Rylan set the crate on the steps of the lodge before heading back to the Jeep for another one. “Did you have to go off with Nell?” he asked cautiously. “You know Blondie would have done anything you wanted. Christ, did you see her face tonight? She wants it bad, brother.”
Connor didn’t answer. He knew damn well that Hudson would have willingly spread her legs for him tonight. He also knew that if he’d given in, it wouldn’t have been about sex for her. Hudson had wanted an initiation, an introduction to the kind of kinky pleasure that was readily available in the free land.
Well, for Connor, sex was sex and nothing more. Fortunately, Nell was in total agreement about that, which was why he’d taken her to that private room tonight and drilled her so hard he’d seen stars. Asshole that he was, he’d imagined he was screwing Hudson instead, but he knew Nell wouldn’t care if she found out who he’d been fantasizing about. As long as she had an orgasm, the woman was happy as a clam.
Hudson wanted more than an orgasm. She wanted an experience.
And he wasn’t ready to give that to her.
“She asked me to teach her.”
Connor’s hands froze on the barrel of kerosene he was about to lift. He drew his brows together and glanced over at Rylan. “Teach her what?”
“How to let go. How to take pleasure and not stress about the consequences.”
Yeah, he’d known that would happen. The outlaw lifestyle could be addictive. Sure, it was dangerous at times, definitely a hassle when you had to pick up and move at the drop of a hat, but the joys of the life were like a drug, hooking you in, tempting you to explore the dark urges that every human possessed even though they tried to pretend otherwise. Connor had given in to those urges two years ago, because after Maggie’s death there’d been no reason to keep fighting them. No reason to keep trying to be the kind of man she needed him to be.
His chest clenched at the memory. Maggie might have been born in the free land, but she’d never belonged there. She’d been too damn gentle to survive the outlaw life.
Hudson wasn’t gentle, and she sure as hell hadn’t shied away from his harsh words or crude suggestions.
“What did you tell her?”
Rylan grinned. “What do you think I told her? That as much as I’d love to make every dirty fantasy she has come true, it’s not my place.”
He nodded. Rylan was a smart man, smart enough to know exactly what it meant when Connor had brought Hudson to Lennox’s playroom.
Hell, that’s why he’d ordered Rylan to drive Hudson back. Connor had laid the groundwork at the whorehouse with his harsh, no-nonsense approach, but Rylan had a softer touch, a seductive way of coaxing the truth from someone instead of beating it out of them.
Connor had been hoping his friend would get some answers from Hudson during the drive, but Rylan’s next question squashed that hope.
“So, is she from the city?”
“Absolutely,” Connor answered.
They fell into step with each other, hauling the fuel around the side of the lodge in the direction of the large wooden shed where they stored hazardous supplies.
“What are we going to do with her, then?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Is she a threat?”
“Yet to be seen.” He set the kerosene on the dirt and reached for the key ring clipped to his belt. Then he unlocked the shed door and propped it open. “I’ll talk to her in the morning. Depending on what she tells me, I’ll give her the same choice I offered everyone else.”
Rylan blinked. “Shit. You’re going to let her stay?”
God help him, but he was leaning toward that option. Hudson’s knowledge of the Enforcers’ operation gave him an advantage he wasn’t sure he could ignore.
“I might,” he said absently. “What do you think?”
“I think she’s smart. Well trained. Has medical knowledge. Any one of those skills would make her a good addition to our merry little gang.” Rylan shrugged. “But only if we eliminate her as a threat.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out before I reach any decisions.”
They quit talking and started working, storing supplies in the shed before carting food and ammo into the lodge. By the time Connor trudged back to his cabin, it was three in the morning and he was dead-ass tired.
He sensed the intruder the moment he opened the door.
His hand snapped to the gun tucked in his waistband, then relaxed when he found Hudson cross-legged on his bed. She’d changed into an oversize T-shirt that left her knees bare, and her golden hair fell over one shoulder. She always wore it down. Which annoyed him, because it made his fingers itch to stroke those long, silky strands.
“Can we talk?” she asked softly.
“Do I have a choice? You already broke into my cabin.”
“I didn’t break in. The door was unlocked.”