Author: Lisa Phillips
Category: Christian
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/lisa-phillips/page,19,563080-sanctuary_deceived_witsec_town_series_book_4.html
The newscaster spoke again, “He is to be considered armed and highly dangerous, and indications are that he is travelling with this woman.”
The screen showed a grainy photo of Nadia exiting the salon where she had worked for weeks while she and Bolton had been hiding. Or at least, she’d thought they were hiding. He’d been in contact with Ben the whole time.
She whirled around. “I’m fine here, right? I’ll be protected if I stay here, and you get those guards. Won’t I?”
Ben didn’t answer. Not a good sign. He clearly had an answer for her but wasn’t about to give her one that she’d like.
“Shadrach’s hurt. I’m not leaving.”
“If you’re in danger, then you can’t stay.” Her mom’s voice cut through her. “If people are looking for you because this man—” She waved in Bolton’s direction. “—is a criminal, then you’ll bring danger to Shadrach when he can’t defend himself.”
Nadia wanted to wince…or cry. Whichever. But she didn’t. Her eyes burned as she stared at Bolton.
“I’m sorr—”
She couldn’t believe he was going to say that. “Don’t apologize.”
“I did drag you into this.”
“It’s not your fault Tristan is trying to flush you out so he’s posting out pictures all over the news.” She pointed at the screen. “This is local, right?”
Ben said, “Getting out of Denver would be a good plan. Before they leak this nationwide. They know you’re here.”
“But you guys are going to find—” Nadia cut herself off before she said it out loud. If their destination got leaked, it wouldn’t be because of her. “The person you need to make sure is safe.”
Bolton nodded. “Looks like you’re coming with us.”
“Um…pretty sure you can drop me off in the mountains of you-know-where on your way.”
“There’s no time,” Ben said. “Not if we want as much chance as possible to get there ahead of Dante. I’ll go tell them we’ve got an extra passenger, and then we’ll figure out how to get you two out of the hospital.” Ben strode out.
Nadia wanted to slam her foot down. “Is he always like that?”
Bolton said, “You’ve been in worse situations.”
Nadia said, “Bye, Mom,” and didn’t wait for an answer. Remy would tell Shadrach what had happened when he woke up.
**
Nadia unbuckled her seatbelt and stretched. A ride in a cushy chair on a private plane had done her the world of good. It had been a long time since, and she’d thought it wasn’t likely she’d ride chartered private ever again. Yet here she was.
Out the window, palm trees were silhouetted by runway lights, beyond which shone an array of night stars. She could hardly believe she was back in Hawaii again. That had been a fun vacation, not that she remembered much of it since she’d been so inebriated, but it was a great place. Nadia paused her thoughts. Why did she think that had been fun? Three minutes of familial harmony and a comforting hug from her mom had been more pleasant than spending a long weekend stumbling all over Oahu from club to club because she couldn’t walk straight. Then, much like the hug, came the reckoning.
Yeah, so she’d just compared her relationship with her mom to getting drunk, but what else was she supposed to do? Process, and set it aside. Process, and set it aside. Her emotional outburst in the hall notwithstanding, the technique seemed to be working pretty well.
In the seat across from her, Bolton woke. Shot her a smile. He wasn’t as relaxed as he projected. The man was wound tight and had probably slept fitfully.
Ben got up and crossed to the door, which he opened while Will sat in his chair typing. The tech guy was a one track mind if ever she’d seen one. He barely spoke. Maybe he was one of those people who conversed electronically more than they spoke out loud.
“So what island are we on?”
Ben turned at her question. “I guess that’s valid, and it’d be hard to hide.” He smiled. “Kauai.”
“Oh, nice.” Nadia looked outside again to see if her window was the ocean side of the airport, or the side where you could see the mountain peak. Sure enough, a huge towering hill poked up into the sky in an attempt to reach the beauty of the stars above.
“It’s like a sauna out there.” Bolton stood at the door. “Kind of reminds me of Miami.”
Nadia didn’t want to talk about places they’d been, or she’d have to admit she’d dismissed Kauai as being quiet, which equated to boring. If she’d met Bolton during that time both of their lives would have been remarkably different. She would never have gone to Sanctuary and never found faith in God.
Will spoke. “Dante and his pals seem to have chartered a plane of their own. Used a known front company. At least, known to us. Manifest says six people plus the pilot, and the flight plan has it headed to Phoenix.”
“That makes no sense,” Bolton said. “We know he’s going to come here.”
Ben paused in packing his arsenal of weapons into a black duffel type bag, one that looked like it was made of plastic, or rubber. Nadia had used a bag like that during a kayaking trip one of her friends had suggested. It kept her belongings dry. Was he going swimming?
“So he throws everyone off his trail and heads here anyway. Anyone looking wouldn’t think twice. I figure he’s far enough ahead of us that he’s dreaming up ways to throw us off base. He’s probably already here, though we have no way to verify if they’ve arrived.” When he’d secured the top and clicked in the buckle, Ben turned to Will. “We’re all set?”
Will clicked a series of keys and then leaned back, his laptop balanced on his knees. “You are now. Kikiaola harbor, one hour. He said you’ll know where the keys are.”
“And Grant?”
Will shrugged. “Not checking in probably means he went to dinner with the team and can’t hear his phone.”
Ben turned to Nadia. “Stay here with Will. Bolton and I will be back as soon as we can.”
**
“What first?” Bolton glanced at Ben and his bag of tricks as they crossed to the hangar. Inside was a silver Taurus Bolton wouldn’t have looked at twice back in the day. He’d driven a Camaro because he respected the classics. Thea had driven a Bentley since she was more about flash. Crime certainly did pay. That was why he was divorced, childless, injured, broke and homeless, hunted, and about to reunite with a woman who hated him.
Things were going real well.
Ben said, “Car to the marina. Boat is the only way to get close enough. Then we have to hike the rest of the way in. Usually they’re brought in by helicopter, like one of those scenic tours that show you all the sights and the inaccessible part of the island. Grant explained it all.”
Bolton buckled in. “So how do you hide people from nosy tourists with binoculars gaping out a helicopter window?”
“People see what they want to see. A beautiful waterfall, tree tops, and a canyon. Plenty of hiding spots if you can deliver supplies and the residents can adhere to the restrictions on beach visits. Though, it’s nowhere near as big as Sanctuary. No sheriff, no mayor.”
Bolton would’ve chosen it, too, if he’d known. “Wouldn’t that be nice.”
Ben smirked. “Yeah, the Sanctuary mayor is a piece of work. He wanted to arrest me. Apparently I ‘assaulted’ him.”
“Did you?”
“Burden of proof lies on him. Not me.” Ben drove the highway that snaked west around the island.
Dante was ahead of them, that was most likely true. Trying to get to Thea, like she needed him to hunt her down when she was busy hiding and being a mom. Bolton had worried more than once if she made a good mother. She wasn’t exactly the nurturing type, and he didn’t imagine there were many boutiques or salons in an inhospitable canyon. Maybe she’d have rather been in Idaho, in Sanctuary. Why had Grant offered them their respective towns? Bolton imagined the former director had his reasons, whatever they might have been.
Ben pulled into a parking space at the marina. “Time
to swim.”
“What?”
Ben pointed at a boat anchored off shore. The light on the deck illuminated it. Otherwise they’d never have known it was there. Which, Bolton supposed, was the whole point. “How’s your back? Think you’ll make it, or is it to be a watery grave for ye.”
“Did you just talk like a pirate to me?”
Ben shrugged, and in the dim light, Bolton thought he might have seen a smirk. “Just tell me.”
“I’m fine.”
“Let’s go then.”
Shoes off. Ben stowed them in the bag, and they swam to the boat. On board, Ben opened the bag and emptied out all their weapons—dry as the inside of a gun.
Bolton pulled his shoes back on and tapped his earpiece. “We good, Will?”
“All set.”
“And Nadia?”
**
Will’s reply was immediate. “She’s good.”
Nadia sipped from the can of diet and stared out the window.
Will reached back for the gun he’d stashed under the tiny airplane pillow.
“Nadia’s good.”
Chapter 18
“I’m guessing you did a deal with some local, got them to turn a blind eye so you could hide people. The natives walk away with a bunch of the government’s money and everyone is safe,” Dante glanced back at Grant for a second. “Guess it didn’t work.” His white teeth flashed in the dark.
Grant trailed behind him, soaked, filthy, and tethered. If it wasn’t for the honor guard of men who would shoot him if he even stumbled, he’d have had trouble walking straight. The drug they’d given him to get Grant to spill everything he knew about witness protection towns—which was a lot, though most of it they didn’t care about thankfully—was wearing off, but he could still feel it crawling through his system like a thousand fire ants.
He’d lost feeling in his hands before they’d jumped from the boat into chest-height water. He’d never liked the ocean and appreciated it even less now that he’d gotten a wave to the face while his hands were tied together and someone pulled him along. Grant certainly had a greater appreciation now for his grandfather’s experience on the beach at Normandy—not that this could be compared.
Give him his girls, his skis, and a black diamond any day. Sand got everywhere, and it wasn’t helping the itching.
The barrel of a gun jabbed into his back. Grant stumbled but kept walking, a hike through mushy forest floor and dense trees. The air was thick like steam that left his skin damp and hot. His head swam, but Grant had to be able to think straight if he was going to effectively lead them on a wild Dodo chase through the island of Kauai.
When Dante realized he was stalling, Grant was a dead man. But he had little to lose, and Grant refused to tell them where Thea was.
He’d come to that realization fast, and there had been no question about what he intended to do. Grant knew too many secrets. If he lived, he would always and forever be Ben Mason’s biggest weak spot. And his biggest headache. If he died—okay, so it wouldn’t be fun. His girls would freak out, and he wouldn’t be there to hug them. Grant could only hope their mom would get her head together enough to be a help. But if she couldn’t, Grant’s mom would. Grandma was one of their favorite people.
The rest of his family would go on without him. Grant only wished he’d had the chance to tell them goodbye.
Grant had “retired” from the US Marshals months ago now, giving this new life a real good try. But it hadn’t worked. He simply wasn’t built for freelance, and his head contained more secrets than one person should know in a lifetime. As much as it goaded him, Grant was basically a walking, talking threat to national security. It was a wonder he hadn’t been locked up.
Since he’d walked out of the Marshals office for the last time, Grant had tried. He really had, but this new life wasn’t him. He was supposed to have been a marshal until retirement. Grant’s face, his whole life really, was too recognizable to be a help to anyone. Ben was going to have to save Thea and Javier and put right what Bolton and Dante had done. Ben was good at that.
Grant was even willing to pray if that got the job done and God was willing to aid either him or Ben. John was the spiritual one, and their other brother, Nate, called himself a Christian now. Grant had listened, because he was their big brother, but he hadn’t understood what they were talking about. Not really.
“Which way?” Dante barked the question.
Grant surveyed the fork in the path. Who knew? He was basically guessing at this point. Not to mention also hoping some crazed local didn’t come out with a machete and start a fight with a bunch of armed guys. He didn’t need that kind of incident, even if it would solve most of his problems.
“Left.” Closer to the interior of the island was better. Heading back to the beach wouldn’t work, since that meant they couldn’t walk in circles anymore. They had to be headed somewhere. The beach was bare, and not a convincing hiding place.
It was a miracle he’d been able to regain enough lucidity to understand that he’d spilled the fact there was a second Sanctuary—though much smaller—in Hawaii. He’d thought all Dante knew was that Thea was in this state…until he realized he’d also told them what island the Hawaii Sanctuary was on.
Dante started down the left path, though he gave a long glance to the one on the right. Did he not believe Grant? Too bad. Grant was a marshal, and he would always be a marshal. With or without the badge, Dante was a fugitive. Capturing fugitives would always be Grant’s business, and he wouldn’t have chosen any other way to leave this world. But first, he needed to leave a warning for the locals.
Grant climbed behind Dante as the path rose in elevation. He scanned the ground with every step until he found what he was looking for—a plant with a leaf-edge that was razor sharp. Grant faked a misstep, stumbled and slipped his hand against the leaf as he went down on one knee.
Hands hauled him back up. Grant gritted his teeth as blood welled in his palm. The first step he took, Grant weaved to the right as though light-headed. Not too much of a stretch. He reached out his bound hands and swiped the bloody one against a tree trunk in the direction they were headed.
Was that the last good thing he would ever do?
**
Bolton skirted the No Trespassing sign and followed Ben between trees, up a hill. Was this even a path? It didn’t look worn at all. How did Ben even know where he was going? The questions moved through his mind like an old accounting calculator where the receipt spilled out line after line of numbers. It was that or succumb to the fact that his spine felt like a razor under his skin, or a collection of razors brushing each other at the base of his back.
“We can rest.”
Bolton didn’t want to, but he nodded.
“Want me to look at it?”
“I’d rather you stuck a needle in there and plunged something numbing into me. Not sure what looking is going to do.”
Ben didn’t answer, he leaned around Bolton and lifted the back of his shirt. Bolton leaned forward a fraction. It was all he could do.
“I don’t think you want to know what this looks like. Maybe you shouldn’t be walking around.”
“So I rest up, and Dante shoots my son. Great plan.”
“You have no faith in me?” Ben stepped back, a wry look on his face. “I can make this work without you.”
Bolton sighed. “Once I know they’re safe I’ll get off my feet.”
“Fair enough.”
What else was he going to do? Bolton should still be in a bed, recovering from the surgery that felt a lifetime ago now. Was it really only days?
Dante had forced his hand when he abducted Nadia. One of his men had shot Shadrach right in front of him. Now Dante was intent on destroying every other part of Bolton’s life.
A rustle in the trees.
Ben whipped around, gun already up before Bolton could stand. The man who emerged from the trees looked like a bigger, younger version of Hal Leonard—all biker clothes
, down to the chain that hung in a loop from his belt. A bandana had been tied around his head, disguising whether he had any hair or not. His gun was a gigantic revolver with a white grip.
Bolton reached for his weapon, but Ben put out his hand. “My name is Ben Mason.”
“And I’m Michael Jackson. You’re trespassing.” Despite his joke, the man didn’t show any signs of being amused. He was huge, taller than either Ben or Bolton and probably had more than fifty pounds on either of them. Bolton did not want to get punched by those ham-sized fists.
The man lifted a radio from his belt and brought it to his mouth. “Found something. Two somethings actually.”
Ben said, “Are you in charge?”
“Of these trees?” The man’s reaction didn’t look fabricated but Bolton wondered. He was too smooth. He smirked then, but he wasn’t the least bit amused. “Or is it the insects I’m to arrest for some infraction?” He spoke like a history teacher and looked like a biker who would ride his Harley into your drive, steal your sister while she smiled the whole time, and ride off never to be seen again.
Bolton didn’t trust him at all. “We aren’t going to get anywhere if none of us is going to say anything remotely true. So here goes. My name is Bolton Farrera, and I live in a town called Sanctuary.”
That got him a reaction.
“If you’re in charge here, I’m guessing you’re a US marshal. Guarding this otherwise undetectable safe-haven hidden in a place no one would think to look beneath the surface.”
“Call me Colt.”
“Okay. Colt.” Bolton waved toward Ben. “This is my friend, Ben Mason. His brother’s name is Grant. Maybe you’ve heard of him before. He used to be the director of the US Marshals.”
“I’ve heard of him. You too, but never had the pleasure before.” The man didn’t lower his gun, or move his aim from between the two of them—equal distance from either if they decided to make a move on him. Bolton didn’t doubt he shot fast and with lethal accuracy. “So what are Bolton Farrera and Ben Mason doing on my island?”