Chapter Seven

"W e have her new location pinned down." He stared at the house where his target had been staying and waited for the boss to speak.

"Are you certain? We can't afford to be wrong this time. Now that everything is in motion, she has to disappear. No more near misses."

"I understand." He watched as Ayla and a man he hadn't identified got into the man's truck and left.

"Where is she hiding out?"

It surprised him that his boss cared. The instructions had always been to find her and eliminate the threat.

"A small house along the beach on an island town in Maine. Hope Island," he told the boss.

"Hope Island. Leave it to her to search for something that will never be available to her."

He laughed at the boss's joke even though he didn't find it particularly funny. "True. After all these years . . . You would have thought she'd given up long ago, especially after Oregon. For those like her there is no hope."

The boss grunted an answer. "We're stationed close. She isn't going anywhere. The island is small. Once she's alone, I'll handle it myself."

The boss didn't trust him to handle the job. That stung. Sure, he understood the importance of their mission, but he'd been the one on the ground during all the hunts to bring Ayla down, not his boss. All the other attempts to kill her had ended in failure for good reason. At one time, she was the best Mossad ever produced. Since being on the run, he had no doubt she'd perfected her skills. She knew how to stay hidden.

"What about the storm?" He wasn't sure why he brought it up. Perhaps because he wanted to be the one to take her out. "It's all over the news. It's heading straight toward the island."

"That should work in our favor, in my opinion. People will be more concerned with protecting themselves and their property than a few strangers on the island."

He held onto his anger with difficulty. "Look, I understand your concerns, but I have this. She's not getting away this time. There's no need for you to risk blowing your cover."

A very noisy harrumph followed."You'd better be right because this is your last chance to prove yourself."

The call ended in the abruptness he'd come to expect from his boss. Failure wasn't an option. If he and his team couldn't eliminate her threat, they'd suffer her fate, no question about it.

But he knew how to find her, and things were not critical . . . yet.

That stupid pig. No one on his team realized the animal was in the garage until it was too late. The thing had followed them over to her house the night before and tried to go inside when they'd searched it. He'd shooed the animal off afraid the filthy beast would blow their cover. He wasn't sure it hadn't.

He stepped from his hiding spot near the back of her house to watch the truck disappear down the road. Who was this new man? That she'd allowed someone close had him wondering if the years on the run had weakened her.

He turned to the woman who was part of his team and motioned her over. With her help, they'd been quietly surveilling their target's house. He brought her along because a couple walking along the beach didn't draw as much attention as his four men had in town the day before.

"Find out who the truck belongs to." He gave her the license plate number.

She didn't respond but went to work on the task.

The rest of his team emerged from the shadows.

"Stay out of sight until I call for you," he told them once they were close. "She'll have seen you in town and can identify you. She's on alert. We can't afford for her to slip through our fingers again."

One man nodded and motioned the rest back to the house.

"Got it," the woman said. "The truck belongs to a Boone Langston."

He turned toward his companion. "Who is this Langston?"

She dug deeper into the man in question. "Former CIA." Her concern became clear. "This can't be good. If she's gone to them for help . . ."

"You said former. What's he doing now?"

She scrolled further. "He's part of a private investigation firm called Hope Island Securities." She looked him in the eye. "Not as bad, but still not good. If she's talking, it's possible the truth will come out."

He shook his head. "She doesn't know the truth. We'll make sure it stays that way." He headed for the car.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"After her. We need that information. They're expecting it soon."

The woman started to follow but he stopped her.

"I've got this. She's my problem to take care of." And his to take all the glory for bringing her down.

He opened the door and got inside the sedan. For seven years he'd fought Ayla and failed. No more. Now it was time to fix the problem. And he would. Once and for all he'd handle Ayla and end the threat she didn't know she posed.

◆◆◆

The break-in had her rattled. It happened so close to her arrival on Hope Island. Normally it took much longer for them to find her.

The back-and-forth swishing of the truck's windshield wipers grated along her frayed nerves. The first wave of rain had started earlier than expected on their way in. It had grown steadily harder.

During the drive into town, she continuously watched the side mirror, her troubled thoughts on the men she'd noticed the day before. Through the years she'd gotten good at deducing threats. Those men were a threat.

Boone reached over and covered her nervous hand with his. She stared at his large, calloused hand. Human touch wasn't something she allowed herself often. Most people she met along the way were little more than passing acquaintances. Some less. Being touched even in a casual way wasn't something she was used to. She struggled to keep from pulling away.

"Relax. There's no one back there." Boone smiled over at her as he squeezed her hand.

She turned her head and looked into his eyes. Something she hadn't felt—hadn't thought about since Daniel—clawed its way to the surface past the bitterness.

No, she couldn't go there. If her life remained on its usual course, she'd be forced to leave Hope Island soon. Those men from the day before crept into her head. She'd stay long enough to earn enough money to leave and then she'd disappear again.

What had once been her routine now made her stomach turn. She'd been running for so long that she couldn't even see what normal looked like anymore. Didn't remember it. Would there ever come a time when normal would be possible? She'd love to be bored, sitting around and doing nothing. Not having to look over her shoulder for fear of what crept up behind her. Ellie smiled to herself at the thought.

Boone slid the truck into one of the many parking spots in front of the Hopeful Coffeehouse. The lights were on. Ellie checked her phone for the time. Two minutes to spare.

"I'll go in with you to make sure everything's good, then take Dottie over to Sashi's."

"Thank you, but you really don't have to babysit me. I'll be fine." Ellie gave the pig a hug.

"I'm coming with you," Boone confirmed without backing down. "To keep from drawing undue attention to myself, after I've dropped Dottie off, I'll stay in my truck. I should be able to see most of the foot traffic from here. If those men from yesterday show up, I'll let you know."

Ellie was grateful to have him close.

"Put my number into your phone so you have it in case there's trouble."

Ellie typed in the number Boone gave her. Relying on others for help—she couldn't remember the last time that had happened. Maybe Daniel, but even then, they'd been partners protecting each other.

As a little girl, her parents were her world. Her father was an American soldier on leave, spending time in Israel when he'd met Ellie's mother, a member of the Israeli Defense Force. They'd fallen in love. John moved to Israel to be with Maya. They'd married as soon as his tour of duty was over. Ellie was born a few years later and then her sister, who had followed in their mother's footsteps and became a soldier for the IDF.

There was a certain code among those in the military. Never leave anyone behind. Boone wouldn't leave her behind, and she prayed she wouldn't bring her trouble into his life.

"Stay here," Ellie told Dottie and hopped out, rushing toward the door as the rain pelted her. Boone did the same.

Ellie went ahead of him inside the coffeehouse, where Hank stood behind the counter.

"Glad you made it. The rain's really coming down. They weren't expecting it until much later," Hank told her as she entered. "With the flooding and another storm apparently closing in, I don't think we'll see much traffic today. It'll be time to batten down the hatches soon enough." She noticed Boone, and a knowing grin crossed Hank's face.

Ellie cringed. Of course, she would think Ellie and Boone were together.

"Boone gave me a ride in." Ellie came up with some excuse about car trouble .

"Well, that was nice of him."

Ellie tried to determine if Hank believed the car trouble story. She couldn't tell.

Hank handed them both towels and poured coffee for Boone while Ellie did her best to dry off.

"Better put that in a to-go cup, Hank. I've got some errands to run."

Hank's expression gave nothing away. "Fine by me." She poured the coffee into a paper cup, added a lid, and then handed it to Boone. "According to the updated forecast, it's supposed to rain most of the day. What tourists who haven't left yet will want to get off the island in case of flooding. It's going to be just us locals."

"That it will. Stay dry, the two of you." Boone headed for the door. With a final look Ellie's way, he left.

"Suzanne called me last night and asked if I'd mind if she left the island a little earlier to beat the storm. She wanted to spend some time with her parents in New York before heading off to school. She sure was glad you applied for the job. Not too many people looking to work at a coffeehouse around these parts."

Ellie half-listened, her focus on the danger breathing down her neck.

"It all worked out well. I think you're going to be a good addition to the business."

Her confidence was nice, but right now all Ellie could think about was the men she'd spotted outside the coffeehouse the day before. Her gut screamed they were enemy soldiers here for her. Boone wanted her to trust him. He had no idea how hard giving that trust would be.

Before long, a few workers came in before heading to their fishing vessels to get in a little fishing before the storm worsened. They ordered coffees and breakfast pastries for their trip. Time flew by. A few more locals came in but didn't linger long. The "final wave," as Hank called it, was the remaining tourists preparing to exit the island. By the time the last customer received their coffee, hours had flown by.

Boone texted to let her know when he returned. He told her he'd parked down from the coffeehouse and so far saw no sign of the men.

Had she been wrong? They could be innocent tourists here to enjoy the beauty of Hope Island. Hank told her the coffeehouse received visitors from all over the world. Ellie wanted to believe herself safe for the moment, and yet the survival instinct that kept her alive all these years wouldn't let her lower her guard.

"Looks like that's it until mid-afternoon and depending on the weather." Hank wiped down the counter while Ellie gathered coffee cups to wash.

"Is the weather always like this?"

Hank ginned as Ellie rolled her shoulders. "Sometimes. You get used to it. Just part of the attraction to the island."

Ellie wasn't so sure about that.

"I'm going to run to the bank with the deposit. Will you be okay here by yourself for a bit?"

After everything she'd gone through in her past, Ellie believed she would.

"Call me if you need anything." Hank pointed to a card she had next to the register. "My cell's the first there."

"I will."

Hank grabbed the deposit bag and her purse and headed out the back entrance.

Ellie finished cleaning the dishes and wiping down tables, then made herself a Rocky Caramel.

A noise at the back of the shop had her wondering if Hank had forgotten something.

"What'd you forget?" Ellie set her coffee on the counter and headed to the back. Only it wasn't Hank who greeted her. A man with dark hair glistening with rain and dressed entirely in black stepped through from the back entrance. Right away, Ellie knew she was looking in the face of the enemy.

She had to get to Boone. Ellie ran toward the front entrance, snatching up her phone as she did. Before she'd taken more than a handful of steps the man grabbed her from behind.

"You aren't going anywhere," he said in Arabic. "Where is it? "

Ellie slammed her foot against his as hard as possible. The man reacted in pain, loosening his hold slightly and giving her the space to jab her elbow into his midsection.

A string of curse words followed, but she was free. She ran for the front. Another man she hadn't seen enter came up from behind her and snatched hold of her hair, dragging her back away from the windows. She screamed in pain.

Ellie tried to call Boone. The phone was yanked from her hand and tossed across the room. Her only means of communicating with Boone gone, she was in a fight for her life, and it was her against at least two armed men.

She reached up and behind her, jamming her finger into her captor's eye. The move gave her a moment of reprieve. She managed to twist around in his grasp and slammed her fist hard against his jaw, immediately freeing herself.

Ellie grabbed the weapon she kept in her boot and pulled it on him. Holding his bad eye, he aimed his handgun on her. They were in a standoff to see who would back down first.

The second man charged her.

Ellie hated that she would have to shoot up Hank's coffeehouse, but her life was in danger. She fired once. He grunted and grabbed for his shoulder, the force of the bullet knocking him backwards.

The man with the gun turned slightly. Ellie fired, grazing his side. He yelped.

"I'm calling the police," Ellie said in Arabic, hoping to scare them both off.

His lips curled back. Teeth barred. "You won't. You're a wanted woman. They'll arrest you. You'll be dead before nightfall."

Those chilling words washed over her. Out of the corner of her eye, Ellie spotted Boone running toward the coffeehouse.

The mouthy man noticed as well. Holding his side, he stumbled toward the back, telling his friend they had to leave. The man on the floor jumped to his feet and ran after his partner as Boone entered the building.

"What happened? I heard shots." He scanned the disheveled dining space.

"They were here. Two men. They left through the back. Boone, they're both armed." Ellie sank down to the floor while Boone raced after the men.

Outside, sounds of car doors shutting were followed by tires squealing down the alley.

Seconds later, Boone came back. "They got away. I did get a license plate number, though. I'm so sorry I wasn't here." He lifted her to her feet and held her close.

Ellie clung to him. It had been just her for so long. Having someone to lean on didn't change the truth. They'd found her.

And she couldn't stay.

She pulled free. "I have to get out of here. They'll keep coming." Ellie looked around at the chaos left behind by the attack. The blood spattered on the floor, the wall. The overturned chairs. "This place is a mess." She absently began straightening tables when Boone stopped her.

She closed her eyes. "I can't stay, Boone."

He tugged her closer. "You can. Let me help you. Let my team."

She immediately rejected the idea. "No. No one else can know."

He didn't let her go. "They're not going to turn you in. They'll believe you like I do."

She searched his face. "I wish I could be so trusting. But never letting anyone else in is the only way I've stayed alive for seven years."