Reborn

by Fall, Carly

  Hudson nodded. “Agreed. Hopefully she won’t go to the police or something with tales of being kidnapped. We’re going to have to make sure that doesn’t happen. Maybe money, a new car…whatever.”

  “I didn’t kidnap her,” Rayner said. “She came willingly. Besides, she has no idea where she is. We could let her off back at the hotel, and the only thing she could tell police was Interstate 10 heading west.”

  Hudson rolled his eyes. “My guess is that you gave her something like ‘we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way’ line.”

  Rayner smiled. “Yeah, okay. I didn’t give her a choice, but you were in bad shape, man. You didn’t leave me any other option.”

  Noah nodded. “Okay. Let’s find out what it’s going to take for her to keep her little visit on the down-low, whether it’s money or maybe some bullshit line about us being military and her serving the special forces of her country. And let’s plan on having her gone by tomorrow night. Everyone at this table make sure that you have your contacts in by 8 p.m. She doesn’t need to see our sparkly nighttime light show.”

  All grunted in agreement.

  “When’s Cohen coming back?” Hudson asked.

  “We’re hoping for tomorrow night.”

  Hudson nodded and stared at his reflection in the table again. It would be nice to get rid of these cuts, bumps, and bruises.

  Chapter 18

  After breakfast, Beverly helped Faith and Abby clean up the kitchen. They had chatted while doing the dishes and wiping the counters. Beverly found herself laughing and really enjoying their company.

  “What is this place?” she had asked.

  Abby and Faith exchanged a look, and then Faith said, “It’s a missile silo.”

  “Really?”

  Faith met her eyes and nodded. “There are actually quite a few people who own decommissioned missile silos.” She then explained how after the Cold War the United States tried to show the Russians they were playing nice and shut down a bunch of missile silos, putting some of them up for sale.

  “Some are used for military, some are used for private use.”

  Beverly noted that Faith didn’t say if they were military, as Rayner had eluded to.

  Abby nodded, then changed the subject by asking Beverly where she was from.

  “Tucson.”

  “What brought you to Phoenix?”

  Beverly wasn’t about to tell them that she had checked into the Four Season after a stint in rehab for a little self-pampering before journeying out on her own to figure out what an ex-doctor and ex-drug addict did with her life. So instead she said, “I was on my way to California.”

  Abby and Faith exchanged glances. “I know I’ve said this a couple of times, but I’m really sorry about the way we’ve met,” Abby said. “We’re decent people, and we don’t want to hurt anyone, let alone kidnap someone.”

  Beverly nodded, Abby’s words reminding her that yes, she had literally been kidnapped, and maybe she shouldn’t be enjoying this conversation so much.

  She realized that she wasn’t afraid of any of these people, and that she actually enjoyed being with them, which was messed up since they had kidnapped her, even though she came willingly.

  “I believe you, Abby. I can tell that you’re all a family and good to each other. And considering that I am a kidnap victim, you’ve been very, very kind to me as well.”

  “We’re always nice to everyone we kidnap,” Faith said. Abby and Beverly looked at her, and all three burst out laughing.

  After a while of chitchat, Beverly began to feel very tired, despite the three cups of coffee. She supposed the amount of stress she had been under the past few days and the fact she had slept in a chair last night wasn’t exactly a recipe for a whole lot of get-up-and-go. Her little inner demon was also talking a mile-a-minute about how nice a little pill would feel right about now, and she needed some space to try to calm the little bastard down.

  Excusing herself, she headed down to Hudson’s room. Once the elevator stopped on the seventh floor, she opened the door and looked around. Her intention had been to grab her things and head down to her own room, but the place was a mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere, the sheets had droplets of blood on them, and there was still miscellaneous leftovers from her stitching up Hudson.

  Despite her fatigue, she decided she needed to clean the place up. Hudson wouldn’t be able to do it. She had noted how tired he looked after cooking breakfast, and how he moved about at a slow and gingerly pace. But really, who wouldn’t? He had to be in a lot of pain from his injuries.

  She put her hair up in a loose bun on top of her head, and she tackled the bed first. After stripping the sheets, she found a clean set in the bathroom cabinet and put them on. She then began moving about the room, tossing things in the garbage and putting clothes in the hamper. As her hands moved over the silk of an Armani shirt, she couldn’t help but bring it to her nose and sniff it. The scent was like nothing she had ever smelled before. She knew nothing about men’s cologne, so she didn’t have any idea what it could be. She did know that it sent a jolt of desire through her. It smelled smooth and sexy, but just a little rough around the edges. Kind of like the man who wore it, she thought, smiling to herself.

  Noticing his Louis Vuitton duffel bag, she went over and began unpacking it. She wasn’t sure what was dirty and what wasn’t, so she just threw everything into the dirty clothes basket. Going through the side pockets to make sure everything was out of the bag, she found an envelope addressed to Noah. Holding it in her hand, she knew she definitely shouldn’t read the letter. It wasn’t any of her business and a complete breech of Hudson’s privacy. However, the flap was open, and she had a strong curiosity to get to know him better. After a few seconds of internal debate, curiosity won.

  She carefully removed the letter and gently unfolded it. As she read it, her mouth went dry, and she felt bile rise in her throat. Unable to believe what she was reading, she read it again. And again.

  Feeling like her knees would give out she leaned against the dresser. She was close to vomiting, and with shaking hands she carefully put the letter back in the envelope and zipped it back into the side pocket where she had found it.

  Suicide. He had wanted to commit suicide. She unsteadily walked across the room and fell into the overstuffed chair, memories rushing back.

  Breakfast with her mom. Her mom complaining about the button on her blouse. The phone call that caused tremors that shook so hard, they rocked the foundation of her life, eventually collapsing the whole thing like a house of playing cards.

  After breakfast with her mom, Beverly went to the hospital and lost herself in her patients, ordering the tests needed and filling out paperwork. At 3:33 p.m., her cell phone had rung. She remembered this silly detail, because she had just looked at a clock when she heard her ringtone, “Situation,” by Yaz. Yes, she grew up in the 90s, but musically, she was an 80’s girl.

  She hadn’t bothered to look at the caller ID.

  “My name is Dr. Sanchez at Tucson General Hospital,” the voice said. “This number was listed as an emergency number in a patient’s cell phone. With whom am I speaking?”

  Beverly’s world started to spin. The only person she could think of who would list her as an emergency number was her mother. And she knew Dr. Sanchez and Tucson General Hospital. In fact, she had just seen him in a staff meeting that morning and had lunch with him a week ago.

  “Franco, this is Beverly Devlone. What’s going on?”

  There was a very pregnant pause. “As in, Dr. Beverly Devlone?”

  “Yes! What’s going on?”

  She listened as he told her that her mother had committed suicide and was downstairs in the emergency department.

  Beverly remembered looking at the floor, as if she could see through six floors of concrete, patients, and equipment.

  “A neighbor found her and called 911. We’ve tired to resuscitate her...they’re going to take her…downstairs, B
everly.”

  Downstairs meant the morgue.

  She tried to stand, but her knees didn’t work. Tears welled in her eyes, and they seemed to fuel her body. She stood and made her way to the elevator.

  The tears began to fall as she rode the elevator down, and she tried to wrap her mind around what she had just heard. Her mother was dead. A suicide. When she rounded the corner and saw Dr. Sanchez, she tried, and failed miserably, to maintain her professional composure.

  As she sobbed, she felt arms circle her shoulders, and she let herself be led away into the doctors’ lounge.

  She didn’t remember much more of the day, except that Franco had comforted her for what seemed like hours.

  Eventually, she was able to handle the details of her mother’s suicide. It hadn’t been quick and painless. Her mother had taken many, many sleeping pills, and then drank lighter fluid.

  A week later, she stood in the cemetery watching her mother’s coffin being lowered into the ground. Beverly recalled being numb, void of any emotion and wondering how in the world she would move on, and feeling terribly alone.

  There had been no note, and that bothered Beverly almost as much as her mother’s death. She felt the need to know why her mother had committed suicide, what was so terrible, so horrible that she felt the need to take her own life. But Beverly would never know.

  When Beverly looked back on it all, she wanted to forgive her mother, but she couldn’t. She actually wanted to scream, yell, and throttle her for not getting the help she needed.

  She knew it was selfish and somewhat childish. Her mother hadn’t forced the pills down Beverly’s throat that led to her addiction, or her subsequent fall from being a highly respected doctor to a former addict. Those were her choices and actions, and she took responsibility for them. But she couldn’t help but feel that none of those choices would have been made if her mother hadn’t killed herself.

  She often wondered what she would say if she could talk to her mom again, just one last time. She knew she would simply ask, why? What was so terrible and so monumental that she had to end her life? She often wondered if she would yell at her mother, cry, or maybe if she understood more, she would be able to forgive her.

  And she wondered what her mother would say to her. Beverly remembered her mom’s pride when Beverly had graduated from medical school, how she loved to brag that her daughter was a doctor. She imagined the disappointment in her mom’s eyes if she knew that Beverly had taken a long tumble from the pedestal her mother had put her and her accomplishments on, and landed flat on her back on the bottom floor of life.

  She thought of the people in this house who cared about Hudson. It seemed to her all of them did, but especially Abby and Noah. And the thought of subjecting them to what she had been through really pissed her off.

  How dare he?

  She hated when she was wrong, and her judgment of this situation had been off-the-charts wrong. She had thought him selfless, but he wasn’t. He was the most selfish person she had met in a long, long time.

  She had a brief flash of uncertainty, as a part of her said that there had to be a reason for his longing for death that required her compassion. That gave way to her desire to confront her mother. Not being able to ask her mom the why’s of her suicide fueled her, and she had to ask Hudson. She had to know why that man who seemed to have it all—people who cared about him and visa versa, the looks, the money…everything most people wished for—why he felt the need to end his life. No, she would confront Hudson, because what he wanted to do was cruel to the people who cared about him. She thought about Faith and Abby, and her heart cringed thinking about the hell they would experience if Hudson was successful. She took a deep breath to try to calm her temper, and she heard the elevator open.

  Hudson had picked a really bad time to walk through the door. This crap he was trying to pull hit way, way too close to home, and she was determined to set him straight.

  Chapter 19

  “Hi, Beverly,” Hudson said calmly as he gingerly walked into the room. He had originally wanted to take a nap, but the look she was giving him stopped him dead in his tracks.

  “Hello, Hudson,” she said with the same calm.

  As the words registered in his ears, he realized that there was a bit of a storm in that calm voice. Kind of like standing in front of an oncoming hurricane. You just knew the bad shit was coming, and all you could do was wait.

  He studied her, his fatigue gone. She stood across the room, her back ramrod straight, her hair up in that adorable little bun on the top of her head. A few wisps had escaped and freely hung down framing her face, which was a mask of calm, yet her green eyes seemed a couple of shades darker as they blazed in fury.

  “Is there something wrong, Beverly?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer. He didn’t want to tango with this side of her—the side that looked like she could take a chunk out of his hide with a couple of well-placed words.

  She continued to stare at him, and it became very apparent that, yes, there was definitely something wrong.

  “How dare you?” she said in a low, calm voice, and he found himself wishing she would yell because it wouldn’t be as uncomfortable.

  “Excuse me? How dare I what?” He thought of all the things he had dared. He had dared to think about kissing her. What she looked like naked. The fact that he totally got off on her watching him with another woman while he was thinking about her. The heat in her eyes…

  “I’m talking about the fact that you planned to commit suicide. That you lied to those people up there who love you dearly about why you checked into that hotel.”

  Hudson felt like he had been hit head-on by a tank, his breath going out of him, his head spinning. How had she known?

  “I found the letter when I was cleaning,” she said quietly, answering his unasked question. After a moment, she stormed over to him and wagged her finger in his face, her voice low and angry. “And I just have one question for you: how dare you? How dare you take your life and give those people up there a blow that they may never recover from? Are you that selfish?”

  That was technically three questions, but he thought it was probably best not to argue that point right now. He let out a long breath and felt himself deflate. He went over to the bed and sat down, holding his head in his hands, a flurry of emotions going through him. He felt angry that his secret had been found out, and yet, he was shameful as well. He had kept his pain to himself for so long, and yet the pretty Beverly had outed him on his escape from it within forty-eight hours of knowing him.

  Strangely, hot on the heels of the anger and shame was an immense relief.

  “Whatever it is, it’s not worth dying for, Hudson. Especially by your own hand.”

  He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t hear her move over to the bed. He felt a slight shift in the mattress as she sat down, and then felt her gentle hand on his back. He didn’t deserve her comfort.

  “Why haven’t you talked to someone, Hudson? Why haven’t you gone to a counselor?”

  Why indeed. What was he supposed to say? Hi! I’m from a different planet, and we love our females a little bit differently that you folks on Earth. In fact, you people have no idea how to love a female. See, when we lose our mates, the female we love, we become an emotional and physical wreck. There is no “other” or substitute for us. We can’t love another the way we love our mate. I’m tired of the pain I feel because of it.

  He doubted a prescription of anti-depressants was going to help.

  Instead of answering her, he just shrugged. Once again, he had to keep things to himself. Beverly couldn’t know about him and his fellow Warriors.

  However, he realized it would feel good to just say fuck it and let go of his charade of being a solid, steady guy. He longed to tell her everything, every sordid detail, and let the chips fall where they did.

  “Look, Hudson,” she said in a soft voice, “this…this hits really close to home for me. My mother committed suicide, and�
�well, let’s just say that it set off a string of events that has…made my life what it is today. Which isn’t a pretty picture. I’ve lost everything, Hudson. Everything. So, I’m begging you, please don’t do this. Your actions will hurt the people in this house more than you can ever imagine. You can get through whatever it is that has brought you to this point, but don’t ask the people here to get over your suicide, because it doesn’t happen.”

  He stared at the floor as he listened to her words, curiosity swirling through him. Of course she would be upset finding the note and seeing what his intentions were if her mother had committed suicide. Yeah, it hit really close to home for her. He also wondered what wasn’t so pretty about the picture of her life. She had a noble purpose in the world—she was a doctor. He wanted to know the details of this whole “I’ve-lost-everything” stuff she mentioned.

  He turned to look at her. “I’m sorry, Bev. I’m sorry you’ve been caught up in this mess.”

  She studied his face, and he watched as her bluster dissipated. “Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid, okay Hudson?”

  Stupid. Was wanting to get away from his pain stupid? He didn’t think so, and he just didn’t see any other way out of his predicament. He was so tired of the charade he had been playing, the façade he had erected. He had just wanted it all to end and had been set on his course until Rayner came and messed it all up. But now there was a seed, however small, of a will to live.

  “Promise me, Hudson,” she said, staring at him. “You have no idea what your suicide will do to those people upstairs who love you. No idea. I do. Don’t put them through it.”

  He could tell she wasn’t letting him out of this one. He would have to find another way to deal. What that would be, he had no idea. Cooking, fighting, fucking, and working out…what would be next? He didn’t know, but it would have to be something, because he was about to make a vow to Beverly, and he didn’t break his vows.

  He put his hand on his heart and gave her a slight bow. “I promise, Bev,” he said quietly, then met her eyes again. The relief he felt that his secret had been discovered was immeasurable, and his little fledgling of a seed of wanting to live sprouted a little higher. Finally, someone knew exactly how fucked up he was, and to what extent he was willing to go to get away from himself.