Torn (Deep 8, #5)

36. Roger

THIRTY-SIX

Roger

The kill-or-be-killed moment would have come when Harlow was alone with Dean. The more I’m with her, the more I feel a fierce need to protect her. This mission has tested her on every level. If my dad were on the wrong side of the law or the moral compass, I would be thrown for a loop.

We drive for a couple of hours to head to Nick’s beach house. The property is north of Sydney on Potts Point, an unfamiliar area for me. As we approach, the houses are close together but scream high-end. Trees line the streets in front of privacy gates, fences, and stone walls.

"Did you say beach shack?" I question.

"My grandfather bought it and passed it to my father. We haven’t done much with it over the years, so it’s not one of the nicer places on the beach." Dean flashes me a smile.

We roll up to the address of the beach shack with a stone wall, a modern wood door, and a new roof. "This can’t be right," Dean mumbles.

He continues to drive and finds a parking spot on the street. We jump out, curious as to where this is going to lead. Dean grabs a backpack from the seat. We follow him without question as he disappears into a wooded area between two houses.

The trees and bushes scratch our legs as we force our way down to the beach. The giant white walls on either side of us can’t be scaled for security.

The sun drops behind the houses, casting a blue-orange glow against the white. The bay faces east, so the sunrise must be magnificent in the mornings.

Dean stops at the bottom of one of the houses, guarded by three huge evergreen trees. "Holy shit!" His mouth gapes open.

"Hey, Dean, this is not a shack." Harlow starts to laugh.

He turns and scowls at her. "I can see that. Thank you for your observation. Daddy’s been busy, and he’s got a lot of cash."

The house has a modern design with at least three outdoor plateaus before you enter the house. Dean opens the bottom gate and walks through a security laser, setting off a silent alarm.

"You just set—" I say.

"I know and don’t care," he replies.

We climb the stairs through an outdoor dining area, a grassy yard for croquet, and a hot tub deck before we enter the open kitchen. Windows serve as walls, so there is never a bad view. The kitchen counters are spotless as if it’s a show home that no one lives in.

Dean runs his fingers along butter-colored napa leather couches and wood accent pieces while the last rays of the day disappear. There is no indication the alarm is still on as we climb the stairs to the next level.

This level contains the main living area with a great room, dining room, and small modern kitchen. Without knowing the layout of the next levels, it’s clear this is a multi-million-dollar property.

We enter a lounge area off the dining room opening to a terrace. A single lamp casts an amber glow from the corner of the room. Nick sits on the couch with his head down, a drink in one hand, and a cigar in the other.

He doesn’t bother to look up. "It took you long enough." He sits back and throws down the rest of his drink. His tie is loose around his neck, and his white dress shirt is wrinkled. He stares at Dean with sorrowful eyes.

"Who did you have to kill to get the upgrades on this place? I don’t even recognize it," Dean spits out.

"You know I only kill bad guys," Nick gives him a half smile, his eyes are unfocused.

Dean moves closer and stands on the other side of the coffee table. "According to the information found on Lucas Bane’s laptop, you’ve killed more than just bad guys." He shifts from one foot to the other.

Harlow and I take a seat on the other side of the room, ready to step in at a moment’s notice, but this is Dean’s show. Harlow glances my way with a worried look on her face. We’re out of our element but are trained to be flexible.

"Good old Lucas. He’s a crafty one. I doubt anything in his file is real. He’s only out for his gain." He takes a puff of his cigar.

"We authenticated the documents. They’re real," Dean counters.

Nick reaches for the bottle of scotch. "Why don’t we have a drink before we get caught in this web?"

Dean swipes the bottle out of his hand. "I think you’ve had enough to drink. I need you clear-headed. Nice security system. Someone could easily track you here."

Nick shakes his head back and forth. "I’ve had this plan in place for years. The only location they will find me in is the train station in Sydney. I’m untraceable beyond that. Besides, my days are numbered." He slumps on the couch.

Dean frowns. "I have two questions that need to be answered. Are you part of Deep 8, and do you have Lucas?" Dean asks.

He moves around the coffee table closer to Nick as a red laser light from a sniper’s scope lands on his shoulder and his father’s. "Not this again," Dean says.

Harlow moves fast and throws a pillow in the laser line to give them time to move. Nick jumps up and lunges for Dean as they hit the floor.

"Hit the black button on the wall," Nick shouts.

Bullets pepper the walls, as pieces of glass fly in the air. I belly crawl to the wall and push the button. Thick opaque glass shutters come down over every window, closing us in. The bullets hit the bulletproof glass without penetration. We wait for the silence when they know we are inaccessible to their shots.

I turn on another light as Harlow approaches Dean and Nick on the floor. Nick has been shot in the chest and it doesn’t look good. Blood flows like fingers out of the bullet wound.

Dean holds him in his lap, placing his hand over the hole. "Hold on, Dad. We’ll get you to the hospital."

Nick grabs his son’s arm. "No, there’s no time for that. I’m not a good man. The evidence is there. You are a good man and will do the right thing. I don’t have Lucas and don’t know where he is. Believe me."

He rips off a necklace with a pendant from around his neck. "Take this to Lucas. It’s what they want." He stares at me, catching me off guard. "Roger, you’re not going to like what you find out about your father. Trust your instincts. They are never wrong." His breathing is labored and gurgled.

He grabs Dean’s arm. "Go make this right. I couldn’t—" He falls limp in Dean’s arms.

Tears flow freely from Dean’s eyes, and he pulls his father in for a final hug. "I never thought you would go out like this." He lays him back on the floor and closes his eyes.

"Whoever is after us means business. They took those shots from the evergreens on the beach," Harlow says quietly. There’s no time for remorse or grief.

Dean stands and wipes his eyes. "We need to get out of here."

"And go where? This is a dead end. We’re screwed and so is my dad. They wanted us to bring in Nick. I assume they wanted him alive, and we have nothing." I try to wrap my head around how wide and deep the hole is we’re in.

"Good point," Harlow replies.

We’ve lost Dean as he walks around aimlessly, scrubbing his hand over his head. My phone dings with a message from Pippa.

Pippa: You need to fly to Perth. Deep 8 wants a meeting tomorrow . I’m sending you the coordinates. Godspeed.

Me: Does Sean still have the plane at the Sydney Airport? We lost Nick and need a cleaner.

Pippa: Oh, God! Yes, go to the Sydney Airport. Sean wants a full update once you’re airborne. We’ll meet you there.

"We need to get to Sydney Airport ASAP. Deep 8 wants a meeting on the other side of the continent in Perth."

"I guess we’re heading into the Devil’s Den with no way out. It was good knowing you." Dean turns to get to the car through the front door. He holds the door open for us and looks back one last time.