Page 112 of Ford

Then Scarlett, too, screamed as the man grabbed Ford and with one heave, threw him off the platform and onto the tracks.

Into the path of the oncoming train.

“Ford!”

Scarlett watched in horror as Blondie advanced on RJ, grabbed her around the throat, and shoved her against the cement entry to the metro station.

No—no—

The train barreled into the station.

10

Get. Up.

Ford shouldn’t just lie there, in the oily gravel between the sets of tracks, gasping for air, but his body had turned to liquid with the realization that he’d nearly been cut in half.

Instinct, a thousand hours fighting through one impossible evolution after another in BUD/S, and every leg of his STQ training had propelled him off the tracks just as the train rolled in.

He touched his chest. Yes. Alive. Breathing.

Scarlett!

He remembered seeing the man in the hotel—and it didn’t take a genius for him to realize that he’d followed them from Moscow.

Why didn’t matter.

He rolled over to his knees, breathing in hard, fighting to fill his lungs, to clear his vision. His breath whooshed in, and he roared to his feet, turning to find a way through the mess. His feet crunched under the stones and dirt.

The train blocked off his path to the station, slowing as it rumbled by. In between the cars, he made out Scarlett and RJ grappling with someone.

Ford ran, caught the edge of the stairs, and swung himself up between cars. Crossed to the other side. Leaped out onto the platform, nearly stumbled, but found his feet.

The man had vanished.

RJ slumped against the cement wall that led down to the metro. She’d dragged his pack up with her, still clutched in her grip.

Scarlett held a hand to her eye, breathing hard.

Overhead the lights bore down on them, turning the scene sickly yellow.

“RJ!” He ran to her, crouching in front of her. “What happened?”

She clutched her throat, her eyes wide. “He tried to choke me—I think. He…”

“He kissed her.” Scarlett ran up, her eyes hard on him. “He grabbed her by the throat and kissed her.”

Ford’s insides curdled, sick with the thought. “Did he want to rape you?”

“I don’t think so. He said he didn’t have to kill me because I was…” She blew out a breath. “I was more fun alive.”

What? The train had stopped for its short stay in-station. “We need to get on that train. Now. Before he comes back, maybe with friends.”

“No!”

RJ’s words yanked him back.

“We need to goafterhim, Ford. What if he’s Damien Gustov?”

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