Dangerous Sanctuary

by Shirlee McCoy

  Mission: rescue his fellow agent

  The next exciting FBI: Special Crimes Unit story

  FBI agent Radley Tumberg must rescue his fellow agent, Honor Remington, from a spiritual sanctuary where she’s being held against her will. But when he reaches her, posing as her estranged husband, he discovers the motives for her capture are deadlier than he expected. Can they escape the sanctuary and find evidence that its leader isn’t what he’s pretending to be?

  Time to go. Now!

  Radley grabbed Honor’s arm. “It’s me,” he said, whispering the words because the guard had appeared again, sprinting to the back of the camper, his radio buzzing with activity.

  Out of sight. Armed. Dangerous.

  Backup coming, and Radley didn’t have time to ease into his escape plans or be gentle in his approach.

  “Radley?” Honor whispered.

  “Yeah,” he responded. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She nodded.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she murmured, her voice weak.

  She was lying, because she had no choice but to be okay.

  “I managed to get his gun,” she said. “It’s in your duffel. So, at least we’re not unarmed. Let’s go.”

  She stepped deeper into the trees, moving nearly silently, the shadowy forest embracing her.

  He followed, because they had to put distance between themselves and the enemy.

  They had to get to a town, find a phone, call for backup.

  And once Honor was safe, once she’d been transported back to Boston, he’d return. Because there was no way he was going to let Absalom keep whatever dirty secrets he was hiding.

  Aside from her faith and her family, there’s not much Shirlee McCoy enjoys more than a good book! When she’s not teaching or chauffeuring her five kids, she can usually be found plotting her next Love Inspired Suspense story or wandering around the beautiful Inland Northwest in search of inspiration. Shirlee loves to hear from readers. If you have time, drop her a line at shirlee@shirleemccoy.com.

  Books by Shirlee McCoy

  Love Inspired Suspense

  FBI: Special Crimes Unit

  Night Stalker

  Gone

  Dangerous Sanctuary

  Mission: Rescue

  Protective Instincts

  Her Christmas Guardian

  Exit Strategy

  Deadly Christmas Secrets

  Mystery Child

  The Christmas Target

  Mistaken Identity

  Christmas on the Run

  Classified K-9 Unit

  Bodyguard

  Rookie K-9 Unit

  Secrets and Lies

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  Dangerous Sanctuary

  Shirlee McCoy

  For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this;

  Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.

  —Galatians 5:14

  For you, because you picked up this book and opened it to this page and read words written from my heart to yours.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  DEAR READER

  EXCERPT FROM BURIED MOUNTAIN SECRETS BY TERRI REED

  ONE

  “Honor?”

  A man’s voice carried through the blackness that surrounded Honor Remington, reaching into a darkness so profound she wasn’t sure how she’d drag herself out of it.

  I need help. She tried to respond, but the words were trapped in her mind, stuck fast and unspoken.

  Someone touched her shoulder, and she flinched, trying to open her eyes and look into the speaker’s face.

  Her lids felt glued together, her body sluggish and numb.

  “Come on, Honor. You can do better than that,” the man prodded, and something about his voice freed her.

  Her eyes flew open, and she was looking into a familiar face. One she knew she should recognize: dark hair, hard-edged jaw and a scar at the corner of his mouth.

  “There you go,” he said, a note of relief in his voice.

  “Who are you?” she asked, because she couldn’t quite grasp the information. She knew him, and that was all she was certain of.

  “You don’t know?”

  “Would I have asked if I did?” She tried to push herself into a sitting position, but her hands ached and burned, her body was weak and she collapsed again, falling back onto what felt like a thin pallet lying on an uneven floor.

  “I’m Radley Tumberg,” he replied. “We work together. FBI. Special Crimes Unit.”

  “I work for the FBI?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He leaned close, staring into her eyes, candlelight flickering across his face and shimmering in his hair. “And, I’m concerned that you don’t seem to remember.”

  He rested a hand against her forehead, his skin rough and cool against her burning flesh.

  She wanted to close her eyes and lie there with his cool palm against her hot forehead, but something was very wrong. Not just with her memory.

  She glanced at the grayish interior of a round room, candlelight dancing on what looked like clay walls, a window opened out into a blue-black night.

  “Where am I?” she asked. “What am I doing here?”

  “This is Sunrise Spiritual Sanctuary,” Radley replied. “You came here to find a friend.”

  “What friend?” It was a question she should have been able to answer herself. The fact that she couldn’t would have brought her to full-out panic if she’d had the energy for it.

  Instead, sluggish anxiety pulsed through her blood, and she pushed herself up again.

  This time, she managed to sit, the cottony fabric of a pajama-like outfit sticking to her sweaty skin. A loose tunic top and elastic waistband-pants, they were clothes she’d have never purchased for herself.

  She knew that.

  Just like she knew she didn’t belong in this place.

  Now she just had to remember everything else.

  “I don’t have a name. All I have is the information you gave Wren, and it’s minimal,” Radley replied.

  “Wren?”

  “Santino. She’s our supervisor. Which you might have an easier time remembering if your brain weren’t being fried by fever.” He touched her forehead again and dug into a duffle bag that lay on the floor nearby, pulling out a small bottle and tapping two pills into his hand. He held them out to her.

  “What are they?”

  “Acetaminophen. To bring the fever down.”

  “Oh.” She reached for the pills, but her hands were wrapped in thick bandages, her fingers just peeking out from the ends of the gauze. “What happened to my hands?”

  “I was wondering the same.” He gently turned her hand so it was palm up, dropped the pills onto the gauze and grabbed a pitcher that sat on a small table near the window. There was a cup next to it, and he filled it, pressing it into her other hand. “Go ahead and take them. The sooner your fever goes down, the happier I’ll be.”

  She nodded.

  They had the same goal. Clear her thinking. Get h
er mind working again. She swallowed the pills and handed the cup back, searching the candlelit interior of the room for something that would tell her the story she’d forgotten.

  A friend?

  A sanctuary?

  Her hands?

  “Honor? You still with me? You’d better be, because if I don’t get you out of here in one piece, Wren is going to have my head,” Radley said.

  Wren.

  This time, the name set off a firestorm in her brain: a million images and memories and thoughts that were suddenly vying for her attention.

  Because, of course, she was a special agent with the FBI. Computer forensic expert. High school nerd and all-around misfit.

  And, he was Radley Tumberg—coworker, tough guy and all-around hero.

  And Wren Santino was their supervisor.

  She hadn’t wanted Honor to come here. She’d tried to talk her out of it. She’d told her there’d be trouble, and that it was best to go through proper channels and allow the local authorities to do their jobs.

  She’d been right.

  Wren usually was.

  It would have been helpful if Honor had remembered that before she’d decided to ignore her supervisor’s warning.

  But she hadn’t.

  She’d gone ahead with her plan, and now she was here, Radley eyeing her as if he thought she might fall apart.

  “Sunrise Spiritual Sanctuary—a soothing retreat from a hectic and fast-paced life. Reboot. Renew. Rebuild. From the inside out,” she quoted the pamphlet she’d been sent when she’d contacted the organization, because she could remember that, too.

  Radley smiled again. “Your memory must be back if you’re quoting propaganda material to me.” He took another medicine bottle from his duffle and tapped a pill into her hand. “Take that.”

  “What is it?”

  “An antibiotic. I got it from the agency doctor. Just in case.”

  “Typical you. Always prepared.” She took the water he offered, chugging it down with the pill. Candlelight skipped in her periphery, the yurt spun, water sloshing from the cup and onto the bandages that covered her hands.

  “It’s okay,” Radley said, his breath ruffling the hair near her ear, and she realized that, somehow, she was in his arms, being supported as he helped her lie down again.

  “Lying down isn’t on my agenda,” she muttered, but she lay on the pallet anyway, waiting while the world stopped spinning.

  “Of course, it’s not. You’re always moving. Unless you’re hunched over a computer investigating,” he responded.

  “I’m not sure how you know that, since you’re always on the move, too. Working cases outside the office,” she replied, and he smiled.

  “Your memory really is returning. What’s your friend’s name and where can I find her? I want to get both of you out of here quickly. I have a bad feeling about this place.”

  “Mary Alice Stevenson. She’s at a training seminar. Working toward a leadership position in this insane community.”

  “So, she’s not here?”

  “Not since I’ve been here. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”

  “You don’t believe it?”

  “You’re not the only one who has a bad feeling about this place.” The room had stopped spinning, and she was ready to go. She wanted out. She’d been wanting out since the moment she’d arrived and been escorted into the community, flanked by two men who were supposedly spiritual teachers but who’d acted like security guards.

  She stood, legs shaky, hand reaching for something to steady herself.

  She found Radley’s arm, grabbing on before she remembered that would probably hurt. A lot.

  It did, pain stabbing through her palm and up into her arm.

  “You need to lie down again, Honor,” Radley said, wrapping his arm around her waist and trying to urge her back down.

  “I need to get out of here.” She frowned. “Is this still part of The Sanctuary? It’s sure not the cushy cabin I was staying in when I arrived.”

  She’d paid her entire vacation savings to book a cabin at The Sanctuary, because she’d been determined to find Mary Alice. Deep soaking tub, fireplace, twin bed with a down mattress and cotton sheets. Handcrafted soaps and candles. Incense. Fresh flowers.

  She’d been living the high life at the posh retreat meant to attract the wealthiest of seekers.

  Of which, she was not.

  But Mary Alice had certainly been. Wealthy and seeking.

  Apparently, she’d found what she was looking for. If Honor had been given the chance to talk to her, she might have been able to make sense of that. She hadn’t.

  She’d done yoga beneath the stars and meditation in forest clearings. She’d engaged in philosophical conversations around campfires. She’d taken classes meant to awaken her to her deeper self, sitting through long days in closed classrooms in the meeting house.

  She’d watched members of the community dressed in their cotton pajamas, clearing brush from the edges of the property, working in the greenhouse and in the kitchen, cleaning cabins for wealthy guests. Prepping and constantly busy.

  But she hadn’t seen Mary Alice.

  She hadn’t spoken to her.

  And she needed to.

  A biochemist who worked for a pharmaceutical company in Boston, Mary Alice loved urban sprawl and noise and people.

  But, for some reason, she’d come here. She hadn’t told Honor about her plans. She’d left without a phone call or a goodbye. Twenty years of friendship deserved more than that, and Honor would like an explanation.

  She suspected she knew what it would be. Or, at least, part of it.

  Mary Alice hadn’t been herself since she’d called off her New Year’s Eve wedding two nights before the big event. A year of planning, thousands of dollars, all of it tossed away after Mary Alice found out her fiancé, Scott, had cheated on her.

  Good riddance. That had been Honor’s thought, but Mary Alice had been heartbroken, embarrassed, lonely. All the things that might have made her easy pickings for a place like this one. A place that seemed like the perfect sanctuary from a hectic world but...

  What?

  There was something nagging at the back of Honor’s mind, some memory that might have given her a clue as to what had happened, how she’d ended up in a yurt, her hands bandaged, her thoughts muddled. The more she tried to grasp it, the more elusive it became.

  Frustrated, she walked to a curved doorway and pulled back a heavy curtain that hung in the threshold. Cool air wafted across her skin, skipping along her hot cheeks and clearing her mind a little more.

  She should remember this place. The yurt. The clearing it was sitting in. The grassy expanses that led to tall trees and thick forest.

  “How long have I been here?” she asked.

  “Two weeks.”

  “I can only remember maybe a week of that.”

  “You’ve been sick. At least, that’s what they told me when I checked into this place,” he responded.

  “Sick? Injured is more like it.”

  “They failed to mention that part.”

  “There’s a lot of things these people don’t mention. Like the fact that leaving is a lot harder than entering.”

  “You tried to leave?”

  “Sure. Once I knew that Mary Alice wasn’t around, I had no reason to stay.” She frowned. Whatever had happened to her, it had occurred after she’d asked to have her car keys, laptop and cell phone returned so that she could go home.

  They’d all been taken when she’d arrived. Anything that would distract from the peaceful aura The Sanctuary provided had to be handed over during check-in. That had all been outlined in the literature she’d been sent. She’d played by the rules, because she’d wanted to see Mary Alice, talk to her, figure out how to get her to return home.


  “So, you tried to leave, and then that happened?” He gestured to her hands.

  “I remember asking for my belongings to be returned. Then, nothing.”

  “Like I said, I have a bad feeling about his place,” he muttered.

  “So let’s get out of here.” She stepped outside, and he grabbed her arm, pulling her back into the yurt.

  “We’re in the-middle-of-nowhere Vermont. No nearby community. No cell service. No weapons. My car keys and cell phone were confiscated at the gate, and I’m pretty certain they made sure they took yours.”

  “They did,” she responded.

  “So, how about we come up with a plan before we let anyone who’s watching know that you’re awake, lucid and ready to leave?”

  She wanted to argue, because she didn’t want to spend another second in The Sanctuary. It gave her the creeps, and there weren’t a whole lot of things that did that.

  But, without a vehicle, it would take a day to reach town.

  “This is a great setup for holding people hostage and manipulating them,” she said.

  “I’d think you’d have clued into that before you arrived,” he replied.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The lack of web information. This place has no real online presence.”

  “I noticed that.” The one-page website gave a brief description of The Sanctuary and provided a phone number. That was it. No reviews that she could find. No Facebook or Instagram or Twitter presence. “But what I was most concerned about was the fact that they’d somehow found Mary Alice, convinced her to come to their retreat and then brainwashed her into staying.”

  “Are you sure she didn’t find them?”

  “I’m not sure of anything. But I know that a place like this is as far outside her comfort zone as the big city is mine.”

  “You live in Boston,” he reminded her. As if she might have lost that memory, too.

  “During the week. I spend the weekend with Dotty on the old family farm. She’s going to be worried sick.” Her mind rushed backward as she tried to remember the last time she’d been able to contact her grandmother.

  “Dotty?”