You Make Me Weak (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake Book 1) Read online

  “GPS on your phone. I’ve been calling you for over twelve hours.” Woodard nodded to Rebecca, and Hudson made the introductions. Of course, Woodard barely gave his hello before he got to the point of his visit.

  “He’s surfaced.”

  Adrenaline kicked in at the man’s words. Dartmouth. “When?”

  “Twelve hours ago.”

  “Where?” he asked harshly. Dumb question, because he wasn’t going to discuss something like this in front of a civilian.

  Woodard arched an eyebrow, his eyes moving in a subtle shift toward Rebecca. “We need to leave now.”

  “Hudson?” Rebecca’s expression was shuttered.

  “Give me five minutes,” he said to Woodard.

  “You’ve got two.”

  Hudson took Rebecca’s elbow, and the two of them walked past Woodard and entered the lodge. Fucking Dartmouth. Anger rolled through him, and he didn’t speak because he couldn’t. It took a bit, but he got his emotions in check enough to try to explain.

  “Woodard works out of the DC office.”

  “So he’s an FBI agent?” Rebecca asked, watching him carefully.

  Hudson nodded. “There’s this target we’ve been after for years. He’s one of the worst I’ve ever come across. The things he’s done…” He had to take a moment and breathe because he was shaking with anger. “I can’t go into specifics, but I know this guy inside and out. If we’re going to nail this son of a bitch, I’m the best shot we have.

  “I’ve got to do this, Becca.” He took a step toward her. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you. But—”

  “You don’t need to explain, Hudson. We knew this was going to happen sooner or later. And maybe it’s good it happened now, before things got too complicated.” She shook her head and turned from him. Hudson watched her in silence as she moved toward the folded blankets near the sofa.

  “Maybe this is a good thing,” she said softly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice held an edge, and he wanted to punch the hell out of something. He clenched his hands and moved toward her.

  “You leaving is a good thing,” she repeated, turning her head slightly so he could see her profile. “We’re getting too comfortable, and as much as the sex has been great—”

  “This is not just about sex,” he interrupted, voice dark and angry.

  “No,” she answered after a few seconds and turned back to him. “It’s not. It’s about what’s going to happen today. Or tomorrow. Or next week or next month. You’ll leave here again. You’ve built a life for yourself, a career in DC, so I get it.” Her voice broke, and he took a step toward her, but she shook her head and held up her hand. “But, Hudson, I can’t go back to the girl I was. I refuse to be broken again. I have Liam. I just can’t do it. I deserve someone who will stay. Someone who can stay.”

  Hudson watched Rebecca begin to gather up their things from the floor in front of the fireplace. And though he wanted to grab her and hold her close, inhale that scent that was all hers, listen to her heart beat against his as her warmth bled into his body… He did none of that, because she was right. She deserved more. He was a bastard.

  And he would leave.

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and I’ll probably be off the radar. I won’t be able to call you.” He hated the pain in her eyes. Pain he was responsible for. Again. “But I’m coming back.”

  She offered a small smile and shrugged. “Okay.” Woodard banged on the door. “You should go. I’ll lock up and drop your truck at your dad’s.”

  “Becca.”

  “Please, Hudson. Let’s not make this a big deal. Go get the bad guy.”

  Less than a minute later, he was gone.

  Chapter 30

  Funny how time made some things sharper, like pain and regret, while others, like joy and pleasure, became less memorable. It wasn’t exactly fair, but then, as Rebecca had learned early on, life was not about being fair. Life was about getting knocked down and picking your sorry ass back up.

  In the three weeks since Hudson had left town, a lot had happened. Some of it good, but most of it unfair. John Blackwell was doing wonderfully, and Darlene had moved in with him. Liam had won an academic achievement award for the month, and she couldn’t be more proud of her son.

  But Sal wasn’t doing so good, and with only a few days until Thanksgiving, Rebecca feared he wouldn’t make the holiday with his family. This man had come to mean so much to her, and even as he stared down the face of death, his humor and compassion were there. He cracked jokes through the pain and asked for only the minimal dosage of medication.

  He’d told Rebecca he wanted to be aware. To cherish these last moments with his loved ones. Salvatore believed that death was beautiful. A beginning. And that the journey to the next world wasn’t one he wanted to miss. He would see his beloved Rosa again.

  He was a hero in Rebecca’s eyes and the grandfather Liam never had. The man saw everything, and as she stole a bit of quiet time with him, she wasn’t surprised that his focus was on her and not himself.

  His voice was low, his strength not so good, but there was still a twinkle in his eye as she bent forward to listen better.

  “How’s Liam? He seemed quiet the other day.”

  “He’s good. I mean, he’s upset.” Her throat tightened. “He loves you, and this is hard.”

  “He’s a good boy, Rebecca. You should be proud.” Salvatore winced, and she stroked his forehead.

  “Can I get you anything? Do you need more pain medication?”

  Sal smiled weakly. “No. I’m not ready for that yet.” He focused on her. “What’s going on with the Blackwell kid?”

  She smiled at that. Salvatore referred to anyone under the age of forty as a kid.

  “Nothing,” she answered quietly.

  “He come back yet?”

  That surprised Rebecca. “How did you know he’d left?”

  “Nash.” She shouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t as if Sal didn’t know all about her history with Hudson.

  “I don’t know if he’s coming back, and even if he does, he won’t stay. His life is in DC, and now that his father is on the mend, there’s no reason for him to hang around Crystal Lake.”

  Sal’s voice was harsh. “You’re all the reason a man should need.”

  “You’re too sweet.”

  “I’m old and dying is what I am. That gives a person a certain amount of freedom to say what’s on their mind. Your light belongs to someone, Rebecca. Remember that. It’s strong, and if he’s deserving, he’ll find his way back to you.”

  It was the last thing Salvatore said to Rebecca. He died early Sunday morning, just as the first major winter storm of the season hit Crystal Lake. It was as if the sky was angry, filled with bulbous gray clouds that produced enough snowfall to close the roads and make travel dicey. Schools were closed, and by the time things settled down, it was Wednesday.

  Salvatore’s funeral was much like the man. Simple. Direct. With a wake held at the Coach House. Rebecca found herself behind the bar, pouring drinks for family and friends. Tiny tried to get her to relax, but she couldn’t. Besides, Violet was there to keep her company. Rebecca’s son was somewhere, running around the place with Sal’s grandsons. Which was nice to see, considering he’d just lost a man he considered a grandfather. Not to mention he’d asked after Hudson more than once.

  But kids were resilient. Adults? Not so much.

  “You don’t look so hot.” Violet leaned closer and cocked her head to the side.

  Rebecca offered a wan smile. “I hope I’m not coming down with something. My stomach has been all over the place.”

  “Oh no.” Violet frowned. “The flu’s going around. My God, Becs. I can’t afford to get sick. Maybe I should slide down to the other end of the bar?”

  Rebecca’s retort was cut short because a wave of nausea rolled over her. She quickly turned away and closed her eyes, hating how the room seemed to move. It took
some time but it passed, and when she turned around, Violet was frowning.

  “What?” Rebecca wiped her damp forehead and nodded as Nash asked her to take two drinks over to John Blackwell’s table.

  “Nothing,” Violet replied slowly. And she had that look on her face. The one that said she was thinking way too hard. Rebecca had no time to dwell on it. She grabbed the drinks and moved through the thick crowd until she reached the far corner where John sat. It was amazing, really, how the man had bounced back. He still had health problems, but he was mobile and he was here.

  “There you are,” he said, smiling up at her. He patted the seat beside him, and maybe it was the crowd or the flu. Whatever it was, Rebecca took him up on his offer and sat down.

  “Just for a minute. It’s crazy in here, and Tiny needs my help.” She looked around. “Where’s Darlene?”

  “She’s having a word with Mrs. Lancaster. Something about the flowers from the ceremony.”

  “Good.” Rebecca rubbed her temple and tried to think of something to say, but the only thing that came to mind was Hudson.

  Have you heard from him?

  Do you know where he is?

  Is he safe?

  “I want to tell you something.” John turned to her, and her stomach tumbled again. There was something in his tone. Something quiet. Serious.

  “I should go,” she said, mouth dry.

  “It won’t take long, and while I can appreciate this isn’t exactly the place to have this conversation, I need you to know something.”

  His hands were shaking, and he clasped hers tightly. His lined face looked peaked, and the air rasped through his lungs. The man was on the back end of sixty, but life had aged him. Everything was there to see, mapped out on his face like a story.

  “Are you okay?” she asked gently.

  “I will be.” He glanced away, his fingers loosening a bit, and the noise of the bar seemed to melt away. It was dark in this corner, but she could see clear as day. John Blackwell was about to change the game. She felt it deeply.

  “John?”

  “I’m the reason Hudson left town all those years ago. He won’t talk about it, but it’s the least I can do. Share my shame so that maybe…” He lifted his head and made no effort to hide the tears in his eyes. “Maybe the two of you could fix what you had.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “He never told you why he left, did he?”

  She shook her head but remained silent.

  “He took a phone call meant for me. It was from a woman in Louisiana. A woman who claimed I’d fathered her child.” A tear slid down his face, and Rebecca gently wiped it away.

  “Did you?” she asked, watching him carefully.

  “I don’t know. It’s possible.”

  Rebecca didn’t quite know what to say, so she kept silent. Though she grabbed his hand and held it, trying to give him some warmth, because the man looked ashen.

  “I knew her as a business acquaintance. Angel and I…” His voice trembled, and he swore. “We had a rough patch. She was just so damn busy with the boys, and I was working a lot. I was weak and self-centered, and I have no excuse other than that, in the moment, being with this other woman felt good.” He sighed, and his shoulders sank. “It didn’t last. These things never do. I loved my wife. Our sons. Our family. I ended it because I had to. Because I knew I had to be better. But life, such as it is, doles out the good and the bad indiscriminately. For me, it was too late.”

  John was silent for a few moments, a faraway look in his eyes. “You see Hudson had met Susan before. Years earlier. The day his mother was killed. Susan had been to the house when Angel was out with Wyatt. She left a message with Hudson asking Angel to meet her. And Hudson, not knowing any better, passed it along when his mother called home to check on eggs. Eggs.”

  Lost in thought, John remained silent and then with a start, continued. “If not for that phone call things might have turned out differently. But as it was, Angel left from the grocery store with Wyatt in the car, not knowing what she was heading into. I don’t know if it was by God’s grace that she never made it to the diner, because she died not knowing of my infidelity.”

  Rebecca’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. Horrified, she could only watch as the painful events of that long-ago night flickered across John Blackwell’s face.

  She knew the details. Everyone did. A drunk driver crossed the center line and hit Angel’s car head on. It was tragic, and the only good thing to come of it was the fact that Wyatt, sitting in the backseat, escaped with only a few cuts and bruises and a broken arm.

  “After the accident, I never heard from Susan again. I’m not sure why. She just up and vanished. It was easy to place the blame for my loss on others. Most notably Wyatt. Somehow, I put it in my head that she was on the road because of him. I buried all of it and didn’t think of that woman again until Hudson…” His lips trembled. “Until that day she called again, and he realized exactly who she was. The woman who his mother was supposed to meet the day of the accident. He raged at me. As young as he was, his anger and disgust was a thing unlike any I’d seen before.”

  John sighed and shook his head. “I denied it, of course. All of it. And then Hudson threatened to go find this woman. To go find this supposed love child. I told him then that if he left, he was dead to me. Told him there would not be a reason for him to return. I played a bluff, and he called it.”

  His sad eyes broke her heart. “Unfortunately, you got caught in the crosshairs of his rage and anger and need to do something. I know he didn’t want to hurt you. He just didn’t know how not to. He couldn’t come back here because I would be a constant reminder of all that he’d lost.”

  John closed his eyes. “He made a life for himself. Something to be proud of. All of my boys have, and that’s saying something, because I was a miserable excuse for a father.”

  “No.” Rebecca grabbed his cold hands. “It says everything about you and Angel and what both of you instilled in those boys. Love can be buried. It can suffocate and go away. Or it can linger as if waiting for the right moment to spark again. Your boys know you love them. They know you’re human.”

  She thought of Salvatore’s words and smiled, a sad, wistful sort of thing. “I have to believe they’ll find their way back to us.”

  John’s eyes flew open. “Us?”

  She simply shrugged. “One can hope.” Rebecca cleared her throat and jumped to her feet. “I need to get back and help out. Thanks for telling me this.” She paused. “Did he ever find this Susan?”

  “He did.” John’s gaze slipped away.

  “And the child?”

  “He never said, and I’m ashamed to say I never asked.”

  Darlene joined them just then, her smile faltering when she sat down across from John. “You don’t look well. Should we go?”

  “No. Rebecca just brought us a cocktail. We’ll have a drink in Sal’s name and then head home.”

  Rebecca dropped a kiss to each of their cheeks, and then left them alone. She spent the rest of the evening thinking about family and love. About hatred and blame. And Rebecca realized a few things.

  It didn’t matter what social ladder you clung to or which tax bracket was checked off on your income tax return. No one was immune from pain or betrayal. From loss and heartache.

  Hudson had left and told her he’d be back. She wanted to believe him. But it had been three weeks, and she’d heard nothing. Three weeks of sleepless nights and an ache inside her that was so sharp and strong, it left her nauseated. Empty.

  It was her past all over again.

  She thought again, of Sal’s words, but they brought her no comfort. Because she knew that love was not always enough. Sometimes love just made things worse.

  Chapter 31

  When Hudson flew into Detroit Metropolitan, he was sporting a headache from lack of sleep, and lack of caffeine. The latter he’d stayed away from, as he was so wound up, the muscles across
the back of his shoulders were like steel ropes.

  He needed a massage, a shower, possibly a haircut, but more importantly, he needed to be back in Crystal Lake by six o’clock. He picked up his rental, checked the time, and then made his way over to the MGM Grand Detroit. Leave it to Wyatt to put himself up in a casino.

  He called his brother on the way over and spied him signing autographs near the entrance. Funny as hell that Wyatt Blackwell, a celebrated NASCAR driver, didn’t own a goddamn vehicle. Hudson wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that, but he didn’t feel much like dwelling on it.

  He put the window down and shouted, “Get in.”

  Wyatt posed for one last selfie with a cute redhead and then hopped in.

  “Travis gonna make it?” Hudson asked as he eased into traffic.

  “Think so.” Wyatt yawned and leaned back in his seat. “He doesn’t play till Saturday, and I understood he would be home by noon. So I’m guessing he’s already there.”

  “You pull an all-nighter?” Hudson shook his head. His brother reeked of cigars, booze, and women. It was the trifecta of all trifectas, and it currently had Wyatt by the balls.

  “Damn right I did, so keep it down. If I want to enjoy my Thanksgiving turkey, I need to catch some shut-eye.”

  Hudson didn’t say a word. Twenty-four hours earlier, he’d been holed up in a dive in San Francisco, running on zero sleep and a rush of adrenaline so high, it gave him the shakes. After weeks of knocking down doors and calling in favors, his team, combined with local law enforcement, had been able to nail down Dartmouth’s location. It had been under the radar, and he’d been off the grid for weeks. Hudson was the lucky bastard who’d been given the green light to bring him in, which should have made him feel like a fucking king.

  Professionally speaking, it was a big win, and yet, in the minutes just after he’d cuffed Dartmouth, the only thing he could think about was Rebecca. The instant gratification was gone. He’d been congratulated, and then his mind moved elsewhere. And here he was, about to change the game. He just hoped she was up for it.