by Jillian Neal
“You want a better life? Why don’t you marry Georgia then? And treat her a whole hell of a lot better than you did mom. And for Christ sakes get rid of the Playboys. What are you, fourteen?”
“I can’t marry Georgia.” Duke sounded like the very idea was preposterous. I glanced Georgia’s way. Determination cast those kind brown eyes. I grinned. Duke Haywood was going down.
“Why not?” Griff demanded.
“’Cause, it’s like you said, I’m an ass. Now, why can’t you marry your Hannah?”
The lengthy pause was agonizing. I leaned closer still and willed him to answer. He could shatter any lock anywhere. Nothing could keep him out if he wanted in. I just needed him to release the things he had in the lockbox of his own soul. “Her brother is my best friend, and her father hates me enough to try to get me and his own son killed.”
Shock parted at my scalp and sank slowly down my body. What was he talking about? I leaned closer.
“Her brother will get over it. I know I never gave you a reason to but trust me on that. What the hell are you talking about with her daddy? Ain’t he a big-time army general?”
“Yeah, that’s him.” An audible breath pressed from Griff’s lungs. My feet scooted even closer to the cracked door. “I never told you, but I met Hannah a long time ago. Back when I first got out of Q training. We started dating right off. I swear I fell in love with her the first time I saw her. We kept it a secret. She’s a good bit younger than me, and we figured if her dad found out he would birth an entire platoon. I got sloppy, and we got caught. The next morning I got called into his office. He said if I didn’t stay away from Hannah, he’d make certain that I got sent so far away I’d never make it back.
“The next day we were on a flight to Eritrea. I know that’s how they make it look in the movies, but that’s not how it is in real life. We get a minimum of a week, usually more before we’re deployed for training and prep, but not that time. We were told to pack, and we were gone. The pilot dropped us forty miles from our target zone in the middle of jihadist territory, and he did it on purpose. He was court-martialed for it. The general let the pilot take the fall for trying to get us killed all because he couldn’t stand that she was in love with me. How fucked up is that? Almost got his son murdered because of me.”
Vomit swirled to a maelstrom in my gut. My throat burned as bile shot upwards from my chest. No. No way. My father had done some unorthodox things when it came to me dating, but he would never have done that.
“Sonuvabitch,” Duke spat.
“Yeah, and that’s not all. If I hadn’t gotten caught with her, we would never have been sent to Eritrea. The way it works with Beret teams is that we run on a cycle. Your first deployment determines your next and the next one after that all the way up until you retire. If I hadn’t been so stupid and reckless, and he hadn’t sent us to Africa unprepared, we wouldn’t have been in Najaf when we were attacked.”
Panic drowned out the rest of Griff’s explanations. The constant hum in my ears turned to a deafening blare. He couldn’t have. Surely. I had to know. I spun on my heels but then turned back. “I have to talk to my father. Please don’t tell Griff I’m gone yet,” I whispered to Georgia and raced out of the hospital.
Four minutes later, my hollow stomach found ground near my ankles, while I was in an Uber flying to the Boise airport. I already had my ticket to Denver. I wanted the truth and my father was going to give it to me.
53
T-Byrd
I meant every word I’d said to Griff about him figuring his shit out with Hannah. Chris was gone now, and it was my job to make sure the rest of Team Seven got the best they could possibly get out of life. But work was hella busy, and I needed my weapons expert and the guy who could literally break into Fort Knox to come back.
My cell phone rang in my pocket as I pulled back into the parking deck from a job that entailed a load of AR’s that were not supposed to be where they ended up. “Talk,” I ordered Rylee.
“Good morning to you, too. If you’re going to give Griff a week off, you’re going to have to hire someone to fill in. General Mendoza has called twice about that deal he wants you to look over, and that chick who won’t ever give me her name wants to know if any progress is being made on her case.”
Of course she did. “Uh, I’ll take care of Mendoza. Smith’s gonna have to take on Miss we-need-secured-servers-and-a-VPN-yesterday.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know what crawled up Hagen’s ass and lit a fire, but he stormed out of here two hours ago.”
Shit. “Did he say where he was going?”
“No, but I have never seen him so pissed.”
Fuck, fuck, fuckety, fuck, fuck. “K, I’m coming in.”
I took the stairs three at a time and flew through the door to Tier Seven. Rylee looked at me like I’d painted my face blue and yanked off my shirt when I raced past her desk and flew into Smith’s office. She followed after me. “What are you doing?”
“Figuring out exactly how fucked up my day is going to be.”
With one quick move of his mouse and my personal override password, I stared at the last thing Smith had seen before he took off. A picture provided him via a Google alert set on his little sister of Griff kissing her cheek outside The Obelisk Hotel. This was not good. Apparently, the hotel saw an advertising opportunity with their star interior designer looking like she fell in love at the hotel. They’d run a blog article about her.
And since Smith was a Comm Sergeant turned good-guy hacker, he’d gone on and hacked into the hotel’s security cameras and there, for all the world to see, was Griff with his hand up Hannah’s skirt kissing her with enough heat to set fire to the rainforest in the background. Jesus, he looked like he was half-mauling her.
Rylee’s eyes bugged. “Holy mother of all the world’s blue balls is that Griff with…Hannah Hagen?”
I managed a nod.
Two clicks of the mouse revealed the direct flight ticket to Vegas Smith was already on. Okay, we could deal with this. He had to find out sometime. Why not now? I checked the flights to Vegas. There wasn’t another one for two hours. Fuck me.
“Voodoo,” I shouted.
“You bellowed?” He leaned his head into Smith’s office and proceeded to peel a banana.
“We’re going to Vegas. Get me a jet, and get ready.”
“Sweet.”
“We are not going to party. We’re going to keep Smith from murdering Griff.”
“Okay, but after we do that can we party?” He continued eating a banana like he wasn’t terribly concerned.
Gripping the monitor I turned it so he could see the images on the screen.
“Holy fuck, is that Hannah?” He spoke around the wad of fruit in his mouth.
“They’ve been like that for years. For obvious reasons, he didn’t feel like he could say anything. But now, we’re going to have to play marriage counselor for Smitty and Griff.”
“Somebody had their hand up my sister’s skirt like that I’d definitely kill them,” Voodoo announced.
“Not helpful.”
“All I can tell you is he’d reached supreme rage before he even made it out the door. How do you plan to get him to be chill with his best friend shucking his little sister’s oyster?” Rylee asked.
“Have I ever gone in without a plan? I have a plan. I just…have to think of it.” I considered every possible scenario. There had to be some way to get Smith to see how happy Hannah was with Griff. And then I had it. I picked up the phone on Smith’s desk.
“Who are you calling?” Voodoo was on his phone getting us a pilot.
“Backup.” The phone rang twice before she answered. “Hey, Maddie, it’s T.”
54
Griff
Every hair on the back of my neck stood. I popped the knuckles on my right hand twice. Something was off. Something more than the oddity of me sharing shit with my father. My heart tripped over its next few beats and then stalled. Staring at my father in
a hospital bed, I wondered if I was having a heart attack as well.
But the hollow in my ribcage wasn’t an attack. It was a pained emptiness. Georgia returned from her walk carrying a Styrofoam cup of coffee. Guilt was etched in the deep lines surrounding her mouth.
“Where’s Hannah?” I was on my feet heading toward the door before she spoke. Realization surged up my spine, and my heart flew.
“Well, um, she asked me not to tell you she’d gone, but, you know, lying is a sin. I went to get coffee first, and there was a line so that’s something. Maybe she won’t be too mad at me. She left out of here a while ago.”
Panic and loss scorched my blood. “Gone where?” I recognized the harsh fury in my own tone. The last time I’d heard it was to shout instructions to Voodoo when the fuckers who’d taken us down turned on us. The abandonment I’d felt for most of my life resurrected itself in my chest.
“I’m not sure exactly. We uh…”
“What? You what?” I seethed.
“We overheard you talking…about her father.” Translation: we eavesdropped on a conversation I forced you to have.
“Son, what the hell are you still standing here for? Go after her.” That was the first order my father had ever given me that made any sense at all. “You two are meant to be. May not be easy, but it sounds like her daddy’s an even bigger jackass than I am. She needs you.”
“Did she believe what she heard me say?” I had to know what I was dealing with when I got to her. I had to have a plan. Did she run from me and to her father or to him in defense of me?
“I don’t really know.” Georgia busied herself pulling Duke’s blankets higher up his chest.
I burst from the room like a detonated bomb and collided with an orderly pushing a cart of bedpans. Leaping over the shitpan spillage that clattered from the cart, I dodged and ducked around all matter of hospital personnel and visitors. I threw open the doors to St. Luke’s and was standing by my old Jeep in record time.
Throwing it into reverse, I backed out and touched Hannah’s name on my phone. By the fourth ring, I was out of the parking lot.
“Hi, you’ve reached Hannah Hagen, Owner and Lead Designer of Palindrome Design…”
“Dammit!” I tossed the cell in the passenger side seat. It landed right where her ass should’ve been. I’d known better. I should never have let that story breach my mouth. I’d kept it a secret for seven fucking years, and it had destroyed everything just like I knew it would as soon as it was given breath. Evil is corrosive and indiscriminate. It takes out everything in its path.
The thing that pissed me off the most was the fact that if she was running from me because she didn’t believe her father capable of such a thing, he was about to get his way despite everything he’d done. And that was what kept me flying to that damned airport. Surely, she hadn’t gotten on a flight yet. I had to talk to her. I had to make her believe me. She had to know what kind of rat bastard he was. I’d spent years protecting him. Hannah and I were worth fighting for. Dammit, why had it taken me so long to figure that out?
Rolling through two red lights and flat out running one, I made it to the airport in eight minutes. Abandoning my car in the nearest lot, I flew inside. “Hannah!” I shouted in the vicinity of the ticketing lines receiving several odd stares but no answer.
My mind instantly cordoned off the area and searched every face in every line in the airport. She wasn’t there. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I did precisely what she must’ve done. I searched for flights. When nothing appeared, I stepped up to a ticketing agent. The people behind me in line would have to get over it. “I need a ticket to Denver now. Preferably one that would allow me to arrive in the next ten minutes.”
The agent eyed me cautiously. “Okay. Uh…” she hit a few keys on her computer and then forced a smile. “United has a nonstop to Denver at 2:30.”
“That’s three fucking hours from now. I cannot wait that long. Wait, is that the only flight to Denver today?” If that’s the flight Hannah had booked, she was probably at the gate waiting, which would provide me ample opportunity to swear to her that I knew how fucked-up it was to have a shitty dad and that I would always take care of her.
The attendant continued to eye me cautiously.
“Look, my girl just went running out of St. Luke’s where my father is because he had a heart attack, and I have to talk to her. Can you cut me a break, please? Here”—I pulled my military id—“Special Forces. I swear I’m not crazy just fucked.”
She nodded and searched the flights once again. “United had another nonstop that left about fifteen minutes ago.”
“Is there any way you can tell me if she made that flight?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that.”
Defeat tugged at my resolve. Dammit. “That 2:30 is the earliest Denver flight, you’re sure? Any other airport with an earlier flight?”
“I’m sorry, sir. That’s the quickest anyone other than maybe the air force is going to get you to Denver.”
“Yeah, had a feeling you were going to say that. I somehow doubt they’re going to scramble me an F-15 no matter how much I’ve done for this country. Give me that 2:30 and tell me the gate that the earlier flight left out of.”
“Is your girlfriend really pretty with long blonde hair, and would she have been crying?”
“I’m going to go with yes.” The knowledge that she would most definitely have shed tears slammed a hammered fist through my gut.
“I think I saw her.” She glanced around and edged a few steps away from the nearest ticketing agent a few stations down. “I saw her pull a pack of crackers from her bag and give them to the homeless guy that was outside this morning even though she was the one sobbing. That’s the only reason I’m telling you this so listen very closely to what I’m about to say.”
Listening, reading, judging, sorting those were all things I did without anyone having to instruct me to do them. They’d been branded in my skull by the United States Army Special Forces. I gave her a single nod.
“Her flight left from B19.”
She was gone. A boulder with claws strangled me. “How’d she get through security that fast?” I asked but I already knew.
“She has a TSA pre-check so she made it through security really fast. For what it’s worth, I hope you get this worked out. She was really upset.”
“Thanks.”
There was only one other possibility for getting to her faster. I touched T’s name on my phone. He answered on the first ring. “Listen, man, you need to keep a low profile until we get there…” he began.
“I need a flight to Denver. Now. Can you get me a private flight?” I didn’t give a damn about whatever it was T was freaking out about. Hannah was the only thing that mattered.
“Wait. What? Why the hell do you need a flight to Denver?”
“I’m in Boise. My dad had a heart attack. We came up here to check on him, and now Hannah’s on her way to Denver and I have to get to her.”
“What the hell happened?”
“Not right now.” That story would never rattle my vocal cords ever again.
“So, Hannah is in Denver and you are in Boise?” T clarified.
“For the moment, yeah, but if you can get me a flight I’ll be in Denver fixing this. If you can’t, I won’t be there until this afternoon, and I can’t let her get to her father before I get to her.”
“I can’t get you a plane. V can’t even get us a plane right now. Can you get a commercial flight to Denver?”
“Not for another three hours.”
“Do that. We’ll meet you in Denver. This is all going to work out. I just need to talk to Smith,” T explained.
“What the hell does he have to do with any of this?”
“His sister. According to you there’s something with his father and also his best friend. I’d say he has a lot to do with all of this. I’ll see you as soon as I can. Have to pick someone up but then we’ll meet you in Denver.”
>
55
Hannah
I switched my phone back on as soon as we touched down in Denver. I should never have left him there, but I had to know the truth. If my father had really done the things Griff accused him of, he needed to say that to my face, and I wasn’t certain I’d get the truth if Griff was there with me.
Nineteen voice mails and more than thirty texts. Didn’t even have to open them to know he’d been trying to explain himself and console me from eight-hundred miles away. Before I could listen to the voice mails, Smith’s name appeared on my screen. Talking to him just then wasn’t a great idea. I had to know if Daddy had really been insane enough over me and Griff to sacrifice Smith’s safety, but the knowledge that I could have lost my brother and the love of my life on their first mission had me answering the phone. Besides, he had to know about me and Griff, and it had to be me that told him.
“Hey.” I tried to erase the emotion from my throat as I stood to file off of the plane.
“Where the fuck are you?” He growled.
“I’m in Denver. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Sure you are,” Smith snarled.
“Hey, I don’t know what the hell is up with you, but I don’t have time for your shit either. If you have something to say, say it.”
I momentarily forgot that I was disembarking a plane until mothers started slapping their hands over their children’s ears. Dammit.
“Where’s Griff, Hannah?” Menace slithered in his question.
My brain, heart, and entire pulmonary system couldn’t quite remember what they were supposed to do to function. “What?” That single syllable was the only word my mind seemed to recognize.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought. Now, where the fuck are you really?”
“I am in Denver about to go to Mom and Dad’s house.” Fury rushed the blood back through my veins and the words spilled forth as well. “Knowing Griff as well as I do, and I know him very well, I’d bet my life that he’s already on a flight here as well. Any other questions?” I could just make out someone speaking on what sounded like an intercom system. I swore I heard the words “Welcome to McCarran International Airport.”