Page 51 of Critical Mass
The helicopter ride back felt too short.
Hudson needed more time—time to figure out what to say to Natalie, how to make her understand his thoughts, his feelings.
But time was a luxury they didn’t have.
They landed at a private airfield where Maverick had already delivered Hudson’s Lexus. From there, he and Natalie would drive to the marina in Pungo where Natalie’s BMW still sat behind the cluster of trees, abandoned from last night’s chaos.
The drive was silent except for the hum of the engine. Natalie stared out the window, her jaw set, her posture rigid.
When they reached the marina—deserted in the gray morning light—Hudson pulled up beside her BMW and parked. The boat they’d stolen was still gone, probably impounded by local authorities. The dock where they’d nearly died looked peaceful, almost innocent.
No signs of what had happened remained.
“My colleagues came by this morning and checked out your car,” Hudson told her. “It’s clean. No trackers or bombs.”
“Comforting . . .” she muttered.
“We’re just trying to cover every base.”
“I appreciate that.” She drew in a shaky breath.
Hudson tilted his head. “Having second thoughts?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I got to witness a chemical attack firsthand once.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
His expression remained grim. “Yes, really.”
“What happened?” Maybe she shouldn’t ask the question. But how could she not?
“My team and I were overseas. We were supposed to stop it from happening. But things went south fast. The chemicals were used before we could stop them—and one of my colleagues did try to stop it. It cost him his life.”
Her throat tightened. “I’m so sorry.”
“Do you know what a nerve agent actually does?” Hudson asked.
Natalie shook her head. “Not really.”
“It attacks your nervous system—the signals your brain sends to your muscles, your lungs, everything that keeps you alive. Within seconds of exposure, you can’t breathe properly. Your chest feels like it’s being crushed. Then come the convulsions—your body jerking and seizing while you’re fully conscious and aware of what’s happening. Three to five minutes later, your respiratory system shuts down completely.”
He paused, letting that sink in.
Nausea roiled in her stomach at the thought of all this.
“If this ship deploys its cargo in a major city during rush hour, we’re looking at mass casualties. Survivors will have permanent brain damage, nerve damage, psychological trauma. Emergency services will be completely overwhelmed—there’s no way to treat that many people at once. It will be chaos, Natalie. Mass casualties on a scale this country hasn’t seen since 9/11.”
That settled it. There was no way she could walk away from this.
Even if it cost her everything.
“Okay then. We should get busy. There’s no time to waste.” Natalie reached for the door handle, ready to get this over with.
Ready to be away from Hudson.
“Wait,” Hudson said. “Natalie, we need to?—”
