Sanctuary Forever WITSEC Town Series Book 5

by Lisa Phillips

  “You aren’t to blame.”

  “Well it feels like it.” Grant squared off with him. “And maybe it should. Maybe someone should feel responsible.”

  John understood that need, the one which held him accountable for the authority he had within this town. The people who lived here hadn’t elected him sheriff, but they had trusted him to keep them safe. He grabbed his brother by the back of the neck, squeezed the tension he found there, and then pulled Grant in for a hug.

  “Dad!” Pat’s voice brought John’s head around. Behind his son, Andra carried Nicholas in a sling. Aaron was with them, a wariness in his eyes John wasn’t sure would ever go away. John walked toward them. Pat started to run. John did the same. He caught up his son in his arms and hugged him. When Aaron got close, he pulled him and Andra and Nicholas into his arms.

  “You’re back.”

  John shifted his head so he could see in his wife’s eyes. He gave her a quick kiss. “I’m back.”

  The question was, what would happen to Sanctuary now?

  “I know that look.” Grant grinned, said, “Hi, Andra.” He turned back to John. Pat launched himself from John’s arms to his uncle Grant, who chuckled. “Hey, kid.” To John, he said, “The town is a mess, and this is going to take time to repair. But the advantage we have now is that exit plans are in place. If people want to stay here because it’s their home, we can do that. If they want to leave then they can opt out. There are also some other… options.”

  “Which are?”

  Grant said, “I’ll have to discuss those with you at a later date.”

  Which meant, when they were alone. Which meant, after Grant told him, John would go home and tell Andra.

  She smiled at him.

  John would never, not ever in his life, get tired of seeing his wife’s smile.

  **

  Dan waited for a break in conversation and then pulled Gemma aside so he could talk to her without anyone listening. Yes, they were only curious because of the suddenness of their relationship, but there was plenty of time to explain that, in a way, Gemma and Dan had been together for years.

  “Are you okay?”

  Dan kissed the frown above her eyes because he could. “No, but I will be.”

  He tugged her all the way to the sheriff’s office and into the alley so they could have some peace and quiet. Gemma touched his cheeks, lifted up, and planted a kiss on his lips. “So will I.”

  “A while ago…”

  “Yes?”

  “You said you were planning to leave Sanctuary.”

  She pressed her lips together.

  “Gemma…”

  “Looks like I’ll have to save you all over again.”

  Dan froze and turned. He shoved Gemma behind him before he even processed the fact that Terrence stood there. Blood dripped down his face and sliced strips of tape clung to his clothes. He’d freed himself from his bonds.

  “No.” Gemma’s voice was breathy and full of terror.

  Dan saw it then, the gun in Terrence’s hand. He was really sick of having a gun pointed at him.

  Terrence clicked his fingers. “Next to me, Gemma. Or he’s dead.”

  She didn’t hesitate, just scrambled over there.

  “Gemma!” Why did she do that?

  Terrence grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. “You belong to me.” His free arm across her, he pulled up her arm and showed it to Dan. “This mark means she’s mine.”

  “I’m not yours.” Gemma struggled.

  “Fight and I’ll shoot him. I will. Do not test me.” Terrence narrowed his gaze on Dan again. “You don’t win. I got her first, and you can’t have what’s mine.”

  “Because you stuck me with a cigarette, you coward?”

  Dan stared, unable to process what he should do. If he called out to anyone for help Terrence would shoot him and then take Gemma. He was not going to take Gemma anywhere. Dan wasn’t letting her out of his sight this time.

  “Well guess what, moron?”

  “Gemma,” he cautioned her. She shouldn’t push the man. Gemma had gone over there to save Dan’s life, he knew that. Now her plan was to antagonize him?

  She didn’t listen. Go figure.

  Gemma lifted her other arm, shoved Terrence’s arm enough she could show him the tattoo on the outside of her right arm. “Guess what?”

  “WHAT?” Terrence was losing patience.

  Please let that have been loud enough that someone heard.

  Gemma’s smile was hard to see, it was so full of love for him. “You aren’t the first one that ‘marked’ me. Dan is. This tattoo covers a scar far older than the ones you gave me.”

  Dan’s stomach dropped. He’d seen the scar, and asked her about the tattoo. She’d told him it was an ugly cut she got hiking that she wanted to cover up. “Gem…” He did that? Not recently, it had to have been years ago. He didn’t even remember. How could he not remember?

  She shifted to face Terrence. “So I guess you lose and Dan wins. Boo hoo.”

  His face morphed into rage, and he lifted the gun. Gemma kicked him in the stomach.

  Terrence grunted but brought the gun up. Dan raced over, pulled her out of the way. The gun went off. Dan shoved her out of the line of fire and jumped on Terrence. He wasn’t going to hurt her, not if Dan had anything to say about it.

  He punched and kicked. The gun was dropped and a crowd raced around the corner. Boots. Dan saw them out the corner of his eye, but he didn’t let up.

  “Enough.”

  Dan stilled at the sheriff’s voice.

  “That’s enough.”

  He dropped Terrence on the floor, each breath like shards in his throat.

  “Dan.”

  Her voice was soft. When he turned to her, Gemma ran into his arms. How could she even touch him after everything he’d done to her?

  She burrowed into him. “Do you want to stay?”

  He wanted to be where she was, wherever that might be.

  “I hurt you.”

  “I don’t care. You didn’t know, and you didn’t mean it. It was an accident, and I forgave you a long time ago.”

  Over the years, Sanctuary had torn him open and wounded him down to his soul.

  “I…”

  Dan wanted peace. He wanted to marry Gemma. He wanted to find a quiet mountain where he could farm the land and she could write books from the kitchen table. Or the porch, where he’d be able to see her when he rode Bay back to the house.

  She moved back and then pulled him from the alley back onto the safety of Main Street. “What?”

  Dan glanced toward the farm, where Chase and Miranda lay dead on the dirt. “There’s too much death here.” He didn’t even know if he could stay here and face it every day.

  Gemma hugged his middle. “Do you want to see the world with me? Get married. Settle down somewhere quiet; you can farm and I can write.”

  “On the porch.”

  Her smile was blinding. “From the porch.”

  Dan leaned in and kissed her. When he was done telling her everything he had to say, he leaned back.

  Gemma chuckled. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

  Dan lifted her in his arms, spun around, and kissed her again.

  Epilogue

  Eighteen months later

  Red Butte, Wyoming

  Dan rode Bay across the flat of their land between the creek and the house. His horse was hot beneath him, sweat covered. He wasn’t much cooler. It was a scorcher today, and he was seriously ready for fall. Hot apple cider, blankets. Gemma.

  She was on the porch in a rocker, her laptop on her knees because her belly was so big she had to hold it away from her stomach. She’d told him yesterday the baby had been kicking the corner of it while she wrote her first cutesy rom-com. Apparently the love-interest guy wore a flannel shirt.

  He put Bay away and strode over there without running, even though he wanted to do it. Still, he hopped up the stairs and planted a kiss on her lips.
Gemma shifted the laptop onto the coffee table and lifted her feet so he could sit and she could rest her swollen feet on his lap.

  Buford looked up from his sentry in the corner, the big hound eyeing him and then settling back down. “Some guard dog.” He chuckled, then turned to her. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Smithfield.”

  She grinned. “Good afternoon, Mr. Smithfield.”

  Dan shook his head. “That’s still super weird.” But he didn’t have his father’s name anymore, even if it was only because of witness protection rules.

  She grabbed his hand and thumbed his ring. Hers glinted in the sunlight, which made Dan lean over and kiss her. He couldn’t resist.

  They ate dinner, and then sat on the porch again to watch the sun go down over their tiny plot of land. He wasn’t running a business anymore. They owned the land free and clear, courtesy of the US government, and grew enough food to sell at a local farmers market to make a little cash to put gas in the truck. Money from Gemma’s book sales went to renovating the back room into a nursery.

  Life couldn’t be better.

  As the sky turned from orange to gray, Gemma leaned over. “It’s time for bed, Mr. Smithfield.”

  Dan grinned, got up, and lifted her into his arms. Once in a while the past reared its head, but weekly Bible studies online with all their old friends meant people like John and Bolton, who knew him inside and out, could offer counsel. He needed it sometimes, and he knew Gemma got the same from Shelby. They were making it work.

  One day at a time.

  Dan kissed her before she went inside. “Time for bed.”

  **

  Lanikai Beach, Oahu

  Nadia ran to the porch. The wind ruffled her hair, and she grinned, her face aglow from the sunset. “They’re on!”

  Bolton set his fishing line down and wheeled his chair across the porch back inside the house to find Javier already at the desk. His son smiled. His skin was dark from all the surfing he did, and Bolton thought he might have a girlfriend. The kid spent practically all his time texting someone. Javier said, “It’s working now.”

  “Great.” Bolton put the brake on beside his son and smiled at Matthias and Frannie on the screen. “Hi, guys!”

  “Hi!” Frannie waved, a tiny baby bundled up and held close to her chest.

  Nadia set her hand on his shoulder and leaned down to see her friend. “How is she?”

  “Good.”

  Two girls climbed on Matthias. “Dadda!” One snuggled his face, and the other shoved her smaller sister aside. “Where Javier!”

  Everyone chuckled. The girls grinned with Frannie’s smile, and they settled in to catch up. Nadia shifted beside him, and Bolton pulled her onto his lap. She was just starting to show, but only he could tell. Soon enough they would tell everyone, but he liked it being a secret just between them.

  He kissed her shoulder at the edge of her tank top and then set his chin there, holding her against him as they caught up with family.

  As Frannie told Nadia Marie all about the newest baby, and the birth, Matthias sat still. A smile stretched his face wide, two little girls in his arms.

  Bolton said, “Dude.”

  Matthias chuckled. “I know.”

  They both smiled. All those years working the ranch alongside each other, who’d have thought they would be family men now?

  Frannie turned to her husband. “What? What did I miss?”

  Nadia shifted on his lap. “Yeah, what did we miss?”

  “It was man stuff,” Javier said with a grin. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  **

  Unnamed town, Montana

  John sat at the head of the table. His boys on one side, Nicholas in his high-chair. Nate sat on the other side, Cyan beside him smiling. Dinner was over, plates cleared. Andra lifted Nicholas from her chair. “Finish your peas, Pat.”

  His son groaned, making Nate laugh. John’s brother’s peas were still on his plate.

  Grant got up as well. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  John nodded. They got up and walked through the house. He wasn’t unhappy that Grant had visited, but he didn’t think his brother had flown across the country just for dinner.

  A group of Sanctuary residents had wanted to remain together, and so they lived in a small community in Montana. You could find it, if you left the highway in the right spot and drove off a couple of beaten paths. John wasn’t their sheriff, but they still looked to him nonetheless. He supposed they always would.

  Grant closed the door to the study behind him. He’d brought his briefcase from the hall where he dropped it when everyone converged on him to say hello. John didn’t know how things were with his brother’s kids and his ex-wife but the man had soaked up the affection like a starving man at a buffet.

  John settled on the edge of the desk. “Everything okay?”

  “Sure, why not. Just wanted to check in and let you know things are good with the former residents. Everyone is settling in nicely.”

  “So why the secret meeting?”

  “Ben asked me to go on an assignment for a while. No contact.”

  John nodded. He knew what those were like. “Be careful, okay?”

  “I’ll try.” Grant blew out a breath. “While I’m gone, you’ll be the one people call if they need outside assistance.” He pulled a satellite phone from his briefcase and held it out. “If any of the residents have a problem, this will ring.”

  “A problem like, my cat got lost, or a problem like they’re being hunted down?”

  “Code red problems.”

  “Okay.” John didn’t like going back to those days—not when he was living his peaceful life, but duty called and he would answer. It was their way.

  Grant got out a paper file and handed that over as well. “They’re spread out, but this is a list of everyone and where they’re at, so you know where you’re headed if you need to leave. Put it in your safe.”

  John nodded and opened the file. He glanced down the sheet and gaped.

  He looked up from the paper. “I thought these people were being relocated into witness protection like the others.”

  “They have targets on their backs. It’s our job to keep them safe.”

  “I know, but—” John blew out a breath. “Exactly how many Sanctuaries are there?”

  “You don’t have the security clearance to know the answer to that.”

  Thank you for giving of your time and money to read Sanctuary Forever

  I hope you enjoyed it.

  Reviews tell other readers what you thought of a book, I know they help me decide what to read next. If you would be so kind as to visit Amazon or Goodreads, or even share your thoughts on Facebook, I would very much appreciate it—both as the author, and as a fellow reader of good Christian fiction.

  Keep reading for a sneak peek of Lisa’s newest novel: CORRUPT.

  A thriller/supernatural tale, and the story of Ben Mason.

  Prologue

  Prague. 14th December, 1941

  Dense clouds shrouded the city from the rest of the world. Snowflakes floated down to the tiny girl huddled beside the stone that marked the Rabbi’s grave. In her hand was a folded paper. The prayer her step-father had penned in his shaky hand, using the last stub of pencil in the shop.

  A glittery flake landed on her cheek. Her body was half-buried in snow, curled against the stone. Her coat was the cast-off of a smaller girl, not even big enough to button to ward off the freezing temperatures. Her shoes were too big, one with a broken buckle. Far past curfew she hid there, half-asleep in her exhaustion. Eight-year-old Charlota Katzova had nowhere else to go.

  The paper had arrived that morning; their names had been called. They were to depart Prague on the train. Her papa would never survive the journey, let alone what awaited them at the other end. And with the rest of her family gone, there was no one to help her.

  Men’s voices whipped on the wind through the cemetery. Two frozen little-girl fingers flexed, the only indic
ation she’d heard their approach. She had no strength to move. The paper contracted in her grip, the fold as loud as a whip crack. Charlota held her breath. There was nowhere to hide.

  The men chatted as they strode along the edge of the cemetery. She kept her eyes closed until their voices faded. Then she exhaled.

  The grave was as cold as the ground. No life inside. No hope for Papa. She fought past the ache in her muscles and threw the paper away from her. It hadn’t worked. All those stories of triumph and victory. As though God actually cared what was happening. He didn’t.

  They had been forgotten.

  A single tear ran down her cheek and froze against her chin. Distracted by the sensation, she didn’t notice she was no longer alone. Not until she felt the heat against her face. Charlota snapped her eyes open. He was bigger than Papa.

  But it was not a man.

  It crouched, close enough to touch.

  Charlota pushed herself up to sitting. She wasn’t scared.

  He was shaped like a man, but had no features on his face. Only a blank mask of mud. No eyes. No nose. No mouth. No ears. No hair. No definition below his shoulders except the outline of his body.

  He leaned toward her, now at eye-level with her. Blank sockets bored into her. Charlota’s breath hitched, but she swallowed and took another, knowing what she was supposed to do.

  Before she could begin, it touched her. A single stub of finger against her cheek. Warmth spread from that one spot throughout her entire body. It grew so hot she cried out. He lifted his finger from her skin. Charlota touched her forehead, now beaded with sweat. Her dress clung to her. Cheeks flushed. Had she ever been this warm? It felt like a fever, though she was not sick.

  The heat gave her strength to lift both hands. She touched the sides of his face, her palms where his ears should have been. As though some understanding passed between them he brought his head closer to hers. Charlota breathed on his forehead and whispered the words papa had made her recite.