Torn (Deep 8, #5)

30. Roger

THIRTY

Roger

I’m not giving up on us being together. She can think she’s in control, but what is going on between us is the spark before the raging fire burning everything in its path.

Her secrets are the patches in her quilt, and the stitches make her stronger. She doesn’t see it yet, but they pull her in every direction, and she refuses to break.

The team sits around the dining room table with drinks in their hands. They savor the one alcoholic drink they allow themselves. Staying sharp is the goal for any unexpected events, and this mission has plenty.

As I enter the room, everyone looks up except for Dean. I have to ask the difficult questions, or we’ll never find my father. "Dean, is it possible that your dad is somehow involved in the kidnapping?" My body stiffens, bracing for the blowback.

Dean swirls the amber liquid in his glass. "My dad has always been a loyal soldier. It’s what got him to where he is today. I think he knows something is going to happen, but I’m not sure it has anything to do with your father." The bite I expect doesn’t come. Worry crosses his face.

"I would agree. I’ve worked with Nick for many years. He doesn’t have any cracks in his armor. He’s always been a straight shooter." Harlow’s voice travels from behind me.

"Tomorrow, Harlow and I will go to my dad’s office in Canberra and have a look around. The rest of you can check out my dad’s house." My shoulders slump, and the wind goes out of my sails.

Defeat creeps in and settles in my gut. We may not get to my dad in time, and without any word from Deep 8, time slips away. I need to stay focused and solve my Harlow distraction. We could use some alone time.

"I’ll see you in the morning." I turn to walk away, but Harlow grabs my arm.

"Are you coming up to our room? I think we need to talk," she asks in a quiet voice.

"Not tonight. I need some space to think everything through. We’re coming down to the wire on finding my dad, but nothing seems to be going our way." I kiss her on the top of her head and turn toward the glassed-in porch at the back of the house. They say the stars shine brighter in Australia, and I plan to find out.

The pull-out futon serves as my bed. I’ve slept on worse. The sun goes down in a blaze of orange-and-purple glory on the west end of the porch. It doesn’t take long for the stars to appear, making anyone feel small and insignificant.

I’m running in circles trying to find my father, who has never wanted me. Accosted by his criticism, I never quite measured up. Now he needs me, and once again, I can’t quite get the job done.

Outside of his scope, I succeed at my job. I lead my team, search for details, and pull the pieces together. The cord is still attached to wanting to be the best in his eyes. Harlow’s words are embedded in my brain, but they have yet to sink into my skin and soothe my soul. My belief is my perception and perception is everything.

Harlow may be right. We’re not cut out for each other. In a different time and place, we could have been great together. Another defeat I can add to my tally.

A door opens on the far side of the dark porch. I sit up, unable to make out who it is. He sits in the chair across from the futon.

"Mate, why are you sleepin’ out here when you have a beautiful woman waiting for you upstairs?" I can smell the alcohol on Dean’s breath.

I grab the glass from his hand. "She doesn’t think we’re a match. We need some breathing room. It’s been an intense mission so far."

"You need to bust through her walls. I’ve never seen her look at a guy the way she looks at you. She told me you’ve been on point for this entire mission. You’re making great decisions. Hell, Sean wants to hire you at MBK." His words get my attention since I can only see his silhouette.

The only response I can muster is, "Thanks."

"God knows I know nothing when it comes to relationships. Ask anyone on the team. But I see a connection between you two. I worked closely with Harlow, and she never talked to me about the guys in any detail. She can’t shut up when it comes to you. I faded out at one point, but I think she told me your birth sign.

"You would be good for her. She’s been through a lot in life, and you seem to be her sun, moon, and stars. Here’s a warning, if you ever get out of line, she’ll kick your ass."

We laugh at his accurate description of what will happen if I screw up. "She’s fierce. There’s no doubt about that. Thanks for the words of wisdom. I haven’t given up on her, just recalibrating."

Dean stands up and slaps me on the back. "Good talk. Leigha’s rubbed off on me. There was a time I never would have thought to talk about this shit."

A chuckle leaves my throat as he walks back inside. Dean may have given me the winning hand when it comes to Harlow. I pull the blanket up to my chin and fall asleep with a smile on my face.

The sun fills the porch with warm bright light as I put my clothes on and head inside for breakfast. My internal clock runs on about eight hours of sleep, and I’m recharged and ready to go. The clink of silverware comes from the kitchen, mingling with the smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee.

Everyone looks bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with full plates and steaming coffee. The entire team is present except for Harlow. I make a mental note but say nothing as I fill my plate and grab something to drink.

Harlow shows up at the kitchen door with circles under her eyes and her hair piled on top of her head. She is a vision of beauty, even as a hot mess. She gives me the stink eye as if her condition is somehow my fault, which it is to some degree.

"Good morning, sunshine," Dean quips.

"Shove it up your ass, Deanie," she replies. She saunters over to the coffee machine, pours a cup, leans on the counter, and looks at everyone as if they are the enemy.

"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed," Declan mumbles.

My mouth wants to make a smart comment, but my head overrules the decision if I want to keep my balls intact. I smile at the banter. Every man here knows it’s a losing battle and one not worth fighting. I’ll tread carefully today to not upset the apple cart.

Harlow and I take the two-and-a-half-hour ride to Canberra to have a look at my father’s office. The others make their way to the outskirts where he lives. I can’t say I’ve visited either place very often. I don’t recall ever being at his office in the city. The modern building stands out from the surrounding structures.

Harlow’s silence is getting to me, and I wish she would say something, anything. I would welcome yelling at this point. We take the elevator to the top floor, because why would he have anything but the penthouse of offices.

We stand in front of the door and realize neither one of us has a key when Harlow reaches for her pick set. She opens the door in thirty seconds. The office is not what we expect, which only leads to more questions about my father.