Chapter 44
CHAPTER
FORTY-FOUR
Jake pulled back into the driveway, and he climbed out shaking his head.
“Lost them. They hit the highway access ramp and disappeared into traffic. I got a partial description to call in, but without plates . . .” He trailed off, the implication clear.
These men were ghosts. And most likely, they’d be back.
Hudson should have memorized the plates when he confronted the men earlier. He was trained to do so. But he’d been too preoccupied, he supposed.
“You okay?” Jake holstered his weapon as he approached.
“Fine. Just bruised.” Hudson straightened, wincing. “Those guys weren’t Ravenscroft’s security team.”
“I wonder what happened to them . . .” Jake frowned and glanced around.
Atlas was already on his phone, calling in the incident to Colton. “Two hostiles, professional training, attempted abduction or assault. They pretended to be the security guards hired by Natalie’s father to protect her.”
Natalie stood a few feet away, still clutching the landscaping stone. Her chest heaved, probably with adrenaline and fear.
“Who were they?” Her voice shook as her gaze bounced back and forth between all of them. “Were they my father’s enemies? The same people from the marina?”
Hudson met her eyes. “Most likely. Whoever they are, they’re escalating. That means things are only going to get harder from here.”
Natalie’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
She’d just hit a man with a rock. Had watched Hudson fight off two attackers like it was something he did every day.
Because it probably was something he did often.
This was his life. Secrets and danger and split-second decisions that meant the difference between living and dying.
And now it was her life too.
Hudson stepped close to Natalie, gently slipping the landscaping stone from her grasp and tossing it aside.
“Let’s get inside.” His voice sounded rough and strained as he took her arm.
Blood trickled from his split lip, and he favored his left side where one of the men had kicked him. That whole situation could have turned out so much worse.
Thank God, it hadn’t—that Atlas and Jake had been close.
Natalie unlocked the door with trembling fingers, and they moved into the living room.
Jake did a quick sweep of the house while Atlas positioned himself by the front window, watching for any sign the attackers might return.
“Sit,” Natalie ordered Hudson, pointing to the couch. “I’ll get ice.”
She moved to the kitchen on autopilot, filled a plastic bag with ice cubes, and grabbed a clean dish towel. When she returned, Hudson was gingerly touching his ribs, and Jake was photographing his injuries for the incident report.
“Here.” Natalie handed him the ice pack and a glass of water, then wet the dish towel and moved closer. “Let me see your face.”
Hudson tilted his head up, and Natalie gently dabbed at the blood on his lip.
The split wasn’t deep, but it would bruise. His left eye was already starting to swell.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Hudson said, his voice low. “With the rock. You could have been hurt.”
“So could you.” Natalie’s hands were steadier now that she had something to do. “It was two against one. I wasn’t going to just run away or sit in the car and watch.”
Something flickered in Hudson’s eyes—gratitude, maybe, or surprise. “Thank you.”
The words were simple, but they felt significant. A moment of genuine connection in the midst of all the deception and danger.
Natalie pulled back, suddenly aware of how close she was standing, how intimate this felt—tending to his wounds, touching his face, caring whether he was hurt.
Though he still had other wounds, she moved to the chair across from him, putting distance between them. She could deal with the rest of his injuries later—or not deal with them.
“I need to call my father,” she said. “Tell him what happened. Ask about his security team.”
Hudson nodded. “That’s probably smart. See how he reacts.”
Jake and Atlas exchanged glances but didn’t object. This was part of the operation—maintaining Natalie’s cover, gathering intelligence from Ravenscroft’s responses.
Natalie pulled out her phone and dialed, her heart pounding.
How would her father react? With concern? With knowledge? With guilt because he’d sent the attackers himself?
She sighed, then tensed as another thought hit.
What if her father was trying to get rid of Hudson? Did he feel threatened by him? Maybe he knew his real identity.
She liked none of those scenarios.