Gemma sat with her back to the wall, surrounded by a stack of papers. File after file had been locked away in a secret room in her father’s radio station. He’d…
She could barely process all the things he’d done.
They began even before Vietnam, after a three-year stint in prison. Back when actual paper records were kept. He’d been released from prison in time to be drafted, according to the paperwork she’d read through. And yet, there was something so…sterile about this official documentation. Almost like it was only a label that indicated what had happened in very general terms.
A door being shut vibrated through the thin walls. Gemma had closed the door behind her and shut out the radio room. Like she could contain this big of a secret. It was probably Andra coming in to turn on the radio. Or to look around and remember Hal. Gemma didn’t have any of those experiences.
She’d never been outside the mountains of Sanctuary, and her mom had told her that if she elected to leave—which meant she would never be able to return—she would be killed. So why go, even if she was curious enough to wonder about the outside world? The mystery of it all was what killed her. He’d lied to her for years, never once mentioning that they had any other connection than simply being residents of the same secret town. The why—that was what ate at her.
Hal Leonard had clearly done some…colorful things. Okay, so he’d killed people. In Vietnam some of his missions had involved delivering messages through enemy territory. She didn’t understand half the military jargon, but some of it seemed to indicate he’d bought and sold weapons. Or been involved in it, or maybe found out who was doing it. Maybe he’d been some kind of investigator. Gemma couldn’t make sense of the whole, only pieces.
Like who this missing person was they had so much paperwork on.
She blew out a breath and set the stack of papers on the floor by her hip. The mystery wouldn’t be solved sitting here reading papers more than forty years old. She should go by her mom’s house again, make her open the door this time.
Tap, tap. Pause. Tap, tap. Pause. Tap, tap.
The sound started in the corner to her right, moved all the way to her back, and then past her to the left corner. Someone was…
Looking for the room Gemma was in.
**
“You give me that gun now, son.” Colt’s voice didn’t give the kid any option but to let go of the gun he’d just fired at Bolton.
His back on the ground, Bolton stared up at the boy. He had Thea’s eyes. Bolton’s heart clenched even as his stomach turned over. This was his son, and he’d just taken a shot at Bolton because of it.
Ben held out his hand, so Bolton grabbed it. He wasn’t too proud to accept a hand to get up, but that didn’t mean he wanted anyone to know how much it hurt. He’d landed funny on the ground, and his back felt like he was a hair from collapsing altogether.
Bolton hissed out a breath from between his teeth. “Javier?”
“Figures you know who I am.” The kid spoke over Colt’s arm, stretched across the front of his body, restraining his shoulders. “Are you here to kill me, too?” He struggled against Colt’s arm. “Let me go, Colt. I have to warn her he’s here. He’s found us, and now he’s going to kill us.”
Colt started to argue, but the boy fought his way free and ran into the trees. He spun back, an accusatory stare in his eyes. “That true?”
“Would you believe me if I said no?” Bolton didn’t even know how to answer. The kid was convinced he was here to kill him? “What has Thea told him about me that he thinks his own father is here to kill him?” He glanced at Ben, but got no answer there.
Colt’s eyebrow rose—the one not pierced. “His father?”
Bolton sighed. “What now?”
“Neither of you step one foot into my town. Not when you’re going to upset them.”
“We have to make sure Dante doesn’t get in.”
Colt studied Bolton and Ben, as though he didn’t know who the threat was: them or the man they claimed was coming. “Give me your guns and I’ll take you there.”
Ben didn’t look impressed but handed over a Sig he’d had in a shoulder holster. Bolton gave Colt his gun, too. Colt checked each as it was handed to him and then stashed both in the back of his jeans.
“Let’s go.”
He waved them to go ahead of him, up a path through the trees. Colt’s radio crackled. “Got a situation.”
Bolton glanced back to see Colt lift his radio. “What is it?”
“Blood. A mile out, north-north-west on the Yancey fork.”
“Any sign of anyone?” Colt sounded cautious but not worried. He projected total calm. The way John Mason did when crazy was breaking loose in Sanctuary—as though he could maintain order simply by projecting an air of being in control.
“Not yet. But Phil is checking it out. He thinks its Grant Mason.”
“Shoulder height on a tree? Like he swiped his hand across it?”
“That’s right. How’d you know that, Colt?”
“He’s under duress. The swipe tells you which way he’s going.”
“But he’s moving in the wrong direction if he’s warning us that he’s headed to town. He’s going to pass right by us going that way.”
“He might be under duress, but Grant isn’t going to let them find us.” Colt’s eyes locked with Bolton’s. “Alert everyone, we’re under emergency protocols. I’ve got Ben Mason—correction, I had Ben Mason. He gave me the slip.”
Bolton swung around. Sure enough, Ben had disappeared. Probably took the opportunity to skip out and help his brother while Colt was distracted. Leaving Bolton to deal with his family dysfunction all by himself. Thanks a lot, brother. So much for backup. If his son was willing to take a shot at him, who knew what Thea would do when he showed up?
“Guess it’s just us.”
Bolton started up walking again, though his gait had a hitch to it. He couldn’t help it, there was no way to disguise the fact each step burned like fire in his back. Maybe, for the rest of his life, what Dante had done to him would be there with every movement of his body. A cloud of vengeance that never lifted. A poison that had saturated every part of him.
Nadia had told him one night, in their tiny apartment, that God had swept through her life and put everything right. But He wasn’t going to fix Bolton’s back. It wasn’t like God would let him live pain free when it was Bolton’s doing that he was injured this way in the first place. He had to live with the choices he’d made. Nadia had found peace living in Sanctuary. That town was the consequence of everyone’s choice. She’d liked it, which meant Nadia deserved to live in a place where she was happy. But not Bolton.
Consequences were good or bad, depending on the person. And while clearly Nadia was a good person, the bad consequences she had suffered were because of her association with him. The quicker she got back to Sanctuary the better, as far as he was concerned. Then she’d be free of his influence. Because as much as Bolton might want to stay in her life, Nadia couldn’t afford to have him stain everything she knew and everyone she loved with his influence.
He’d caused her pain for weeks, and he’d watched her diminish before his eyes. He’d been instrumental in the fact Dante captured her, and she’d nearly been taken into a life he didn’t even want to think about.
Once this was done, they’d make sure she got back to Sanctuary where she was safe, where people loved her openly, where her life was happy. And Bolton would walk away.
He would cherish forever the memory of her smile, of her carefree nature that he’d experienced in Sanctuary. But he couldn’t share that life with her. Ever since the medical center in town had exploded, things had been different. Neither of them had been able to ignore what was building between them. But it could never be. Bolton had to break it off, now that he knew she was safe. He had to walk away.
Because it was the only way Nadia would be really, truly happy.
**
“Thanks, Remy.” Nadia hung up the payphone and strode immediately toward the marina, where boat after boat could be rented out. She walked past all the tourist boats, all the way to the end where an older man in a worn T-shirt, denim shorts, and flip flops peered through his long hair at her as he sat in a deck chair, drinking from a long-necked bottle.
“How much for you to take me up the coast and drop me off?”
His chest jerked, but no sound emerged. The man’s lips curled up as he took another sip. What was so funny?
He wiped his beard with the back of his hand. “Thirty thousand dollars.”
“Ten.”
He chuckled soundlessly once again. “I don’t take credit cards.”
Nadia slipped the backpack from her shoulder, unzipped it, and tossed it on the deck. Stacks of bills spilled out. “Good thing I made a withdrawal this morning.”
That got the man’s attention.
Sure, this tactic had bitten her once before. But now she had a gun. If the man tried anything, she’d just shoot him and take his boat anyway. And keep her money this time.
He unfolded his lanky body from the chair, lean for an old guy. Muscles toned from weathering big waves and his hands worn from the ropes onboard. Fishing nets. Poles. “Get aboard, woman. The meter’s running.”
Nadia smiled and hopped onto the deck.
Finally, things were going to plan. Thanks to Remy she knew exactly where everyone was. She had a new phone and internet. Weapons. Once she got to Pu'u honua she would be able to warn Ben and Bolton that Dante was already here—and that he had Grant. She could warn them Will had been feeding their enemy information for weeks.
Thank you, Lord. God had been protecting her, seeing her through this whole thing. And now he’d given her another opportunity to be there to help. Sure, she wasn’t a trained agent, but neither was she the kind of woman who sat around. That had been proven.
Bolton seemed to think she was just going to go home, and that would be that. Like living in Sanctuary was the only solution. And not just that, but living there without him? Not her first choice. Somehow she had to convince him that it would only be worth going back there if he came with her. Because what was the point in her watching everything she’d ever wanted fly away in a helicopter and knowing she was never going to see him again?
Nadia gritted her teeth. Bolton was so set on living his own life, maybe he deserved to realize what being alone felt like.
Lord, help me keep loving him.
She wanted to know what connection felt like. John and Andra had it. Matthias and Frannie. Even Beth and Sam. Everything in Nadia yearned to know what it felt like, to belong to someone so completely that you were their whole world.
Why couldn’t she have that?
Psalms said God would give her the desires of her heart, but she couldn’t ask for this. It was too much, too selfish. Didn’t those desires have to be pure in motive before God would give them to her? That seemed like it should be a thing, not using His power for her own gain. Sure, God wanted to bless her with good things, but she had to be wise with it, otherwise, she was only in this to have her own needs met. What about giving away the gift she’d been given, to other people, so that they were blessed by what God had done in her? It didn’t seem right to get caught up in what she could get out of this relationship. That wasn’t healthy.
Tell that to her heart.
Nadia gripped the edge of the boat as they motored out into open waters, and the owner kept them parallel to the shore. As they sailed north, she prayed harder than she ever had for strength.
**
Colt grabbed Bolton’s arm and set him in a chair. Bolton couldn’t quite silence the groan. The room was open, wood paneled walls, and shutters instead of glass. They probably barely kept the rain out. A bare bulb lit the room, a pull cord dangling down. It looked like a jungle interrogation room run by some local cartel, or a revolutionary force.
Colt looked like he was going to ask about Bolton’s obvious pain, so he said, “Nice place.” He couldn’t figure out how people actually lived here. All there had been was one hut in the trees. Where did everyone else stay? How many people lived here? Were the houses underground?
Colt pulled out his radio. “We’re clear.”
“Understood.” Thea.
Bolton sucked in a breath and turned his head to the door. “Is she coming in here? Are you going to let her shoot me, too?”
“That depends on Thea. Her son seemed to think you need to die.”
My son. Bolton could hardly say it. Could hardly believe that years of knowing he’d never see his boy, but dreaming of it still, had culminated in the kid trying to shoot him.
“I don’t know you.” Colt folded his arms. “My town is under siege, and you likely have answers. So I guess we’ll find out if Thea feels the need to take her vengeance on you.” He shrugged. “One less thing for me to figure out.”
He had to know what Thea was like. If Colt really was the person in charge around here—Bolton was beginning to doubt if he was a marshal—he had to know that Thea lied as easily as she breathed. That she complained about anything even remotely not to her satisfaction until Bolton had simply given in to get her to stop whining. How she’d survived here was a mystery, given it was pretty rustic.
She’d have driven everyone crazy in Sanctuary, too. That was certain. Wherever she went, Thea had left a trail of people who wanted nothing more than to get rid of her. Unless she’d simply fooled them all with that sickly sweet act that she’d used on Bolton. The one that wore off fast when he’d begun to have ideas about anything contrary to her opinion.
It had been a long three years, even though there were some good times. At least he thought he might have been able to remember some. Still, despite all the regret wrapped up in Javier, Bolton had honestly been a little relieved when she’d walked away.
The door opened, and Thea walked in. Silk blouse, cargo pants that hugged her figure like cling wrap, suede boots, and short hair that was spiked out in the back. She looked like Halle Berry. Her makeup was heavy but flawless. Bolton could count on one hand the times he’d seen her face clean of products. He stared at her, hardly even knowing what he was supposed to say.
Apparently she knew, because she set her hand on her hip and fired off a shot. “Are you here to kill us?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Why else would you show up, Bolton?”
“I’d have to actually hate you in order to want to kill you, Thea. And while you annoy me, tremendously, and there’s a great deal of frustration wrapped up in there, I can’t exactly say I hate you. Might be close, though, but Colt here took my gun.”
Her head whipped to the other man in the room. “You can’t give me privacy right now? You have to stick your nose in this, too?”
Colt sighed. The slight smile that had edged onto his lips while Bolton had spoken disappeared now. He glanced at Bolton. “Maybe I should be worried about her killing you.”
Bolton shrugged. “If you could talk a person to death I’d be long gone already.”
Colt chuckled. “I hear ya.”
“Excuse me.”
“No,” Bolton said. “You know what, Thea? No. I came here because Dante is on his way. You aren’t safe, and neither are these people. This town, if it even is a whole one, could be exposed.”
She reacted. Spine straightening, lips thinning.
He turned to Colt. “Either you have defenses, in which case we employ them. Or we are the defense. In my town there’s bunker where everyone was protected.”
Colt nodded. “A cave.”
“The alternative is we get everyone out of here. Now.”
Colt lifted his radio. “All units, this is Colt. Get everyone to the south corner and wait for instructions.”
“Copy.”
“Copy.”
“Copy.”
The word came over his radio two more times. Colt clipped his radio back on his belt. “So what do we do while everyone hides?”
“Hides?” Thea set her hands on both hips. “We can’t hide. He’ll find us.”
There was something off about how she said it, but Bolton couldn’t nail down what it was. It had been too long since he’d seen her. His son had to be at least twelve. “You should get Javier to safety.”
“Don’t you say his name! You abandoned us,” she hissed.
“You’re the one who left.” No one had whined at him for years, and he didn’t miss it. But he had to focus. “Get your son to safety, and I’ll make sure Dante doesn’t get to you. That’s why I came here.” He paused. “Javier is—” He didn’t even know how to answer that.
His voice had a hard edge to it, he heard it, and it was one she brought out in him. They’d never backed down, either of them, not once in a fight. That was why her divorcing him had made so little sense. He figured she’d rather have made his life miserable for eternity, the way he’d planned to do with her. Then a child came along, and she’d left. It still made no sense to him, no matter how long he thought about it.
“When this is done, you and I will have a conversation about how you kept my child from me and why the first time he saw me, that child tried to kill me.” Bolton had to take a breath. “You took that from me, Thea. And I want an answer. When I’m satisfied, then I’ll be leaving. But not before.”
“You can’t do this,” she hissed.
“Go and protect your son.”
He glanced away, dismissing her. If things went any further she’d know he couldn’t get out of this chair. Bolton’s legs had numbed to the point he wasn’t convinced they would hold his weight.
Thea slammed the door behind her.
“You guys have a doctor?”
Colt lifted his chin. “What do you need?”
**
Ben crept through the trees. He shifted a giant leaf silently and peered through. Dante. Four men. Grant in the middle, hands tied. The path was a decent choke point if Ben could get ahead of them. He had enough guns he could take out maybe three before one got off a shot. Ben had no body armor, but he could get it off one of these guys after he killed them.
Men he’d hired to protect his brother. Men who had betrayed that trust and taken his brother right to the man he was trying to find.
Ben wasn’t sure whether to shake their hands first before he killed them.
Grant stumbled. He was sweating pretty well, but he was in one piece. Ben had known he wasn’t cut out for this life, but Grant hadn’t been content being the corporate face of Ben’s organization despite his extensive Washington contacts. The man had pull, that couldn’t be denied. Field work had been about Ben making his brother feel useful, but hopefully Grant had that out of his system by now.
Ben lifted his hands to his mouth and sounded the call of a bird native to their home state.
Grant froze.
The man behind Grant shoved him forward. “Keep moving.”
Ben set off through the trees.