by SE Jakes
Because the first thing he said when he opened his eyes was, “Prophet?”
“No word yet,” Dean told him.
“No word? Where?” Tom felt dazed. “Where the hell are we?”
“My house. We were taken by chopper from the clinic. What’s the last thing you remember?”
“You and Prophet talking,” he said carefully. “Then the pain. And the doctor . . .”
“Pei. She’s here. She operated—fixed the tear in your spleen.”
Tom struggled to sit up but Dean stopped him. “Let me put the pillows behind you.” He did so, managing to make Tom comfortable and then handing him water without spilling it.
“You’re a good nurse,” Tom told him after he took some sips of the water.
“Fuck you.” But there was humor behind it. “They’ll be okay, Tom. I know it. Jin wanted to go back for them but . . .”
“Prophet wouldn’t let him,” Tom finished.
“Jin’s here, with us. Nico couldn’t fit on the helo and Prophet wanted someone else here trained to shoot, just in case.”
Tom nodded and tried to pretend everything was fine, but his hands trembled. He stared down at the cup of water and Dean continued, like he knew.
“Tom, listen. Prophet, Nico, Mal, King, Ren, and Hook got out of the clinic by car. It was a mess they were driving into, but the SAS was supposed to be waiting for them. All I know is that there are two rebel factions fighting now—and it’s bad out there. I’m hoping our guys are underground with the SAS, waiting it out.” Dean sat back. “The doctors and nurses are here with us. And Reggie. And Jin and the guards, of course. Jin can get us out of here fast if we need it, but I think . . . we’re okay.”
“Good. That’s something.” Tom took another sip of water, then asked carefully, “Any word from LT?”
“Nothing.” Dean pressed his lips together, his eyes unfocused. “They’ll be okay, Tom.”
“They have to be,” Tom murmured. “Dean, look, Prophet’s specialist . . . Proph didn’t know.”
“I believe him. Christ, having her show up here? Threw me off my game. That’s why I went to the clinic after LT took her away. I had to get my head on straight and not let myself wallow.”
“I can understand that.”
“I have to thank you—for coming to me. I know that after what you guys dealt with . . .”
“I’m okay. Better now that the bastard’s gone,” Tom said firmly.
And then Dean’s phone rang and both men started. “It’s LT’s ring,” Dean told him. “LT, where are you? What? Are you okay? You’re coming here?” he said, clearly for Tom’s benefit. “Okay, yeah, I’m at the south house. Yes, I’m fine. I’ll see you soon.”
He hung up and breathed heavily, like he was on the verge of a panic attack.
“Dean, come on, man, just breathe and we’ll get through this.”
“I know how it looks. But I have to know. In person is the only way I’ll know.”
Tom’s pulse raced. “Let’s tell Jin and Reggie, okay? Tell them that LT’s coming here and that there might be trouble. Because even if LT was compromised, he might not be coming alone. Whoever took Karen and called the rebels to the clinic . . . they might be with him. Forcing him here.”
Dean nodded woodenly, then stood. He opened the night table close to Tom’s bed and pulled out Tom’s weapon. “You need this.”
“Why don’t you help me out into the main room? I’ll sit on the couch. Pretend to sleep. That way . . .”
Tom was already getting up as he spoke and Dean was helping him. It hurt like fuck, but he wouldn’t take a pain pill now. Not until it was over.
When he got settled, he tucked his gun under the blanket. And he tried Prophet and Mal.
Nothing.
“They were headed to a bunker,” Dean reminded him. “Leave them texts—tell them LT’s coming here in the next several hours.”
. . . and pray that they can get here before that.
The guards alerted him to LT’s arrival, and Dean tensed, as if he were sixteen years old again and waiting for his brother to show up after Dean had gotten kicked out of yet another boarding school. And LT had ripped into him, every single time, but he still came to gather him up.
Every single time.
If he was wrong about his brother . . . then he, and everyone he’d brought here for safety? They were as good as dead.
“Dean? Are you okay?” LT’s voice came in before he did, and Dean stood to meet him in the arched doorway of the main room.
“I’m fine,” he said, reached out to touch his brother and his hands came back wet, the metallic smell of blood unmistakable. “LT, are you hurt?”
“I’ve been shot, but I’m fine,” LT told him. “You heard about Ahmet’s escape by now.”
“Let me get the doctor first,” Dean tried.
“No, you need to know what happened first. I know what you must’ve been thinking. Some of this blood is mine, but some of it is Rylan’s. He betrayed me. Sabotaged me and took Karen. He was the one who brought her to Ahmet’s.”
“You know that for sure?”
“He confessed—right before I shot him. Dean, he was right outside your gates, waiting to see Prophet. He was planning on killing him . . . and any other witnesses.”
Dean heard the stress in LT’s voice, but something wasn’t right. “But Karen’s gone.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew her? That you knew she was alive.” He hadn’t wanted to blurt that out, but he needed to know. To understand.
“I save your life and that’s what you’re upset about? I don’t understand you, Dean,” LT said . . . and that’s when Dean knew his brother was lying.
About everything. Whether Tom did from where he was playing half-dead on the couch, or Jin from his hiding spot, Dean couldn’t be sure. But he had his answer. He just needed to keep LT talking. Needed to find out more, even as a chill skittered up his back.
It was so quiet, save for the patter of rain on the flat roof. Dean could feel the heat from his brother’s body as he said, “You sold her. You sold Karen. And I know you didn’t need the money.”
LT’s next words were hardened, not the worried older brother voice but his firm, I’ve got control of this and you’ll shut up and listen one. “It’s not about the money, Dean. It’s about doing what needed to be done to keep the world safe.”
“You can’t really believe that bullshit, can you?” Dean tried to picture his brother—and failed. “I can’t believe it.”
“You have love for the woman who almost killed you?”
“I think she had some help in that regard, right, LT?”
“She set the bomb.”
“And you tampered with it.” Dean fisted his hands, forcing himself to keep control of his voice, to not let it show a single sign of goddamned weakness. “And then, after you almost killed me, you lied to me that she was still alive, and then you sold her—a dangerous specialist—to the enemy. You helped a major terrorist leader escape, LT. What the fuck are you doing?”
“So fucking naive, trying to help the world,” LT spat. “Just stay in your clinics and wait for people to rescue you when you’re in trouble—that’s what you’re good at.”
He’d always known his brother to be a hard man, out of necessity he’d figured. Their parents had died young and the two of them had big responsibilities at a young age. “You and John . . . all this damned time.”
LT dug in, his tone harsh. “Like I said, naive.”
“You had no problem using Prophet.”
“I don’t run Prophet.”
“He ran looking for John.”
“He went AWOL. Then the CIA tried to help him.”
“Help?” It was darker inside his thoughts than it ever had been in front of his eyes.
“When he went to work with Phil, he could’ve just let it go.”
“You framed all of them. Was that for God and country too?”
“I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
“Then why come back here?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Dean realized how naive he really was. There was a dearth of words between them, a lifetime, a cavern so deep there was a fucking echo. “I’m a witness.”
“Yes.”
“And you came to do your own dirty work.”
“If I thought you’d understand and keep your mouth shut . . .”
“I promised her she’d be safe and then I handed her over to you. Might as well have brought her to Ahmet myself.” Dean paused.
“The difference between us? I’ll sleep at night.”
He could feel the movement of his brother’s arm, the smell of a recently fired gun. “You sent the rebels to kill me. And everyone who was with me. And you’re here to do what they couldn’t. You bastard.” He shook his head, feeling more off-balance than he’d ever felt after losing his sight. “Just tell me why.”
“It’s the way it needed to be,” his brother told him, as if it were as simple as that. “I train men like John and Prophet—”
“And me,” Dean broke in bitterly.
“And you. At least I tried. You didn’t have the constitution. Most of them don’t. Not for the purpose I need.”
“By not having the constitution, you mean having a conscience?”
“Call it what you want. It interferes, and my job is to not let it.”
“For the good of the world, right, LT? That’s what you always told us—we were doing it for the common good.”
LT snorted. “No one who hasn’t been in a position of power can grasp what the common good really means. If there weren’t men like me, you have no idea what might have happened to the world as you know it, a hundred times over.”
“What a sacrifice,” Dean said sarcastically.
“Everyone has their place.”
“Even Prophet?”
“Prophet and his team had a higher purpose. Prophet did things he needed to do and they served my interests for a while.” Dean swore he could hear the smile in LT’s voice. “But Prophet was going to kill himself eventually, which would fuck everything up.”
“Bullshit,” Dean spat. “You knew Prophet would never lose his conscience. Something you never had to worry about with John. But what I can’t figure out is, why did John go along with it? Why would John turn against Prophet like this?”
“Pitting them against each other ensured John wouldn’t turn against me, ensured that he’d see the mission through.”
“He knew you surrounded Prophet with men who were trying to kill him,” Dean breathed.
“John was aware of the consequences of this mission. Complete it, spend the years I needed him to building a reputation, a close circle of men he could command, and Prophet would remain unscathed. John didn’t give a shit what happened to the rest of the men. But it bothered Prophet . . . and that pissed John off. He felt betrayed.”
“But not enough to let anything happen to Prophet.”
“At this point, no one’s getting out alive, so in the end, it didn’t matter.”
“And you’ll continue to profit from all of it, the way you have for the past twenty years.”
“Someone’s got to fund you and your humanitarian work,” LT told him.
“My money’s from dad’s trust—I wouldn’t touch your dirty money.”
“But you have—no way around it.”
He was right, but Dean would make sure he made up for that. “You’re not as good as you think you are. You lost control of John, the way you lost control of Prophet.” He felt his brother’s posture stiffen, heard the man’s clothing move. “The game is playing you at this point. You’ve got too many loose ends.”
“My loose ends are too busy taking care of each other. Ultimately, John knows what he needs to do.”
Does he really not know that John didn’t succeed? Dean kept that to himself, saying instead, “But now I know everything.”
“It’s too late for that to matter,” LT said, almost tenderly. Dean swore he could smell the metal of the gun, could picture his brother, arm extended, weapon pointed between his useless eyes. “Even if Prophet and his team stopped everything, there’s another man like me, another plan like mine, just around the corner for another team. The men I work for? They run the world, Dean, and they’ll just keep going until their pieces are in the right places. Ironic, isn’t it, that we’re using terrorists for the United State’s gain. If the general public even got wind of one percent of what we had to do, they’d run screaming into the night.”
“But you’ve got it handled,” Dean heard himself say woodenly.
“No worries on that, brother.”
“Don’t have the courage to shoot me yourself, do you?” Dean challenged.
“Figured you’d want to die a hero in your precious clinic,” LT told him. “But here’s just as good.”
“I’ll see you in hell,” Dean told him. “But you’ll go there first.”
Prophet didn’t get Tom’s text until they were almost to Dean’s house, and he guessed that Tom didn’t get his either, saying he was on his way. As soon as the rebels crossed over and went west to meet Boko Haram’s troops, the SAS had urged them out. Mal followed their trucks along a new route until they were past the clinic and on the road to Dean’s.
As Mal got close, Prophet suddenly said, “Pull over here. I want to sweep before we go in.”
“There’s another signal jammer,” King added. “Something’s definitely up.”
Prophet’s entire body was sore, but he shook it off, took one of the automatic rifles from Mal before asking him to take point. His vision wasn’t one hundred percent yet—and it might never be again at any point. Until the drops fully wore off, they wouldn’t know, but for now, Mal would lead them inside and figure out exactly what was happening.
Mal ran up ahead for recon and signed back to them that there were two big black SUVs with tinted windows behind the gates.
LT’s vehicles, with bodyguards, Prophet signed back. Take them out.
Mal nodded, and he took Nico inside the gates. The guards recognized Nico, which put the bodyguards at ease . . . and then Ren and King came in behind them and took them down as quietly as possible. The dogs began to bark and Prophet heard LT call out, “What the hell’s going on out there?”
“Just a cat,” Reggie called back as he waved from the door twenty feet away from the large driveway packed with cars where they stood. He looked back as if to check and make sure LT bought what he’d said, and then he closed the space between them. He looked happy as hell to see them all. “Thank God, Prophet. I think there’s a friend of yours over there, behind the trucks—I’ll get the doctors.”
Prophet went around the black SUVs and saw the man who was bleeding all over the light-colored concrete. “Shit—it’s Rylan.”
Mal was next to him, kneeling, assessing the damage, even as Pei came out. All of this commotion was going to bring LT out here, and Prophet needed to get inside.
But Rylan was pulling at his shirt. “Not me . . . Proph. LT . . . betrayed . . .”
Prophet’s gut clenched. “I believe you, Ry. Just let Pei help you.”
Ry shook his head. “Cillian . . .”
“What about Cillian?” Prophet asked as Mal stared.
“Shot . . . too. By LT.”
“Where is he?”
Rylan opened his mouth but his eyes rolled back.
“I’ve got to stop the bleeding.” Pei basically pushed them both out of the way to make room for her nurses. Mal helped them get Rylan on a stretcher and brought him into a back area of the garage, which was still behind the house and out of view.
He looked calmer than Prophet would’ve thought. Let’s get LT, he signed.
Together, they inched into the house, heard LT and Dean talking. They appeared to be the only ones in the main room, until Prophet looked under a wall with decorative cutouts and saw Tom on the couch. His eyes were closed and from where
LT stood, he probably couldn’t see him.
Prophet didn’t doubt that Tom was awake and listening to every word. Jin had to be around here too. Because Dean would’ve hoped for the best but planned for the worst.
From what Prophet heard, this was definitely the worst. LT was holding a gun on Dean, saying, “I should’ve just let you die that night when I had the chance.”
“Why didn’t you?” Dean demanded. “Or was it okay, because I couldn’t see—and that way, I couldn’t witness any of your atrocities?”
Prophet stood then. “Hey, LT.” LT turned, his weapon still trained on Dean and he looked surprised as hell. “What’s going on here?”
“What the hell happened to you?” LT asked, recovering quickly as Dean stood stiffly by LT’s side.
“John happened to me,” Prophet confirmed.
“John? Where is he?”
“He’s dead, LT. But you probably wouldn’t know that yet. At the very least, you knew I was with him . . .”
Which explained why LT looked so surprised to see him. “I’m sure you heard—”
“About Karen? Yes, I did.” Prophet stood there, immobile, as did LT. “What the fuck did you do, LT? To Dean? To me? To all of us?”
“My job,” was all LT said. He glanced over Prophet’s shoulder, as if to signal to a bodyguard who was no longer there, and then his eyes went wide as Prophet heard the shot.
“Bodyguard’s down, Proph,” Nico called.
“So’s LT,” Prophet heard himself say through the rushing pounding of blood in his head as he raised his arm. Dean slammed LT with an elbow and ducked out of the way. Prophet pulled the trigger and took LT out right between the eyes, tasting the bitterness of unshed tears as the man he’d trusted with his life fell at his feet.
Tom felt like he’d been fighting to get air into his lungs from the second LT arrived and Dean got him to confess, but when Prophet came into the room, the panic eased and his breathing normalized. And then he blinked to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
Everything happened fast after that. Prophet’s team swarmed the room and Jin came out of hiding. Dean sank to the floor but Nico caught him, and Prophet came around the other side.