My Kind of Wonderful(42)

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 f*ck off him, you *!” 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 *s.

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.

Not Bailey apparently. She rose out of the chair he’d put her in and came up behind him. He could feel her, her worry, her anxiety.

He was such an *. Hud knew it but he couldn’t turn to her. He couldn’t do anything right then but obsess about Max’s email and Jacob. For all their growing-up years, they’d been connected. It seemed at times oddly so. They could always tell what the other had been thinking or when one of them got hurt.

For a while after Jacob had left that ability had lingered, but over the years it’d faded away, leaving Hud nothing of Jacob. Staring out into the night, he should’ve been able to feel his twin.

He couldn’t.

And that scared him to the bone.

“You took a night off. That’s rare,” she said. “The world still spinning?”

He let out a low laugh. Shockingly, the world was still spinning, going on without him. Something to think about.

“Are you okay?” Bailey asked quietly.

This had him closing his eyes. He’d put a gun in her face. He should be comforting her and yet she stood behind him, hovering, wanting to comfort him. He forced out a low laugh. “You hate that question, remember?”

“I do,” she said. “Let me reword. What’s wrong, Hud?”

He felt her hand on his back and instead of pulling away like he would have if it’d been anyone else, he wanted to turn and yank her in tight. To make sure he didn’t, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Just a long night. Go to bed, Bailey.”


Go to bed? Oh no, thank you very much. Bailey knew he was probably well used to dismissing people with that authoritative tone, but she wasn’t one of his employees and couldn’t be dismissed so easily.

Growing up, her teachers had always commented about her stubbornness in her report cards. Fact was, she had it in spades, which she believed had helped save her life. She was too obstinate to die.

The office was silent except for her breathing. If Hud was breathing, she couldn’t tell. When he finally turned to face her, he arched a brow—and not in an amused way either. More in a frustrated, you’re-being-a-PITA kind of way.

“I don’t know about the other people in your life,” she said, “but I don’t usually do as I’m told. It’s a known problem.”

He gave a small smile but it faded quickly enough as he focused in on her. “You’re shaking.”

“No.”

“Yes, you are.” He pulled her in.

She happily snuggled in, wrapping her arms around him. “It’s not me, Hud,” she whispered, trying to wrap her entire body around him. “It’s you. You’re shaking.”