Wicked Need (The Wicked Horse Series Book 3)(67)

Fort Bragg, NC (AP): Sergeant Major Allen Henning with the 82nd Airborne Division was awarded the Bronze Star with Valor for selfless actions he undertook in Afghanistan that saved the lives of numerous soldiers. Sergeant Major Henning, along with fourteen other soldiers, came under enemy fire while stationed at Forward Operating Base Eagle in the Balad district of Afghanistan. After identifying the shooter in an Afghani uniform, who had already shot two soldiers under Henning’s command, Sergeant Major Henning managed to return cover fire to enable others to get to safety. He then managed to wound the assailant, effectively disarming him and ensuring his quick capture by U.S. Forces.

The article goes on to say that Allen Henning is from Green Bay, Wisconsin and had joined the Army in 1990 at the age of eighteen. I know Cat is twenty-four, born in 1991, so if this is her father, that would have made him nineteen at the time.

I look up to Trish, who doesn’t hold an ounce of fondness on her face for the man who gave her a daughter.

“What’s the story with you two?” I ask bluntly.

She grimaces and sits back down at the table. “I was living with a friend in Fayetteville, North Carolina and met Allen there. He’d been in the Army only a few months stationed at Ft. Bragg. We had a brief affair and then I came back to Vegas. He apparently went on to do quite well for himself.”

“Define brief affair,” I push at her.

She shrugs. “We were together maybe four months. Because we were young and stupid, we were f*cking like rabbits with no protection. I got pregnant and never told him.”

“Why not?” I ask, trying not to let my lip curl up in disdain at her.

“He was gung ho about the Army, and I sure as shit didn’t want to lead that type of life. He got sent to some school at a base in Alabama. He wanted me to wait for him back at Fort Bragg but as soon as he left, I used that opportunity to come back home to Vegas.”

“You just left without telling him you were leaving?”

“Knew he’d try to talk me out of it. If he’d known I was pregnant, he would have followed me to Vegas. Allen was just one of those upstanding people, always doing the right thing. Was kind of dull actually.”

Man, this woman is cracked in the head.

“If you didn’t want to be tied down, why in the world would you even keep the baby?” I have to ask her. Because in the few minutes I’ve been in this woman’s presence, I can tell she has no business being a mother.

“I didn’t have the funds to get back to Vegas. Told my mom I was pregnant and abandoned, which wasn’t the entire truth, but she wired me money to get home. She made me promise to keep the baby though as she didn’t believe in abortion. So I had Catherine and lived with my mom for about three years. She pretty much took care of the baby until she died from a sudden brain aneurysm, then I had to step up to the plate and become a mom.”

Yeah, lady… you most certainly didn’t step up to the plate.

“Why didn’t you just give Cat to her father if you didn’t want her?” I ask, unable to hold the derision out of my voice.

“Because she had her uses,” she says without an ounce of shame, still looking me in the face. “Tax breaks and government assistance.”

“You have got to be f*cking kidding me,” I growl at her from across the table, pushing my chair back and standing up. “You kept a child because she helped you with taxes and food stamps? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Trish’s face flushes red as she tries to defend herself. “I did the best I could. I never beat her or abused her.”

“You neglected her,” I spit at her. “You kept her from a parent who might have wanted to give her love and devotion. The only thing you love about your daughter is the money she gives you.”

She shrugs again, not willing to engage me in a debate over her mothering skills. Instead, she says, “Look… how about I just get my money and you go on your fool’s errand trying to chase Allen down? Not sure what you hope to accomplish with that, but that was the easiest twenty-five thousand made in the history of the world.”

“Twelve-thousand-five hundred,” I correct her as I pull my checkbook out of my back pocket. “You don’t get the other half until I find her dad.”





The disdainful task of handing money over to that woman complete, I jump in my Suburban and head back to the Bellagio, calling Bridger on the way through the hands-free Bluetooth.

“Fruitful discussion?” is how Bridger answers.

“Yeah… got the name of Cat’s father. Allen Henning. Was in the Army, at least as of 2003 when he won a Bronze Star. Originally from Green Bay and was stationed at Fort Bragg. That’s all I got.”

“Piece of cake,” Bridger says, and I will have to take his word on it. The man has dozens of contacts that provide all sorts of useful information, and I’m grateful he’s helping me on this. “I’ll have something for you by morning.”

“Thanks, man,” I say as I rub the back of neck, which is aching from the tension of having to actually be in Trish Lyons’ presence.

“Sure thing,” he says. “And your girl went home alone last night. Sat at the bar and drank water the rest of the night after that one glass of wine. Left around midnight. I’m assuming she went back to your place.”