by Violet Duke
Then he followed her over the edge.
* * * * *
THREE HOURS LATER, Lia collapsed on top of him.
She should’ve known the man would be insatiable.
“Come with me to Yuma next week, baby. I miss you too much when we’re apart.”
He was also incredibly romantic.
“Could we go for a hike one day while we’re down there? I’ve heard of some great trails in Yuma. I haven’t gone on a good day-long hike in years.”
“You know, you would’ve made an excellent soldier,” remarked Hudson thoughtfully, half-dozing as he combed his fingers through her hair lazily.
She giggled. “Do I want to know what kind of soldier training you guys went through?” Though she was thoroughly exhausted, her hands were still wildly curious. Hudson’s body was like her new favorite playground.
He slid his hand down to pinch one of her cheeks. “Watch it, woman. You’re getting into dangerous territory.”
“So are you.” She wiggled. “Not that I mind.”
He groaned. “No more comments like that until I’ve recovered at least thirty-six hours.”
“Wimp.” She wiggled again.
He clamped his arms around her to stop her tempting movements. With a nibble on her ear, he continued, “I’m serious, though. You’re smart, strong. Wily. I think if you’d been one of my UW trainees, you would’ve been amazing. You could’ve—”
He broke off then, taken away suddenly by the shift in his thoughts, by the unwelcome attack of his memories.
The flash of pain she saw in his eyes tore at her heart. Hiding her saddened eyes, she burrowed into his side and teased lightly, “Unconventional Warfare, huh?” She slid her hand lower, willing him to come back to her, away from the pain of the ghosts that he rarely let haunt him. “But what could you teach me that I don’t already know?” she goaded, her voice wavering only slightly as she tried to keep it together.
For him.
When he caught her hand before it could make its final descent, he finally smiled, and the cobwebs of his demons began slipping away.
“Imp,” he chided.
It took another minute but eventually, his soft gray eyes were back here with her again. Not in the past, not in the horror that she saw him relive in the middle of his worst dreams late at night.
“Welcome back,” she said softly. As she listened to his heartbeat return to its normal speed, she offered gently, “You know, as much as I love all the sex, we can just talk sometimes. Whenever you want, about whatever you want.”
He leaned over and kissed her. “I know, sweetheart.”
As they both drifted off to sleep, she idly traced her fingers along the scars on his arms, before laying her head against his heart.
Where she knew hid the biggest, deepest scars of them all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HUDSON LED LIA out of the prop master’s mobile studio on site and headed over to the outdoor set where filming was taking place for the day. It was actually his day-off again because nearly all of the weapon and fight scenes were done.
“So what do you think of your first film shoot?” They halted as a few dozen extras were called over onto the ‘village’ set, which was sandwiched just a few feet from the ‘church’ set on one side and a battlefield scene on the other. Same big field. Lots of movie backdrop and prop magic.
“There are way more people on set than I expected. Times a hundred at least.”
Yeah, that had surprised him at first, too. “You get used to it. It’s a zoo, but you’ll find everyone has a purpose. It’s more chaos when there’s one person missing in the madness.”
Just then the director’s assistant came sprinting toward them at a mad dash, headset askew, expression overstressed as always. He grinned and began making introductions. “Lia, this is Peggy—”
Peggy gave Lia a quick and apologetic wave, cutting him off. “I’m so sorry to interrupt but we’re in a major time crunch. Thank God you’re here, Hudson. We need you to step in to consult on a scene.”
“What? But none of my actors are even filming today.” Mentally, he ran through the remaining scenes left to make sure.
“The writers made some modifications to this scene in the village. They added one more bout of insurgency to tie into a flashback season for one of the actors later. You don’t need to do any actual choreography. This isn’t a fight scene, but we need you to work with the actor on operating his rifle and defending himself. It’s a rough scene with just some struggling and fighting back so they want to keep things looking instinctive, not rehearsed.”
Hudson nodded. Made sense. “No problem. Just tell me what you guys need.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Peggy ran off to the director’s station, barking out orders into her headset.
As Hudson had discovered, the meek coffee-carrying assistant was a gross misnomer. Peggy ran things on set like a little drill sergeant.
He turned back to Lia. “I’m so sorry. Do you mind me working a bit today? It doesn’t sound like it should be too long, but you never know with these scenes.”
Lia grinned. “Are you kidding? This will be fun.” She nodded over to the cameras. “I think they’re calling you.”
“Hudson, my man. You’re a lifesaver as always.” Charles pulled down his director headset and crouched down to get on eye level with a kid actor who was outfitted exactly right for a civil war insurgent in Myanmar at the time.
Right down to the M16 rifle he was holding.
Instantly, Hudson felt the world shift.
A swift gasping sting pummeled him in his chest like a two-by-four. Every muscle in his body went rigid as his breathing dropped back and begin fading around the edges. Time began blurring in and out at a slow pulse. The tunnel vision and tunnel hearing set in like it always did. That’s what made him the best. He had no ‘flight’ instincts—it was fight or fight all the way. Adrenaline burned through his veins, hummed in a sweeping tide throughout his muscles as one heartbeat passed. Then another.
His hands clenched on empty air.
What the fuck?
Where the hell was his rifle? The sound of enemy fire was getting closer. He schooled his breathing and took inventory of his surroundings.
But nothing made sense.
People who had no business out here in Afghanistan were standing around calling his name.
Why wouldn’t they shut up? He needed to listen for orders.
He needed to find his goddamn rifle!
And then his eyes locked on the kid.
Wide-eyed, scared. Dirt and tears streaking down his face.
He has a dead man’s switch, Reyes!
Hudson felt his feet rush him out of his hide site.
But for some reason, he didn’t feel like he was moving.
Take the shot!
That order. It didn’t come from his tactical com.
The kid was spinning around in a circle now. Shit, he couldn’t have been more than ten, eleven maybe. When he came to a dead halt, Hudson saw his eyes.
They were looking straight at him.
And absolutely overcome with dread. Fear.
His eyelids drifted closed.
Take. The. Shot.
Hudson felt bile tear up his esophagus as his finger closed around the trigger.
And then all chaos broke out.
* * * * *
“HUDSON!” LIA SHOT over to him as he began heaving into the trash can nearest him.
She heard a commotion and saw Fiona materialize out of nowhere, sprinting over barefoot with her scene wardrobe hiked up her legs. At least three people chasing after her with scripts, phones, and bottles of water.
“What happened to him?” Fiona skidded to a stop when another wave of nausea caused Hudson to double over and retch violently into the trash can.
“He must have had something bad at lunch,” lied Lia. They hadn’t eaten since this morning.
“Holy shit, did he eat something
on set?”
Lia answered the worried voice without turning around, “No. Nothing on set.”
They all cringed as Hudson clutched his stomach and fell onto the ground, one hand holding onto the trash can like a lifeline.
Lia peeled off her t-shirt and wiped down Hudson’s face gently. “Fiona, can you take him to your first aid station? I’ll handle this scene for him.”
The director-looking guy with the baseball cap and the big headphones around his neck turned to her in surprise. “Do you work with Hudson’s company?”
“No—”
“But she’s a martial arts instructor,” finished Fiona. “And a weapons specialist. One of the best in Arizona. Her family’s business is one of the ones the prop guys have been using for rifle construction—Spencer’s Antique Arms.”
Brow arched in respect, the man stuck his hand out to greet her. “Boy, am I glad you guys travel in packs. You really think you can fill in for Hudson? You’ll be saving us a ton of money for today’s shoot.”
Lia gave him a reassuring nod. “Kids are my specialty.” With one last glance at Fiona helping Hudson away, she ruffled the kid’s hair. “C’mon, let’s show you how to kick some butt.”
She kept her voice modulated and her smile on her face when she could. But inside, her stomach was in knots. Now she finally understood why Hudson was so dead-set on believing he didn’t deserve to be a father.
Her heart broke for him.
* * * * *
HUDSON WALKED BACK onto the set during the second practice run for the scene. Silently, he watched the little boy Lia had been working with make a few adjustments to his rifle and then pretend-struggle via a few punches and kicks with the actor playing his adversary.
By the time all the actors and extras went to their marks, and silence was called for on the set, the vivid ghosts from Hudson’s past were retreating back into hibernation.
Meanwhile, Lia was giving a few last-minute pointers before ruffling the boy’s hair and wishing him luck.
He felt his ghosts linger then, lurking.
Just in case.
A few last minute filming directions and then the director called out, “Action!”
Hudson felt it starting to hit him again when the little boy charged forward into battle.
Different from his memories, and yet overwhelmingly similar at the same time.
Then suddenly, two small, comforting hands squeezed his forearm. Looking down, he saw Lia’s fingers intertwine with his. He wished to hell and back that he could feel more than just the faint pressure her silent comfort was pressing into his right palm. He did feel her thumb stroking over his radial pulse at his wrist, however, and her head lightly resting against his shoulder.
And just like that, his breathing regulated itself.
The wave of impending horror and utter bleakness that had threatened to consume him again fell and dissipated slowly.
On set, the boy crumpled to the ground, just as it’d been scripted for him to do, and Hudson felt another gentle squeeze on his forearm—fiercely comforting if he could describe the gesture with words.
Had he been in a mindset to do so, he would’ve almost smiled then.
“I’m fine now,” he informed her quietly.
“I know you are,” she said just as quietly, her tone telling him she was telling the truth.
He looked down and saw her eyes were glued to the little boy on set, unwavering until the director called out, “Cut! Nicely done, everyone.”
Folks materialized out of the woodworks and began shuffling off-scene as the director gave Hudson and Lia a thumbs-up and headed to the cluster of actors and extras waiting for him at the next ‘village’ set-up about a hundred yards away.
The little boy turned to wave at Lia while his handler helped him remove the props that needed to be returned to the prop master. Not long later, the two were heading toward the refreshment table. Just another day on the job.
Only then did Lia loosen her grip on his arm.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
Her eyes swung up to meet his, a faint sheen of emotion glittering for a moment before she blinked it away. “I would never have had the strength to go through what you went through. Or what I’m assuming you went through. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
He took a deep, ragged breath. “Why didn’t I tell you that I killed a kid at nearly point-blank range? That he was looking me straight in the eye, scared out of his mind, when I shot him?” Shame throbbed in his voice as he looked back down to the ground, unable to meet her empathetic gaze any longer.
“That I did what even that tweaked-out criminal from your past failed to do?”
Lia gasped. “Hudson—”
“Don’t. Don’t try to say that it’s different. Because it’s not. That man was strung out on drugs, and he was still somehow able to stop himself. He was able to move the gun away at the last second. Show you humanity. I wasn’t. I didn’t. No amount of reasoning will change that fact.” Disgust and scalding hot remorse ripped through him, sent a sucker punch to his gut that almost had him retching out bile again.
“I looked that terrified little kid in the eye and executed him.”
He felt her place a comforting hand on his. His left hand. The one that could feel. And all he could feel was acid-dipped contempt for himself. He jerked his hand back, not wanting to poison her goodness.
Staring down at his clenched fists, he saw the blood on them that everyone seemed determined to forgive him for. He’d given that same comfort to countless other soldiers in the past. Some took, some didn’t. But Hudson learned the hard way why some of them felt like their hands would never be clean again.
There was no forgiveness for this.
And by allowing himself to forget that fact these past few months, Lia—amazing, beautiful Lia—was now trying to comfort him, a man no better than the one who’d held her at gunpoint when she was not much older than that young boy.
For a little while there, he’d thought the universe was crazy for letting him find her. Now he knew this was the punishment he had always known would be coming. She was the one woman he could see himself spending the rest of his life with.
And he couldn’t keep her.
* * * * *
IT WAS NOW Day Four.
Lia looked at the calendar date, amazed it hadn’t burst into flames by the strength of her stare alone the past two days. After her words had failed to console him on the movie set that day, after a long night of near silence where her mere presence seemed to pain him, Hudson eventually told her he needed a few days—a few—to himself. So like an idiot, she’d let him go off to the woods to be with his thoughts. Those one-sided, punishing thoughts of his that he was torturing himself with for the impossible decision he’d needed to make.
One child bomber’s life in exchange for a village full of unsuspecting bystanders.
A horrific choice no one should ever have to make.
Followed by an unending suffering she couldn’t even fathom.
She had no clue how to help him, but she knew she’d devote her entire life to trying if she could. If he’d just let her.
But now it was day flippin’ four with no sign of him.
She picked up her phone and dialed the one person who she hoped could help where no one had been able to yet.
“Dr. Spencer’s office. How can I help you?”
“Hi Fran, its Lia. Is she in?”
“Lia-dear! It’s so good to hear from you! Your timing is excellent, actually—your mom is free for the next hour. Hold on for a second.”
A faint smile snuck across Lia’s lips when she heard the hold music playing.
All of Me by John Legend & Lindsey Stirling
She thought back to how Hudson had spent days on end sharing all those private songs with her, and how he’d gotten her to do the same. She thought of the Wing Chun dummy he’d put in the park for her, and all the countless other ways he’d made her feel special and safe.
And so undeniably his.
Now it was her turn to make him feel the same.
“Lia, honey, is everything okay?”
“Better now,” she replied, switching to Bluetooth as she ran to grab a jacket and her helmet. “I know exactly what I’m going to do.”
Amusement danced over her mother’s voice. “That’s a new record. Pretty soon I’ll be able to start charging therapy fees without even saying a word.”
Lia grinned and thanked her mom for her miracle-working hold music.
Of course, Grace, being a Spencer—and a female Spencer at that—did have additional non-therapy-based advice for Lia.
Hudson didn’t stand a chance.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HUDSON LOOKED UP, not surprised in the least to see Lia hiking up the mountain toward him.
“Tell Gabe I’m impressed. Even sat-phones are hard to lo-jack out here.” He took a swig of water from his canteen and waited for her to catch up before he led them back to his campsite, where he’d spent the last four days trying to find the strength to let Lia go.
He simply wasn’t that strong.
After she dropped her backpack and turned around to face him, he waited for the first strike. Over the last few months, he’d found that regardless of whether it was on the mat or pretty much any other flat surface in her life, Lia never held back if she thought she was protecting someone.
In this case, him.
She edged them toward the arid red dirt clearing just beyond his tent. They circled each other for a bit as he tried to get her to see reason. “Lia, this isn’t a good idea.”
Per usual, she struck without warning. She advanced and shot out a flurry of open palm strikes. After he blocked each one without breaking a sweat, she huffed, “Who’re you kidding? You need a down and dirty fight now more than anything.”
“I’m not fighting you.”
“Why not? You spar with me all the time.”
“This wouldn’t be sparring. Not the way I’m feeling.”
“Exactly. It would be a fight. So fight me.” She swept low and did a particularly vicious kick combo that had him growling.