Page 80 of Dash

If the expressions on the faces of my crew were any indication, it worked.

Standing next to me, Thena held on to my arm with both hands. Round and glassy, her eyes roamed the mansion’s stone façade. Her quiet breaths were a little faster than normal. I had no doubt she was experiencing some of the same conflicted emotions I felt. It was like returning to the scene of a crime. Or many crimes.

“It looks…” She hesitated before she forced the words out. “It looks haunted and haunting.”

“Not far from the mark.” Too many ghosts lingered here, along with tragic stories and the incomplete tales of those of us who’d avoided the place.

“It’s the gardens.” Thena’s gaze roamed the overgrown vegetation. “They make the house look abandoned. Desolate. Deserted.”

I couldn’t disagree with that. “What happened to the gardeners?”

“Father fired them the last time he was here.”

“Why?”

“Mom’s rose bushes.”

“What about them?”

“They died.” Thena chewed on her lip. “They were killed by a fungus of some kind. The gardeners couldn’t save them. Father said there was no need for gardens or gardeners if they couldn’t do their job and save Mom’s rose bushes.”

My heart ached for Thena. For Doña Lupe, who’d cared for her roses to the end. For the Astor siblings, who’d lost the last tangible, living reminder of their mother, and for Richard Astor, who’d lost his wife and his way on the day she died.

Fuck, no. Scrap that. I would not allow myself to feel sorry for the bastard.

The pressure of Thena’s fingers on my flesh made the moment feel even more surreal. I’d sworn off this place years ago. I’d told Richard Astor to his face I would never set foot in his house again. And yet here I was, at his beck and call.

Eat shit and love it, Dagger, his scraggly voice echoed in my head.

For Thena, I’d do that and more.

Craning his neck, staring at the mansion, Guzman whistled aloud. “What the fuck am I looking at? I can’t decide if this thing is butt ugly or beautiful beyond comprehension.”

“You wouldn’t know either way,” Ferranti pointed out, also studying the structure. “You’ve got zero taste.”

Guzman shrugged off the jab. “Mark me down as undecided.”

“You’re not here on behalf of Architectural Digest.” Bozeman’s low rumble reminded the team this was Thena’s home, and he would not tolerate disrespect in his ranks. “Your job is to secure this place. No one has solicited your opinion.”

Bozeman was right, but Guzman wasn’t wrong.

Richard Astor’s house was a jumbled mix of Tudor, Gothic, Victorian and every other style that Richard had demanded his pliable architect incorporate into the design. The mansion stood in command of the scenic valley, abuttingnational forest land. Framed by the Rockies and overlooking a vast lake, the house and the gardens were surrounded by a twelve-foot wall and protected by a security system that gave Fort Knox a run for its money.

It was a palatial home for a man whose ambition knew no bounds. Who the fuck needed twenty bedrooms, twenty-three bathrooms, thirty-six fireplaces, three kitchens, a tea room, a glass conservatory, a theater room, a spa, an Olympic size indoor-slash-outdoor swimming pool, a three thousand square foot gym, a billiards room with a bar and a cigar lounge, plus a two-story library designed to look like the main floor of the Library of Congress?

How about no-fucking-body?

The end result of Richard’s ambitions was not beautiful, or graceful, or tasteful in any way. The random mix of styles created a rambling architectural atrocity that boggled the mind. Four towers anchored the building, each holding the private quarters of his four daughters, which were located far from the bachelor’s wing where Nix and I had been housed. Gables, turrets, cupolas, pinnacles, gargoyles, grotesques, and even battlements adorned the convoluted rooflines, along with countless chimneys that topped the monstrosity.

I looked at Thena. “Shall we go in?”

“I guess,” she murmured uneasily.

As we approached, my stare shifted to the square entrance tower. Richard Astor’s initials were embossed in gold above the massive double doors. The rising phoenix centered on his family crest gleamed under the sunlight. It rankled me to walk under Richard’s crest, but I’d worked hard to make sure this was a safe space for Thena, perhaps the only place where her father’s assassin couldn’t reach her.

I nodded at the pair of BB assets guarding the front doors. I’d requisitioned manpower from the general pool to secure thehouse until my team and I arrived. They’d been on the ground for twenty-four hours and had upgraded the mansion’s security systems.

A sophisticated combination of motion and heat detectors, cameras, and high-tech surveillance systems meant that once Tracker Team had taken possession, we didn’t need numbers to protect the place. The advanced team had also installed an automated defense system along the fence and gardens capable of repelling an attack with the push of a button. BB Technology at its best.

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