by Aubrey Irons
He sneers at me; “Read my contract, babe; you can’t fire me mid-run.”
Fuck.
Hudson does step forward then, right in Donald’s face, and he glowering down on the smaller man; “And if the campaign can’t pay you?”
“Excuse me?” Donald huffs, taking a wary step back from Hudson.
“I said what if they can’t pay you. If the campaign goes broke, are you prepared to work for free?”
He sputters; “What? No, of course not! It’s ridiculous to think that I’d be willing to stick around this spoiled little brat without-”
“Excellent.” Hudson nods curtly, cutting him off. He takes his cell phone out and begins to type something before he turns to me.
“Ms. Archer?” He winks at me with a big shit-eating grin on his face; “Romantic fraternization between political and private enterprise is unfortunately grounds for contractual liquidation under your agreement with our company.”
His back is to Donald, and only I can see as he winks again and sticks his tongue out at me.
“So, on behalf of Archer Holdings, I regret to inform you that we’ll be revoking your campaign funding, effective immediately.” He turns back to Donald; “I’d recommend not cashing your check this week; it’s going to bounce.”
Donald’s face goes a bright shade of crimson, and he opens his mouth as if to say something though words seem to fail him in that moment. He sputters something unintelligible out his piggy mouth before he whirls around and stomps out of the room.
29
Hudson
P R E S E N T
“You know as soon as he quits, I’m making sure the funds hit your campaign again, right?”
Reagan’s cheeks are flushed when she looks up at me; “Holy shit, I mean; wow.” She laughs nervously and then with more feeling, like she’s just shrugged a weight off her shoulders.
“I should not have done that. I mean I really should not have done that! He’s probably going to try and sue you know.”
I grin. “I’m willing to bet he doesn’t know that quitting before his contract finishes voids it entirely, so fuck him; I’ll have your father’s lawyers eat him alive.”
She’s staring at me with stars in her eyes and her whole face smiling, and I can’t help but smile right back; that’s just the effect she has on me; “Hudson, I lo-”
The door bursts open and a harried and winded looking campaign intern with a clipboard barges into the room; “Ms. Archer! You need to follow me right now; you’re on stage in three minutes!”
Well shit, hows that for perfect timing,
She nods at the kid but whirls back to me; “Will you watch it?”
“Oh, what is it we’re here for? Some sort of telethon? Are you raising money for PBS?” I grin at her as she makes a face at me; “I was actually thinking about heading across the street to that bar and catching the rest of the game or something.”
She rolls her eyes; “Hudson, you are the most infuriati-”
“Reagan,” I grab her hand and squeeze it. There’s so much I want to tell her; so much I need to tell her. But she’s about to go on fucking television for this speech, so instead I just wink at her; “Of course I’ll watch it.”
And I do, and it’s incredible; she’s incredible.
There’s none of Donald’s bullshit middle of the road crap this time; she speaks the truth and she speaks from the heart. She talks about corruption and government kickbacks, and the lack of oversight. She names names, and calls people out right there on television, and it’s fucking amazing.
She’s bold and she’s fearless, and once they pull their jaws off the ground, the people there go fucking nuts.
“Ms. Archer!” A woman with a microphone calls out from the crowd of screaming reporters as Reagan prepares to take questions; “You really just came out swinging in that speech, which isn’t quite a side of you we’ve seen yet. You’re already ahead in the polls; what brought this on?”
Reagan smiles and nods her head; “Because a dear friend recently taught me that the things you care about are the things worth fighting to be heard about.”
There are a million more questions, but one guy towards the front is screaming louder than the rest; “Ms. Archer! Ms. Archer! We’re hearing reports from your very own campaign manager about some sort of alleged illicit relationship between yourself and an employee of Archer Holdings, your primary campaign financier. Some sort of ex-Army guy?”
The screaming crowd of journalists actually goes quiet, hanging on the silence as Reagan’s face freezes, and I feel my whole heart skip a beat.
But then she’s turning to look right at me in the wings off-stage, and she’s grinning that perfect smile that just slays me every time. She nods at me, her eyes sparkling, and then she’s beckoning to me, and waving me on stage. I give her a quizzical look, but she rolls her eyes and beckons me again before turning back to the gathered reporters again with a smirk on her face.
“He’s a Marine, actually, and I wouldn’t exactly call being in love an ‘illicit affair’.”
I’m staring at her like we’re both crazy as I walk on the stage, right into the limelight and the camera flashes and the screaming questions.
“You sure you know what you’re doing, Archer?” I murmur as the crowd of reporters begin to scream and hurl questions at us.
She grins; “Which part?”
“Both?”
She grabs my tie and pulls me close. “Definitely,” she whispers, and then she’s pulling me into a kiss right there in front of everyone.
This is literally the polar opposite of blending in, but as I scoop her into my arms, I feel the whole world slip away anyways, because that what she does to me. And right there in that moment, I know I’m ready for whatever the fuck comes next because I’ve got her, and for the first time in forever, I feel whole.
We kiss for what feels like an hour but is probably more like ten glorious seconds with the million flashbulbs going off around us, before she pulls back and grins at me.
“Sorry, I probably should have mentioned it before that I love you.”
I shrug and grin at her; “Oh, do you? Yeah I never would have picked up on tha-”
She laughs and punches my arm before I pull her right back into me; “Hey Princess,” I murmur, kissing her again; “I love you too, you know.”
And right there, nothing else matter in the whole fucking universe but her.
30
Hudson
P A S T
I take my time getting ready.
As I’m pulling my pants on, or tucking in my shirt, or tying the double windsor knot in my tie, it’s like I’m suiting up my armor to head into battle. I can feel my nerves jangling like live-wires inside of me, my pulse skipping around like a broken record as I finish getting ready; finish getting prepared for this.
I’ve had a million conversations with her over the last few years. I’ve written her letters that I’ve burned instead of sending, had conversations with the memory of her late into the night when I’m alone and sleepless with my thoughts. Hell, I’ve played out this very meeting a hundred different ways in my head since I decided I was going.
But none of it has me prepared to see her again. But the nervousness and the jangling nerves is like an elevated, surreal feeling that’s better than any booze.
It was Bryce who heard about the chain store pulling funding after her comments about raising the minimum wage, and while I’ve weighed how she’s going to react to this a dozen different ways since then, I know this is the only way. I believe in her, and not just because I know William did, but because if believing in her and her campaign is believing in myself and maybe my ability to become normal someday.
I finger the bullet in my pocket, staring down my reflection in the mirror. I straighten my tie once more, along with a straying bit of hair, before I take a deep breath.
This is it.
It’s time to go meet Reagan Archer for the first time in five years,
and for the first time in a very long time, I’m actually excited about what might come at me next.
P R E S E N T
Two weeks later, after the media circus has sort of died down about the “Young Senatorial candidate and the billionaire Marine,” Hudson and I are back at my father’s house, sitting on the terrace off the library; our terrace.
We’re sipping iced tea, and with my hands held in his, and he tells me everything; all of it.
He tells me about the horrors of war, and the village in Afghanistan. He tells me about addiction and demons, and being on the run, and their stint as mercenaries in Africa. I start to tear up when he tells me about getting shot - both times -, but it’s when he looks me straight in the eye and tells me that my father was the best thing that ever happened to him for saving them from all of that, that I just start to cry.
“So, that’s-”
“That’s why I pushed you away the first time. I’d made your father a promise to protect you, and letting you into all that shit that was inside of me wasn’t protecting you at all.”
“And now?” I bite my lip as I look up at him, at this man who’s basically gone to the very edge and somehow come back to life; this man who makes me feel complete and alive like I’ve never felt before; “Is all of that history finished now?”
He shakes his head; “No- it’s not; not entirely.” He slides his hand through my hair to the back of my head as he pulls me close and grins at me; “But for now, I think I can let a lot of that shit go.”
He winks at me; “Seems I’ve got more important things to think about now.” He leans in and kisses me, and I lose myself in him.
“Ms. Archer?” I break shyly away from Hudson as one of my staffers pokes her head out the door. Ok, Hudson and I are out in the open now, but PDA still makes me blush like a schoolgirl, even if he’s trying something in public every chance he gets.
“Yes?” I say, clearing my throat.
“There’s an older gentlemen here to see you.”
Major Lawson nods a thanks as I pour him a glass of iced tea; “So, you’re going to win this thing, you know.”
I smile; “Ah, well thank you for your positive thoughts!“
He shakes his head, smiling; “No I mean, I’ve been doing this a long time, Ms. Archer, and you just plain have it. You are going to win this election.”
“Well, thank you, sir.”
“I’ve got a proposition for you though.” He takes a sip of tea and smiles at me; “I want you to do your two year stint with New York, and then I want you to quit.”
My eyes dart to Hudson before I turn back to the Major; “Excuse me?” I shake my head; “Listen, Major Lawson, if you think you can-”
“Because I want you to stop piddling away with this local yokel state stuff and come with me to D.C.”
My jaw drops as I stare at him; “What?”
“You have a unique quality, Ms. Archer, and a talent for statesmanship that you don’t see often in this business, as strange as that sounds.” He puts his glass down and steeples his hands in front of him; “I want to run you for U.S. Senate, Ms. Archer, so that I can put you on with Veterans Affairs where you can do some real good.”
I’m speechless, my mouth opening without words as my heart jumps up into my throat, and I realize I’m grinning like an idiot before I can even say anything. Major Lawson just smiles at me; “I’m going to assume that’s a yes?”
“That’s-!” Holy shit is that a yes! “Yes! Major, yes! I’d be honored!”
Hudson is squeezing my hand and the Major’s eyes drop to that joining before he looks up at him; “Oh, and don’t think I don’t have plans for you too, Banks.”
Hudson frowns; “Sir?”
“We want you in D.C. too, actually. We’re starting up a new panel on VA affairs and post-combat aftercare, and we need a chairman.”
Hudson chuckles quietly and shakes his head; “Sir, I appreciate the honor, but I don’t think I’m the man who-”
“William Archer and I were quite close, Mr. Banks,” Major Lawson looks pointedly at Hudson; “Quite close.”
“Sir, I-”
“Son, I’ve seen war on three different continents, and after the shit-show you boys saw over there in that damned desert, I’m amazed you came back alive at all.” Hudson closes his mouth, and as I squeeze his hand, I feel him respond back.
Major Lawson looks at Hudson and nods; “What I’m trying to say is, son, I know about all the other stuff that came after, and I’m here today to tell you that I don’t really give a shit about all that. You’re a hell of a Marine, an even more impressive leader, and one of the strongest men I’ve known. I want you working where you can help.” He winks; “And seeing as I’m pretty much in charge of military records, I think we can go right ahead and gloss over those other things.”
Hudson is staring at him like he’s just handed him the keys to the world, and all I want to do is jump into his arms right there and kiss him.
The Major nods towards me and grins at him; “Just so long as you keep looking after William’s girl here.”
Hudson turns and looks right into my eyes, his grin wide and his shoulder looking free of a weight that he’s had on them forever; “Always, sir.”
We of course wait until the Major leaves before I let myself all into Hudson’s arms and into his kiss; “Always, huh?”
“Yeah,” He says, smirking at me; “Always.”
31
Reagan
EPILOGUE
We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet, but we’ve got either William or Christine picket out for names after my Dad and his Mom. I know Hudson’s pretty excited at the idea of having a little girl, but I’ve told him that there are plenty of Archer girls already without adding one more little probable spit-fire to the mix.
It was a small wedding with basically just the immediate families; my two sisters and my Aunt Kelly on one side, and the two guys who are for all intents and purposes his brothers on the other. We asked Major Lawson to walk me down the aisle, and Bryce ended up taking one of those online ordination classes and married us right there in the gardens of my father’s house.
We were barely pregnant at the wedding, but that didn’t mean there weren’t plenty of jokes about the “shotgun” nature of it, especially after Logan told me the story of my Dad literally breaking up an arranged wedding in Angola between some local warlord and this poor child of a girl with an actual shotgun.
Turns out my Dad was kind of a badass, which kind of makes the tattooed, scarred up, ex-mercenary, ex-drinker, ex-playboy of a Marine who’s now my husband make a whole lot of sense, if you subscribe to that weird Freudian stuff.
I can’t say the aftermath of the blowout with Donald and my telling everyone about Hudson and I was all a fairy-tale ending, because that’s just not real life.
Donald did end up suing Hudson, who ended up having to settle for some not-that-crazy-amount - well, for him - out of court to avoid criminal charges. Of course, after that he used every considerable connection he had to make sure Donald didn’t work in politics ever again, so I hope the $40,000 or so that he walked away with was worth it.
And I did take a hit in the polls after the announcement about the two of us; guess some people have a problem with other people’s happiness.
I still won though, by some almost record-breaking numbers, and on the next term, I was sworn in as the youngest State Senator in New York history.
The victory was only made sweeter when we got wind of a massive lawsuit being leveled at Chet by three of his staffers for sexual misconduct.
I’m due in two months, so I’m of course as big a fucking whale these days. But for some insane reason I still can’t believe, my hunk of a husband still seems to find me irresistible, and he’s still trying to start things with me in public that we should not be doing in public. I know even as excited as he is, he’s worried about having kids just because of his own upbringing and the stuff he’s witnessed in the w
orld. But I know he’s going to be an amazing father. I think the fund we’ve recently started up to rebuild schools in Afghanistan is helping too; helping him work through some of things he saw over there.
After the baby, I’ll be taking some maternity leave before I finish up my term with New York, and then I’m putting my career into Major Lawson’s hands; both of us are actually. We’re excited for whatever comes next, and since we’ve got each other, I know what does come is going to be something amazing that we face together.
The things you care about are the things worth fighting for. We’ve both fought for what we care about, and somehow against all the odds, we’ve found our happy ending.
Also by Aubrey Irons
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Soldiers of Fortune Series:
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About the Author
Aubrey Irons enjoys writing about bold, sassy, and intelligent women and the dominant, cocky, and quite typically forbidden alpha males who love and lust for them; gripping stories, happy endings, and enough heat to keep things extra steamy! In the real world, Aubrey is kept plenty entertained by her own tattooed Marine husband, their precocious and adorable three year old, and one very ill-behaved puppy.
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