Love, Tussles, and Takedowns (22 page)

Each of the seven different combat weapons they’d fabricated looked, felt, and worked exactly like the real things, except with absolutely no danger of being weaponized. Beyond that, Gabe worked his magic and added a ton of other features so each rehab weapon model was also digitized to directly assist the rehab process, using cutting edge biofeedback therapy tools.

And the facility where Hudson was doing his rehab was the beneficiary of their little project.

“I’m telling you, Lia, the therapists were beyond excited. All of them said that never in all their years as therapists, had they ever seen a therapy aid work so effectively in the very areas of rehab that traditional means have seemed to be unable to progress beyond a certain point in.”

Yes. A number of soldiers she’d talked to said the same thing. After Hudson had mentioned that he’d felt the change in his left hand function after working with the weapons at Yuma, sort of like with muscle memory, she’d simply dug further into the research.

“That’s just it. This is so much bigger than muscle memory. With Gabe’s biofeedback rigging, we honestly think we’ve just scratched the surface of what these puppies can do.”

Oh, it was no use, she was starting to get gushy about all of this. She’d never heard Hudson sound so excited, so
alive
. And of course, because he was a prince among men, his happiness over his own hand’s improvement was soon eclipsed by how much it was helping the other guys at the center.

“You just changed a lot of soldiers’ lives and futures now, you know that right, babe?”

“Then it’s a good thing we’ve already begun looking into doing a bigger production of this.”

“I heard. And we should celebrate. Invite me over,” he said abruptly, a hungry intensity in his voice unlike any she’d heard him use yet.

“Since when have you needed an invitation? You’re not a vampire,” she laughed. “Of course you can come over. When were you planning on—”

Her doorbell rang a second later and she glanced down at the phone.

What were the chances
?

The deadbolt was barely all the way unlocked before Hudson came barreling through the door. “This missing you thing is just getting out of control, woman,” he muttered before his lips came crashing down onto hers.

She’d never known Hudson to be this ravenous. “Is this all because of the adrenaline from your new rehab?” she teased when she could sneak in a quick breath or two.

“No, that’s just my being happy to see you.” He winked before scoring his teeth over her jawline.

She’d have groaned over the bad joke if she weren’t busy being impressed at just how happy he was to see her.

“You just saw me a week and a half ago.”

“True,” he replied between nibbles across her collarbone. “But a week and a half ago, I didn’t have as much dexterity in my hand to do
this
.”

Lia gasped.

Clearly, Hudson’s rehab was going spectacularly well. Because she’d never felt his hand do
that
to her before.

* * * * *

LIA WRAPPED HER arms around Hudson’s waist as he finished making them some sandwiches for lunch. “I cleared my schedule for this weekend. So let’s head over to California to get started on moving your things over.”

Hudson looked up in surprise. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t have very much stuff. I can handle it.”

“No, I want to. I’ll see which of my brothers can meet us out there to help. Plus, we can hang out at your apartment for the first time ever before you return the keys.” She grinned. “And maybe take out that sweet bike of yours before you sell it?”

He chuckled. “Ah, that makes more sense.”

She gave him an innocent double-blink, silently cheering because he’d definitely taken the bait.

Now she just had to keep silent for two more days.

Pushing the sandwiches to the side for now, she slid her arms around him to claim a kiss.

If she was going to need to stay silent for a whole two more days, she’d definitely be needing some help keeping her lips sealed.

Exactly forty seven hours later, Lia was staring intently at the front door of Hudson’s L.A. apartment, willing it to open by the sheer force of her mind alone.

Where the heck
was
everyone?

“Honey, I told you helping me move wasn’t a requirement for riding my bike,” teased Hudson, noticing that she was being absolutely no help with his packing. “Just take my keys.”

“What are you talking about? I told you I want to help.” She turned to put a pillow in a box.

With a lot of bubble wrap.

“Okay, sweetie. Seriously, what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird all day—”

The buzzing of the doorbell cut him off.

“I’ll get it!” She took off like the bionic woman before he had a chance to object. “It’s probably the guys to help us move.”

HUDSON SHOOK HIS head and unpacked the bubble-wrapped pillow Lia had just taped into a box and wondered what she had going on in that busy little head of hers.

“
Dang, our boy’s gone Hollywood on us!
” taunted a familiar voice.

“Bubble wrapping your pillow? Really, dude? Next you’re going to tell us you use the delicate cycle for your boxers,” goaded a second voice he’d know anywhere.

No frickin’ way.

Hudson turned and burst out laughing when he saw two of his buddies from his old unit checking out his living room. “Holy shit. They let
you two
back in the country?”

The guys laughed and dropped their bags, grabbing some quick hugs before heading straight to the fridge for a beer.

Roman had the TV on and the bottle half empty before his ass hit the couch.

Some things just never change.

Meanwhile, Johnnie was busy hitting on Lia and asking if she was
sure
she didn’t want to trade Hudson in for a younger, better model.

Some things
really
didn’t change.

Hudson kicked out the foot of the barstool to send Johnnie falling on his ass before stepping over him and heading over to kiss Lia silly.

“You and your surprises.”

“I like surprising you.” Lia broke out into a grin so radiant, Roman dropped the remote.

The woman never ceased to amaze him. “How did you even know which guys were the ugliest ones in the bunch to call?”

The two well-known Casanovas in his living room just chuckled over the insult.

“And who’d you have to bribe to even get them leave? At last count, they were still working off demerits for the next few years.” An exaggeration…but not a big one.

“That, you can thank Drew for. I told him that since my brothers couldn’t make it over to help you move, I figured I’d call some of yours. He cashed in some ‘favors he’d somehow already racked up with the DOD’—I didn’t ask—to make this happen.”

He planted his lips against her neck and nuzzled her skin, now wishing the guys he hadn’t seen in almost half a year could head out for a bit and come back later. Much later.

Lia laughed, clearly unsympathetic over his dilemma. She pushed him gently over to the living room and ordered him to hang out with the guys while she went to order them some pizzas.

All three of them watched her take her cell phone into the other room.

“Damn, Reyes, how the hell did you get lucky enough to land that one?”

Hudson barely heard the question. He was too busy shaking his head over the text message on his phone.

>>> EVERYTHING I DO – BRYAN ADAMS

Well, hell.

He went over to the kitchen to grab a few more beers to toss at the guys. “I’ll be back in an hour, guys. Feel free to turn up the TV.”

His trek to the bedroom was trailed with hoots and hollers.

* * * * *

THE NEXT MORNING, Hudson finished up his shower and wondered why Lia wasn’t still asleep in bed. Lately, the woman was getting up almost as early as he was.

And they say miracles never happen.

That’s when he realized his apartment was nearly silent, which was odd because the guys had crashed on the couch and they always, always woke up as early as he did. Hearing Roman and Johnnie talking in hushed tones out in the living room—a decibel he didn’t think they were capable of—he went out to go investigate.

Roman, Johnnie, and Lia were standing there next to his old CO, Clint.

…And a little boy.

It took him several blinks to realize he wasn’t seeing things for once.

The face that haunted his night terrors was in fact standing before him.

Only…it looked younger, even more vulnerable.

Lia’s voice sounded so far away. But he heard the words as clearly as if they were chambered bullets.

Each aimed at his heart.

“Hudson, Drew found out a few more things about your last mission…”

Hudson dropped down to a crouch, one knee down as if in prayer.

“Reyes,” said Clint quietly, “I’d like you to meet Saaleh Kohistani. Hafez was his older brother.”

Hafez.

The child bomber he’d killed.

This was his younger brother.

Shame and blood-thickening remorse filled Hudson’s veins.

Hearing the softly-spoken Dari Persian from the woman who had her hand on little Saaleh’s shoulder, Hudson spoke carefully to make sure she could translate his words.

His utterly inadequate apologies.

“Saaleh, your brother’s death was my doing, and I will live with that for the rest of my life. If I thought my apologies could offer you any comfort at all, I would stay here on my knees and apologize a thousand times over.”

The translator’s nodding sentences were met with Saaleh’s widening eyes and quick-sliding glances back and forth between Hudson’s face and the translator’s mouth.

Saaleh replied with a short sentence, directed to his translator.

She nodded at him with a single word. Hudson’s Dari was rusty and very minimal at best but he recognized the word.

“Yes.”

The translator looked almost apologetic as she translated, “Saaleh had asked if you were the man who shot his brother.”

Hudson repeated the Dari word for ‘yes,’ looking straight at Saaleh, prepared for the hate that was sure to come.

Clint broke in with a brief, clipped sentence that made his thoughts on the topic crystal clear. “Saaleh—Hudson is tortured by his actions of that day; he feels shame and guilt over making the decision he did.”

The immediate translation led to Saaleh putting a hand on Hudson’s shoulder.

Hudson very nearly crumbled at the compassion in the single gesture.

“The insurgent group killed my parents and forced my brother and I to fight for them,” explained Saaleh, via his translator. “My brother tried to tell them to leave me, that I was too young, but they took me too.” His sentences were brief, basic.

Each word burned itself into Hudson’s brain.

“At first, I was made to clean and do errands while my brother fought. Several months this lasted until the day arrived when they told me I would die for their cause.”

Hudson knew this part of the story well. It was sadly a common story for far too many children who were kidnapped and held at the mercy of the hands of local insurgent groups.

“The men brought me to a small village near where I grew up and strapped a bomb onto my chest.” Saaleh paused, the horror of the memory flashing in his young eyes.

For a brief moment, Hudson wanted to grip this young boy’s hand to give him comfort. But he held back. How could this child find comfort from his brother’s murderer?

“When Hafez discovered I would be dying that day, he ran over and demanded they use him instead.” Saaleh shook his head. “They refused. Hafez was too old for this bombing, and too useful still. I was neither.”

Saaleh gestured quickly with his hands, his words coming out more urgently as he relayed the story for the translator.

“But Hafez wrapped his arms around me and the bomb. He would not let go until one of the older men came to tell his men to let Hafez make this sacrifice. Time was wasting.”

Saaleh’s voice grew weak with sorrow. “So these men strapped the bomb to Hafez’s chest instead, under his clothes. And then they took him to a nearby village. The men stayed back while they told Hafez the exact house to visit. He was to go to that house in the center of the village and explode the bomb.”

Hudson watched the boy tap his two hands together, unconsciously, numbly replicating the directions for triggering the wires of the bomb.

“The men hid and kept me with them. We watched Hafez walk to the house. Suddenly, many children ran out. Laughing and playing. Hafez turned around and tried to return to us. His head was shaking, no.” Saaleh’s eyes grew fiercely proud. “My brother would not kill these children. He was almost out of the village and attempting to pull off the bomb when the men called to him and showed their guns on my head.”

“Hafez did not move. He stood at the edge of the town with the bomb unsure what to do.”

Saaleh’s hand suddenly shot up to his chest. “The men struck me with their rifles. That is when I saw my brother start walking back to the village. I tried to call to him. My life was not worth this. He turned to my voice and watched the men beat me some more.”

Pain streaked across Saaleh’s face. “My brother was torn. He always wished to protect me. But there were many children.” Saaleh nodded, eyes cast off in the distance at some memory, some private conversation none of them could hear. “Hafez pulled his clothing up to reveal the bomb. And that is when your soldiers,” he glanced at Clint in his standard military attire, “showed themselves.”

“When the American soldiers ran out from their hiding places, my captors yelled to explode the bomb. One of them shot my leg.”

Hudson had noticed the boy limping; knowing his injuries had been sustained in such a way horrified him even more.

“They screamed and bashed their weapons on me until I bled. Then they shot their rifles at Hafez’s feet as well. To urge him back to the village.” Saaleh looked up at Hudson then. “That is when you made your shot.”

Saaleh shut his eyes. “My brother’s body exploded.” After a deep breath, he uttered bravely, “But not near enough to harm those children.”