H.A.L.O. Undone (Broken HALO Book 1): A Broken HALO Novel (Broken H.A.L.O.)

by Jillian Neal

  “You saved our asses. Don’t apologize.” I texted T the rest of the shit I’d found out and asked him to run checks on every name I saw in the images from the wallets Hannah had located and the stacks of credit cards I’d found in the safe. That damned piece of paper in my pocket set me on fire. I’d figure that out on my own. No one was going to do this to Hannah and get away with it. “We need to get in there with Inky, Blinky, Pinky, and Clyde.”

  “Pac-Man. Very nice. You really are doing well with the foursomes. I’m impressed.” She beamed up at me, and I doubled down on my resolve to figure out some way to explain what the general had done.

  “Hey, I’m a Beret and I’m pretty much the best at everything I do.” I winked at her.

  “I happen to agree.” She waggled those eyebrows and I momentarily forgot that I needed to go fuck a few people’s lives up before I fucked her senseless. “Guess we should go.” Her longing glance around our suite made me reconsider all things. I could get Fred to bring us dinner and a few six-packs. Turn on the Cubs. Cuddle up with her and see how many times I could round the bases myself. But that paper in my pocket was all the reason in the world. My phone buzzed before we made it out of our suite.

  You’re supposed to be fixing your life and fucking your girl not fucking up your life even more and catching a few grandmotherfuckers, T informed me.

  Just run the checks. I can multitask, I responded and then escorted her out toward the door.

  “Was that T? What did he say?”

  “Pretty sure he’s just trying to get some kind of high word score by using fuck the most times in a sentence. He’ll run the checks as soon as he finishes bitching at me.”

  Relief washed over Fred’s features when we made our appearance. “All’s well?” he asked.

  “All’s well. Thanks for your help. I owe you.”

  “Perhaps I should’ve properly introduced myself when you asked my name, sir.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

  “In my younger days, I was Captain Fred Jones of the Royal Marines.”

  I offered him my hand. “Served with more than a few Royal Marines. Damned impressive guard.”

  “Thank you, and for me, listen to Ms. Hagen. I wish I’d listened more when I was your age.”

  “Will do.”

  “Thanks for your help, Fred.” Hannah waved.

  “My pleasure, ma’am.”

  She fell in step with me as we marched toward the assigned banquet room. I halted her progress outside of the casino, using the crowds and blaring ring of the slots as a cover for the moment. “I need you to remember to give nothing away about yourself. Nothing at all. Don’t talk about your family. Don’t talk about the army. And absolutely nothing personal. Make up a new birthday. And for fuck’s sake do not say anything about Palindrome, okay?”

  “What’s on that paper in your pocket? Don’t you think she’ll eventually notice that it’s gone?”

  “We’ll talk about that later. Let’s go.”

  “Shouldn’t we come up with a story together? That way we won’t make a misstep.” Panic was setting in.

  “Hey.” I pressed my forehead to hers blocking out the world around us. “We’ve got this. You come up with any story you want, and I’ll make it work. I’ve got a few years’ worth of training in that area. It’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

  I escorted her into the ballroom. Candlelit tables for two had been set up in secluded corners for most of the couples. There was one large table with ten places directly in the center under one of the chandeliers. We were too late. Victoria was already seated between Watson and Mathis who both shot me an SOS with their eyes. Seeger was being worked over by the other two. Fuck.

  Pulling Hannah’s chair out for her, I surveyed where we were in this dinner. No one had plates but there was a platter of shrimp in several varieties along with sauces that had been half-eaten.

  “Now, Sergeant Watson, you were telling us where you’re from,” Victoria encouraged. Someone bang the gong. The shitshow had begun.

  “Oh, I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that,” he informed before turning to me. “You get everything you needed to get done finished?” I deeply regretted his parents’ decision to teach him to speak.

  I glanced Hannah’s way and prayed she’d forgive me for what I was about to say. I resurrected my typical cocky smirk and let my eyes linger on my baby’s form until the entire table took notice. “Oh, yeah, I got her all taken care of.”

  Heat blazed a path up from her cleavage. Blotches of bright pink trailed up her neck and finally settled in her cheeks as she got appreciative looks from every male at the table. Yeah, I’d hear about that one later.

  “It’s interesting, isn’t it, Gladys, that Mr. Haywood planned to be late for our date last evening, but then when we saw them outside the casino, he conveniently came up with something they needed to do.” Victoria narrowed her eyes.

  “Well, you have to give it to him, Vicky. She’s pretty. If I had an ass like that I’d never wear pants.” Gladys spoke with shrimp in her mouth, and I fought not to gag. Hannah was now the color of the Red Cross logo.

  “She’s not wrong, baby,” I informed her through my chuckle. “Maybe you should take her advice.”

  “I will get you back for that later,” she informed me through her clenched teeth.

  “I have no doubt.”

  Victoria wasn’t getting any response from me on her inquiry so I simply returned her glare. Had she returned to her room because she thought we were there? That seemed doubtful. Most con men, or con women as the case may be, would get the fuck out of town without leaving any kind of forwarding address if they got so much as a hint that someone was onto their little game. If she’d figured something out, why was she still here?

  When I won our deranged glaring contest, she moved on. “Ms. Hagen, why don’t you tell us how you met Mr. Haywood.”

  I had no doubts that my baby would knock this out of the park, but damn, if I didn’t want to bitch slap the women across the table.

  “Griff?” Hannah smiled. “I honestly don’t know him that well. We met out in L.A. a few years ago when we were both out there for work. We see each other occasionally.”

  Yep, that would do. I discreetly rubbed her thigh trying to reassure her and also seeing just how pissed she was about my last comment. Thankfully, she threaded her fingers through mine and squeezed my hand. I was at least mostly forgiven.

  “I thought you said he worked with your brother?” Ms. Mallory huffed as she loaded a few more shrimp onto her appetizer plate. She looked like someone had puckered both sets of her lips.

  Hannah never missed a beat. “He did. That’s actually how we got to talking that night at the bar. You know how the army is about their Special Forces teams. I had no idea he worked with…Steve until he mentioned he was a Beret. My brother and I aren’t that close.” Her voice caught on that particular lie. That one cost too damn much. I knew. Smith would always be her hero. I had to remember that. “Do you remember how good that rum was?” She turned to me. There was just a hint of panic on her features. You had to know her as intimately and thoroughly as I did to see it.

  “Best I think I’ve ever had. What was the name of that place? The Caña right?” Want someone to believe your story give them a few superfluous details. A rum bar in Cali? That I could provide.

  “That’s it,” Hannah nodded. “Great music, too.”

  “My fourth husband, Edgar, enjoyed The Caña.” Ms. Rutherford slithered in her seat. Shit. Hannah shifted slightly. She’d never been to The Caña. I could tell. “He always wished they’d had an outdoor area since the weather in L.A. is nice so often.” Challenge scorched from her glare. “I was under the impression regulars at the Caña were also investors. Do you hold a stake in the club, Ms. Hagen?”

  “The Caña does have an outdoor area. Well, I mean they have a glassed roof area where the bands play. They’ve got that speakeasy feel which wouldn’t wor
k with a terrace or anything. And you don’t have to be a stockholder to party there. There aren’t that many owners.” God bless the Screaming Eagles from the 101st. Ryder Mathis had just saved both of our asses. “I’d know since my brother-in-law is one of the owners.” I owed him the best fucking bottle of rum The Obelisk could provide. “It’s cool you two met there. I’ll tell him that.” Scratch that, I owed him good rum and the truth at some later date.

  A waiter approached, and I ordered beers for Hannah and me. Edith cut in. “Bring Jager shots for the table, honey. I feel like getting crazy.”

  Oh, the fuck no, we would not be doing Jager shots. And I was more than finished with Victoria driving conversation. I had several questions I wanted answers to. “We’re not doing shots,” I informed the waiter. “I am curious though, Ms. Mallory, how exactly were the bidders chosen for this auction? Everyone seems to be having fun…” I gestured to the surrounding tables where people were getting to know each other on their forced date, “…you must’ve chosen well.” Steamroll a conversation and you’ll squash out a Jager order as well.

  The waiter looked momentarily confused. “It’s a cash bar, sir. All of the proceeds go to Ms. Mallory. I can get your beer, but you’ll have to pay for it now.”

  I slapped a twenty in his hand and he headed toward the bar. Did he realize what he’d just said? Was the check being written to her so she could eventually get the money to Homefront Heroes or was its end stop in Megan’s checking account?

  She looked at me like I’d just asked her to set her own clothing on fire. “We… uh… well, we reached out to our biggest donors and asked anyone in the area who might have interest.”

  “We had a hand in helping her plan the event. Always happy to support our armed services,” Edith announced.

  “I’ll bet.” I knew they’d had a hand in it. I just didn’t know why or how.

  39

  Hannah

  When Griff brought up how the bidders had been selected, I weighed Megan’s response. Palindrome was a major donor to Homefront Heroes. I’d even partnered with the organization a few years ago to design houses for homeless vets. My firm had fronted all of the money for my work and the elements I’d used in the home. It was my favorite charity, but I hadn’t been approached about the auction until I’d run into Megan at The Obelisk when she was here checking out the space for the event. Another round of guilt bubbled in the beer in my stomach. It was my favorite charity, and I’d used it for my own purposes.

  Covered dishes were brought to our places. When the lids were lifted away plain hamburgers with no sides were revealed. This was supposed to be a charity dinner. That shrimp on the appetizer platter was too limp to have been fresh. What the hell was up with this dinner?

  Several crackled percussive drumbeats sounded from a nearby speaker.

  “We’re on, girls!” Edith leapt from her seat.

  On the next low bass beat, my mouth dropped open. Griff wrapped his arm over my shoulders and scooted me closer. “I have no idea what they’re about to do, but I feel the distinct need to protect you.”

  Trumpets joined the drums for the first notes of, Oh beautiful for spacious skies.

  “Thank God it’s not the anthem because I cannot salute that,” he huffed.

  Victoria joined her cohorts at center floor as they began to sing and perform some kind of odd tap-dance. They lifted their skirts thigh high at every available opportunity.

  I was close enough to feel Griff’s phone vibrate in his pocket. He fished it out and then turned it so I could see the screen. Voodoo had responded. What the fuck, man? Most of those are narcotics the others are generic versions of Viagra and Cialis. That is a dangerous combo. We’re about to take off. I’ll run the names on the bottles when I get to the office tomorrow morning.

  “Well, that explains…that.” I gestured to the sequined spectacle before my eyes. It was like watching a bedazzled train wreck.

  “They’re definitely using. Wonder if they’re also selling?” He typed back a response to Voodoo asking what effect male enhancement drugs would have on women.

  Similar effect as guys. Rushes blood to your crotch which makes it more sensitive. Puts everyone and all of their parts in the mood.

  I turned to whisper in his ear. “Last night her fourth husband’s name was Robert. Tonight, she said his name was Edgar. Did you notice that?”

  “I did not notice that, and you are a deadly combination. Did you know that my sexy Hannah Banana?”

  “You are not allowed to call me that.” I laughed anyway.

  “Fine. But you are. Fucking perfect sense of humor, both a brilliant and dirty mind, and enough heart to make up for my lack of one. I’m a goner, baby.”

  “Good.” There were recorded fireworks on whatever source of music our insane entertainment was using for their song, but they were nothing compared to the ones of victory going off in my chest. By the end of the week, I’d be informing my parents of my plans to move to Lincoln to pursue a permanent relationship with Griff. In time, they’d learn to deal.

  Ms. Mallory’s gasp jerked me back down from the cloud I was currently floating on and redesigning. Edith and Gladys were pulling red, white, and blue handkerchiefs out of their bras and waving them in the air. I could not believe Ms. Mallory was allowing this at a Homefront Heroes event.

  Watson turned in his chair. “I kind of forgot I wasn’t supposed to tell them anything, so I might’ve said something about being from Paducah.”

  Griff gave him a simpering nod. “Just try to keep it under wraps, okay?”

  “He also actually signed his name on one of their autograph books,” Ryder spat. “I tore the page out while they were practicing their dance.”

  “Jesus.” Griff downed half of his beer in one sip. “Dude, you’re in the army and before that you were a chicken farmer has anyone ever asked you for your autograph?”

  “No.” Again, Watson looked confused. “But they said they’re fans of military guys. They even have a calendar.”

  “Wait, why was he not supposed to tell them where he’s from?” Ms. Mallory demanded. “They’re perfectly nice ladies. They helped me with the event. Just what are you suggesting?”

  I watched Griff’s impressive form lean in, crowding Ms. Mallory, giving her no room to lie or even to think. “I have a feeling you know precisely why he shouldn’t do that, and I think you’re letting this shit go on”—he gestured to the bizarre dinner entertainment—“because you owe somebody something. Why don’t you tell me what that is?”

  “I…have no idea what you’re referring to. This is all for Homefront Heroes.”

  Griff’s eyes narrowed a half-notch. “Hey, Mathis, you’re a Ranger, right? Made it through training and then all the way to the 101st. Tell me, after the army got done flinging your ass out of planes and starving you to death what was the one thing they taught you that’s kept your ass alive after you hit the ground in a hostile zone?”

  Ryder gave him a knowing smile. “You mean besides killing every living thing and then looking badass in the uniform?”

  “Yeah, after that.” Griff chuckled.

  “How to know when someone’s lying their ass off right to your face.”

  “Figured it was something like that.”

  “Yeah, but Ranger school is only three months. Don’t Berets train for years?” It was like Ryder had been given a script. When he got out of the army, T should hire him for Tier Seven.

  “Years,” Griff echoed.

  Ms. Mallory’s chair slid audibly backward, and the next second she was rushing from the room.

  “Should we follow her?” I prepared to make an escape.

  “Nah.” He brushed a kiss on my cheek. “Let her simmer in it for a while. I want her good and panicked when I go in for the kill. This whole fucking thing is a sham. I just have to figure out why she did this.”

  Watson’s voice interrupted his explanation. “So, do they like do this on the road or something? I don’t get i
t.” He gestured to Edith and Gladys as they did a low-kick routine while Victoria hit the final notes of the song.

  “We’ll add it to the lengthy list of things you don’t get, man.” Ryder slapped him on the back. Griff lifted his beer to him. My own laughter caused my beer to spill on the tops of my breasts, the only parts revealed by the sundress.

  Griff grinned at me. “Aim’s getting better, baby. I’ll take care of that later.”

  40

  Griff

  I’m not getting anything on a Victoria Rutherford. You sure that’s her name? T’s text came in near the end of our bizarre dinner.

  It’s probably a fake. Hang on I’ll get you some pics. Hannah and I spent ten minutes discreetly snapping pictures of our table companions and sending them to T. Torture the data, my friend. It’ll confess to something, I instructed.

  Working on it. Looks like I might’ve stumbled up on an outstanding warrant. Let me check into this.

  An outstanding warrant would make my job a whole lot easier, but that still wouldn’t explain Megan Mallory’s part in all of this. There are still a few things I have to figure before we call in the cops. I need some evidence that isn’t also going to implicate me and Hannah. I reminded him.

  From what I’m seeing. The one in blue’s name is Vera Sanders not Victoria Rutherford. I’ll keep digging. Leave it. Go enjoy your night.

  I intend to do just that. And I planned to get started on enjoying my night immediately. I’d had enough of the sequined freaks and geeks.

  Since Hannah was watching our exchange she shot me a sexy, sinful smirk that stirred my cock and whipped my mind into a fucking frenzy of need for her. Her hand slid to my injured thigh and edged ever closer to the semi I was sporting. The cheap table cloth provided a decent cover. Draping my arm over the back of her chair, I nuzzled her cheek. “Keep going, baby. I’m so damned needy for you.”