Chapter 8 Hudson
Three days before the trial, I made a mistake.
It was a small one. Insignificant, really. The kind of thing that wouldn't have mattered in any other situation.
But in this situation, it almost cost Betty her life.
The morning started like every other morning that week. Betty and I had breakfast together, then drove to the bar for the lunch shift. Santos was parked outside, Martinez was monitoring the cameras, and I had two more guys from my team on standby in case anything went sideways.
We were locked down. Secured. As safe as I could make us.
But Lang and Briggs had been cops for twenty years. They knew how to work around security. They knew how to find weaknesses, exploit blind spots, hit where it hurt the most.
And my weakness was Betty.
The mistake happened around three in the afternoon. Reeves called with an urgent update on the trial. The prosecution had new evidence, something that could blow the case wide open, and they needed Betty to review some documents before her testimony.
I stepped into the back office to take the call, just for five minutes. Betty was at the bar, visible through the office doorway. Santos was outside. Everything was fine.
Except I didn't see the delivery truck pull up to the back entrance.
I didn't see the two men in delivery uniforms slip through the back door that Jesse had propped open to take out the trash.
I didn't see anything until I heard Betty scream.
The sound ripped through me like a bullet.
I was out of that office in a heartbeat, my gun already in my hand, every sense on high alert. The bar was chaos. Customers were screaming, ducking under tables, scrambling for the exits. Jesse was pressed against the wall, her face white with terror.
And Betty was being dragged toward the back door by two men in black masks, one of them holding a gun to her head.
"Let her go!" I raised my weapon, trying to get a clear shot, but they were using her as a shield. One wrong move and they'd put a bullet in her brain.
"Drop the gun!" the one holding her shouted. "Drop it or I'll kill her right here!"
Betty's eyes found mine, wide with terror but also with something else. Trust. She trusted me to get her out of this.
I couldn't let her down.
"Okay." I lowered my gun slowly, keeping my movements deliberate. "Okay, I'm putting it down. Just don't hurt her."
"Kick it away!"
I kicked the gun across the floor, but I didn't take my eyes off them. The guy holding Betty was nervous, sweating. His hands were shaking slightly, which meant he was either inexperienced or terrified.
Either way, nervous men with guns made mistakes.
I just had to wait for his.
"Lang and Briggs sent you," I said, keeping my voice calm, conversational. "They must be getting desperate if they're hiring amateurs."
"Shut up!" The guy's grip on Betty tightened. "Just shut up and let us walk out of here!"
"You're not walking out of here. Not with her." I took a slow step forward. "You know there's a guy outside, right? Former Special Forces. The moment you step through that door, he's going to put a bullet between your eyes."
The second guy, the one without a hostage, glanced nervously toward the back door.
That was his mistake.
I moved.
I'd been trained to close distance fast, to neutralize threats before they could react. The second guy went down before he even knew I was coming, my elbow connecting with his temple in a strike that dropped him like a stone.
The first guy panicked. His gun swung toward me, away from Betty's head, and that was all the opening I needed.
Betty moved at the same time, driving her elbow back into his ribs with surprising force. He grunted, his grip loosening just enough for her to twist away, and then I was on him.
The fight was brutal and brief. He tried to bring the gun around, but I caught his wrist and twisted, feeling bone grind against bone. The gun clattered to the floor. I drove my fist into his face once, twice, three times, until he stopped struggling.
Then I kicked his gun away and turned to Betty.
She was standing a few feet away, shaking, her hand pressed to her throat where the gun had been. But she was alive. Unharmed.
I crossed to her in two strides and pulled her into my arms.
"I've got you," I said, my voice rough. "You're okay. I've got you."
She was crying, great heaving sobs that shook her whole body. I held her tighter, pressing my lips to her hair, whispering reassurances I wasn't sure I believed.
Because I'd almost lost her.
Five minutes. I'd looked away for five goddamn minutes, and she'd almost been taken.
If they'd gotten her out that door, if they'd gotten her into that truck, I might never have seen her again.
The thought made me want to put my fist through a wall.
Santos burst through the front door thirty seconds later, gun drawn. He took in the scene with one sweep of his trained eyes and immediately started securing the two men on the floor.
"I saw the truck," he said grimly. "I tried to intercept, but they had someone create a diversion out front. By the time I realized what was happening..."
"It's not your fault." I kept my arm around Betty, unwilling to let her go. "They were smart. Coordinated."
"Lang and Briggs?"
"Has to be. They're getting desperate." I looked down at Betty, who was still trembling in my arms. "We need to move. The bar's not safe anymore."
"Where do we go?" she asked, her voice small.
"I have a safe house. Off the grid, no connection to me or Black Hawk. We'll hole up there until the trial."
"What about the bar? My staff?"
"Marco can handle things for a few days. And your staff will be safer if you're not here." I cupped her face in my hands, making her look at me. "Three days, Betty. Three days and this is over. But I need you alive to testify. That means going dark until the trial."
She closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath. "Okay. Okay, let's go."
I kissed her forehead, then turned to Santos. "Call Martinez. I want these two interrogated. Find out everything they know about Lang and Briggs's plans. And call the FBI. Agent Torres needs to know about this."
"Copy that." Santos was already pulling out his phone. "What about the bar?"
"Lock it down. Nobody in or out until further notice."
I grabbed Betty's hand and led her toward the back door, stepping over the unconscious body of the second attacker. The delivery truck was still parked in the alley, engine running, waiting for a cargo that would never come.
My car was parked around the corner. I put Betty in the passenger seat, checked the perimeter, then slid behind the wheel and pulled out of the alley at a controlled speed.
No point in drawing attention. The last thing we needed was more eyes on us.
The safe house was an hour outside the city, a small cabin tucked into the woods at the end of a private road. I'd bought it five years ago under an alias, paid for in cash, with no paper trail connecting it to me or my company.
It was simple. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen that was barely more than a hotplate and a refrigerator. But it was secure. The windows were reinforced, the doors were steel, and I had cameras covering every approach.
Nobody was getting in here without me knowing.
Betty stood in the middle of the small living room, hugging herself as she took in the sparse surroundings.
"Cozy," she said with a weak attempt at humor.
"It's not much, but it's safe." I set down the bag I'd packed and crossed to her, pulling her into my arms. "How are you doing?"
"I don't know." She leaned into me, her forehead pressed against my chest. "Scared. Angry. Tired of being scared and angry."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"For what? You saved my life. Again."
"I shouldn't have let it get that far. I stepped away for five minutes, and they almost got you." The guilt was like acid in my stomach. "If I'd been paying attention, if I'd kept my eyes on you..."
"Hudson, stop." She pulled back to look at me, her eyes fierce despite the fear still lingering in them. "You can't be everywhere at once. You can't protect me from every possible threat. The fact that you were there, that you stopped them... that's what matters."
"It's not enough."
"It is." She put her hand on my cheek, forcing me to meet her eyes. "You are enough. You've always been enough. I just needed you to show up, and you did. You came back for me. That's more than anyone else has ever done."
I turned my head, pressing a kiss to her palm.
"I'm never leaving you again," I said quietly. "After this is over, after you testify, I'm staying. For good. If you'll have me."
"I'll have you." She smiled, small but real. "But first, you have to get me through the next three days."
"Done." I kissed her softly. "Three days, and then we start our life together. For real this time."
The first night at the safe house, neither of us slept much.
Betty dozed off and on, jerking awake at every sound, reaching for me in the darkness like she needed to make sure I was still there. I held her through the nightmares, whispered reassurances when she cried out, and spent the hours between checking the security feeds and planning our next moves.
Agent Torres called around midnight with an update. The two men from the bar had been identified as low-level muscle with ties to Lang and Briggs. They were talking, eager to cut deals, and their testimony was going to add to the mountain of evidence against the dirty cops.
"Lang knows he's going down," Torres said. "We've got warrants out for both of them. It's only a matter of time before we pick them up."
"And until then?"
"Until then, you keep her safe. We'll have a security detail ready to escort you to the courthouse on trial day."
I didn't trust anyone but my own team, but I kept that to myself. Let the FBI think they were running the show. I'd make sure Betty got to that courthouse, one way or another.
The second day was quieter. Betty was calmer, though I could still see the fear lurking behind her eyes. We spent the morning going over her testimony, making sure she was ready for whatever the defense might throw at her.
In the afternoon, we just talked. About the future. About what came after.
"I want to expand the bar," she said, curled up against me on the small couch. "Buy the building next door, knock out a wall, add some more tables. Maybe do live music on the weekends."
"Sounds like a solid plan."
"It's something Dad and I used to talk about." Her voice softened. "He always said the building next door was wasted potential. Had this whole vision for what it could be."
"Then we'll do it." I pressed a kiss to her temple. "When this is over, we'll make his vision a reality."
"We?"
"If you want a partner. Someone to help with the business side, the security, whatever you need."
She turned to look at me, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Are you offering to be my business partner, Hudson Cole?"
"I'm offering to be whatever you need me to be. Partner. Investor. Bouncer." I grinned. "Arm candy."
She laughed, and the sound of it warmed something deep in my chest.
"Arm candy. I like that." She kissed me softly. "We're going to have a good life, aren't we?"
"The best." I pulled her closer, breathing in her scent. "I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure of it."
The night before the trial, I barely slept.
Betty was out cold beside me, exhausted from the stress and the fear and the endless waiting. I watched her sleep, memorizing the lines of her face, the way her hair spread across the pillow, the soft sounds she made as she dreamed.
Tomorrow, this would all be over.
She would testify. Lang and Briggs would go to prison. And we would finally be free to build the life we should have had ten years ago.
All I had to do was get her through one more day.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Reeves.
Reeves: Lang's been spotted. He's on the move, heading your direction. FBI is in pursuit.
My blood ran cold.
Me: How did he find us?
Reeves: Unknown. Could be a leak in the FBI. Could be surveillance we didn't catch. Either way, he's coming.
I was out of bed before I finished reading the message, pulling on clothes and grabbing my gun from the nightstand.
"Hudson?" Betty's voice was groggy with sleep. "What's happening?"
"We have to move." I tossed her a pair of jeans and a sweater. "Lang found us. He's on his way."
All the color drained from her face, but she didn't freeze. Didn't panic. Just started pulling on her clothes with hands that only trembled slightly.
God, I loved her.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"The courthouse. It's the safest place for us right now. We'll wait there until the trial starts in the morning."
"And Lang?"
"The FBI is tracking him. With any luck, they'll pick him up before he gets anywhere near us."
"And if they don't?"
I checked the magazine on my gun, then slid it back into place with a satisfying click.
"Then I'll handle it."
Betty crossed to me, putting her hand on my cheek.
"Together," she said. "We handle it together."
I kissed her hard and fast.
"Together," I agreed.
Then I grabbed her hand and led her out into the darkness.
One more night.
We just had to survive one more night.