Claimed (Outlaws #1)

“People are responsible for their own lives,” Hudson said quietly. “Nobody is expecting you to take on that burden.” She hesitated. “It’s your guidance they’re looking for.”


“Why?” he said desperately. “What the hell made my word gold?”

“I don’t know. You inspire trust in people. I felt it the moment I met you.” She reached up and stroked his cheek. “Out of all the people in that bar, I chose to run after you. To ask for your protection. Whether you like it or not, there’s something about you that makes people feel safe.”

“Well, I don’t want it. I’m tired of being the one everyone looks to for answers.” He dragged a hand over his scalp. “Why can’t any of you see that I have no fucking clue what I’m doing?”

She let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around him, and he instinctively tensed, because comfort wasn’t something he ever sought out.

“I’m sorry about your wife, Connor.”

The sad whisper cracked his chest open and sent a rush of emotion to his throat. He sagged into the embrace, Hudson’s body warm and solid against his, the top of her head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. Maggie had been slight, petite. He was always terrified he’d break her if he held her too tight, but he didn’t feel like that with Hudson. He didn’t think anything could break her.

The fact that he was drawing comparisons between the two women flooded his stomach with guilt, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help but recognize the strength in Hudson that Maggie had lacked.

She lifted her head, her gaze locking with his. “I’m sorry I said you don’t have a heart. I know you do. I see the way you act with Rylan and the others. You do care about them, even if you don’t like to show it.”

His throat constricted, but even after he’d cleared it, his voice still sounded like it was lined with gravel. “I care about you too.”

Uncertainty flitted across her face. “You do?”

“I know it might not seem like it, but I really do care. You…” He pressed his lips together, then forced himself to continue. “You make me happy.”

Surprise widened her eyes. Surprise, and something akin to guilt, which made no sense at all, because she had no reason to feel guilty.

“Connor.” She visibly swallowed. “I need to tell you —”

God. No. He couldn’t hear another parting speech, not after he’d laid himself bare to her. He coughed, flicking his cigarette on the pavement. “It’s fine, sweetheart. I understand why you want to end this, and I respect your decision, okay? I promise it won’t be uncomfortable at camp. I’ll —”

She cut him off with a kiss. “Shut up,” she mumbled against his lips.

Connor would’ve thought laughter was impossible after everything they’d discussed, but somehow a chuckle popped out of his mouth.

Hudson swallowed the husky sound with another kiss. Warm and firm and confident. Then she drew back, her mouth millimeters from his as she whispered, “Nothing is ending, Con.” Her palms stroked his cheeks as she brushed her lips over his again. “It’s just beginning.”

17

Air. No air.

Connor’s hands were a tight vise around her throat, his eyes more red than hazel as they gleamed with pure, naked hatred. He was going to kill her. He was going to squeeze the life from her body until she was dead. Dead like his wife. Dead like Dominik. He’d killed her brother and now he was about to kill —

Hudson woke up, gasping for air.

Her hands shot up to her throat, then faltered, as if they were surprised to find it intact. The dream – no, the nightmare – had been so real, she could still feel Connor’s strong grip crushing her windpipe, and her lungs burned as she sucked in fast, gulping breaths that made her weak and dizzy.

The scariest part of all was that the dream – the nightmare – wasn’t a figment of her vivid imagination. If Connor came face-to-face with her brother, he would kill him. And if he was feeling bloodthirsty enough, he could very well decide to kill her for being the twin sister of his enemy. For lying to him.

She still couldn’t wrap her head around everything he’d told her tonight.

Her brother had killed Connor’s wife.

Connor had been married.

Taking another breath, Hudson climbed out of bed and stripped out of her sweat-soaked clothes. The cabin suddenly felt too hot and suffocating, so she stepped outside, unconcerned by her nudity. It was too late for anyone else to be up, and although it was still humid out, the air was cooler on the porch than it was inside.

She stared up at the black sky, her heartbeat slowly regulating as she drew more oxygen into her lungs, and she found herself thinking about her brother. He was a night owl too, and she wondered if Dom was standing outside right now, staring at the same moonless sky.

Or maybe he was out slaughtering people.

Bile burned her throat as Connor’s story buzzed in her mind. It didn’t make sense, damn it. Dominik didn’t kill outlaws in cold blood, not unless he was defending himself. He always gave them a chance to reintegrate first.