Back to You: A Hudson Family Series- Book 1- Synclair and Reece

by Chontelle Brison

  Forcing myself to open my eyes before I beat the offending phone to death, I peered down and saw a ton of text messages. They were all from Rachel.

  Shit, I grasped the phone, shut off the buzzer and began to scroll.

  11:45 p.m. I’m so sorry about the bar and Uncle Jack, plz call.

  12:05 a.m. Synclair, they’re coming to get me, they’re pissed about the bar. Please you gotta talk to them for me

  1:00 a.m. Syn!!!! I know you care, please don’t let them take me!

  1:15 a.m. Where are you?

  1:56 a.m. I’m freaking out, what do I do?

  The next message scared me to my core.

  8:30 a.m. Sorry Patrick, Rachel can’t play anymore.

  Holy fuck, my sleep clouded brain struggled to process what was taking place. Who was coming to take Rachel? She sounded frightened, she sounded like she feared for her life. Was it Luis? No, I dismissed that idea, he wouldn’t have told her he was coming and I doubt he would go after my barmaid.

  My head was pounding, and I was still desperately fatigued. I fought off the beginning of another migraine. I couldn’t deal with one of my migraine episodes where I would pass out or have to lay in the dark until it passed. The last few days of no sleep were still pulling at me, despite the few hours I had just gotten. I wasn’t the kind of person who could run on no sleep, my uncle Jack would say it made me, ‘wonky.' Which means I made poor decisions and lacked general tact and good judgment. Shit, a case could be made that I was ‘wonky’ a lot.

  I studied the messages again, the last one was about 5 ½ hours ago. Hitting Rachel’s number I waited for her to answer. Damn, it went directly to voicemail. I quickly tapped out a text telling to her to call me. Not waiting to see if she would, I forced myself to the shower. Crap, I had left it on this whole time? Sighing, I kicked Ridge’s, now worthless, burglar equipment out of my way and stepped in. The water was barely tepid, but it was sufficient to clear my foggy mind. Using the shampoo and conditioner I had bought at Target, I washed up and toweled off in record time. Pulling my red curls back into a ponytail, I skipped the make-up. I grabbed my new t-shirt and jeans from the Target bag that still lay on the floor next to the bed. Pulling on my shoes, I checked my phone, nothing from Rachel. Whomever she was scared of had a substantial lead on me and judging from the last text message they were already with her.

  Throwing everything into the light duffel bag, including my handgun, I rushed down to the valet to pick up my car. Moments later, the valet held open the door to my red, Mustang baby. Smiling, I pulled my sunglasses from the visor and headed to Rachel’s dorm.

  I made the trip in record time, I pulled into the lot. There weren’t many cars there today, that made sense since it was the weekend. The odd thing was, I didn’t see Rachel’s car either. I ignored the dread that was building in my stomach and walked toward the dorm units. I wasn’t sure if it was worry for Rachel or the memory of the last time I was here all those years ago that made my stomach sick.

  Deciding I was not going to think about the latter, I focused on getting to Rachel’s dorm. After finding some college kid with a nose ring and a Metallica shirt, I got directions to Rachel’s room. Finding the room wasn’t hard, it was ignoring the orange carpet that hadn’t been changed since I had roamed these halls, it was the cream-colored walls with posters about upcoming events that I tried not to look at, but it was the slightly ajar dorm room that really got me nervous.

  I swung open the door and looked around. Her bed looked disheveled, her Victoria Secret comforter flung back as if she had jumped out of bed. It was a small room, it held a desk, a bed, and a community bathroom. I knew the layout, I had a similar one when I had attended the University. I went to a small dresser and pulled it open, I wasn’t surprised that it was empty. There was no closet, so I started looking at the books and papers on the floor. Some were textbooks on animal science, others were math and other basics. What captured my attention where the birthday cards. The first one I opened up was covered in pink glitter. It read Happy Birthday Sis, it was signed “Your bros.” Off to the side, written in red ink was, ‘’you ready to come home yet? Who the hell is this Patrick you work for? A Bar?

  It didn’t take long to figure out that Rachel’s extremely, overprotective older brothers hadn’t known she worked at a bar. What was more puzzling is why they had addressed me by my last name? Did Rachel tell them that I was a man? Shit, they found out about the bar burning down, that she worked in a bar and had apparently dragged her kicking and screaming back to the small town up North.

  I studied the other two items on the floor. They were unopened cards, looking at the back of the envelopes they both had the same address. Great, Carson City. Of course, Carson City was only about 400 miles north of Vegas. As the capital of my great state, it had about 60,000 in population. No wonder she wanted to come here to go to school. I couldn’t imagine what one would do in Carson City for fun. Not to mention the weather. I was not a snow person. I liked the heat, and I had no desire to be anywhere that required a jacket.

  Still not certain what I was doing, I took a picture of the Carson City address with my phone. I don’t know why this bothered me. Rachel was with family. I’m confident they wouldn’t hurt her. You don’t know that people often hurt the ones they love the most. Came the annoying voice in my brain. Wonderful, now I was talking to myself.

  Sighing, I set down on her soft bed. Nothing positive could come from tracking down Rachel. I should just google her family and see if I could get a number, then I could text her. Putting my throbbing head in my hands, I groaned. This was not my problem. But she sounded scared on the text message, and whoever sent the last one was a douchebag, who thinks your name is Patrick. The voice scolded. I was about to tell the voice in my head to shut the hell up when I spied Rachel’s cell phone under her desk. It looked like it had been chucked there. I immediately crossed the small room in two strides and reached down for the small IPhone. The screen was cracked, and the phone was off. Turning the phone on I thumbed through her contacts, it’s not like I was breaking into it, she didn’t even have a password, I reasoned with no one in particular. I stopped when I came to my number. No wonder her brothers were pissed. She had my contact information under ‘My Patrick’.

  Now, I don’t know how her brothers found out about the bar or why she didn’t tell them where she was working. I sure as hell didn’t know why she had me in her phone under my last name? Was she trying to give the impression that we were involved? I had nothing against women, I just didn’t dig them sexually. Shaking those thoughts away, I recalled seeing Rachel date, at least, a handful of guys since I had known her.

  Still struggling to wrap my head around the recent turn of events in my life, I glanced around the small room. It reminded me of Rachel, it was warm and pink and feminine. It reminded me of when I was younger when I thought my whole life was going to change. A time when I thought I could be anyone I wanted to be if I just wanted it bad enough.

  Reece Hudson had cured those fantasies. No, he hadn’t done it alone, Amber and his friends had been right there to help. I closed my eyes against the memories. Looking backward is useless, I told myself. What’s done is done. Still, I could almost feel Reece’s powerful arms around me. It was one and only time I had felt safe with anybody. I could practically smell his musky cologne and if I concentrated I could feel his lips on my neck. Wait? What?

  I jumped up off the bed and stalked out the door, pulling it shut behind me. I slipped Rachel’s phone in my pocket and tried to shut out the images that were flooding back. I needed to get out of this dorm. I could still hear Amber taunting me, I could feel my cheeks flush when I remembered being led by Donny to his patrol car and the humiliating jail experience after.

  I liked Rachel, but this was not my problem. I had a shit load of my own issues right now and this was not one of them. Practically running to my car, I threw open the door and tore out of the parking lot like the devil himself was chasing me. But Rac
hel had reached out to me, she had begged me to not let them take her. Guilt began to seep in. I helped women at the shelter all the time, here was a girl, a good kid who had only ever tried to be my friend and I was a shitty person because I wasn’t there for her. And where was I when Rachel needed me? Getting laid and then almost robbed because I was feeling sorry for myself. Jesus Syn, when did you turn into such a pussy?

  I am not going, I told myself. “Yes you are, you care,” I responded. Oh wonderful, my crazy was complete.

  Nope, nope, nope, I am absolutely not driving 400 miles for a freaking barmaid. I have things to do. I told the shitty little whiner voice in my head. Now was not the time to start tuning in to voices, specifically the warm and fuzzy ones.

  “You are because she’s a good person, you have no home, UJ is going home to Ireland, and kicking the shit out of some cocky, overbearing, small town assholes, will make you feel better. Then you can go lie low on some beach in Miami until the bar is rebuilt.”

  Sighing, I pulled onto the highway. Not quite ready to give in to my new inner voices, I smirked inwardly and negotiated with myself, do I get to bring my bat?

  I didn’t have to wait too long for an answer before, I, of course, answered myself.

  “Of course, the new one you bought from Target is in the duffle bag and you can call and say goodbye to UJ on your way.”

  “Done!” I declared to no one. Shit, I was really losing it. I resolved I would shut up my inner do-gooder by checking on Rachel, assuage my desire for a tension release on her brothers with my baseball bat, and then get some well-earned R&R on a beach with an umbrella and lots of margaritas. My plan laid out I dialed Cami’s number and asked for UJ, ignoring the small part of my brain that was advising me this was a bad idea.

  Road trips suck. Four red bulls, three rest stops, and two Taco Bells later I pulled onto the road listed on the envelope. I was still exhausted. The smart thing was to drive back to the town I had just come through, and stop at the Motel 6. Since Rachel was in no danger, I was sure talking to her could wait until I got some sleep. That and the fact that I had driven over eight hours straight through and it was approaching midnight. Like I said that would have been the smart thing.

  However, exhaustion apparently was making me stupid. So, here I am at midnight on a dark road that leads up to an enormous two story home that looks like it came straight from an all-American Christmas card, and I really had to pee. From where I was sitting Rachel didn’t have it too bad. A beautiful tree lined drive led up to a four-car garage. I noticed that two Jeep Wranglers, one Mercedes, and a Toyota Tundra were all lined up in the driveway. I wondered if Rachel’s car was parked in the garage and these assholes had her blocked in. I had to give them credit, it was what I would have done. Beyond the drive was a walkway lined with colorful flowers. A front porch, with, of course, a porch swing, seemed welcoming. Parking the car on the road a bit from the house, I grabbed my bat and put my unloaded gun in my back waistline of my jeans. What? I didn’t want to shoot someone and given my irritation, I didn’t want to be tempted.

  Finding the darkest part of the yard, I climbed the wooden fence that surrounded the perimeter. I couldn’t just walk up the driveway to the front door, maybe I could just peek inside and see if Rachel was okay. Then I could leave, I reasoned.

  No need to get all involved, I concluded. Zipping the blue sweater I had purchased I shivered. Damn, it was cold. The temp gauge in the car had read 35 degrees. How do people survive in this weather? I was guessing from the wood burning smell and the fact that all the lights in the house appeared to be on that people lit fireplaces. At least, the lights meant they were up, it should be easy to creep to the front windows, as long as I came from the side of the property. Then I could check on Rachel and get the hell out of here before I froze to death.

  Wishing I hadn’t changed out of my combat boots and into the cheap tennis shoes I had purchased during my shopping spree, I grumbled as I felt my shoes slosh in the wet, cold, muddy grass.

  As I approached the porch from the left, I heard heated voices. Multiple heated voices, geez I wondered, did the whole frigging clan live here? I guess I should have realized they wouldn’t just block in their sister’s car. Crouching below the window, I tried to ignore the memory of the last time I had eavesdropped on a conversation. Shaking off the image, I peered into the well-lit space.

  It was exactly the kind of home the Rachel would come from. Pictures lined the fireplace mantel. A warm, inviting fireplace blazed, reminding me how damn cold I was. It was a well-decorated home, definitely a cozy country décor but not dingy by any standards. It looked pleasant and lived in. It was the kind of home that housed birthday parties and fun family holidays. Sighing, I forced myself not to consider all the things these people had, that I never would, mainly family.

  Quit feeling sorry for yourself, I ordered. Things could have been so much worse, I reminded myself.

  “The bar is gone, Patrick needs me right now, I need to be there.” Rachel’s screech grabbed my attention. She was standing by the fireplace, dressed in her Hollister jeans and a pink Victoria’s Secret hoodie. I think the girl must own the whole damn store. She was clearly agitated. Her face was flushed and her black hair was strewn around her shoulders like she had been tossing it around.

  “No, not happening, you didn’t tell us you were working in a bar Rachel, nor did you mention you were dating some guy named Patrick!” Answered a tall figure that was standing behind the sofa.

  Yikes, I thought, as I looked at the man appraisingly. Hello, stud. The man was clearly over six feet tall, his green fitted sweater stretched across his chest and muscular arms. Then there were his Levis. Well, those seemed to fit in all the right places, and some of those places looked pretty big. He had Rachel’s dark hair and green eyes but a different shade, his hair in contrast to Rachel’s mussed-up tresses, looked perfectly groomed. His face looked tired but nevertheless handsome in a worn way. Oh, and he looked pissed. Not just mad but PISSED. My guess was, I was right, Rachel hadn’t told them about her life in Vegas. But Jesus, she was a grown woman, a 20-something-year-old woman. Hell, I was running a bar at her age.

  “Come on, kiddo.” Someone called from the brown leather sofa, their work boots resting on the coffee table. “Lucas just means, we were surprised.”

  Obviously the more diplomatic of the brothers. Even sitting down he looked he would be every bit as tall as the older one called, Lucas. His face was slightly younger, and he looked like he wasn’t much older than Rachel. His hair was a chestnut brown and cut so that it hung slightly in his eyes. He wore a long-sleeved shirt, layered with a red flannel. His forearms looked huge, I could only imagine what the rest of him looked like. His worn jeans and tan work boots told me he was in construction of some kind. The guy cocked his head to the side and gave his sister a charming grin. It was cute that they all shared the same dimples.

  Apparently Rachel was immune to her brother’s charm. She glared right back at him, not even blinking. I had never seen Rachel so mad. Why doesn’t she just tell them the owner of the bar is a woman?

  “Look, just because you’re happy to never see what’s beyond this town, Dalton, doesn’t mean everyone else is. I’m an adult and don’t need my big brothers making a scene and dragging me home.”

  Score one for Rachel, I thought. She appeared to be maintaining her own. So, if these were two of her brothers, where were the other two? I didn’t have to wonder long. Another brother came out of the kitchen. My breath caught in my throat and anger began to build. I knew that face, it was the guy from the night in the bar. Matt, the one that half-heartedly sought to warn me away from his buddy Ridge. So wait? Rachel couldn’t work in a bar but everyone was okay with Matt being a freaking gigolo burglar? Something was so off with this that I didn’t even know where to begin.

  Rachel and Lucas began yelling back and forth while Matt and Dalton sat on the sofa actually looking amused. What the fuck?

  My spidey sen
ses told me something was going on that I wasn’t going to like. Cold, tired, hungry and with the beginnings of a migraine I decided to crash the bitch fest.

  Standing up, I walked to the front door, without even knocking I opened door, bat in hand.

  “For the last time, Patrick is not my flipping boyfriend, Lucas.” Came Rachel’s angry shriek.

  Slamming the heavy, wooden door behind me, I answered. “She’s right Patrick is not her boyfriend, she’s her damn boss.”

  Four pairs of eyes shifted towards me. Lucas, the older one’s narrowed in suspicion, Matt the gigolo choked on his sandwich, his bright green eyes, so much like Rachel’s, went wide with recognition, and Dalton looked quite amused.

  If I wasn’t so confused and annoyed, I might have laughed. I must have looked dreadful. My ponytail had come out while I was crawling over the darn fence, so unruly, shoulder length, thick red curls were hanging all around my face, my shoes were muddy and my feet were going numb from the cold, my blue hoodie probably made me look like a serial killer, oh and I had my bat in my hand.

  No one moved, Rachel looked relieved. “Did you say, her boss?”

  I smiled, it wasn’t a kind smile, it was the kind of smile you give someone who just figured out they had just been had. “Caught that did ya? Lucas was it?” I sneered. They might all be beautiful people, but so far they all seemed like assholes.

  “You’re Patrick?” This came from Dalton. He still had a half-cocked grin. Geez, I bet the girls followed him around like he was a luscious bit of candy.

  I wasn’t in the mood for smiling, good-looking men, or even grumpy good-looking men, hell or any men at all. I wanted to go check into a hotel and watch a movie, eat and sleep, in that order.

  “Let’s do this quick shall we?” I started, deciding to tie this up and get the hell out of here. “My name is Synclair Patrick, Syn for short. I own the bar ‘Top of the Morning’, with my Uncle, Jack.” I looked around to make sure everyone was still with me. I noticed Rachel was smiling, I had no idea why but I chose to ignore it.