Dangerous Sanctuary Page 6

  She’d gotten that right, at least.

  As soon as he disappeared into the woods, she wanted to jump down and sprint away. Her body itched to move, to put distance between herself and the men who were hunting her.

  But she’d promised Radley she’d stay hidden. Running across an open field didn’t count as that.

  She hoped he’d made it to the truck. She prayed he had. If he got the phone and escaped, they’d both be rescued.

  Or, at least, he would.

  If she died, it would be her fault for not listening to wise counsel.

  There was some irony in that.

  Uncle Bennett had often told her she wasn’t good at taking advice from people who knew better than her. She’d brushed that off as sour grapes. He’d gotten cranky right around the time she’d become legally responsible for her parents’ estate. She’d been twenty-one. Fresh out of college. Probably a little naïve and foolish, but smart and ready for life. Bennett had been trustee of the estate until that point, and she’d figured he hadn’t liked giving up control.

  Maybe, though, he’d been right.

  She did have a habit of making her own decisions regardless of what anyone else thought.

  She liked to gather facts and figures, weigh choices and outcomes, make spreadsheets.

  She liked to think she had life figured out.

  Based on the fact that she was sitting in a tree, a horde of armed men racing past her hiding place, she wasn’t sure she was right about that.

  One of the men stopped a few feet away, calling something into his radio. Something about dogs and escapees.

  Her blood ran cold, her thoughts sharply focused.

  She’d forgotten about the bloodhounds.

  Her ears strained for signs that the dogs were on the way. It wouldn’t take long for them to track her scent. She’d left the pajamas behind, and from there, she’d be easy to trail.

  The hounds probably wouldn’t even need that.

  They’d probably smell her as she sat up in the tree, trot right to her hiding place and bay wildly until their handlers arrived.

  The guard moved on, not as quickly as the others. He was looking at the ground, probably trying to find signs that she’d been there. She waited, counting her heartbeats, praying he didn’t return. The parking lot looked empty now. Her gaze darted to the area where Radley had been hiding.

  Was he still there?

  Had he used the distraction to reach the truck?

  She couldn’t wait around to find out.

  She eased down. Slowly. Carefully. As silently as she could. The wind had picked up and cold air seeped through her thin shirt. She shivered, her teeth chattering, her body shaking. She could hear pine needles swishing as she moved. Could anyone else?

  Please, God, get me out of this, she prayed.

  Her hands were slippery with blood, her feet throbbing.

  She tried to ignore both, to focus on the guards, whose voices were growing faint.

  She heard the first dog as she reached the ground. Knew that it wouldn’t be long before she could see them bounding across the parking lot.

  She had no idea which way to go, but she couldn’t stay where she was, and she couldn’t head deeper into the woods.

  She raced into the clearing, leaving the duffel and backpack behind. Hoping they’d entice the dogs.

  The parking lot was straight ahead. She veered away from it, aiming in the direction of the road.

  She hoped.

  She was great at finding her way through computer systems.

  She wasn’t as good at navigating the real world.

  She got lost at least twice a week walking through her neighborhood. How in the world did she ever imagine she could find her way out of the Vermont wilderness?

  In for a penny. In for a pound.

  Dotty’s voice rang through her head.

  She was committed now. She couldn’t turn back. Not with the dogs howling in the distance.

  Something bounded from the grass to her right, a dark shape that she was sure was a bloodhound.

  She didn’t scream.

  She didn’t have time.

  One minute she was on her feet, the next she was on the ground, a hard body pressing her into the grass.

  “Don’t move,” a man hissed.

  She tried to twist out from beneath him, but he outweighed and outmuscled her.

  “I said don’t move, Honor,” he repeated.

  And she finally recognized the voice.

  Radley.

  “You’re okay!” she gasped.

  “Don’t talk, either,” he responded. “Do you understand?”

  She nodded, because he’d told her not to speak, and because she was weak with relief, her thoughts fuzzy, her ears buzzing. She closed her eyes, just for a second, listening to voices and howling dogs and the wild beating of her heart.

  “Don’t pass out on me,” Radley whispered, his breath warm against her ear. She opened her eyes, and he was lying beside her, staring into her face.

  “Okay,” she mumbled.

  “The dogs are on leads. Handlers are bringing them to the woods. We can make it out, but we’re going to have to be smart. Do you have the pack and duffle?”

  “I left everything behind. Including The Sanctuary prison garb.”

  “That explains why I didn’t realize it was you. You changed clothes.”

  “I thought I’d make it more difficult for them to see me.”

  “Let’s hope it keeps being difficult. Stay here. I’ll check things out.” He moved away, and she felt the cold, the first drops of rain, the prickly blades of grass poking her skin. She didn’t bother levering up to see where he’d gone. She knew he’d return. They were trapped like rats in the middle of an open field, and it was her fault.

  She’d have kicked herself if she had the energy to do it.

  More rain fell, splattering onto her cheek and bouncing off the ground nearby. It muffled the sound of Absalom’s men and their dogs. She nearly raised her head, then, to look around and see if there might be an easy route out of the field, but Radley had warned her to stay down. This time, she was determined to listen.

  She didn’t hear him return. She felt him, sliding through the grass nearby. When he touched her shoulder, she wasn’t surprised.

  “The good news is, we’ve got a chance,” he whispered. “Looks like they’ve all headed into the woods and left the parking lot unattended. I already have the key to the truck. All we have to do is get to it, and we can ride out of here in style. The bad news is, the dogs are going to find the things you left behind and track you out of the woods. Once we poke our heads up, we’re going to have to book it to the vehicle.”

  “That doesn’t sound like bad news to me,” she whispered back, and he grinned, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

  “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. Ready?”

  He had her wrist and was pulling her upright before she could form a thought. Then they were sprinting full-out, racing across the open field as rain poured from the sky and a bloodhound bayed.

  * * *

  Honor ran beside him, gasping for breath but keeping pace. Radley hoped that meant she hadn’t been injured when he’d tackled her. He’d realized who she was seconds before they’d hit the ground, and he’d tried to pull back, roll sideways to take some of the force from the fall, but he knew he’d knocked the air from her lungs. He should have recognized her. He probably would have, but he’d been staying low, listening more than watching the activity. He’d heard her moving. She hadn’t been quiet about it, sprinting across the field as if she knew exactly where she was headed.

  He’d levered up just enough to see a dark shape against the steely sky. He hadn’t waited to see more. He’d pounced, realizing his mistake a few seconds too late.


  She’d been smart to change clothes. Smart to leave things in the woods. She’d even been smart to make a run for the road. There was no way she’d have escaped on foot, though. Not with the bloodhounds on the ground and her scent everywhere. They’d have hunted her down before she’d made it a third of the distance to town.

  No, the best option was going for the truck.

  That had its risks, too, but maybe not as many.

  They reached the edge of the lot, and he could see the truck, her Explorer beside it, the streetlight glowing softly on the hoods of the vehicles.

  Behind them, the bloodhounds sounded the alarm. Time was running out. Quickly.

  “We’re almost there,” he said, picking up the pace, because he could. She tripped but kept going, panting and wheezing, gasping for air.

  He scooped her up, tossing her over his shoulder like one of the sacks of chicken feed he used to have to haul to the henhouse after his parents had moved the family from the city to the rural property they’d been dreaming of for years.

  Honor didn’t protest.

  That worried him almost as much as the voices that were shouting behind them. Cries to halt, to stop, to freeze. The men were armed, and he expected them to take a shot as soon as they were close enough.

  “They’re coming!” Honor warned. “Put me down and get the truck!”

  “We’re here.” He snagged the key from his pocket, unlocked the door and nearly tossed her inside. She scrambled over the middle console, and he had the engine running before she was in her seat.

  “Get down!” he shouted, as he gunned the engine and took off.

  She did, curling her upper body around her legs, still panting, gasping and wheezing.

  The muffled sound of a gunshot drifted into the cab, but they’d already cleared the empty guard shack, were flying past the compound gate. Men were running through the parking lot, guns drawn, firing at air because the truck was already out of range. He didn’t let up on the accelerator. Absalom’s men had vehicles, and they could follow easily.

  He sped around a curve in the road, heading south toward town. There were no lights on this stretch of highway, no houses, no signs of civilization. He pulled out his cell phone, speed-dialing Wren’s number.

  She answered immediately. “Santino here. Did you find her?”

  “I found her and a lot of trouble.”

  “For some reason that doesn’t surprise me. Is she hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” Honor mumbled, obviously able to hear both sides of the conversation.

  “She’s injured. I’m going to take her to the nearest hospital, but I need backup, and I need you to send the state police to close down Sunrise Spiritual Sanctuary and arrest Absalom Winslow. He runs the place.”

  “Charges?”

  “Kidnapping with intent to do bodily harm. False imprisonment. Give me some time, and I might be able to dig up some more charges.”

  “That’ll be enough. What else do you need?”

  “The name of the local hospital and a clear route to get there.”

  “You’re on your backup phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m pulling up GPS coordinates. Give me five minutes, and I’ll call you back with the information you need.”

  “Thanks, Wren.” He disconnected, glancing in his rearview mirror. Still no sign of a tail.

  “I don’t need to go to a hospital.” Honor’s head popped up, and she swiveled in her seat, looking through the back window.

  “Anyone looking at you would argue that you did.”

  “I can’t look that bad.” She flipped down the visor and looked in the vanity mirror. “Okay. Maybe I do.”

  That surprised a laugh out of him. “You’re an interesting person, Honor.”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  “It is a compliment. Maybe that’s why Absalom wanted to keep you around. He was taking a huge risk when he decided not to let a federal officer leave. He had to have known you’d be missed.”

  “I fudged my personal information when I filled out the retreat application. I said I lived at my grandmother’s place and helped her with the farm.”

  “I’m surprised that got you entrance. I thought they wanted wealthy clientele.”

  “They want any clientele that can pay their exorbitant fees. Plus, my grandmother’s farm is worth a pretty penny. It’s in a prime location. Forty miles outside of Boston. I also inherited money from my parents when they died. I made sure to mention that. Put in a little blurb about trying to figure out where I fit in the world now that they’re gone.”

  “I didn’t realize both your parents had died. I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, surprised that he hadn’t heard about it through the grapevine at work. The team was family. One person’s suffering was the group’s.

  “It was a long time ago, Radley. I was twelve.”

  “That’s a hard age to lose your parents.”

  “Any age is a hard age for that.”

  She had a point. He lived hundreds of miles away from his folks, but they filled a spot in his life, his heart and his thoughts that no one else could.

  “Did Dotty raise you after they passed away?”

  “Yes. And no. My father’s brother was my legal guardian. Bennett is a criminal defense attorney in Boston. He was in high demand. Even when I was a kid, so Dotty stepped in and did most of the parenting.”

  “Bennett Remington is your uncle?” He knew the name, had seen the smarmy commercials, faced the guy in court a couple of times.

  “Yes. You know him?”

  “We’ve been across the courtroom from each other a few times.”

  “I’m sure you were impressed by his astounding knowledge of the law and his lack of discernment when it comes to choosing his clients,” she said, and there was no mistaking the disdain in her voice.

  “I take it the two of you don’t get along?”

  “We get along.”

  “But?”

  “We don’t see eye to eye on a few issues. Namely, the fact that he earns a lot of money getting guilty men off on technicalities and that he’s made his fortune protecting white collar criminals who deserve to be in jail for what they’ve done.”

  “He might argue that everyone has the right to legal defense.”

  “He might, but he and I don’t argue. He’s not concerned with my opinion of his work, and I’m not concerned about his opinion of mine.” Honor was still twisted in her seat, looking out the back window. The instrument panel lights shone on her cheek, her arm and hand. There was blood on her fingers. Not a little of it, either.

  “Your hand is bleeding. There’s a first aid kit in the glove compartment,” he said. “What’s with your uncle? He doesn’t value your job?”

  She shrugged. “My father was a police officer. My mother was a lawyer. I don’t think my uncle has any thought one way or another about what I do. We’re related. He’d help me if I needed it. That’s about as far as it goes.” She paused, shifted a little further in her seat. “There’s a car coming. I can see its lights.”

  He glanced in his review mirror, saw the headlights.

  “They don’t give up easily,” he muttered.

  “Apparently not,” she replied, grabbing her seat belt and snapping it on.

  “I’d like to know what they’re after. Aside from you.”

  “How about we figure that out after we’ve left them in our dust?” she suggested.

  He nodded, accelerating into the next curve, all his focus on the road, on maintaining control of the truck, on getting as far away from the approaching vehicle as fast as he could.

  Because backup still hadn’t arrived, and until it did, he and Honor were outarmed and outnumbered.

  SIX

  Slow down!

  Be careful!

 
We’re going to die!

  She wanted to shout a dozen warnings, beg Radley to slow down, explain that she’d just as soon not die in a fiery explosion of twisted metal.

  They were moving at breakneck speed, taking curves so fast that she was certain the tires on her side of the truck lifted from the pavement.

  She kept her mouth shut, though.

  She was afraid to break Radley’s concentration.

  She was also afraid that if they slowed down, they’d be caught, recaptured and killed.

  Why? What was it Absalom hoped to accomplish?

  Those were questions she and Radley both wanted answers to.

  They reached the end of the road, blew through a stop sign and out onto the state highway. There were lights here but still no vehicles.

  Radley pulled into the left lane, gave the wheel a sharp turn and bounced over the grassy median. They were heading the opposite direction, speeding toward the road they’d just exited. She saw lights as they passed, but the driver would have no idea she and Radley had done a U-turn.

  Radley passed another exit and another, trees whipping by, rain splattering on the windshield. The storm had arrived. Not just a few drops of rain. A downpour splattering onto the asphalt and bouncing in the truck’s headlights.

  If a deer or moose darted out in front of them, if a slow-moving vehicle took an on-ramp and cut them off, if any number of things happened, Radley would have to slam on his brakes, the truck would spin out and they’d crash.

  “I think it’s safe to slow down,” she said, her voice a high-pitched squeak that would have embarrassed her if she hadn’t been so frightened.

  “You’re scared,” he commented, but he eased off the gas, slowed down to a more reasonable speed.

  “Terrified is a better adjective.”

  “Remember the defensive driving course every FBI agent has to take?”

  “Yes.”

  “I passed it.”

  “That’s comforting, Radley.”

  He chuckled. “I just thought you should know. In case we’ve got to speed out of a dangerous situation again.”

  “My father passed a defensive driving class, too. He and my mother were killed in a single-car accident three miles from home. It was raining. The roads were wet. The police think my dad swerved to avoid an animal. He lost control. The car spun out, and he hit a tree. He died instantly. My mother died at the hospital a few hours later.” The words poured out because she really was terrified, and she couldn’t seem to stop them.