Okay, she was starting to get that. If there was a problem, Hud faced it head-on, dangerous or not. He faced everything that way, without flinching.
He thought she was the tough one, but she wasn’t. All her life she’d just gone along with the tide, letting the ride take her where it would.
That wasn’t Hudson’s style. In fact, given all that she knew about him—how he’d grown up and the way he watched out for his family at any cost—he was one of the toughest people she’d ever met. She said so out loud.
Aidan nodded at that, his eyes solemn now. “Yeah, he is.” His warm hand touched her cold face, a brief caress. “So the question is, are you tough enough to take him on? How brave are you feeling, Bailey?”
“I’m not—” She swallowed at Aidan’s steady gaze. Hud thought she was brave and she’d loved knowing that. Maybe it was time she owned it. “It’s not what you think.”
“What I think is that my brother is one of the best guys I know, and he deserves a hell of a lot more than the hand he’s been dealt. If you’re not willing to push hard to get to the finish line with him, then you should think about dropping out of the race now before anyone gets hurt.”
“We’re not… There’s no race.” But she was talking to the night air because Aidan was gone.
Chapter 14
It was past midnight when Hud and Gray had had enough of night skiing. Exhausted, Gray left Hud so that he could crawl into bed with Penny.
Hud knew he should get into bed too. The night before he’d been called in to sub for a graveyard shift in town where he’d gone on one idiotic call after another. The first one had set the tone for the night. It’d started as a domestic disturbance. A couple had gotten in a fight at their home, where they’d each—from separate rooms in the house—thrown the other’s shit out the windows.
Their mistake had been when one of them had somehow come to the conclusion that lighting their spouse’s belongings on fire would be a good idea. They were instantly copied by the other—of course neither would cop to starting it—and they’d accidentally set their yard on fire as well. Consequently, while they were yelling and screaming at each other, their house had gone up in flames.
This had brought the wife to tears and the husband had caved at the sight, promising her another house, better clothes, and the whole world if she’d only stop crying.
Instead, they’d both gone to jail.
After that had come a bar fight at the Slippery Slope. Two fifty-something-year-old men had come to blows over who was going to pay the bar tab. No one could say who’d thrown the first punch, but in less than five minutes the entire bar was one big brawl.
When Hud and his fellow officers had broken up the fight, everyone had pointed their fingers at the two men who’d started it.
Turned out that they worked together and one had slept with the other’s ex-wife.
Hud had been handcuffing one when the other had jumped him. “Get the fuck off him, you asshole!” the idiot screamed in Hud’s ear.
Hud flipped him over his shoulder and held him to the ground, with the sole of one of his work boots to the small of the guy’s back. The two other cops who raced to Hud’s side gave disbelieving headshakes at the insanity of the night, and then they handcuffed both of them.
Seated elbow-to-elbow on the curb, they were suddenly united as one and cursing the police as assholes.
It was the theme of the night. Now here Hud was after another long day and some very satisfying night skiing with Gray, sitting in his office at the resort. Too keyed up to go home to bed, he’d come here to catch up and work through days of unread email.
He had one from Max, and Hud froze as he read it. Jacob’s unit had taken enemy fire—no word on injuries.
Or fatalities.
The email was dated two days ago. Nothing since, which only meant there’d been no new info.
Two days. Fuck. Anything could have happened, and there in the dark of his office Hud stood and sent his phone flying across the room. He heard rather than saw it bounce off the wall and hit the floor.
Along with a shocked gasp.
Pulling his gun in one swift move as he turned to the doorway, he aimed it at the shadow’s face—“Jesus,” he muttered, and immediately lowered it again. Shoving the gun into the back of his jeans, he hit the light. “How did you find me?”
Bailey blinked up at him, eyes huge. “I went to your place and then tried here next. Hudson, I’m sorry, I just—” She shook her head, her eyes glassy.
He grabbed her arm, kicked his chair out from his desk, and lowered her into it. “Not your fault.” He ran a hand over his eyes and mentally kicked his own ass. “I’m sorry,” he said, and turned away, staring out past the window into the dark sky beyond. “It’s been one of those nights.” Weeks. Months…
Most everyone he knew would have left him alone, retreated in the face of his obvious bad mood, leaving him to lick his own wounds.