Page 32 of Critical Mass
Natalie shook his hand mechanically, her eyes wary.
Colton took the seat beside Ty, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. “I’m sure you want to know what’s going on.”
“That would be nice,” Natalie said.
Despite everything, Hudson heard the bite of sarcasm in her tone. She was scared, but she wasn’t broken.
Good.
Colton folded his hands on the table. “Ms. Ravenscroft, we have reason to believe that your father, Richard Ravenscroft, is the leader of a major terrorist organization known as Sigma.”
Hudson watched Natalie’s eyes widen, saw the color drain from her already-pale face. Her fingers tightened on the coffee mug until her knuckles went white.
He knew what she was feeling. He’d listened to her talk about her father for three months—the man who’d comforted her after her mother died, who’d sat with her through every childhood illness, who’d sung that ridiculous “Miss Mary Mack” song whenever she scraped her knee to make her stop crying.She’d told him that story one night, laughing at the memory of her serious businessman father clapping his hands and doing the silly hand gestures to distract her from the pain.
Richard Ravenscroft wasn’t just a father to Natalie.
He was her entire family.
“Sigma?” she questioned. “I’ve heard of them, but I don’t know much about them.”
“Sigma is an elite group of terrorists,” Ty told her. “They recruit former government officials and members of the military to join their organization by telling them that Sigma is actually a covert government organization. They lead these people to believe they’re fighting terrorism and threats against the US when in truth they are the terrorists.”
Her face went paler. “Go on.”
“So far, the group has been responsible for leaving bombs up and down the coast,” Ty continued. “They developed technology to try to control major storm systems. They were the culprits in a massive power outage on the East Coast. And they tried to set off a bomb at Naval Station Norfolk. Those are just the highlights.”
“That’s terrible.”
“We’ve been trying to pinpoint the group’s leader,” Colton said. “And that led us to your father.”
“No.” Natalie shook her head, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. “That’s not possible. You’re wrong. My father is a businessman. He runs a shipping company. He donates to charities. He’s not a—he wouldn’t?—”
“Ms. Ravenscroft,” Ty’s voice sounded gentle, “we have extensive evidence?—”
“I don’t care what evidence you think you have.” Natalie stood abruptly, the chair scraping back. “My father would never hurt innocent people. He’s not a terrorist.”
Hudson saw the panic building in her posture, the way her eyes darted toward the door. She was going to run again.
“Natalie,” he said quietly.
She froze at the sound of his voice.
“Please,” he continued. “Just look at what they have to show you. Then decide.”
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
The conference roomsuddenly felt smaller. Natalie’s lungs couldn’t seem to pull in enough air, each breath shallow and insufficient. The edges of her vision blurred slightly, and she leaned against the table, needing something solid to anchor herself.
A terrorist organization.
These guys thought her father led a terrorist organization.
It was insane. Impossible.
Ridiculous.
