with my weapon."

"And you were supposed to disappear, never to be found. You'd take the blame for the murder. The traitor would be free to continue to sell out his country."

"Something like that." She picked up her cup again. "I went to Daniel's apartment. I was so afraid I'd be found. I waited until it was dark and got in through the back entrance." She pulled in a breath. "The place had been trashed. Whatever information was there had been destroyed or taken."

Boone blew out a long whistle. "They covered all their bases. Is there anyone you can think of who might know something about what happened that night?"

Her fingers trembled as she ran several around the rim of the cup. "No one. I exhausted all my assets' information. I found out a few days later that there was an agent from Syrian Intelligence found dead near the same location where Daniel died. I'm certain the man was his contact. They killed the agent so he couldn't talk."

Boone could hardly believe someone from Mossad would betray their country to the enemy. It seemed unthinkable, and yet he knew of many cases where agents within US intelligence had done the same. All for money.

"There's absolutely nothing left that can be used to track me, and yet they keep finding me." She looked around the room. "You were right. Someone was here earlier, I'm certain of it."

He held her gaze. "Anything taken?"

"No, nothing. I have a phone, but it's a burner and I keep it with me. I don't own any other device. All I have are a few changes of clothes and toiletries. Every bit of information I've been able to gather on the case is up here." She pointed to her head.

Boone tried not to let the hopelessness rearing its head win. Ellie needed his help, and he wanted to help her. "Is there anyone from your past I can reach out to?"

She shook her head. "Daniel had a younger brother. He was in university at the time. Michael would be . . . twenty-seven now." She looked his way. "But he wouldn't know anything."

Boone pulled out the small notebook he kept in his pocket and wrote down Michael's name. "What about his parents? Yours?"

She quickly shook her head again. "I haven't dared reach out to my family. Mossad will be watching for any contact."

"What about your former director?"

"Gideon won't help. He believes I'm guilty." She scrubbed her hand over her forehead.

"I know someone who can help," Boone said quietly. "While with the CIA, I worked a mission with a Mossad agent. We've kept in touch through the years—"

She didn't let him finish. "You can't. If you bring this up, they'll know you're involved somehow. They'll come here. I will be imprisoned. Or worse."

Boone leaned forward. "I trust my friend. Let me feel him out. He doesn't know anything about where I live, or that I'm working as a private investigator."

He believed trusting anyone with her secret wasn't easy. She'd shared with him, and he was grateful, but they'd need more to go on than the information she'd gathered.

She slowly agreed. "But please, don't mention this to your people."

Boone wanted to tell her she could trust the men and women at Hope Island Securities, but that step would be for another day.

"Alright. For now. But I can't keep this from them for long."

"I know. Thank you." She looked into his eyes, and his heart melted. He'd been where she was. Not to the extent of being framed for murder, but to the point where he wasn't sure if he wanted to live with what he'd done. He understood how crippling it could be.

Boone glanced out the window as the first rays of daybreak lightened the shoreline. They'd been talking for hours. One thing became clear. He didn't trust leaving her here alone. "I think I should move in here for the time being."

He waited for her to reject the idea and was surprised when she didn't. Being on the run had worn her down. She was probably tired of fighting the battle alone.

"I would appreciate that. I don't want to be alone after what happened." She glanced at the time and jumped to her feet. "I'm going to be late for work."

"Go shower. I'll tell Hank it was my fault."

Ellie stopped midway to the door and gave him an incredulous look. "Your fault, how?"

She didn't want her employer getting any ideas about them, did she?

"Don't worry, I'll think of something."

Ellie left to shower, Dottie following at her heels. Boone cleaned their cups before turning off the coffeemaker, his brain churning over the story she'd told him and the best way to approach his friend for answers.

As the shower turned on, Boone walked over to the kitchen window and looked out at a new day dawning. He frowned. A man and woman walked down the beach. Awfully early for a walk. They passed along the back of the house, and he kept out of sight. Boone didn't recognize them, but he was new to the island himself. Besides, there were a few visitors left on the island. It could be nothing. He thought about Dottie. She'd been held at one of the houses. Maybe the people staying there hadn't even realized a pig was in the garage.

His gut told him there was more to Dottie's escape than a simple fly-by-night petting zoo.

The desire to move Ellie someplace safe wouldn't let him go. He'd make an excuse to stick close to her during the day while he worked on finding a safe house for her to stay at until they figured out if danger had followed her here to Hope Island.

Boone got a message from Declan, who told him a severe thunderstorm warning had been issued for later in the day. The conditions were favorable for massive storms to hit Hope Island. The Weather Channel predicted the worst storm would hit between sunset and early morning. This time of year, the weather could be volatile. Though they hadn't had any significant hurricanes this season, these oceanic storms that were being created because of the cold fronts coming in early were definitely doing some damage.

The shower shut off. A few minutes later, Ellie emerged wearing the green polo shirt displaying the logo of the Hopeful Coffeehouse. Hank told her she'd picked the color herself because it was her favorite.

"Ready?" he asked while he tried not to notice the scent of her soap or the way her jeans fit just right.

"Yes, I'm ready." She stopped near the door. "What about Dottie? We can't leave her here alone."

Boone had considered what to do with the piglet. "I'm sure Eli's wife won't mind watching her today until we can figure something else out." Boone told her about Sashi. "She's a good person. I'll tell her Dottie belongs to a friend."

She smiled and lifted Dottie into her arms. The pig snorted and snuggled her neck.

Boone didn't want to alarm her without cause by mentioning the walkers he'd spotted earlier. He'd do some checking to see who was around the area and if any of the places were being rented for the winter.

She got in his truck and placed Dottie between them.

Boone backed up and headed down the coastal road while trying to ease his fears. What if the men both he and Eli had spotted in town weren't after Sashi at all but were coming for Ellie? It made sense. She obviously knew something that was important enough for her enemies to want to silence her. The only question was what?