Chapter 59
CHAPTER
FIFTY-NINE
Natalie heard raised voices from down the hall—her father’s controlled tone, then Hudson’s voice, urgent and angry.
He’d shouted her name.
She opened her bedroom door and rushed out.
As she did, she collided with one of her father’s security guards. The man stood in the hallway, directly in front of her door.
Guarding her or making sure she stayed in place?
“What’s going on?” She scanned the hallway, but Hudson was nowhere to be seen. She’d definitely heard him a moment ago. “Where’s Timothy?”
“Your father would like to see you. In his study. Now.” The guard’s tone was polite but firm.
Natalie tried to move down the hallway, to see things with her own eyes.
But the guard stepped in front of her, effectively blocking her path.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. This guy wasn’t supposed to be calling the shots.
“This way, please.”
She heard the finality in the guard’s tone. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Natalie glanced down the hallway again, praying that Hudson was okay.
Her gut told her he wasn’t.
Her heart pounded as she was escorted downstairs to her father’s study.
Something was very wrong. Hudson wouldn’t just shout and then disappear.
And the security guard’s manner suggested she wasn’t being invited.
She was being summoned.
But she had no idea why.
And she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.
The boathouse was located at the end of a pier at the back of the property.
The wooden structure was larger than Hudson expected—built to accommodate two boats with room to spare.
Only the left slip was occupied by a motorboat, leaving the right side empty except for coiled ropes and life jackets hanging from hooks.
Near the back, a card table and four chairs suggested the space doubled as a hangout spot during better times. Fishing rods leaned in one corner.
Hudson glanced around, still feeling the gun at his back. Through gaps in the floorboards, he could see dark water moving beneath them.
Dimitri released Hudson and shoved him inside.
Hudson was ready for it.
He spun as he stumbled, using the momentum to kick the gun from Dimitri’s hand.
It sank into the water.
Then he drove his elbow back into Dimitri’s ribs. The big Russian grunted but barely moved. He was like hitting a brick wall.
Hudson followed with a quick jab toward his throat, but Dimitri caught his wrist with crushing force.
“Don’t,” Dimitri warned.
Hudson didn’t listen.
He twisted, trying to break the grip, and managed to land a solid kick to Dimitri’s knee. The Russian’s leg buckled slightly, and for a moment Hudson thought he might actually break free.
Then Dimitri’s other hand clamped around Hudson’s throat, lifting him off his feet and slamming him against the wall hard enough to knock the air from his lungs.
Stars exploded across Hudson’s vision.
“Don’t make this harder.”
Hudson drove his knee up, aiming for Dimitri’s groin, but the Russian turned just enough to take the blow on his thigh. Then he pulled something from his belt—a taser.
“Last chance,” Dimitri said, his voice calm despite the fight. “Sit. Or I make you sit.”
Hudson’s answer was to grab for the taser.
His fingers closed around Dimitri’s wrist. For three seconds they grappled, muscles straining, neither giving ground.
Then Dimitri pressed the taser against Hudson’s side and pulled the trigger.
Fifty thousand volts shot through Hudson’s body. Every muscle seized, locked rigid. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel the electricity coursing through his nervous system.
When Dimitri finally released the trigger, Hudson collapsed. The Russian caught him before he hit the floor and dragged him to a chair.
“Told you,” Dimitri muttered.
Hudson’s muscles still twitched uncontrollably as Dimitri zip-tied his wrists behind the chair back. He tried to resist, tried to pull away. But his body wouldn’t respond properly. Everything felt sluggish, disconnected.
“People like you never learn,” Dimitri said in heavily accented English as he secured the restraints. “Mr. Ravenscroft, he is not cruel man. But he protects what is his. You threatened his daughter. Bad mistake.”
“I . . . didn’t . . . threaten her. I . . . I—I protect her,” Hudson managed through gritted teeth, his voice rough. “From . . . him. From . . . plan.”
Dimitri’s expression didn’t change. “You know nothing about what he plans. About what he sacrifices. You see criminal. I see man trying to save his daughter from world that wants to destroy her.”
He checked the restraints one final time before pulling out more zip ties and securing Hudson’s ankles to the chair legs.
“You fight good,” Dimitri said. “But not good enough.”
He left, locking the boathouse door behind him.
Hudson sat in the chair, his body still trembling from the aftermath of the taser, his wrists already burning where the zip ties cut into his skin. He tasted blood from where he’d bitten his tongue during the electrical surge.
He’d failed. Failed the mission, failed his team, and most importantly, failed Natalie.
Because now she was alone with her father, with no one to protect her from the fallout of whatever Richard Ravenscroft had planned. Her father wouldn’t hurt her, but he’d put Natalie in a bad position—one that could get her killed.
Hudson’s teammates were either outside or on their way. But could they get through the security Ravenscroft had in place?
As his mind cleared, he worked through escape scenarios even as despair settled in his chest. Hudson was trapped, unable to help Natalie, unable to warn her, unable to do anything but work on escaping, and pray that his team could get to her before it was too late.