Page 112 of Critical Mass
Maybe that order would hold.
Ten yards.
A warning shot cracked through the air, the bullet hitting the dock planking five feet to his left. They were shooting high, trying to scare him into stopping.
Hudson kept running.
Five yards to shore, and then he was off the dock and into the landscaped grounds of the estate.
Trees, decorative walls, the service road that led to the front gate.
Cover. Finally, some cover.
Hudson ducked behind a maintenance shed, breathing hard, his lungs burning. Behind him, he heard the security team spreading out, coordinating on their radios.
They’d be calling Ravenscroft. Telling him the prisoner had escaped.
Which meant Ravenscroft would know Hudson was coming.
Would know and would either accelerate his plans or?—
Hudson’s hand instinctively went to his pocket for his phone before he remembered. Dimitri had taken it. Taken his weapon. Taken everything except the clothes on his back.
No phone meant no way to contact his team. No way to warn them about the early shipment. No way to tell them Natalie was about to be taken to who knew where.
He was alone, unarmed, injured, and being hunted by armed security on an estate he didn’t know well.
But he couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.
Hudson was the only one who knew the truth: If Ravenscroft was running, it wasn’t to protect his daughter.
It was because the chemicals for Critical Mass were arriving tonight, and he wanted Natalie far away when thousands of people died. In one way, she’d be safer. But in another, she’d be in more danger than ever.
Hudson heard the security team getting closer, their radios crackling with updates, their search pattern tightening.
He couldn’t outrun them on foot. Couldn’t fight them without a weapon. Couldn’t reach Natalie if he was caught again.
He needed a plan—and he needed it now.
“Dad.” Natalie moved closer to where he stood watching the helicopter descend. “I know about Warehouse 7. I know about the Dubai shipment. I know about the chemical weapons.”
Her father went still. “What did you say?”
“Critical Mass. The attack planned for tomorrow. Whatever you’re doing, whatever you think this will accomplish, please—don’t. Don’t kill innocent people. Don’t make me think of you as a monster.”
He turned to face her, the expression on his face something Natalie had never seen before.
Not anger. Not guilt.
Surprise.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve been listening to Hudson’s lies, believing his propaganda. But, Natalie, there’s so much you don’t understand?—”
“Like what?”
“I’ll explain it later. I promise.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled away.
She desperately wanted to believe he could explain this. But could he?
