Page 108 of Ford

RJ should have pulled her under the truck, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

“Hey.” Ford’s voice tugged her away from the darkness, and she opened her eyes. “She’s going to be okay.”

She looked up at him.

“Coco.”

Right. Because he could still read her mind.

“I’m going to get you out safely, RJ. I promise.”

“And I’m going to get you out safely too. Because maybe I shouldn’t have stopped you from trying to save us, but figured out how to go with you.”

He grinned at that, something sweet, and for a second she saw the brother she’d known better than herself. Proud, strong, faithful, determined, and yes, just reckless enough to save them all.

Scarlett had seen this coming. And yet, like a golden retriever, she’d followed Ford across sea and borders hoping…oh, she was such an idiot. She sank down on the bench, her hands wrapped around herself, steeling herself against the cold metal, the frigid breath of the metro station, watching as Ford clung to his sister.

His words echoed into her heart, banged around.I will always show up for you, RJ. Always.

Of course he would. She was hissister.

Scarlett was petty and small and selfish to think that those words belonged to her.

Had been spoken only for her.

But now, at last, she knew why Ford liked her, why he wanted her in his life.

She was the replacement for the sister he’d lost. And sure, he’d kissed her—something quite different from a sister, hello—but every single time Scarlett had been the one kissing him first.

At the ranch, weeks ago. In Prague. On the train to Moscow. Even on the plane, she’d been the one to initiate something more from the kiss he’d placed on her forehead.

A very sisterly kiss.

That she’d turned into something more.

Scarlett closed her eyes. Heard her stupid, heartbreaking words.I’d let you make me a promise, if you wanted.Could nearly feel his fingers against her skin as he said,Oh, I want.

Of course he did. He was a red-blooded American male, and she’d nearly thrown herself at him.

Not nearly. All the way.

She’d barely stopped to pack a suitcase when he suggested they jump on a plane for their Epic Adventure.

What are you doing here?

Good question, but she heard it anew now, in the voice of Yanna, the pretty FSB agent who had saved her hide back in Moscow.

Yanna had brought them back to an apartment on the ninth floor of a secure building. Scarlett guessed it might be a safe house, but it was stocked with precious amenities, like a shower, shampoo, soap, and even fresh clothing that was delivered as Yanna made them tea in the kitchen.

Then, while Ford showered too, Yanna sat down with her, across the table. Her long sable hair was pulled up in a bun, and she wore a black dress, her body lean and strong. She looked every inch some exotic spy, a woman of intrigue and danger, and next to her Scarlett felt like a third grader.

Brittle and hungry, too, and rattled from her attack on the elevator at the hotel.

Maybe Yanna knew that, because she made the tea strong. “What are you doing here?”

Scarlett knew she wasn’t asking for the facts—the woman probably knew more about their situation than she did. No, Yanna had met her eyes, and the question slid deep, tugging.

“I…because…”

---