Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
Behind them, Hudson heard shouting, then a grinding crunch as their pursuers hit the sandbar at full speed.
More shouting—angry this time, frustrated.
The men chasing them were stuck.
Hudson didn’t waste time celebrating. Instead, he lowered the motor back into the water and restarted the engine, keeping the throttle low as he navigated through the shallow channels.
The depth finder showed eighteen inches under the hull in places. One wrong turn and he and Natalie would be stranded too.
Natalie had collapsed against the side of the boat, her arms wrapped around herself, shivering violently. In the faint moonlight breaking through the clouds, her face was pale as death, her eyes wide with shock.
“Natalie,” he said. “We’re okay. They can’t follow us through here.”
She didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him.
She just stared at nothing, her entire body trembling.
His heart lurched into his throat.
He should have stopped things before they got this far. But now it was too late.
All he could do was try to keep her safe.
Natalie’s mind felt like static—white noise where coherent thoughts should be.
The boat had slowed. That much she could process.
The engine was quieter now, a low purr instead of that desperate scream.
Her body still shook, muscles locked in a terror response that wouldn’t let go even though the immediate danger seemed to have passed.
She was cold, so cold her teeth chattered. Her wet clothes clung to her skin like a frosty glaze. The breeze that had seemed pleasant at dinner now cut through her like knives.
Her mouth tasted awful—bile and saltwater and fear. Her throat burned. Her hands ached from gripping the deck so hard.
What was happening to her life?
This morning she’d woken up in her own bed, gone to work at Ravenscroft International, spent the afternoon reviewing press releases for a new shipping contract.
Everything had felt normal. Safe. Predictable.
Now she was on a stolen boat, soaked and shivering, having just been shot at by people she’d never seen before. And the man at the wheel—Hudson, not Timothy—had somehow navigated them away from the gunfire into . . . where?
She couldn’t see anything but darkness and the vague shapes of lumpy marsh grass on either side.
He’d saved them. That was undeniable.
Whatever else Hudson Roberts was or wasn’t, he’d gotten them away from those men with guns. The way he’d moved, the precision of his driving, the calm in his voice even when bullets were flying—that wasn’t consulting.
That was military training. Special forces, maybe.
But that didn’t mean Natalie could trust him.
He’d been lying to her for three months. About his name, his job, probably everything else.
How could she trust someone who’d built their entire relationship on deception?
Her father’s image slammed into her mind.
She needed to call her father.
He’d warned her about Timothy, and he’d been right. She should have listened.
Maybe he could help her, could send someone to—
But wait.
Her father had asked such specific questions about Timothy/Hudson. Had seemed to know more than he should.
And those men at the marina—Hudson had said they were dangerous, that they’d come for them. How had they known where to find them?
Nothing made sense. Natalie’s brain felt like it was trying to process too much information at once and failing completely.
She forced herself to sit up, her stomach lurching with the movement. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
Behind them, she could see lights in the distance—the marina they’d fled from, maybe, or the boat that had been chasing them. Everything looked distorted through her tears and the darkness.
“What do we do now?” Her voice came out so raspy she barely recognized it as her own.
Hudson didn’t turn around, but his shoulders tensed at her question.
“I have a plan,” he said. “We’re going to get somewhere safe. Somewhere those men can’t follow.”
A plan. He had a plan.
But what did that mean? Safe where? With whom?
And why should she believe anything he told her?
Natalie pulled the soaked fabric of her outfit away from her skin, wishing she would stop shivering. The romantic, pale-blue dress she’d worn to dinner was ruined, torn and stained with saltwater and whatever filth was on the deck of this boat.
Such a stupid thing to care about, but her mind seemed to be latching onto small details to avoid confronting the larger horror of her situation.
She was trapped on a boat in the middle of the night with a man who’d lied about everything, running from people who wanted to kill her, and she had no idea why any of this was happening.
Hudson had a plan.
She frowned as she remembered his words.
Maybe he did have a plan.
Natalie just didn’t know if she wanted to be part of it.