Page 52 of Critical Mass
“Let’s keep this professional.” Her voice sounded cold, final. “You’re Timothy Shaw. I’m your girlfriend who’s scared after last night. That’s all we need to be.”
“That’s not all we?—”
“Hudson.” She turned to look at him for the first time since they’d left Blackout, and the emptiness in her eyes made his chest ache. “The mission comes first. It always has. Remember? So let’s focus on the mission.”
She climbed out of his car before he could respond then moved toward her BMW with quick, efficient steps.
So, shehadheard everything he’d said in the conference room.
The mission comes first. It always has.
He got out and approached as she unlocked the door. He knew his presence wasn’t welcome, but he didn’t feel right not walking her to her car.
“I’ll text you when I’m ready to go to my father’s office.” She refused to look at him, choosing to stare off into the distance instead. “Play the concerned boyfriend. It shouldn’t be hard—you’ve had three months of practice.”
The words were designed to hurt, and they did. But Hudson knew he deserved them.
“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry. For all of it.”
Natalie paused, her hand on the car door.
For a moment, Hudson thought she might say something, might give him a chance to explain.
Instead, she slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Hudson stoodon the side of the road, watching Natalie’s taillights disappear around the bend.
The mission comes first. Remember?
Her words echoed in his head, a knife twisting deeper with each repetition.
He turned toward his Lexus, keys already in hand, when movement caught his eye.
A dark sedan—older model, nondescript—pulled onto the access road from a side street. It accelerated smoothly, maintaining distance but clearly following Natalie’s route.
Hudson’s instincts screamed warning.
He was in his car before conscious thought caught up with training. Engine roaring to life, tires spitting gravel as he accelerated hard.
He grabbed his phone, pulled up Natalie’s number and hit dial while keeping his eyes on the sedan ahead. She should have her cloned phone with her.
Two rings. Three.
Pick up. Come on, Natalie, pick up.
The sedan was closing the gap on Natalie’s BMW. Too fast. Too aggressive.
Four rings.
Hudson floored the accelerator, his Lexus surging forward. The marina road was mostly straight here, giving him a clear sight line. He could see Natalie’s car in the distance, the sedan between them.
Five rings.
Then her voice, wary and cold. “Yes?”
