Page 6 of Covert Past

“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 readyfor 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.

Chapter Three

There was no doubt in Boone’s mind he’d met one of his own kind. As a former spy, he knew all the tricks and the traits that were embedded into their very nature. And Ellie—unknown last name—was a spy.

Though her reaction to Fred’s old truck backfiring could be related to military PTSD, the lack of giving personal information out while assessing him. The way she’d scanned the coffeehouse as if searching for threats all seemed to confirm his gut reaction.

Outside the Hopeful, several men who appeared to be in their thirties to forties passed by him on the sidewalk. Boone wouldn’t have thought anything of it despite their somewhat formal dress for the island if he hadn’t caught fragmented strands of the language they spoke. Arabic. Not enough to catch what was said, but enough to have him turning to watch them as they passed by.

All four peered inside but kept going.

The island got all different types of visitors, including many from other countries. Still, Boone couldn’t let go of the uneasiness he felt from their presence.

He glanced inside the business once more. Ellie and Hank were talking to Suzanne. Boone stepped closer to the window and retrieved his phone. He waited until he had a clear shot at Ellie and snapped a picture making sure it was a good one before he continued walking.

If the predicted storms hit the coast, Hope Island was in for some dark times ahead and this tranquil setting wasn’t going tobe the place to be for long. The torrents had already caused some minor flooding. So far, it hadn’t reached any of the homes or businesses along the coast, but with more bad weather on the way that might change.

Once, six months earlier, he’d been one of the visitors to Hope Island, never thinking he’d end up calling it home. Since leaving the service, he’d drifted from town to town not fitting in anywhere. Unable to run away from himself. Then, he’d visited Maine. Stayed at a bed and breakfast and heard about a little place called Hope Island. He’d come for a visit and ended up the newest member of the Hope Island Securities Team.

JT Wyatt and the others had taken a chance on him despite his closed-off ways. He’d found his place at last. And, slowly, he was learning to open up to the team. Most understood what he’d gone through, having served in the military themselves. Janine, the only one not ex-military, was former FBI.

He checked the time on his phone. Half an hour until the meeting. Janine had brought him up to speed on the case she’d once spearheaded. A disturbing one that had clearly gotten to Janine as a mother causing her to recuse herself from the case. A little girl named Lizzette had been kidnapped by her father some ten years earlier. The mother was a friend of one of Hope Island Securities’ founders, JT. He had worked the case when he’d been on the police force. All leads had dried up. The mother had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars looking for her daughter.

JT had kept in touch with the family through the years. When the mother found out JT ran his own private investigation firm, she’d asked to hire them to get a fresh set of eyes on the kidnapping. JT had taken on the case Pro Bono.

That was the reason Janine had wanted to meet with Boone earlier to make sure he was up to speed on the case. He’d told her yes. He’d read through the police file, spoken to JT personally, and believed himself ready to meet with the client. JT would be there for support, but he wanted a fresh take on the evidence they had.

Boone turned the corner onto the street that housed Hope Island Securities. He brought up the photo of Ellie and zoomedin. They’d never met—he had no doubt—yet there was something about her that screamed she was on the run from something. The implication was chilling. Why would a former spy be on the run unless they were deep undercover. They’d been burned by their agency . . . or they’d betrayed their country.

He stopped in front of the office. Inside, their office manager, Katrina, manned the phones. Bryce Malone, who had been the newbie until Boone came along, had his feet propped up on his desk and was chatting with Eli Warren, who sat perched on the edge of said desk.

Boone smiled. These men were brothers in arms as well as teammates.

He stepped inside. Katrina looked up, smiled and then winked—her usual form of greeting.

Bryce and Eli acknowledged his presence each with a two-finger salute.

“Everyone except for these two are in the conference room,” Katrina told him.

In her twenties, Katrina treated everyone like she was their kid sister.

Bryce held up his hands. “Hey, I’m waiting on the age-enhanced software to do its thing.”

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