Page 74 of Critical Mass
CHAPTER
FORTY
Natalie satat her father’s dining table—the same table where she’d eaten countless family meals—and felt like a stranger in her own past.
But her mind drifted to what she’d overheard her father saying.
Dubai shipment. Warehouse. Friday.
This was all seeming entirely more real than she wanted. Part of her had still hoped this was just some terrible mistake.
Dinner was served—grilled salmon and roasted vegetables. This meal would have felt normal a week ago.
Now it felt like the last supper.
“So, Mr. Shaw . . .” Her father cut into his salmon with surgical precision. “Tell me more about your consulting work. What exactly do you do?”
Hudson seamlessly shifted into his cover identity. “I help mid-size companies optimize their operations. Efficiency analysis, process improvement, cost reduction. Most of my clients are businesses that have grown beyond their original systems but aren’t quite large enough for the big consulting firms.”
“Interesting niche.” Her father’s tone sounded conversational.
However, Natalie recognized the interrogation technique.Keep them talking, look for inconsistencies, identify the lies.
“And how did you get into that line of work?” her father continued.
“After the Navy, I worked for a few different companies in operations management. Saw the same problems everywhere—outdated processes, resistance to change, lack of clear metrics. Eventually realized I could make more impact as an independent consultant.”
He sounded entirely believable—which she supposed was what made him good at his job.
“And your family?” her father pressed. “Where are you from originally?”
“Michigan. Small town outside Detroit. Parents both worked in automotive manufacturing—my dad on the line, my mom in quality control. They’re retired now, living in Florida.”
More lies. Smooth, detailed, impossible to disprove without serious investigation.
“Natalie tells me you were quite effective in protecting her last night.” Her father’s eyes were sharp on Hudson’s face. “Where did you learn to fight like that? Just from being in the military?”
“I kept up my training after discharge—I do kickboxing and some Brazilian jiu-jitsu. It’s good exercise and stress relief.” Hudson smiled, self-deprecating. “Plus, my mom always says I should know how to handle myself. She’s a smart woman.”
Her father studied him a moment, and Natalie held her breath.
Could he see through the lies? Did he suspect something was wrong?
If so, things were about to turn ugly.
“Well, I appreciate you keeping my daughter safe,” Natalie’s father said finally. “Though I hope you understand why I’ve arranged additional security. I can’t take any chances with Natalie’s safety.”
Relief washed through her.
“Of course, sir. Though I do think visible security might make whoever attacked us more cautious. They’ll wait for a better opportunity rather than abandon their plans entirely.”
“Perhaps.” Her father’s expression was unreadable. “Or perhaps it will send a message that Natalie Ravenscroft is off-limits.”
The conversation continued—careful thrust and parry, question and answer, Ravenscroft probing for weaknesses while Hudson maintained his cover with flawless execution.
Natalie sat between them, watching two men fence with words while both hiding dangerous secrets. It was kind of like being in a spy movie, except this was real life. There was no script. No guaranteed happily ever after.
She thought about how different this dinner could have been. If Timothy Shaw had been real. If their relationship had been genuine. If she’d brought her actual boyfriend home to meet her father for the first time.
