Claim It!

Wanda Rhodes awoke abruptly. She'd always woken being fully aware, this time it was no different, but she wished she hadn't. Her upper torso hurt with unbelievable pain. She tried to move her head, but she couldn't, either she was too weak, or she was restrained. It didn't make a difference one way or another, it sucked either way.

Her field of view was limited to seeing the ceiling and part of two walls. The design and colors of what she could see were typical of a hospital. So, she was in a hospital. As much as Wanda hated the places, she hated being dead even more.

She heard a slight beeping noise to her right, which she assumed was the medical monitor.

One question had popped into her mind when she awoke and it was now clamoring for attention; How long had she been in the hospital? Assuming it was a hospital.

No sooner had Wanda focused on the question, she heard the noise of a door being swept open. A face and upper torso came into view.

"Oh, my! Awake, are we? Don't try to talk, Ms. Rhodes. May I call you Wanda?" Waiting a moment, for courtesies sake, the nurse nodded at the silent Wanda. "Thank you, Wanda. I'm Janet, and I'm your nurse."

Turning from Rhodes the nurse looked to the monitor. Cheerily, Janet the nurse, said, "Everything looks good. You're going to be fine, Wanda."

Rhodes opened her mouth to speak, but made no sound. Swallowing was nearly impossible with a mouth as dry as the Sahara, but somehow, Wanda made enough saliva to slightly coat her throat.

"How long...How long have I been...here?" croaked Rhodes.

"I'm sorry. Here, sip this." said the nurse as she hurriedly filled a Styrofoam cup with water, from the plastic pitcher set atop the bedside hospital table, adding a straw. Janet held the cup as a parched Wanda sipped gently and slowly.

"Is that better? Would you care for more water?" asked Janet in a kind voice.

"No. That's... enough... for now." said Wanda, hoarsely. "How... long have I... been here? In... the hospital?"

"You were brought in eight days ago. My, but, you were a mess. I'm glad you've recovered so well." explained Janet.

"Why can't I move...my head?" asked Rhodes, more curious than concerned.

"Your torso and neck have been restrained. Your injuries were severe enough to warrant restricting movement. But, don't worry, Wanda, you're doing fine. In a couple of weeks, you'll be up and around." explained a smiling Janet, in a reassuring tone. "Until then, relax and let us do the work for you."

After the nurse left, Wanda muzzily contemplated her situation. She was surprised to be alive, and in fact, since she hadn't expected to live she hadn't considered the what after scenario that she now faced. Despite the glowing assurances of the nurse, Wanda was certain her future was more uncertain than her chance of surviving the attack.

Rhodes thoughts looped endlessly without coming to a conclusion, or a comforting stopping point. Instead, the IV fed drugs finally kicked in and she slipped away into the depths of a unconsciousness filled with a engulfing bleakness.

~N~

Three weeks passed before Pete heard back from Hughes. During the interim Pete and Don had managed to reach a less tense relationship, although it was still distant from what they'd enjoyed previously. So it was a disquieting conversation when Pete asked Don how things were with Donna, as they stood around Pete's work desk, going over some building plans.

"I don't know. Nothing has changed and frankly, I don't really give a shit, Pete. She started this shit. Now, I'm simply existing day to day." Giving Pete a expectant gaze, Don added, "And before you ask- No. I haven't called her. She hasn't called me, either. I don't know where she is and again, I don't care." finished Don, firmly.

"I'm really sorry to hear that. I hoped you two would have worked things out by now." replied Pete slowly, carefully choosing his words.

"It is what it is." quipped Don, his interest in the conversation waning as he turned his attention back to the drawings. "Listen, what about if we use a wooden pier and beam support system, abutting the concrete slab. Perhaps, tying in the two together with bolted steel brackets? That way we wouldn't have to break up the concrete and pour another footer."

"Hmm- that might work. But, we'd have to get app-" began Pete, as his cell phone began ringing.

"Pete here." A few moments of silence filled the trailer as Pete listened to what was being said. "Okay. We'll be there." said Pete. After disconnecting the call, Pete looked at Don with a uncharacteristically serious expression.

"Hughes?" asked Don, needlessly. Since Pete's sudden change in demeanor fairly screamed who the caller was.

"Yeah."

"We going now?"

"Yeah."

"What's wrong, Pete?"

"I don't know. Something in Hughes voice...It's put me on edge." said Pete with worry evident in his voice.

Taking a moment to ponder Pete's reaction, Don quietly said, "Well, I guess we better go find out what's going on."

~N~

"I asked you both to meet with me because we have a critical situation. This involves you and your wife Mister Hudson. Indirectly this is what precipitated the attack on my people, and has directly caused the present issue we now face."

Breathing deeply, Hughes' eyed the two men searchingly before continuing. "We found your wife, Mister Hudson. She's staying with Mark McCullah. Apparently, he's one of her first cousins and is also in-line to inherit some heavy green. She's been with him since the night she left."

Don didn't know the name Mark McCullah, Donna had never mentioned that particular relative. So that bit of news came somewhat of unexpectedly. Noticing that Hudson took the news better than expected, Hughes continued with his report.

"McCullah is also the source of your supposed infidelity." finished Hughes grimly.

"What? Her own cousin set it up? What the fuck?" yelled Don in surprised shock.

"Apparently so, Mister Hudson." re-affirmed Hughes.

"Goddamn! Why? What the hell does he stand to gain by splitting us up?" asked Don angrily.

"We don't know. Not yet. We're still working on it. But, and I promise you this, Mister Hudson, we will discover the basis for everything. Then, we'll take action." calmly said Hughes. Something in Hughes' voice made Don look at the huge man. He was smiling, but it was not a pleasant smile at all.

Pete cleared his throat and asked, "What's the critical issue you mentioned, Gerald?"

"The attack on Mendoza and Rhodes, it was designed to scare us away. Also, the attack was probably a probe. Whomever employed the contractors, hadn't intended to kill anyone. Evidence at the- scene, and inside the house, suggests the two operators went beyond their orders. Not that it makes any difference as to the end result, but what surprised them and got them killed was the effectiveness of Rhodes' reaction to their attack."

Hughes stood and began pacing as he continued explained. "Because Rhodes took out the two operators, it's possible they'll engage in a clean up operation. Everyone involved is a target." Facing Don, Hughes' face wore a strange expression, Don couldn't place. "Mister Hudson, it's my thinking they'll go after you exclusively, as part of the clean up operation."

Don's eyes nearly bugged out at Hughes' words. "No way! Why come after me? What the fuck did I do to them?"

Shrugging, Hughes said, "You're involved through your wife. Ordinarily when a op goes bad, a team cuts its losses and pulls out and the mission is a scrub. In this case, something else is going on, and whomever is behind everything thats' happened can't- or won't, pull out."

"Fuck." said Don, stretching out the vowel.

"Exactly, Mister Hudson." agreed Hughes. "The word is, the initial contractor, having lost two of his guys, has closed up shop and moved on. But, a new contractor is being brought in, even as we speak."

Stopping his pacing and looking directly at Don, Hughes spoke slowly and carefully. "Apparently, someone wants something so badly, they are more than willing to kill for it. The next one up on that kill list is you, Don."

Don, reeling from the logic of Hughes' argument, couldn't yet articulate, so he nodded his acknowledgment.

Appraising Don's reaction, Hughes, turning to Pete, asked, "Can Mister Hudson shoot? In self defense?"

Pete glanced at Don before replying. "Well, normally, I'd say yes. Considering the overall situation, Don might shoot, but I also think he'll hesitate before pulling the trigger. Why do you ask?"

Hughes resumed pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. "I don't have enough numbers to give our Mister Hudson twenty-four seven security. With what you've just told me, I'm hesitant to place Mister Hudson's life in his own hands. However, there is another option. And, if Mister Hudson agrees it will actually solve two problems."

Both Hughes and Pete swung their heads to look at Don. After a couple of moments in expectant silence, Don spoke up.

"Hey! Don't look at me like that. I can't agree to whatever it is until I know what it is." Don Hudson replied defensively.

"Very well, I'll explain, Mister Hudson. But, not a word from you until I've finished. Agreed?" asked Hughes in a no nonsense tone.

"Yeah, okay."

Hughes raised one eyebrow and waited.

Don felt like he was in front of his old elementary school principle; same raised eyebrow, same patient look, waiting for Don to do the right thing.

"Fine! Yes! I agree!"

A slight smile escaped Hughes' lips, before he nodded and sat down.

"As you know, Ms. Rhodes was shot. She's mended quite nicely, however, at this point, she is useless for field work. Yet, she's still effective, but only if she doesn't have to contend with the rigors of field duty."

Even as Hughes spoke he eyed Don carefully, watching for a reaction. "She is soon to be released from the hospital. Unfortunately, since she hasn't a place to stay, at least, in this area, she'll be forced to travel to her home area. I'd like to keep her close, for several reasons. One being, with Mendoza gone, she is the only other intelligence asset I have available. The second reason being, is that- well, let's face it, Mister Hudson, despite your armed expertise while serving, that was some years ago, and unless you have practiced continuously, your reactions and ability are not what they used to be. Even injured Ms. Rhodes is still highly capable and can easily protect your person, Mister Hudson. However, to do her job effectively, she'll need to stay with you." finished Hughes with calm aplomb.

And there it was. His reaction.

"HELL NO!! FUCK NO! And stay out of this Pete, because it ain't going to happen. And furthermore..."

~N~

"Well, that's all there is." said Don as he entered the kitchen, finished giving a tour of his home. A home that he would now be sharing with a uninvited guest.

Rhodes had been whispering into a digital recorder as Don shown her around, and she now produced the recorder.

"Thank you, Muster Hudson. Since we've removed all the surveillance devices from your home and truck, you are more secure. What I'd like to do now is point out other security problems that need to be remedied immediately."

Don raised his hand to stop her. "First, would you like some coffee? Second, lets' wait until tomorrow before getting serious about security. Third, which of the three empty bedrooms would you like to have?"

Even as he spoke, Don had started making coffee.

"I'm sorry, Mister Hudson, but I'm not here on a social call. And, I really think we should discuss the security issues now. That way we can start determining the optimal solutions." answered Rhodes with a hint of disapproval in her voice.

Taking a deep breath to calm his awakening temper, Don replied, "I understand. I really do. But, it's late and I'm tired. And, I'm sure you are too. We will discuss the security issues tomorrow. Tonight- If you don't want any coffee, that's fine, but I do. So what'll it be?"

Rhodes had met all sorts of people in her thirty-four years of life, some were more obstinate than others, but this guy, he's a former soldier -she'd seen his service jacket, so he should know the importance and urgency of the matter, yet, he acted like he didn't have a care in the world.

"Mister Hudson-" began Rhodes.

"Call me Don. I can't stand being called Mister Hudson. It makes me sound old." interrupted Don.

With a sigh of impatience, Rhodes continued. "Mister Hudson... I'm here to protect you. That means that certain things need to be done so I can do my job the best I know how. One of those things is securing your residence, at least to the limit it can be secured. So if you don't mind, lets discuss these issues. Tonight. Alright?"

Don looked at Rhodes, her unwavering stare of hazel colored eyes sparkled with determination and stubbornness. Don could almost feel her displeasure as a palpable thing. Almost. Still, it wouldn't hurt to stay on her good side. Anyone who could shoot it out with two professional hitmen, kill them and survive, was a person who deserved some level of consideration.

"Very well, Ms. Rhodes. If discussing security makes you happy, then lets discuss. And

really, call me Don." quipped Don.

If Don's sarcasm affected Rhodes, she never gave a sign of it, as her face and eyes remained inscrutable.

They discussed, or better said, argued, about the security measures throughout most of the night, until even Rhodes felt weariness seep into her mind. Not to mention the exponentially increasing frustration of arguing with a man who refused to listen to reason.

"Mister Hudson, I find your unwillingness alarming. Don't you care about staying alive? Because if you don't, I will leave instead of retiring. I'm not going to waste my time and the team's resources on a man who couldn't care less. The choice is yours, Mister Hudson."

Don was far past weary, he was dead on his feet and his mind felt like mush, but for a reason he didn't fathom, his opposition to Rhodes' insistence for improving security was motivated by pettiness.

Yet, despite the haze of fatigue, he could tell Rhodes was dead serious about leaving.

"Dammit, Rhodes! I'm not going to feel like a prisoner in my own home. Because then it's not a home! It's a prison! Also, so far all I've been handed from you all, even from my so called good friend, Pete, is nothing but demands. So, if you want to go, then go! I don't give a shit! You're just like so many other women! Just like my wife! It's her way or else. Well, do you see her here? Do you? So get the fuck out! Because, from now on it's my way or the highway! Got it?"

Although, he hadn't raised his voice, it was filled with a bitter harshness, there was obvious vehemence attached to each word. Rhodes was used to such stark talk, but not from a civilian. She recalled he'd been in the military, but that had been years in the past and for most former soldiers, the tough hard as nails bullshit attitude went out the window once they were out. Maybe they'd misjudged Hudson, cutting him short, but that wasn't Rhodes decision to make. But, she had expected him to cave.

"Mister Hudson-" Rhodes began sternly.

"NO! We are done here, Ms. Rhodes. No more discussions! Leave or stay. I don't care." said Don in a rough voice, as he arose from the kitchen chair. "I'm going to bed. When you leave, lock up behind you."

~N~

When it happened, it happened unexpectedly. And it happened quickly.

Don had been going from job to job, checking on the work progress of each job, and insuring enough material was on hand to complete the jobs. He was just finishing going over the daily work log of the last job, when he heard the sound of a vehicle pull up outside the job trailer. He pulled aside the shade and glanced out the office window. He saw two figures exit a small car. They both held something in their hand, and they looked like pistols. He couldn't make out the two people very well, as a moonless night had fallen while he checked the log. For a second he thought they were Hughes' men, but something he couldn't place his finger on, didn't seem right about them.

The two shadowy figures moved quickly and confidently toward the front door. Don had locked the front door, but trailer doors are made of light weight sheet aluminum and their door locks aren't much better. It wouldn't take long for the intruders to force their way through.

Don felt his senses heighten with fear, and with something else. It was excitement. He was surprised at himself. Why the threat to his life would excite him so was a mystery, but it couldn't be denied. Don hadn't carried a weapon since his military days, but after Rhodes had left that night, last week, he'd come to realize that she was right about one thing, he did need to protect himself. So he'd purchased a sanitized weapon -a weapon that had no serial number and that had never been used in the commission of a crime. Thanks to one of his workers, he'd had no trouble locating someone who could procure him such a weapon. It wasn't cheap. He'd used petty cash from the company to buy it. He didn't want to leave a paper trail, especially if he was yet being watched. In fact, his man had been the go between, and had brought the weapon to him.

It was a Glock 41. Don had used Glocks and Berretas while in the military, but hadn't fired a weapon since then, All he knew was that the Glock 41 had been test fired before being brought to him. The rest was up to him. But, between work, the state of his marriage, and his concern at being watched, Don hadn't had a chance to visit the range. Now, it would be a moot point. Either he could hit the barn door or he couldn't.

Don turned off the light to his office as soon as the two figures were outside of the viewing range of the window. He was assuming they were at the front door. Perhaps they intended to pick the lock, which was not a mean feat, rather than to break it. It could be that his murder would be set this up as a robbery gone deadly. Don shrugged at the thought, because either way, dead was dead.

Don studied his situation, looking at the trailer with a new perspective, and he had an idea. The light switch, just outside his office door, in the small hallway, actually didn't energize the hallway light, due to some confusion when the wiring was installed, it turned on the overhead light in what - Don had dubbed- the break room, which was on the other end of the trailer.

Once the two people -or assassins- were inside the main area, he would flick the light on and the two individuals would be silhouetted. Don would then do what was necessary. Whatever it took to survive. He would do his level best to insure that. As he had, once before.

Don heard a sharp metallic sound and then the squeak of the door being opened. Don had already positioned himself to the side of the door, just inside the office, and an arm's length from the light switch.

He sensed rather than heard the two moving around. The trailer was dark due to the all window shades being drawn, so it was nearly pitch black. As he waited for his opportunity Don thought back to his life with Donna. He loved her, and missed her, it was his own stubbornness and sense of manly pride that kept him from calling her. He instantly vowed he would call Donna tonight, and try to find some way to work through what had happened to them. If he lived through the next few minutes.

There! Don knew the two killers were now both standing in the main room. He reached out and flicked the switch on. The fluorescent light glared brightly, its shine doing exactly what Don had wanted. In that instant several things happened at once.

One of the men, for now Don could see by their physiques they were men dressed in black clothing, whirled toward the light and began shooting. The other man instantly dropped to the ground and began to roll to the side. And, Don pulled the trigger.