Torn (Deep 8, #5)

51. Roger

FIFTY-ONE

Roger

"Santini, how’s everything going down there? We’re getting close," Lucas’s voice tightens with fear.

Another guy in a lab coat jumps up on the structure and stands at the console. A monitor shows the satellite’s position relative to us.

Static crackles over the walkie-talkie. "Santini? Anyone?"

Peter has made his move, but where is he? Panic skates across Lucas’s face as the lights begin to dim on the structure, and the egg stops rotating.

"What the hell is going on?" Lucas barks on his walkie and scowls at me. "This is your fault."

"Boss, security is back online, and everyone is accounted for. We’re good," the voice on the walkie breaks through.

I shrug. "How could it be my fault when I’m standing right here? Besides, security is back online."

Lucas exhales sharply. "Why are the lights getting dimmer?"

The first blast rocks the far side of the building, making the structure creak. "What was that?" Lucas’s eyes are wild.

"You tell me. This is your show." I remain calm on the outside, but inside, I’m calculating my next five moves.

The elevator door opens, and Peter rolls out. "It’s showtime." Peter barrels toward the guard near Lucas and tackles him to the ground.

Peter’s upper body strength is overwhelming, and the guard doesn’t have a prayer as he snaps his neck. Never underestimate a guy who leaps out of his wheelchair.

Dean reaches into his pants and pulls out his weapon, killing the guard standing by Harlow. He rushes to her, lifting her gently. She groans in pain. "Roger?"

"No, hon. It’s Deanie." Dean’s face contorts from seeing her this way.

The second blast goes off, closer to us this time, and the building starts to sway and crumble. Lucas grabs me and holds a knife to my throat. "You’re my ticket out of here, or I’ll kill you." So much for fatherly love.

He’s not paying attention to Peter, who belly crawls across the floor toward the guard’s weapon.

"Take it easy, Dad. I’ll get you out of here." I tap his forearm.

The sound of feet thundering up the stairs gets our attention. Mac, Campbell, Sean, and Beck stand at the top of the stairs with guns trained on Lucas.

"Puts your guns downs, or I’ll slit his throat," Lucas shouts.

They slowly put their weapons down and put their hands up. "Don’t do anything rash." Mac tries to reason with him.

The knife digs deeper into my throat and warm blood trickles down my neck. "You’re going to get me out of here alive. Lead the way," Lucas instructs my teammates.

Their eyes assess the situation and land on Peter, who’s on the floor.

"Follow us," Campbell says with his hands still in the air.

They start down the stairs, and a single shot pierces the quiet between the blasts. My father falls away from me to the ground. Blood pours from his head and his blue eyes—my eyes—stare up at me without a soul.

"Mate, we got to go. Declan has got this place rigged eighteen ways to Sunday." Mac reminds me.

I rush over to Peter. His eyes plead with me to understand. "I didn’t have a choice. He wasn’t going to let you live. As soon as we got out, he would have killed you. He blames you for his collapse of power."

"You did the world a favor. I’m here to carry your ass out of here." Throwing him over my shoulder is no easy feat. The man is built like a brick shithouse.

"Oh, my hero," he sings, smacking my ass.

"Watch it. That’s only for Harlow," I reply with a smirk.

Harlow is unconscious over Dean’s shoulder as we find our way to the nearest door. We’re humping down the stairs and step outside when we hear Declan. "Forget the cars. Make a run for it. She’s gonna blow," he yells.

Gunfire surrounds us, but I know my team has our backs. An ear-splitting blast propels us forward onto the ground. Debris falls around us as we cover our heads. Fire engulfs the building as various explosions erupt and the chemicals ignite.

My heart tears between the boy who looked up to his father and the man who grew up to see a father who was someone far different from his childhood fantasy. There was no winning with him, even when I thought being on his side would bring me in his favor.

Flames shoot up from the earth in the middle of the desert like the hands of hell. This might be a fitting end for him, but a lot for me to wrap my head around.

My eyes search for Dean, Harlow, and Peter. They lie in a crumbled mess amidst the pieces of cement and steel. Headlights barrel our way and stop in a semi-circle. My team members get out and pick up our fallen from the ground, loading them into the vehicles.

"We’ve got a para. He needs help." I push myself up off the ground.

Two of my guys pick Peter up. "Wow, a threesome. I could get into that, but where’s the girl?" He’ll be fine.

Carl, one of my medic teammates, leans over Harlow to evaluate her condition. "She’s pretty bad. Let’s load her up and get her to a hospital."

Dean and I travel with her. Carl gives the hospital her stats and lets them know we’re coming. They greet us with a gurney and whisk her away. Dean and I sit in the waiting room for hours. Neither one of us acknowledges we have both lost our fathers within the last week.

"Is someone here for Harlow Pierce?" a doctor in scrubs announces. Dean and I both jump up. "Are either of you related to her?"

"I’m her fiancée and this is her brother. What’s going on?" Lies run off my tongue too easily.

"She’s in recovery. We had to take out her spleen. She has bruised kidneys, lacerations, and a broken arm. Do you know what happened to her?" Suspicion rests in his eyes.

I glance over at Dean. "She works for the ASIO, and that’s all I can say."

He nods. "One of you can see her at a time."

"I’ll go in first." I jump on the opportunity to be close to her. Dean nods in agreement.

The dimmed lights in her room make it hard to see her. Bandages cover her head and eye. The beeping lets me know she’s alive.

"Hey, cowboy. How did we do?" Her voice is groggy.

"You were spectacular." I kiss her hand. "Lucas burned up in his fortress from hell after Peter shot him in the head," I say as if it’s happened to someone else's father.

She squeezes my hand. "I’m sorry." Her eyes turn sad.

"I’m not. He was not a good man. He wasn’t the father I remember. Peter saw more than I did and knew he had to take the shot." I rub her hand. "I’m sorry I said those things, but I needed him to believe I was on his side. It worked until the fireworks went off. Declan knows how to blow up a building." I laugh but tears crest in my eyes.

The pains in my chest collide. I lost the father from my childhood, and I almost lost my future. My emotions have nowhere to go but out.

She smiles. "You did what you had to do. I did what I had to do. There was more at stake than just us."

"There always is. Some of our guys got injured. By some miracle, no one got killed. Did you get any answers about your father while you were there?"

"Yes. We’ll talk later. Will you stay with me tonight? I’ll feel better with you here." She wipes away the escaped tear from my cheek.

"Of course." I wipe my eyes. "I usually only cry during an intense scene."

"I would say this was as intense as any scene you’ll ever perform in." She squeezes my hand.

The door opens as Dean pops his head in. "Hey, how are you?"

"I’ve been better. The agency owes me a long vacation."

Dean is by her side, his eyes shine with unshed tears. "You scared me. I thought we lost you."

"When did you get so emotional? You think you can get rid of me that easily? Guess again, Deanie." She smiles.

"This growing old thing and falling in love gets to me. On that note, I’ll be leaving. See you later." He kisses her on the forehead and turns to me. "Take care of her." I nod and he slips out the door.

I brush the hair from her forehead. "I was worried after you made that call. I knew they would work you over."

"You should see the other guy." She smiles. "I’m sleepy."

"Baby, you need your sleep to get better so we can go on a long vacation." I kiss her dry lips, gratitude reaching into my soul, refusing to let go. The chair next to her reclines. I stretch out and grab a blanket but never let go of her hand.

I have gained and lost a lot in the space of twenty-four hours, but I can’t live without her. She is the rock, my soft landing, and fiery passion wrapped up into one. She deserves the vacation of a lifetime and more. I plan on giving her the world.