REBORN: Six Saviors Series

by Carly Fall

  been quite a surprise. I’ve never seen a Colonist, or anyone for that matter, get the best of you.”

  Hudson just shrugged his shoulders and met Noah’s eyes. After a moment, he

  quipped, “First time for everything, man.”

  Noah studied him a moment longer, then nodded. He looked around the room

  again and spoke in low tones. “Cohen won’t be back for two days. He can’t get on a commercial flight because of the time zones and doesn’t want to light up. No contacts,”

  he said quietly, referring to the uncomfortable contact lenses that the Warriors wore at night to hide their glowing eyes. “There aren’t any private planes available until then.

  Something about a celebrity event in the French Riviera.”

  Hudson nodded, understanding. He would be in a Vicodin fog for another couple

  of days. The way he felt right now, he would be cool with it.

  “Bunch of hypocrites those bastards are. Always preaching green this, green that.

  Then booking up all the private planes…hypocritical, man.”

  “Who found me?” Hudson asked.

  “When we hadn’t heard from you, I called Rayner. They were on their way back

  from Flagstaff. Talin tracked the GPS in your phone, and he guided them to where you were. Faith went to find a doctor, ran into Beverly, and the rest is history.”

  It all matched with what he had thought had happened. Shit. He’d forgotten about

  the GPS in the phone. If he had remembered, he would have disabled it and maybe he’d be dead by now. They wouldn’t have been able to find him.

  And maybe them finding you wasn’t such a bad thing, asshole.

  Hudson nodded, hoping to stop the conversation. He really didn’t want to think

  about anything. He just wanted to enjoy the Vicodin high and think about a lot of nothing.

  Noah met his eyes again. “You look tired.”

  Hudson nodded.

  “Okay. I’ll let you rest. But Talin is going to have to get a description from you on what the guy looked like.” He stood up, looked at Beverly, and spoke a little louder so she could hear what he was saying. “Doc, I got a room for you one floor down. I can take your stuff down there if you want.”

  Hudson watched as she contemplated Noah’s offer. He wanted her to leave so he

  could just be alone, but at the same time, he liked having her around. Somehow, she brought him a little bit of peace. It was a slight feeling, but it was there. Maybe it was her classic beauty and the way she carried herself like royalty, or her little smile that made the sides of her eyes slightly crinkle. Maybe it was the intimacy of knowing her hands were all over his skin as she stitched him up. Maybe it was because she just smelled good, and he loved the color of her eyes that seemed to glow with heat and questioned at him all at the same time.

  Or maybe it was the Vicodin.

  “Thanks, Noah. I think I’ll stay here and make sure Hudson’s okay. Just one floor down?”

  Noah handed her a set of keys and then headed for the door. “The bar is stocked,

  and someone will be down in the morning around eight to see if you’re ready to come up and eat.”

  Beverly got up and walked him to the door. “Thanks for everything, Noah.”

  As he opened the door, Abby was on the other side ready to knock and gain

  entrance. “Oh!” she exclaimed, surprised. “Hi!”

  Hudson watched Noah’s face go soft as he drew Abby into his arms. It hurt to see

  such love, but it warmed his heart. His daughter was well cared for, well loved.

  Hell, she was worshipped, just as any female should be.

  “Hi,” Noah said, nuzzling her neck.

  Abby laughed and pushed him away. Hudson was happy to see her with such a

  beautiful aura around her. He had watched Abby her whole life, yet he had never seen such happiness radiate from her until she met Noah. It warmed his heart knowing that she was finally in a place of love, safety, and affection.

  Her eyes swung around to him—his soul cringed and his heart melted at the same

  time, but in a good way. Abby had the same warm brown eyes as her mother, yet they held love for him. The last time he had seen her mother’s eyes, he remembered the irritability and discontent that had glowered from them as he fought to be a part of her life, and Abby’s. And that was also the day the fissure in his soul began to open, leading now to the chasm he couldn’t deal with any longer.

  It was difficult to think about the woman who had ate his soul, chewed it up, spit it out, then stomped on the remains every time he looked at Abby. Yet, Abby’s gaze traveled through him and went beyond that point of agony to hit bulls-eye on the sweet spot filled with nothing but love and admiration.

  She came toward him, the spitting image of the woman he had loved so long ago.

  As he watched her approach, he temporarily forgot about Bev.

  “My doah,” he whispered due to the dryness of his throat, using his native language and taking her hand in his as she sat down.

  He noticed the worry in her eyes, the dark circles under them from lack of sleep.

  “Are you okay, Hudson?” she asked him quietly.

  Once again, he found himself lying. He thought of his mother’s words: The road to happiness is peace in your soul. He had none of it. Hell, at this time he felt like he had been chewed up from the inside out, so he wasn’t even sure if he had a soul.

  If Abby were talking about the physical sense, then yes, he would live. However,

  nothing had really changed since he decided to punch his own ticket and check out. Well, the Vicodin helped a little bit, and that little kernel of “you want to live, fucker,” was definitely there. How that had sprouted, he didn’t know. But back to that Vicodin—

  maybe he should become a drug addict. He glanced briefly over at Bev, who was eyeing him warily. Maybe if he hit it off with the doctor, he could score regular prescriptions.

  But how long would that last? He had been through fighting, sex, cooking, and

  strenuous workouts. They all helped for a short amount of time, but none really soothed.

  How much Vicodin would he have to consume before it didn’t help anymore? Five pills a day? Ten? Twenty-three? And then he would have to deal with being a drug addict on top of all the other shit he was trying to cope with.

  Bad idea. However, even in his ruined state, he liked the idea of hitting it off with the pretty blonde doctor in the corner.

  She deserves better than you.

  Yeah, right.

  Fucking conscience.

  “I’m okay, honey,” he said to Abby. They talked about nothing for a few minutes,

  then Hudson watched through a Vicodin fog as Abby talked briefly with Beverly. He couldn’t hear what they were saying though. Not because they were speaking in such low tones, but because he had gone deaf. He felt his eyes starting to roll into the back of his head as he tried to watch Abby and Noah leave the room.

  All of a sudden, the garlic from the lasagna became a potent, offending odor, and his stomach rolled. And rocked. And rolled again.

  “Oh, no,” he heard Beverly murmur. He turned over to the side of the bed just as a garbage can appeared in front of him, and then he vomited.

  Chapter 14

  Two hours later, Beverly plopped into the overstuffed chair, utter fatigue

  wrapping itself around her bones. She kept her eye on Hudson, who seemed to be finally resting peacefully. He had suffered an allergic reaction to the Vicodin, which reminded her of her own purge of the narcotics in rehab, and she was grateful that the worse part of it seemed to be the vomiting for Hudson.

  As she held his head while his system evacuated the drug, she had worried he

  would break open the stitches. After checking them carefully, she was proud of the job she did. Not one suture was loose.

  After the first round of vomiting, he had laid his head in her lap
and began to

  shake. She made shushing noises and stroked his back while running her fingers through his hair.

  A few minutes later, he was sick again. After that episode, they resumed the

  position of his head in her lap, except this time he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her as if she were a lifeline.

  It reminded her of her own withdrawal from prescription drugs. She felt every

  tremor and wretch as if it were her own.

  At that moment, he was such a contradiction. His huge body looked as if it was

  capable of mass destruction, yet it shook violently and uncontrollably with vulnerability she never would have imagined. The groans that emanated from his throat were of pain, both physical and otherwise.

  Finally, he drifted off into rest. She gently disentangled herself from his grasp and lay his head down on the soft silk pillow. As she pulled the comforter up over his massive shoulders, she studied his face. Even in sleep his face seemed troubled, the little crinkle between his brows never relaxing. She wondered what would cause him such inner

  turmoil. Looking at his battered face, she noticed that his nose was slightly bent at the bridge. His black hair cascaded over his shoulders, and she decided that even though he looked like death warmed over, he was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

  And he needed to rest, not be studied like some gutted frog under a microscope.

  She needed to sleep as well, because God knew the fatigue in her body went beyond exhaustion.

  It was just after 8 p.m. She imagined that the sun would just be setting. As she

  studied him, she felt the need for some serious answers from someone. She wondered again who these people were and where she was exactly. She looked around and noticed there weren’t any windows in the place, which was understandable as they were

  underground judging by the elevator ride in the downward direction. Who lived in a place that didn’t have windows? A few things went through her mind. First, people who had some type of allergy to sunlight, but all of them had been out in the sun, so she could rule that one out. Maybe there was another person in the house she hadn’t met yet. She tried to think of other reasons why people would live in a place without windows and could come up with none.

  Vampires?

  She scoffed at herself for thinking something so ridiculous, but after a minute she really thought about it. She had seen them all out in the sun. From what she understood of vampire mythology, they melted or burst into flames when faced with UV rays. And even if they were some special hybrid vampire or something, none of them had tried to drink her blood.

  In fact, they ate lasagna.

  Besides, vampires didn’t exist.

  Rayner had given somewhat of an indication that they were in a military facility, but none of them gave off a military vibe. There weren’t any uniforms, although Noah seemed to be the one reluctantly in charge. They were all actually very laid back, yet there was an undercurrent of…purpose. Like there was a definite reason for them to be here, together.

  She sighed and snuggled down into the chair, still staring at her patient. After

  being stripped of her medical license, she never thought she would have a patient again, and she found herself enjoying the role, feeling like she had purpose. What her purpose would be in the future, she had no idea.

  One thing she did know in this whole mess was that Hudson had lied to Noah.

  Saying he was proficient at lying was like saying tomorrow the sky would be green. He was a lousy liar. She should know—she had become a very skilled liar while she was doing drugs, and she could spot a weak one a mile away.

  She had heard him tell Noah that someone—this…Colonist—had gotten the best

  of him while wielding a Taser gun. She believed that. But Hudson’s body language had indicated that he was also hiding something. His cheeks flushed as he spoke, and the rate his eyes were blinking increased. He also had a hard time meeting Noah’s eyes, and she wondered what secret Hudson was keeping.

  Secrets. Everyone had their secrets they kept tight to their chest, things they didn’t want others to know, things that were shameful to them.

  That brought up memories of when she had finally run out of pain pills, and her

  dismissal from the hospital.

  She had been completely out of pills for a day, and the only thing she could think about was how to get more. She knew none of her colleagues would write a prescription.

  Asking would be awkward at best, as she had isolated herself so much, and it would also raise a red flag. She had been back at work for two months, and medically there wasn’t a need for pain pills.

  She went to the pharmacy and began to chat up the technician, asking about a new

  drug she had seen a memo on this morning, and she was able to talk her way into the back where the drugs were kept.

  Scanning the shelves, she read the bottle labels looking for any type of pain pill: Percocet, Vicodin, Codeine—it didn’t matter. She began to sweat, and her hands were shaky. As she half listened to the technician talk about the new drug, tears welled in her eyes, because she didn’t see how she was going to be able to get to the Percocet she had found about five feet away.

  Suddenly the phone rang, and the technician excused himself. It’s now or never, Bev.

  She quietly stepped over to the bottle, surprised the pills weren’t rattling with how badly she was shaking.

  As she dumped some into her hand and then into her pocket, she didn’t hear the

  technician come back around the corner.

  “What are you doing?” he had asked quietly, as she stuffed a second handful of

  pills into her pocket.

  Surprised, she gasped and dropped the bottle, pills scattering everywhere like

  white droplets of rain.

  The technician didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at her. “I’m going to have to report this, doctor.”

  She thought about getting upset and trying to intimidate him by yelling and asking him who he thought he was, but she didn’t have it in her. Her shoulders slumped forward, defeat rolling through her. She knew the consequences for stealing from the pharmacy.

  She would lose her medical license and possibly be prosecuted.

  When security arrived, she had emptied her pockets of every pill except four that she had shoved in her shoe. If she ever needed a pill, it was now. An hour later, she sat in front of the hospital director, Jason Brenner, and looked at the space just over his shoulder as he told her he would be letting her go, making sure her license was revoked, but he wouldn’t prosecute her as long as she got help. He then took out a list of rehab places in the area and told her to pick one and make the phone call. If he didn’t have proof she was in rehab in forty-eight hours, he would file charges.

  “Off the record, Beverly, why in the world didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t

  you get help?” he had asked.

  She let her eyes meet Jason’s. They had met a couple of times at hospital

  functions and meetings and had always been friendly. Beverly was sure that this quasi-friendship was the only reason he was letting her off easy.

  And she didn’t have an answer for him, so she just shrugged. She stood, took the

  paper with the rehab listings, went home, and made the call.

  She thought of the bed Noah had said was one floor down, but simply didn’t have

  the energy to get up from the chair, make it to the elevator, and push a button. Working really hard to harness said energy to do that, her eyes began to close, and she realized she was going to fail miserably. She gave in to the deep sleep she so desperately needed.

  Chapter 15

  Hudson awoke the next morning to the sound of running water and soft humming.

  It was a pretty sound, and he wondered where it was coming from. Maybe he had made it to Heaven, and he would open his eyes to find himself next to a beautiful waterfall wit
h a little water nymph bathing in it.

  Then it all came flooding back to him like he was standing in front of crumbling

  dam, the memories washing over him. The hotel. The Colonist. The torture. And…

  Beverly. He opened his eyes and looked around the room, remembering how sick he had been, and realized that Beverly must have never made it back to her room. He checked the clock to make sure it was on the sunny side of time. His clock said nine, his internal clock let him know it was morning, so the sun had been up for hours. He imagined it was a hundred degrees outside by this time, and he couldn’t wait to get the damn contacts out of his eyes.

  Man, he had been sick, which pissed him off because he really enjoyed that

  Vicodin. However, the short time of numbness definitely wasn’t worth the consequences he had suffered.

  He thought of the way Bev had taken care of him, the way she had soothed him.

  He had found her touch a comfort he hadn’t felt in…well, ever. Yes, Iris had comforted him, but their relationship had been so short. In the time he had been with Beverly, he had experienced more with her than he had with Iris. He had met her forty-eight hours ago, and she had been his doctor, the object of his desire, and his comforter while he puked his guts out. While she stroked his back and hair, the agony on both the inside and outside began to subside just a bit. She eased him just by her close presence. Perhaps tragedy and drama really did bring people together in ways they never would have imagined.

  He pulled back the comforter and looked at his chest. What a mess. Black and

  blue bruises mixed in with the red welts of stitches. He hoped Cohen made it home soon.

  He was in desperate need of a good SR44 healing.

  He gingerly lifted his torso off the bed to a sitting position and threw his legs over the side, letting out a few ripe curses and began to breathe heavily. Concentrating on staying horizontal, he didn’t hear Bev come into the room.

  “Hudson!” she said, rushing over to him. He looked up as she made her way from

  the bathroom to him, and he forgot about his pain for a moment. He actually forgot about everything, because he was simply struck stupid by what he was seeing.