Heat: A Soldiers of Fortune Romance (6 page)

P R E S E N T

I wake up to the sound of my apartment door slamming shut, and sit bolt upright.

I live alone.
 

I’m out of bed before my head is even fully awake, and I grab the first deadly weapon I can find, which happens to be one of the heels I wore last night. With the fiercest face I can muster with my heart hammering in my chest, I fling open my bedroom door and scream bloody murder as I brandish the stiletto at the figure standing in my hallway shrugging of a winter jacket.

He turns and grins that cocky, arrogant smirk of his at me; “And a good morning to you too, Princess.”

Hudson?!

I freeze with the stiletto still brandished above my head, blinking as I stare at him trying to figure out just what the hell he's doing standing in my apartment and leering at me like that at 6:30 in the morning.
 

"What- I mean,
how
-" I start to sputter, my mind still trying to piece together the reality him
being
here right now when I see his eyes dip for a moment, and his grin only gets bigger as his eyebrow arches along with his smirk.
 

I am suddenly
keenly
aware of the fact that I'm standing in the hallway with him in nothing but a thin t-shirt and panties, and with a gasp, I'm dashing back into my room and slamming the door to the sound of his laughter. "What the
fuck
are you doing here?!" I shriek through the door as I press my forehead against the wood and groan to myself as my face burns bright with embarrassment; "How did you even get in?"

Hudson is still laughing, and I can hear him jangling something against the other side of the door that sounds like keys; “Donald gave me a set," He chuckles, pointedly ignoring the first part of my questions. I yank on some pajama pants and fling the door open again just as he marches past my door into the kitchen. My eyes narrow at his back, trying to will my cheeks to stop being so damned red.

"Aw, no battle-cry this time?" He turns and grins at me, his eyes twinkling; "I'm hurt."

"Yeah well, break into my place again and you
will
be hurt." I mutter, feeling my ears burn as he only chuckles at my empty threat and breezes past me into the kitchen.

I'm momentarily thrown off by suddenly realizing what he's wearing. He's not in a tux this time, and is instead curiously in running shorts and an black undershirt, despite the fact that it's freezing outside. I stare at him as he pokes his nose into my refrigerator, totally forgetting my train of thought as my eyes rove over the sleeves of tattoo's running up his muscled and defined arms and across his chest and collarbone. I’ve seen them partially before I guess, but it’s only now seeing them in the daylight that I realize how beautiful they are. I recognize one image as the same Marine corp emblem that my father had inked onto his arm as well, but on Hudson the design is set into a twisting and complex background of other images and inked names.

I’m once again drawn to his shorts and I wrinkle my brow; ”Wait, what are you
wearing
?"
 

He frowns; "What do
you
wear to the gym?"

"We're not
at
the gym, though."

He grins; "Yeah, but we will be after we eat."

"Excuse me?"

He sighs heavily and rolls his eyes as he pulls away from the fridge with a carton of Almond milk in his hands. My jaw drops as I watch him open it before he brings it to his lips and takes a swig.

"What are you
doing
?”

"Oh relax, cupcake, I don't have cooties," He makes a face and stares at the carton in his hand before turning to me and shaking his head; "
Almond
milk? What the hell kind of-"

"What, I'm lactose intolerant,” I grumble, brusquely pushing past him and trying to shove the fact that his arm just brushed against my side out of my head. I push the button on the espresso machine and turn back to him.

Hudson snorts; "Of
course
you are."

"
Remind me
why you're here again?" I say, feeling the temper rising in my voice. I'm taking the damn campaign money, and I'm even taking it knowing that I'm going to have to deal with Hudson as a direct consequence of that. But what I am
not
signing up for is him barging into my home and seeing me in my underwear at a 6:30 in the morning.

"I told you last night, to protect our investment." He swigs from the carton of almond milk again before I rip it out of his hands and throw it away. Hudson grins at me, as if laughing at my admittedly childish behavior.
 

"But why
you
," I say, venom dripping from my words.

"You mean, besides having been a soldier?"

"How could I forget" I snap. Actually, I don't know why I say that. I mean I vaguely know he served just from hearing my father mention it once or twice, but its not like I’ve ever heard Hudson say anything about it. For a moment, my eyes are drawn back to the marine emblem on his bicep, and as my gaze looks higher, for the first time I notice a a shiny looking scar the size of a quarter on his upper shoulder.

"Thanks, yeah I've been hitting the gym a lot recently."
 

I shake my head and frown at him; "What?"

Hudson is smirking at me, and he leans forward towards me, one arm reaching past my side to hold himself up against the countertop. He's suddenly
very
close to me - closer than I want him to be - and in spite of every part of me trying to stop it, I'm suddenly remembering the last time he had me pressed against something.

"It's just that I saw you checking out my arms," He shrugs, looking so fucking arrogant and so fucking hot at the same time that it's make the gears in my head grind against each other.

Even though I can
feel
the heat from his body he's so close to me, and my gut instinct wants to grab him and pull him crushing against my body, instead, I narrow my eyes at him; "Do shit lines like that ever
work
?"

The smug look on his face drops for
just
a second; just long enough for me to know I've scored a hit against great unflappable, unshakeable Hudson Banks.

His smirk is back in a second though, and he's grinning as he pulls back from me and turns back to the fridge; “Oh you have
no
idea, Red.”

I roll my eyes; "There's no reason for you to be here, you know." It's weird, wanting him to get the hell out of here but at the same time wanting him to stay so badly it hurts.

"This isn't some sort of spy movie you know," I snap; “There isn't a terrorist outside about to crash through the window and murder or kidnap a
State
Senate candidate. The world is
not
all a terrible, dangerous place, Hudson.”

He turns to me, slowly munching on what may or may not be Chinese food from a week ago; "Do you really think of the world like that?" He shakes his head; "That's adorable."

"Damnit, Huds-"

"The world is
full
of bad people, Reagan." He says quietly. For the first time since he's let himself into my apartment - or my life, for that matter - he doesn't have that obnoxiously smug grin on his face and it's like I'm actually seeing the real him, with clarity and without armor, for the first time.

"Anyways," he says, breaking the moment and grinning as his armor goes right back up; "Go put some gym stuff on, lets go."

I frown, finally reaching for the much needed espresso that’s
finally
stopped dripping from the machine; "Why? And where are we
going
?"

Hudson rolls his eyes; "To
the
gym
, dummy. Unless you wanna work out in those cute panties you had on earlier, in which case I'm
all
for it."

Yeah, moment of clarity shattered.
 

I stare at Hudson like he's nuts before gesturing towards the icy-looking window with the wind whipping against it; "Are you kidding me? I'm not going to the
gym
, it's freezing outside!"

"Seems like it's a little cold in here too, toots." He smirks and nods at my chest, and I look down to realize my nipples are poking out through my thin t-shirt. I hastily cross my arms over my chest.

"What are you,
ten?
Seriously thought, I'm not going to-"

He cuts me off by tapping a piece of paper printed with what looks suspiciously like a time-table and shaking his has as he grins at me; "Donald's schedule, Princess; not to be ignored."

Something tells me arrogant, filthy rich, obnoxious and tattooed Hudson Conners doesn't give a flying shit about keeping schedules, and I know he's just doing this to get to me, which I am
determined
to not let happen.

"Fine, lets go." I turn and start to march down the hall back to my room.

"Oh, panties it is then?" He calls after me, and I swear its almost as if I can feel his eyes on my butt, looking right through my pajamas.
 

I slam the door to my room, shutting him off again.

P A S T

“I don’t understand why I need to wear this fucking monkey suit.” I grow, shifting uncomfortably as the tailor pats the inside of my leg and secures the expensive fabric with a pin from his mouth. I look up at the Old Man, and he’s grinning at me in this mix of amusement and something I can’t quite place- it could be pride, but I’m honestly not sure I’ve ever seen that emotion on someone’s face directed at me.

But, there’s a lot of new things in my world after meeting William Archer. New like being back in the States and working for his company, or like having more money than I know what to do with; new things like a new identity. “Hudson” is easy to keep, since it’s what the guys called me in the service after I got busted singing Billy Joel’s “New York State of Mind” in the shower one night when I thought I was the only one up, and I was all too happy to drop my Dad’s fuckin last name for my Mother’s maiden one.

“You wear that fucking monkey suit, Hudson, because it’s your costume; it’s your disguise. That fucking monkey suit will open doors for you that would otherwise be closed; doors you never even imagined existed. It’s the mark of a man at a certain place in the world, and it lets those around him know what that place is.”
 

I raise an eyebrow at him, grinning; “Did you rehearse that?” He’s chuckling and I shake my head; “You rehearsed it, didn’t you.”

William shakes his head, exhaling slowly; “Shut up and turn around, Marine.”

I mock salute and roll my eyes as I turn; “Yes si-“

Well, shit.

The man who looks back at me in the trifold floor-length mirror is like a me from another alternate reality. It’s me - those are
my
eyes looking back at me, but that’s the only thing I could possibly guess is the same, and it’s not just the suit. It’s everything
about me
that I almost don’t recognize, and my brain can’t even begin to process how much of a good thing that is. I
need
the old me to not be recognized, even by me; hell,
especially
by me. The old me needs to be purged in the fires of what’s to come, and the new direction my life is going in faster than I can almost catch up with.

“So, what do you think.” The Old Man looks smug behind me as he looks at me through the mirror.
 

“I think I- I look different?”

William tilts his head toward the tailor, who nods before ducking out of the room; “You look like a person again, Hudson. You look like a man ready to finally be one.”