Page 123 of Critical Mass
As a blast of heat hit her, Natalie’s heart raced.
What had that been?
The explosion came from behind the container stacks. It had been a deep, concussive boom that shook the pier beneath Natalie’s feet and sent a column of flame shooting into the darkening sky.
Dimitri’s head snapped toward the sound, his gun wavering for just a fraction of a second.
That was all the opening she needed.
Natalie grabbed her father’s arm and yanked him sideways, pulling them both behind a pallet of cargo drums. Just then, gunfire erupted across the pier. Men shouted, boots pounded on concrete, and the acrid smell of burning fuel filled the air.
“Run!” Her father grabbed her hand, trying to pull her toward the edge of the pier, toward the water, toward escape.
But Natalie planted her feet and jerked free. “We can’t leave!”
“Natalie, we have to?—”
“Those vans!” She pointed toward the white panel vans parked near the ship’s gangway, their back doors still open, drums of chemicals visible inside. “If they get away, thousands of people will die. We have to stop them!”
Her father’s face went pale with understanding. He looked at the vans, then back at her, conflict warring in his expression.
Around them, the chaos intensified. More explosions—smaller this time, like grenades or flashbangs. The screech of tires. Brass’s men scrambling for cover as someone—multiple someones—returned fire from the container yard.
“How?” her father demanded. “How do we stop them?”
Natalie’s mind raced. The vans had keys in them—she’d seen one of Brass’s men checking the ignition earlier. If she could get to them, disable them somehow. Maybe grab the keys. But there were too many vans, and not enough time?—
A hand clamped over her mouth from behind, and she started to scream.
“It’s me.” Hudson’s voice, low and urgent in her ear. “Don’t make a sound.”
Relief flooded through her, and she nodded.
He released her, and Natalie spun to face him.
Hudson was here. He was really here, dressed in tactical gear, a rifle slung across his chest, his face streaked with dirt and determination.
“Hudson—” Her voice cracked with a confusing mix of relief and residual anger.
“No time.” He pulled her deeper into the shadows between cargo containers, her father following close behind. “Maverick is working on disabling the vans remotely. But we need to get you two out of here before?—”
“I’m not leaving.” The words came out fiercer than she intended. “Not until this is over.”
Hudson’s jaw tightened. “Natalie?—”
“She’s right.” Her father stepped forward, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. “We started this. We need to see it through.”
For a moment, Hudson just stared at them both. Then he pulled a compact handgun from his tactical vest and pressed it into Natalie’s hands.
“Safety’s off. Point and shoot if you have to.” His eyes locked on hers, intense and burning. “But stay behind me. Both of you. Understood?”
Natalie’s hands trembled as she gripped the weapon, the metal cold and foreign against her palms. She’d never held a gun before, never imagined she’d be standing on a pier with chemical weapons and armed terrorists and the man she’d fallen in love with asking her to?—
“Understood?” Hudson repeated.
She nodded. “Understood.”
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