Page 104 of Critical Mass
He wouldn’t ruin this whole plan just to save his own hide.
Too many lives were at stake for that.
Just then, Hudson’s door opened without warning.
Richard Ravenscroft stood in the doorway with Dimitri’s imposing form behind him. The expression on Ravenscroft’s face was no longer that of a concerned father.
Instead, it held the cold calculation of a man who’d identified a threat.
“Timothy.” Ravenscroft’s voice sounded pleasant, but his eyes were ice. “We need to talk. About your consulting work. And why someone like you would need to plant surveillance devices in my home.”
Hudson’s mind raced through his options in the fraction of a second he had.
Maintain the cover—act confused, deny everything, buy time.
Or come clean—admit who he was, what he knew, try to convince Ravenscroft to surrender peacefully.
Ravenscroft’s expression told him the time for choices had already passed.
“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hudson started.
Ravenscroft held up a small black device—the bug Hudson had planted under the desk.
“This was found in my study. Same room where I caught you and my daughter in a rather convenient embrace.” Ravenscroft maintained his cold, controlled tone. “I had my security team sweep the entire house. Amazing what you find when you look carefully.”
“I don’t even know what that is.” Hudson stared at the device, making certain to appear confused.
“Before you deny it any longer, I also took your fingerprint from a glass from dinner last night.” Ravenscroft smirked. “I ran it through the system to confirm things. I’m not an amateur, just in case you thought I was.”
Hudson’s hand moved instinctively toward his ankle holster, but Dimitri was already moving. He crossed the room with surprising speed for his size, grabbing Hudson’s arm and twisting it behind his back before Hudson could react.
“Check him,” Ravenscroft ordered.
Dimitri patted Hudson down—chest, waist, back.
He grabbed his phone from his pocket and, without looking at the screen, tossed it onto the bed.
There was still a chance that Colton could be connected, could be listening.
When Dimitri’s fingers found the ankle holster, he yanked up Hudson’s pant leg and removed the compact Glock 43.
“Well . . . what do we have here?” Ravenscroft examined the weapon Dimitri handed him. “Consultants certainly come well-equipped these days.”
Hudson stopped struggling. There was no point. His cover was blown, he was disarmed, and Dimitri outweighed him by fifty pounds of solid muscle.
“Mr. Ravenscroft?—”
“Who do you work for?” Ravenscroft’s pleasant facade had completely vanished, replaced by something far more dangerous. “FBI? ATF? Or one of those private contractors who think they’re above the law?”
Hudson stayed silent. Anything he said now could compromise the operation, endanger his team, and put Natalie at greater risk.
“Nothing to say? That’s fine. Dimitri, take him to the boathouse. Secure him there until I decide what to do with him.”
“Wait—” Hudson tried to plant his feet, but Dimitri simply wrapped an arm around his neck and began dragging him backward toward the door. “Natalie doesn’t know anything. She’s not part of this. Whatever you think is happening?—”
“My daughter,” Ravenscroft’s voice dropped to a deadly quiet tone, “is the only reason you’re still breathing. If you had hurt her, if you’d put her in danger, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But she’s been compromised by your presence, by whatever organization sent you. Which means I need to get her somewhere safe. Away from you. Away from whoever else is watching.”
“I can handle this.” He said the words more for Colton than Natalie’s father.
