Torn (Deep 8, #5)

37. Harlow

THIRTY-SEVEN

Harlow

Seeing Nick die before my eyes guts me. We might not be sure of his role in Lucas’s life, but the impact is visceral. Dean races to the airport like he’s on autopilot with vacant eyes and mechanical movements. Watching your father get shot in cold blood is a trauma no one should bear.

Nick had demons that might now be chasing us. One thing I know for sure is it wasn’t Deep 8. The snipers were professionals, possibly from ASIO, meaning they might have tracked us, and they are aware of Nick’s treason.

We’re missing a crucial piece of this puzzle, and it’s maddeningly elusive. In many ways, this is a hopeless endeavor. Deep 8 wants Nick at this meeting, and it probably has something to do with the necklace.

"Can I see the necklace your dad gave you?" I ask Dean, my voice unsteady.

He pulls it from an inside pocket and lets it fall in my hand. A pendant hangs on a simple gold chain. I pry open the back of the pendant with my fingernail. Inside is a packet of red liquid, and dread fills me at the thought of what it could be.

I hand it to Roger. "What do you think?"

He examines it and holds it up to the light. "I think it’s blood, but I can’t be sure."

"That’s what I thought," I reply. This mission gets freakier by the minute.

"There’s blood in there?" Dean’s voice strains as he looks at me.

I shrug.

"What the hell was my father into?" Dean’s mouth turns down.

"Nick’s warning doesn’t give me any comfort," Roger mumbles, staring out the window.

"Remind me." I turn to look at him, having lost track of everything that was said in the moment.

"He said I’m not going to like what I find out." His eyes bore into mine. "What if my dad is on the wrong side of this and tried to cross Deep 8?"

"By all indications, your father was out to get information on Deep 8 and bring them down. I think he’s on the right side, and they found out about it. They're keeping him from sharing or finding anything else. They need the pieces we have and the pendant to complete the program. We don’t know what this is or what it does." I remind him.

"This is a shitstorm in the making, and we’re headed right into it," Dean grits out as his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.

Dean drives to the gate for private jets and flashes his badge. The guard lets us through without a second glance, and we roll to the stop at the MBK plane. The flight to Perth will take over five hours and I need some shut-eye. My adrenaline has crashed.

The plush leather seat hugs my body as I lay my head back. My plan to save Nick by throwing the pillow was futile. We barely made it out alive. The message repeating in my head is clear, I can’t save everyone. Lord knows I’ve had an impressive record so far. As the danger escalates, more people around us are going to get hurt or killed.

I’ve been in the field long enough to know it could happen to anyone at any time. My intuition pleads with me not to stay on this path. I’m chasing ghosts, they evaporate with a single shot but reappear when I least expect it. They need to be laid to rest for good.

Roger sits near the window with his head resting on the window frame. "Hey, what are you thinking about?" I ask.

"We don’t even know what we are headed into, and Dean isn’t equipped to handle anything." He stares out at the darkening clouds and then turns to me. "It may come down to you and me. We’ll need to devise a plan with the team, but you and I will be the ones on deck. Are you sure you still want to pursue this? You didn’t get answers about your father."

"I’m completely dedicated to this, but right now I need this." I pull his arm around me and rest my head on his shoulder.

My eyes close because I’m unable to process more information as the noise of the jet engine lulls me to sleep. A dream comes to me where I hear my father and Lucas arguing. Their voices are loud, and my dad tells Lucas he can’t do this, but I don’t know what this is. My father tells me to remember the sailboat, but I don’t know why.

My body jerks awake, and I gasp for air. Roger is asleep next to me, and the cabin is quiet. Dean is on a video call with his fiancée as he wipes away a tear. My head swings back to Roger, who’s looking at me through one eye. I recap my dream and ask him what he thinks it means.

He frowns. "It means your dad and my father knew each other, but it doesn’t make sense. They weren’t in the same field. I don’t know of any connections my dad had in the technology field."

"There are a lot of things you don’t know about your dad. He had connections around the world, people you would least expect."

"Like who?" he asks.

"Besides the usual political figureheads, he took meetings with various people in technology, the energy sector, and had an interest in precious metals," I reply.

"Given he is the Australian Ambassador to the UK and head of the security council, he would have had those contacts. Do you think he was checking out leads on Deep 8?"

His phone rings, and he shows us the caller ID is Unknown. "Hello." He presses the speakerphone. Dean ends his call and moves to our side of the plane.

"Roger, this is Wyatt."

"Yes, Mr. President, what can I do for you?"

"I understand you’re on your way to Perth and possibly the headquarters of Deep 8."

"Sir, we don’t know. We were told by them to meet in Perth. We’re following their directions. It’s our only chance to get answers and rescue my father," Roger replies.

"The PAX ops team is en route. The Australian military will be there as well. I assume the entire MBK team is with you?" His voice is rich, commanding, and sexy as hell, which is not what I should be thinking about right now.

"They are behind us en route. I can’t thank you enough. We’ll need all the firepower and soldiers we can get. It’s not clear what we’re headed into, but our training will guide us."

"Is Dean Wagner with you?" The president’s voice softens.

"Yes, sir. You’re on speaker," I reply, looking at Dean.

"I’m sorry for your loss. Your father was a good man. We’ll let the evidence speak for itself. It’s hard to lose a father at any age. Godspeed, team. Bring Lucas back. We need him alive." The President of the United States clicks off and I’m left speechless.

"How does he know my father’s dead? The body isn’t even cold yet." Dean’s face falls.

"He is the President of the United States. It’s his job to know everything," Roger replies.

"He’s hot," I mutter, more like "hawt" than hot, adding levity to the tense situation.

"That’s your takeaway? He’s single in case you want Roger to hook you up." Dean’s lips quirk up.

"Over my dead body. He’s too old for you," Roger huffs.

"How do you know I’m not into older men? I like a little gray at the temples," I tease.

"Premature graying runs in my family. In a couple of years, you won’t be able to get enough of me." He smiles.

"As long as that’s all that’s premature." I laugh as he throws a pillow at me.

"Baby, I can go all night long, which you’ve already witnessed." He smirks.

"You two want to get a room?" Dean interjects.

Roger and I turn to him together and say, "No."

"We were going to see how comfy these leather seats are," Roger replies, as he strokes the leather armrests.

I turn to Dean. "When did you turn into a prude?"

"I’m all grown up now. Leigha and I are getting married and starting a family." Dean puffs out his chest.

"Do you still eat rice bubbles?" I counter, staring at him.

"Maybe, but I’m not telling you." He stands up and walks across the aisle.

I laugh and throw a pillow at him. He smiles for the first time since we boarded the plane.

"I eat Rice Krispies sometimes," Roger adds.

"I’m convinced men are overgrown ten-year-olds. Now and then, I can catch them being adults, but it’s boring. I prefer the fun side of things."

Roger cradles my face in his hands. "Trust me, I have a lot more experience than a kid when it comes to making love to you."

His kiss is soft, deep, connected, hungry, desperate, and needy. "I don’t know what kind of hell we’re flying into, but I want to come out the other side with you by my side through it all. There’s no one else I would rather have at my six. The blaze you started consumes me, and I don’t want to put it out."

I’m left without words as eloquent as his, so I nod and say, "Okay as long as you have my twelve, sixty-nine, and every other number in-between. Let’s do this."