Sanctuary Deceived WITSEC Town Series Book 4

by Lisa Phillips

  The phone rang, and she put it to her ear.

  “Nadia?”

  “Remy.” She exhaled. “How is he?”

  “Awake.” Remy’s voice reverberated with emotion. “He’s awake. I’ll put him on.” There was a rustle over the line. “It’s Nadia.” Then more clearly, Remy said, “Just talk. He can hear you.”

  “Shadrach?” Tears filled her eyes. “Shadrach, I’m so glad you’re awake. I was so worried, and then I would remember how much you’ve survived so far I couldn’t believe I was doubting you’d pull through this. I just had to pray, because I don’t ever want to lose you.” Nadia stepped aside, wanting privacy as she blubbered into her brother’s ear. “I don’t think I could handle losing you, or anyone I love.”

  “Nadia…” he said her name on a slur, low and slow. Like he was halfway between narcotics and a nap. “Strawberries are ripe now.”

  She laughed. “Okay, brother. Let’s go get some.”

  “Yum.”

  In the background, she could hear Remy’s amusement too. “I love you, Shadrach.”

  “Mmm, love too. Nads.”

  Remy came back on the line. “Aaaaand he’s out again.”

  Nadia chuckled. “I can’t thank you enough, Remy. That was exactly the thing I needed.”

  “You’re the one with the good timing, girl.” It was the Lord’s timing. Thank You. Remy said, “How are things there? Did you find Bolton?”

  Nadia filled her in.

  “Ben will figure it out.” She sounded so sure. “He’ll make sure nothing happens to Bolton that he doesn’t want to happen.”

  That Ben didn’t want, or that Bolton didn’t want? That was the question. At this point, it was kind of hazy what side Ben was on. Or even if he was on any side. So he wasn’t working for Tristan or Dante, but he certainly had his own interests and those interests might outweigh Bolton’s ability to have a free and happy future.

  “Take care of my brother, Remy.”

  “You know I will.”

  Nadia did. Despite whatever awkwardness she’d seen between them, or how they were coping after Remy’s ordeal. She knew that Remy wouldn’t desert her brother. It was the reason she’d been able to leave, knowing Remy would be there. Otherwise she’d have made things worse for Shadrach, trying to contend with her mother, day after day, in that hospital room.

  “You have a green light! Go!”

  She hung up and watched as the SWAT team raced toward the house so synchronized it was clear they’d done it many times before. Four men ran in the front door, fully decked out in their uniforms with huge guns and helmets that covered their faces. Others went around the outside of the house to the back.

  Nadia clutched the phone to her chest and prayed Ben was among them somehow. That he’d gotten inside so that he could assist the outcome. If anyone could, it was him.

  An ambulance pulled in front of her, red and blue lights flashing as people parted. Did they anticipate casualties? Preparedness was one thing, but was this SWAT team good enough to diffuse the situation without casualties?

  The ambulance stopped.

  Nadia took one look at the driver and blinked. He had the uniform, complete with a ball cap that looked so out of place it was almost comical.

  Ben’s driver glanced at her then motioned to the back of his bus with one jerk of his head.

  Nadia ran around and climbed in the back. Clothes had been tossed on the stretcher.

  “Put the uniform on.” He pulled the door across, blocking her from view.

  **

  Dante punched Bolton across the face. Hard.

  His boots pounded the stairs and Bolton was left with only the sound of blood rushing through his ears. The room stretched and contracted like a rubber band pulled taut and then released. How could he get out of there if he couldn’t even see, let alone walk?

  He’d done what he had come there to do. Stalled long enough for the cops to show up and take Dante back to jail. Held his secret in, despite the pressure Dante had put on him. The stash was safe, and it was going to stay that way until Bolton—and only Bolton—unearthed it. Otherwise, what was the point in hiding resources and insurance in the first place unless it was secure from his enemies?

  “Is he dead?”

  Boots vibrated the stairs under his head. Bolton wanted to swat away the intrusion. He’d been feeling kind of peaceful until they disturbed him.

  “Lemme check.”

  Two fingers pushed in the side of his neck. Bolton lifted his hand and swiped aside the forearm with his hand with barely enough strength to push the guy away.

  “Whoa. Got a live one.”

  Bolton blinked until the man’s face came into view. Black helmet. SWAT, probably. The man crouched and grabbed Bolton’s hand. He pressed his finger on to the scanner of a handheld device, waited a second and then shook his head.

  “Bolton Farrera?” He glanced at his buddy. “I didn’t believe it, but this thing don’t lie.”

  “Right? I’d figure he was smoking something if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.”

  The first man stowed the handheld fingerprint scanner in the thigh pocket of his cargo pants and pulled out a pistol.

  “Lights out.”

  **

  Ben’s gun smoked, and the shot rang in his ears. He ducked back behind the wall and turned, not waiting to see Dante fall or the surprise on those SWAT guys’ faces who’d been about to approach him.

  He raced down the hall to the basement, where they would likely already have Bolton secured.

  Ben’s back hit the wall, and he glanced around the corner.

  Maybe the plan was “dead” not “secured.”

  **

  A shot rang out. Then another immediately after it. The SWAT guy dropped, and whoever had stood on the stairs behind Bolton tumbled down over the top of him to lie by his buddy.

  “Time to go.”

  “Ben?” His face appeared in front of Bolton in time for him to brace as Ben hauled him up over his shoulder.

  Ben grunted and started up the stairs. “Have you thought about Weight Watchers?”

  Bolton didn’t have the energy to laugh.

  “Time to make our strategic exit, before someone else trying to kill you can aim a gun your way. I don’t have a free hand to deal with it.”

  Hallway floor.

  Dead owners.

  Fresh air.

  “Can I get some help?!” Ben’s call erupted into a bustle of noise. Hands grasped Bolton, and he was laid on a stretcher. “He’s bleeding pretty bad. I don’t know how long that guy had him in there or what they did. But he’s pretty messed up.”

  A man in a sergeant’s uniform stared down at Bolton with too much knowing in his eyes. Where was Ben? Had he evaporated into the crowd and just left Bolton there?

  The sergeant lifted his chin. “Somewhere between here and the hospital, find out who this guy is.”

  “Will do, Sergeant.”

  The gurney was pushed until an ambulance ceiling floated into view above his head. “I’ll take it from here, boys.”

  Soft hands touched his arm, and she gave his hand a squeeze.

  Who—

  “Easy now.” She pressed his shoulder back down. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

  The ambulance doors shut, and they started moving.

  “Bolton.” Nadia’s face was in his. “What did he do?” Tears pooled in her eyes.

  He shut his eyes and shook his head. She didn’t want to know about his business with Dante. “Did they catch him?”

  “You were the first one brought out.” She touched his face, and her eyes softened. “I didn’t see Dante, or Tristan.”

  Dante had killed Tristan on the plane. That couple, and the cops.

  He’d run out of the basement. Where had he gone? And who were those guys that tried to kill him? They must have been DEA, pretending to be SWAT. The whole situation had been crazy, and where was Ben?

  Bolton’s brain spun. A
door slid open, and Ben said, “Above your head. Get one of those packets, rip it open, and hold it on that. I’ll get this side.”

  Pressure. Nadia applied it like a champ, and he almost managed to contain his reaction.

  “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Ben said, “Ignore him. It hurts, and he’s feeling it.” Ben grabbed something in his teeth and tore it open.

  “Uh-uh.” Bolton didn’t like the look of that needle one bit.

  Apparently Ben didn’t care. “Don’t be a baby.”

  “What are you going to—” Nadia was too late. Ben jabbed the needle into Bolton’s arm and pushed down the plunger.

  “Why does that hurt more than being shot?” It made no sense, but the sting didn’t leave after the needle was drawn out. He’d never liked needles. “I’m guessing no hospital.”

  Ben shot him a look and donned gloves.

  Nadia gasped. “You’re going to stitch him up?”

  “It’s that or he bleeds to death.”

  He didn’t have to talk to her like that. Bolton reached for her, but she had both arms straight pushing on his leg. “It’s okay, Nadia.”

  “Okay? None of this is okay.” She looked at Ben. “Where’s Dante?”

  “Dead.”

  Bolton whipped his head around. “He’s gone?”

  Ben nodded, his gaze concentrated on Bolton’s wound. “I took care of it before he could escape by the men breaching the house, or before he could pretend to be the victim.” He snipped with scissors. “One down, three to go.”

  Nadia blew out a breath. “Where are we going? Home?”

  Was he going to take Bolton back to Sanctuary? Ben wanted the stash, probably as much as Dante and Tristan had.

  Ben said, “One more stop before we figure out who goes where.” He pulled out his phone. “Yeah, Remy. This is Dante’s phone. Call the Boy Scout, get me a location on Will’s family, will you?” Pause. “Thanks.”

  He looked at the screen and scrolled. Punched in a series of digits. The phone chimed, it increased in tone, and then chirped.

  “You’re helping Will?”

  Ben shrugged in answer to Nadia’s question.

  “I knew you were a good guy.”

  Ben set the phone aside and sighed down at Bolton. “He really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Bolton didn’t look at Nadia, then. She was determined to see the good in every situation, and he didn’t want to see her face. “They’ll heal.” He had more serious problems that likely weren’t going to get better like the couple gunshot wounds and the other more minor injuries. Ones that weren’t going to heal for the rest of his life.

  “Seriously, Bolton. He’s right.” Her voice was incredulous. “How are you even still conscious with these wounds?”

  Ben’s face was grim and didn’t leave Bolton’s gaze when he said, “Because he can’t feel his legs.”

  **

  Nadia stared at him. “Were you going to say anything?”

  Bolton’s dark eyes didn’t chance. No remorse. No regret. “What is there to say?” He blinked and looked away.

  Ben continued to sew him up. Nadia couldn’t look at those wounds. She didn’t want to think about all the ways Dante had hurt him.

  She looked up at Ben’s head, bent down to his task. “Is Dante really dead?”

  His eyes lifted. “He’s gone, Nadia.”

  She needed a week just to get used to the idea.

  “Tristan, too,” Bolton said. “Dante shot him on the airplane and took his ID. That’s why he had Tristan’s badge and wallet at the house.”

  “He would have pretended to be DEA while you were killed in his place. He’d have made it work so that you couldn’t talk,” Ben said. “And since no one knows who he was, he’d have gotten away with it. Free and clear, but hunted for the rest of his life. He’d have disappeared so thoroughly I doubt they’d ever have found him.” Ben’s voice had a hard edge that made Nadia wonder if he would have personally seen to it Dante was brought in. “But now he can’t hurt anyone else ever again.”

  Nadia didn’t know what to do with the swell of relief from just contemplating that, while Ben seemed to draw comfort from the fact he had drawn the situation to a close. “So it’s really over?”

  Bolton said, “Once I get to the stash, it will be.” He and Ben locked eyes for a second, and something passed unspoken between them. Nadia wasn’t even sure she wanted to know what secrets they kept.

  “Then it’s back to Sanctuary for me.” She bit her lip, determined not to let it get to her. Bolton had to make his own choice. If that wasn’t her, she needed to go back to Sanctuary in one piece. She couldn’t let it affect her, otherwise she would drown in it. Instead, she focused on the need of another person. “If Javier and Colt end up there, they’ll need help settling in.”

  “Colt?” Bolton’s stare hit her like a blow.

  “He could get transferred there. But it’s more about Javier.” Didn’t he know that? Colt was just some guy who’d been evicted. She didn’t know the first thing about him. “The boy just lost everything. He’s going to need people around him who are prepared to love him.”

  Bolton nodded slowly. “Sanctuary will be good medicine.”

  But it wasn’t good for Bolton? The man who only needed his “stash” and nothing else. No one else. It was infuriating. If he hadn’t been shot multiple times and pretty much tortured, she would have kicked him. Nadia looked at Ben instead of acting on her impulses. “Can you find out if they go to Sanctuary, and let me know?”

  He nodded. “Sure. I’ll do that.”

  “And you’ll make sure Will’s family is safe?”

  “Nadia—”

  She shook her head. “I know it’s a long shot that Dante didn’t already order them killed, like hours ago. But you have to at least try.” She blew out a breath. “Just…don’t tell me. If it doesn’t work out, I don’t want to know. Tell me if they’re fine. If not… Well, I’ll just know, won’t I?”

  Ben stared at her until Nadia looked away.

  She leaned back against the wall of the ambulance and closed her eyes. Bolton was still determined to go his own way, to live his new life the way he wanted to. Didn’t he even care whether the boy was his son or not? Did it matter, when he’d been protecting the kid this whole time? Even if Javier had been Dante’s, he’d been nothing more than the son of Bolton’s heart. Now he had no one. Javier was facing years in a new town he might not like. People would take care of him, but that wasn’t like having a real family. Who would he live with? Colt hadn’t seemed like the foster father type, but Nadia couldn’t tell. Maybe he would rise to the occasion.

  Bolton apparently didn’t even care. He was going to get his things and be gone, leaving everyone else to pick up the pieces of his mess.

  They’d shared something, but apparently that had meant as little to him as it did to his son. Maybe Bolton wasn’t capable of loving someone. Maybe Thea had messed him up too much for him to have a real, loving, normal relationship with a parent. Nadia didn’t want something that would turn out to be a disaster, and she didn’t want him to live in a place where he’d be unhappy, but all relationships took work. It was never a fairytale, just real life.

  So she was going home.

  And she wasn’t going to ask him to come with her.

  “For what it’s worth,” she waited until his gaze caught hers, and then she said, “I am sorry.” Nadia took a fortifying breath. “I thought I was supposed to help you become the man you were in Sanctuary. Someone…better, the way we all want to be better people.”

  Except he had no intention of changing. “I guess I was wrong to think that. Or to expect something you weren’t willing to give. I was supposed to love you anyway, no matter what you decided to do. And it was really hard, but it’s done now. You have your life to live, and I have mine to get back to.”

  It was the hardest thing God had ever asked of her. But now it was done.


  **

  “Do I want to know where you got a wheelchair from?” Bolton looked back over his shoulder at Ben, who stood behind him in the hangar. “Maybe I should just ask you how you plan to get me up the stairs and into the plane.” This was going to be fun. And completely dignified.

  Bolton wanted to roll his eyes, but that was lame. Never mind, this whole situation was lame. Bolton was pretty sure the surgery had failed—whether it had been destined to anyway, or he’d forced the outcome because of his circumstances.

  “I have things to do.”

  Still, Ben stared at the plane door where Nadia had disappeared in a mood. She’d retreated into herself and hadn’t spoken to him after she’d announced she was going back to Sanctuary for Javier’s sake.

  Bolton said, “I know you do, Will.”

  His feelings for a man who would betray his boss—his friends—wasn’t hidden from his voice. The wife and daughter were innocents. Will held all the blame on this one for not adequately protecting his family.

  Alan slammed the ambulance door and strode over. “Ready to load the cargo?”

  Bolton didn’t laugh. The man had the worst sense of humor. He was having trouble believing Dante was really dead and the threat was over. Is this what Nadia had felt when she’d been told that the man trying to kill her was dead? And yet, she’d chosen to stay in Sanctuary. She could have gone anywhere. Lived any life. She had money, the means to do whatever she wanted. And yet, she’d stayed.

  For him.

  Because she’d found something there she wasn’t prepared to give up, not for the whole world.

  Nadia strode out of the plane and down the stairs, slinging a backpack over her shoulder. She lifted a phone and waved it at Ben. “I’m borrowing this.”

  He didn’t even have time to respond before she swept past them.

  “Where are you going?” Bolton yelled after her.