Page 31 of Critical Mass
Anger surged through her at the thought. Anger at Hudson for deceiving her but also anger at herself for still feeling anything but hatred when he looked at her like that.
She needed to make a choice.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
“Fine,”Natalie said stiffly, pushing away from Hudson.
This time, he let her go.
“I’ll listen,” she continued. “But I’m not promising to believe anything you say ever again.”
Hudson climbed to his feet and offered her his hand.
She ignored it, standing on her own, her legs shaky but holding.
She walked past him into the hallway, her spine straight, refusing to let him see how terrified she really was.
Colton waited near a doorway, his expression carefully neutral, though she suspected he’d heard the commotion.
“This way, Ms. Ravenscroft.” He gestured toward what appeared to be a conference room.
Natalie followed him, Hudson behind her like a shadow she couldn’t shake.
She paused inside the doorway.
The conference room was smaller than the main operations area, with a long table and several comfortable-looking chairs. And on the table?—
Water. Coffee in a white ceramic mug—two creams, one sugar sitting beside it. Exactly the way she liked it. A turkeysandwich cut diagonally, with a small bag of salt and vinegar chips. Her favorite.
And folded neatly on the chair was an oversized sweatshirt in navy blue, still warm from what must have been a dryer.
Someone had been paying attention. Someone knew her preferences, her habits, her favorites.
Hudson.
All those details he remembered about her that she’d marveled over had just been part of his assignment.
The realization should have made her more frightened. Instead, she just felt exhausted.
Natalie picked up the sweatshirt, emblazoned with Michigan Wolverines across the front, and slipped it on over her ruined dress. At least it was dry now. The sweatshirt was enormous, hanging past her hips, the sleeves swallowing her hands. But it was warm and dry and soft, and she was so cold she didn’t care how ridiculous she looked.
She sat in the chair, pulled the coffee toward her, added the cream and sugar, and wrapped her hands around the mug. The warmth seeped into her frozen fingers.
“Okay.” Her voice sounded steadier than she felt. “I’m listening.”
She was trapped here—by circumstances, by danger, by her own lack of options. The least she could do was hear what they had to say.
Then she’d decide whether Hudson Roberts and his team were really trying to help her, or if she’d just traded one nightmare for another.
Hudson stood near the wall, arms crossed, watching Natalie cradle the coffee mug like a lifeline. He’d faced down enemy combatants, survived firefights in three different countries, infiltrated organizations that would have killed him without hesitation if they’d discovered his identity.
But standing in this conference room, waiting to watch Natalie’s world shatter completely, he felt something he rarely experienced in the field: nervousness.
The door opened, and Ty Chambers walked in—tall, broad-shouldered, with a presence that commanded immediate respect.
He pulled out a chair across from Natalie and extended his hand. “Ms. Ravenscroft, I’m Ty Chambers, cofounder of Blackout. I know this evening has been traumatic for you, and I apologize for the circumstances that brought you here.”
