by Carly Fall
Although he remained in the wings, he didn’t miss the important things in Abby’s
life. He had seen all of her graduations, from pre-school through college. He celebrated each of her birthdays, whether he was near her or on the other face of the Earth. Some he had even attended—from a distance, of course. From the second he found out Iris was pregnant and kicked him to the curb, it became all about his baby.
He had snuck into the hospital shortly after Abby’s birth and spent the night
dodging nursing staff and security while he gazed upon his daughter. Once, he had even broken into Iris’s house at night so he could watch his daughter sleep.
When he had stepped back and given in to Iris, realizing that she would never
love him, the pain took hold and twisted and clawed at his very being, like a demon. An SR44 male without his mate was an empty husk of a person with nothing to live for.
Their lives revolved around the one they loved.
And then, Iris died, murdered by one of those cocksucking Colonists. Hudson
would never forgive himself for not being there to protect her, even if she had pulverized him.
He knew he had to escape the demon inside him, and God knew he had tried
everything he could think of to make that happen. None of his extra-curricular activities had been able to do that. Yes, they dulled the pain to a certain extent, but it was always there with him.
And he was fucking tired of it. Almost twenty-seven years was long enough.
He knew the one way out of his misery. He would put his face on the business end
of his Glock and pull the trigger.
The thought of committing suicide did nothing. It didn’t scare him. It didn’t excite him. He wasn’t afraid to die. In fact, if he was going to be honest with himself, it brought a little relief to know that the end was in sight.
The more he thought about, the more he thought of what a great idea it was.
Fucking spectacular. And why hadn’t he thought of it before? Probably because of Abby.
He wouldn’t leave this world without knowing Abby was safe, loved, and treasured. After Iris had destroyed him, Abby had been the one thing that kept him going. His sole purpose, besides hunting and killing Colonists, was to keep tabs on Abby and make sure that she was okay.
Abby and Cohen beat Noah and Jovan at pool, and Hudson watched Noah take
Abby in his arms and kiss her deeply. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t. To be in love. To be loved back. To have someone to share your secrets with, someone to laugh with, someone to be close to, someone to hold at night.
He took another sip of scotch and knew he was done. Letting out a long breath, he wanted out. Game over, his inning was up. There were to be no more touchdowns. Mix the metaphors whichever way you wanted, but it was all the same.
He briefly thought about what he wanted to do before he died and came up with a
list of three things. Number one: Stay in a swanky luxury hotel and be waited on by a nice staff and surrounded by beautiful things. Number two: he wanted a fabulous meal, and one that he didn’t cook. And lastly, he wanted to have sex one more time. Sex was definitely two-fold for him. It was a necessity to help dull the pain of an SR44 male being without his mate, but most of the time he also enjoyed it.
“The road to happiness is peace in your soul,” his mother had said. There wasn’t
an ounce of peace in his soul, and he was certain there never would be. He briefly thought of his family, and a new pain twisted within him. His family had been ripped from him twice now: once by those little dinosaur bastards on SR44, and once by Iris, who had never loved him, and who hadn’t allowed him to be part of his daughter’s life.
With that, he pushed himself off the wall and went over to Noah and Abby.
“C’mon, Abby, it’s time for bed,” Noah was saying quietly, his bright, orange eyes bathing her face in their warm glow.
“You’re certainly impatient tonight, Noah,” she teased.
“Excuse me, but I want to talk to you a minute, Noah,” Hudson said. “And then
for the love of God, would you two go to your room?”
Abby blushed and Noah smiled. “I think that’s excellent advice, Hudson. Make
whatever you have to say quick.”
Hudson nodded. “I’m taking off for a few days. Just need a little R and R. A little space, some time for myself.”
Hudson knew Noah wouldn’t question it; he had disappeared for a few days
before. The only difference was that he wasn’t coming back this time.
Noah nodded. “Sure. When will you leave?”
Hudson thought for a moment. “Tomorrow. I’ll blow tomorrow.”
Chapter 4
As Beverly sped down the highway, she tried to find a radio station that she liked.
Rap? No. Political talk radio? No. Oldies? No. But she stopped flipping through the channels on the oldies station and wondered when songs from the eighties had been placed into “oldies” status. Sighing, she turned off the radio and allowed herself to be with her thoughts. This was a new thing for her, and she was still a little uncomfortable with it. Before her downward spiral, she had always been too busy to actually take time and listen to her own inner talk.
After she buried her mother, Beverly had submerged herself in work, offering to
take on extra shifts just so she’d go home exhausted, fall into bed, and not have to think about her mother’s death. Her colleagues were kind, and her few friends had called to make sure she was okay.
One night after her mother’s death, she left the hospital late after pulling a double shift. Exhausted, she got in the car and took off for her apartment. Feeling her eyes begin to close, she fought the sleep that threatened to overtake her body, and lost—her car slammed into a concrete wall, breaking her pelvis.
For two weeks she had lay in the hospital bed, pain medication taking away not
only her physical discomfort, but her emotional turmoil as well. Not only had she lost her mom, she was told that she would most likely never be able to have kids because the damage had been so great to her pelvic region.
This devastated her almost as much as her mom’s death. She mourned the
biological children she never would have.
Beverly wiped away the tears that had begun to fall, reminding herself that she
was beginning anew. All of that tragedy was in the past, and she had to look toward the future.
As she pulled into the valet at the Four Seasons, she felt a little giddy about her future, but still uncertain. What did Beverly, ex-addict doctor fallen from grace, have to give the world? Where was her place? She handed her keys over to the valet and walked into the lobby.
The lobby was elegant, but comfortable. Done in true southwest style, the rustic
wood of the ceiling beams gleamed, the stone floor echoed the click of her sandals. Large wagon wheel lighting fixtures hung from the ceiling, and brightly colored fresh flower arrangements were abundant. She was thankful for the air conditioning, as it had to be at least one hundred and ten degrees outside.
She checked in and followed the bellman to her suite. The path was lined with
native plants, all with blooms of purples and yellows. She tipped the bellman and opened the door to her balcony.
Beverly had once attended a seminar at this hotel and fell in love with the place. If the desert had been able to grow a hotel on its own, this was exactly what it would have produced.
The hotel was surrounded by the desert. Large Saguaro cacti stood off in the near distance, the rich greens of miscellaneous desert plants mingling in the landscape. Some of the plants were in bloom, and bright patches of reds and yellows speckled the horizon.
It was quiet except for the odd desert bird calling out. She watched a small lizard make its way on the dirt below her and scurry under a plant with beautiful purple flowers.
She checked her watch—5:30 p.m.,
and decided to order room service and then
take a little walk around the grounds.
While she ate, she thought about her slide into addiction after she had been
discharged from the hospital.
She had hired a housekeeper to come in and look after her part-time for a few
weeks, as getting around was painful and tedious. The woman did laundry, changed the sheets, cooked, and helped Beverly bathe. Beverly knew she was taking more pain
medication than she should, and she quickly realized she was going to be running out.
When some of her colleagues from work dropped by, she asked them for prescriptions and they were happy to write them. She just hoped they never discussed the prescription writing with each other.
Twelve weeks later, she was ready to return to work.
And now, well, look where she was…out of rehab, no job, and heading west with
no plan.
She finished the last of her wine and cheeseburger, then headed outside.
As she meandered along the path, the sun began to make its decent, leaving the
sky painted in bright pinks and fiery oranges. She stopped to watch a quail family—a mom, dad, and eight furry babies—run through the underbrush, their little legs taking them quickly across the ground. Smiling to herself at the utter cuteness, she turned around and slammed into something.
Gasping in surprise, she thought she had run head on into a brick wall, but the
hard mass was covered in silk. She looked up into the darkest eyes and most beautiful face she had ever seen. It seemed that the world around her was vacuumed out of
existence, and the only thing in her world was this man.
From the dim lights on the walkway, she could tell his tan skin was smooth and
clear, as if he had spent some time in the sun. His jet-black hair was pulled back from his face in a ponytail. His high cheekbones were something any woman would wish for, and his full lips tilted up in a small smile, revealing a small dimple on his left cheek. She did notice that his eyes remained untouched by emotion…but wait...was that pain? She felt her breath catch at the twisted vision before her. A massive man, a beautiful, smiling man, but full of pain.
“Sorry,” he said, stepping aside. “My apologies.”
She felt herself come back down to the ground with his words, her surroundings
returning with the sounds of a desert putting some of its inhabitants to bed, while rousing others.
“No apology necessary,” she said. “It was my fault. I should watch where I’m
going.”
“No, my fault,” he said still smiling. “I tend to get in people’s way. Happens
more often than not.”
She let her gaze travel down from his eyes to his shoulders, to the chest she had ran into, and she could see why he would get into people’s way. He was a mountain of a man covered in silk. She felt something stir within her, something primal and instinctual.
Holy hell, what was wrong with her?
She smiled up at him. “Well, if you’re willing to take the blame, you can have it.”
He chuckled, but didn’t move.
They stood there for a moment, both staring at each other.
“I-I guess I should be going,” she said quietly, but she didn’t move.
“Me too, I promise to be more careful if I see you again.”
She tried to think of something witty to say as she watched him walk away, but
nothing came. His room was just a couple doors down from hers. When he disappeared into his own sleeping abode, she turned down the path to continue her walk, her thoughts on him. She wondered who he was, what he was doing here. After a moment, she
chastised herself for thinking about him. What she should be concentrating on was what her purpose would be for the rest of her life.
Chapter 5
Hudson opened the door to the room he where he planned to die and looked
around.
He was happy with his final resting place.
The carpet was a thick and colored a rich tan, the comforter a dark brown with
stark-white sheets peeking out from under it. The TV was mounted up on the wall
directly across from black sofa, which he liked. Maybe he’d blow his brains out watching Spike TV or something similar.
He thought about his list of three things he wanted to do before pulling the trigger.
He was in a nice place, and tomorrow maybe he’d mosey on down to the spa and get a massage. Tomorrow night he’d catch an early dinner and then move on to number three—
having sex. Getting laid. Bumping uglies—actually, he hated that expression. He had been with a lot of women—thin, black, white, super curvy, Asian—and he always saw something unique and beautiful in each of them. That was one thing he loved about human women: each was different, each was beautiful in their own way, and he
appreciated each and every one of them. One thing he had noticed about human women was that most held on to unnecessary insecurities, and frankly he didn’t understand why they didn’t embrace themselves and let go of their baggage. Human life was too short to hold on to it.
However, it was a given that some human women were just more stunning to him
than others. Like that woman on the path he had nearly knocked over. Damn, she was beautiful, and not in the way that he was used to describing beautiful. She was beautiful to him in the way that only one other woman had been.
Iris.
As he stepped into the room and looked around, he put the pain on a register of
one to ten. One: a slice of a kitchen knife on his thumb, five: getting shot, and ten: slicing his thumb, getting shot, being run over by a bus and having ants eat off his skin.
Fuck.
The way he was feeling right now, he’d take a ten any day. An SR44 male without
his mate was an ugly thing to experience.
As he unpacked, his thoughts traveled backward to his short, but sweet
relationship with Iris.
After they had initially slept together, they fell into a routine. He would arrive at her house around 8 a.m. with breakfast and coffee. Sometimes he brought groceries to cook for her, other times he grabbed a couple of bagels or Danishes from the local store.
They would talk while eating breakfast, and Hudson would clean up while Iris wrote.
After making sure the kitchen sparkled, Hudson would busy himself with work of his own in another room away from Iris. She didn’t need to read reports or see crime scene photos of murders. This routine lasted about a month, when suddenly, she became a little distant.
When he had questioned her about it, she made up excuses of being tired, not
feeling well, or work keeping her busy. What he hadn’t been able to see was her
impending dismissal of him.
Nine years later, her death had rocked him to his core. He had loved her from afar, the pain tolerable. But her death ratcheted up the pain until it became unbearable.
A Colonist had killed her and left her on her kitchen floor when Abby was nine.
When he found out, he thought about adopting Abby, but his name wasn’t even on the birth certificate, so he had no parental rights.
Abby’s trip through foster homes and orphanages had been tough, but he had
always been on the sidelines looking in, making sure she was okay.
Iris’s death had been the final feeding for his demon. The thing raged, causing
physical pain he could barely tolerate, forcing him to find relief. He felt as though he were being eaten from the inside out. He had found his relief in cooking, sex, working out, and fighting, but now nothing soothed him, and it was time for it all to end.
Chapter 6
The next morning, Beverly made an appointment at the spa for a facial and a
massage, as well as a Brazilian wax. She had never had one before and decided to give it a try.
As she
waited in the reception area, she thumbed through a magazine. She heard a
giggle and a deep rumble of a voice. Looking up, she saw the man from the previous night walking with a masseuse, and Beverly sat up in her chair a little straighter.
She noticed the receptionist did as well.
“That was great, Sara,” he said with a smile. “You really did a number on the
kinks in my neck.”
“I’m so happy you liked it!” Sara said with a little more enthusiasm than
necessary, Beverly thought.
“You definitely have a way with your hands.”
Beverly glanced around the waiting room, and noticed that the two other women
who were seated there were also staring at the man.
She watched as he checked out, thanked Sara again, and then turned to leave. He
stopped in his tracks when he saw her, and gave her a small smile and a nod.
Beverly smiled back, and watched him leave.
“Oh. My. God!” Sara exclaimed to the receptionist. “You should see that body. I
just…wow. Just wow!”
All the women laughed, and a twinge of jealousy went through Beverly as she
listened to Sara go on about the finer points of the guy’s torso.
Finally, her technician called for her, and she was spared any more chatter.
During her massage and facial, she lulled in that place that wasn’t sleep or
consciousness, but somewhere in between, visions of the beautiful man dancing through her head. It felt good to be completely relaxed.
“Miss Devlone?” the masseuse said. “We’re all done here. Take your time getting
up, and I’ll meet you right outside after you’re dressed.”
Beverly stretched when she heard the door close, and decided that a facial and
massage was better than any pill.
The Brazilian, not so much.
***
At five that afternoon, Beverly went to the hotel bar and ordered a glass of wine.
Feeling relaxed after her spa visit, she had sat outside on her covered deck and read most of the afternoon. She kept hoping to catch a glimpse of that man she had run in to the night before, but she didn’t see him.
