Ford

by Susan May Warren

  Then he was running.

  It was too dark to see the wounds, but he made out York bending over RJ on the sidewalk. He was searching, running his hands over her body for the wound. She writhed on the sidewalk.

  Ford couldn’t breathe, the sight of it a fist in his gut. He crashed to his knees, crawling over to them, a strange sound coming from his mouth as he reached them.

  Then he couldn’t think.

  It wasn’t RJ with her hands pressed to her gut, blackened and glistening with blood. Wasn’t RJ who York was trying to help.

  Coco.

  She was moaning, her mouth clamped tight as RJ and York moved away her hands. York had his phone out, was shining a light on it. Blood gushed from a wound in her side, near her appendix.

  Silence.

  Ford wanted to retch, mostly from relief, and then from horror that he’d even—

  Scarlett crouched next to him. “How bad is it?”

  York turned her over, and Coco cried out. “Sorry. I don’t see an exit wound.”

  “She needs surgery,” RJ said.

  Scarlett produced a shirt from somewhere—oh, his discarded backpack—and gave it to York, who wadded it into her wound.

  Then the man looked at Ford.

  Ford knew that look. The helplessness, the sense of panic rolling over him.

  He’d felt it when he’d seen Scarlett taken.

  So maybe he’d judged the man a little harshly.

  York’s face hardened. “We gotta go. Right now.”

  As if to confirm his words, the high whine of a siren seared through the night.

  “No,” Ford said. “No—you stay here. The police will find you and Coco. RJ and I and Scarlett will hide. We’ll wait and get on the next train—there’s one headed to Kazakhstan—we can be on it in the morning.”

  “And then what?” RJ said. “We can’t cross the border to Kazakhstan!”

  “Yes. Yes, we can,” Scarlett said, looking at Ford. “What Ham said—he knows people in Kazakhstan, right?”

  “Right. We’ll get ahold of him, see if he can have them meet us at the border.” He stood up and reached for RJ. “We gotta go, now. Before the militia gets here. They can’t catch you.”

  But she was shaking her head and backed away from him. “No—I can’t leave Coco.”

  York had gotten up. Turned to RJ. Then he glanced at Ford. “Keep pressure on Kat’s wound. Ruby Jane will go with you. Just…” His mouth set into a dark line. “Just give us a second.”

  Then he turned to RJ and pushed her away from Ford.

  Reminding Ford again that, really, he didn’t know his sister at all.

  York had lost his mind if he believed RJ was going to leave him—and Coco—behind. He had her by the arms, backing her away from Ford, who looked like he wanted to murder York.

  For the first time in years, perhaps, they shared the same twin thought. “No. Absolutely not. I. Am. Not. Leaving.”

  “Just listen to me,” York snapped, his eyes hard in hers. “Listen!”

  York pushed her up to the wall behind the big Russian truck, breathing hard. His fingers dug into her arms, but she didn’t care. She had a feeling he was trying to wrap his brain around Ford’s words too.

  Or, she hoped so.

  Leave. Coco.

  “Not a chance,” RJ said and hoped York saw her resolve in her eyes. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not leaving—someone I love to…to bleed out in the middle of an alley. York!”

  Then York completely dismantled her by taking her face in his hands and touching his forehead to hers. “Please,” he whispered, his voice shaking.

  She drew in her breath, caught it.

  He leaned back, and despite the shadows, her eyes made out the texture of his gaze. Soft, worried…and that kiss he’d given her on the train rushed back to her. Needy, reaching out to her like a man who’d gone far too long without nourishment. She could still taste him, still feel his whiskers, rough and desperate against her skin.

  Still feel the way he released the tight grip on himself, giving himself over to her for the smallest of moments.

  Her voice broke free. “York—”

  “You have to go,” he said, his voice roughened. “Your brother is right. If you stay here, the militia will find you. Our best chance of saving Kat is to get her medical help right away. The militia will drive us to the hospital, even if they have questions we can’t answer. And I have no doubt that the general will send men to protect her.”

  “And what about you?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not wanted for the murder attempt on General Stanislov’s life.”

  She closed her eyes. Right. That. “I should have never come to Russia. Never thought I could be some sort of super agent. I’m just a glorified secretary, not Sydney Bristow. I not only got in over my head, but I got you—and Coco—hurt, and now you’re on the run—”

  “I think you’re brave.”

  She opened her eyes. He was staring at her, running his thumbs down her cheeks. “If you hadn’t tried to stop the assassination, the general would be dead. And who knows what political chaos the US would be in. It took guts to fly to a country you knew nothing about, follow a crazy lead—”

  “And if you hadn’t been there, I’d be in the gulag right now.”

  “They would have shot you long before that.”

  She stared at him. He didn’t look like he was kidding.

  She swallowed, and her eyes burned.

  “Ruby. You are Sydney Bristow. Tough and resourceful and smart and…” He looked away, his jaw tightening. Took a breath, as if trying to rein in words. “You’re so beautiful it takes my breath away.”

  Oh.

  Then he looked back at her, and a tiny smile ran up the side of his mouth. “And you drive me completely crazy. If you would just listen to one thing I say—”

  “I listen to all the things you say, York. Even if you don’t say them.” She touched his face.

  His gaze fixed to hers. Then her heart broke into fragments as she lifted herself on her tiptoes and kissed him.

  He drew in a breath, hesitating, then made a tiny sound, like something might be breaking free deep inside, and he wrapped his arms around her, catching her up. He pulled her close and kissed her, and his touch spoke of more than desire—of belonging and knowing. Deep and warm and the kind of kiss that drew her into the fabric of himself, as if trying to inhale her into his very bones.

  His body trembled despite his strong arms, he tasted of the night, even a hint of blood, and she wondered briefly if she might be hurting him.

  Then she was lost in the moment, in the dark, sweet chaos of York and all he’d been to her.

  Don’t make me let you go.

  He finally set her down, drew away from her, his eyes closed. Said nothing.

  She put her hands on his chest, shaken by the hammering of his heart.

  “I could find you when this is over,” he said as he lifted his head and found her eyes. “What do you think of that?”

  “You could,” she said quietly.

  “Okay. Then you’d better stay alive, Bristow.”

  She caught her lip, nodded.

  Please, don’t make me let you go.

  “Run.” He thumbed away her tear. “Run and don’t look back.”

  He stepped away, and Ford was standing there, dark and resolute. He glanced at York.

  Whatever passed between them, she didn’t know, but York strode past him, knelt next to Coco, and swept her into his arms.

  She moaned, and the sound jerked RJ free from her hesitation.

  Coco needed a hospital.

  Run.

  Not yet.

  RJ ran over to them. Coco’s eyes were closed, but she opened them to RJ’s kiss on her cheek. “Stay alive,” she said to Coco. “For Wyatt, you have to stay alive.”

  Coco closed her eyes.

  “Go,” York said. Sirens churned the air.

  Then she was running, chasing Ford and h
is friend back to the train yard. Ford hoisted them over the fence, tossed his pack over, then followed, and strode toward the train station.

  She couldn’t resist the terrible impulse to turn around.

  Ford reached back and caught her hand, perhaps reading her thoughts because he wrapped his arms around her, holding her back. Maybe even to steady her.

  The militia had arrived, their lights churning red and blue through the alleyway, lighting up the shadows, putting York in brutal profile as he met them, Coco in his arms.

  Someone barked an order to get down, and York knelt, Coco still in his arms.

  Two militia ran up as he put Coco back onto the pavement, then one pushed him down to the ground.

  “You don’t get it,” she said, her voice broken. “He saved my life. More than once. And I just…” Left him. Just abandoned him. “I should go back—”

  “Have you lost your mind? You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  And then Ford would risk his life all over again for her.

  Not to mention what York might do.

  “C’mon, RJ. Let’s go.”

  Her final glimpse of York was his face in the pavement as he watched the militia attend to Coco.

  The lights of the train yard glared down upon them, cutting through the black night as they crossed the platforms.

  “We need to buy new tickets. We can do it at the kiosk downstairs.” Ford angled toward an entrance to the metro station below the train yard, and in the dim shadows of the cement underbelly of the city, he led them to a metal bench. Took his pack off and rested it there as he went over to a machine and purchased three train tickets.

  RJ sank down on the bench, leaning against the wall. Closed her eyes.

  Tried to swallow away the darkness in her chest.

  “I shouldn’t have left them.”

  “You had no choice,” Ford said as he came back. Only when she opened her eyes did she see his hand shake as he ran it across his forehead.

  The woman with him stood away from both of them, her hands in her coat, watching, her eyes hard. She was petite, dark-haired, and wore something resolute, almost angry on her face.

  As if she blamed RJ for getting them into this mess. Yes, well, RJ blamed herself, so get in line.

  “Okay, start at the beginning. What were you thinking coming to Russia?”

  Ford’s vehemence was a slap, and RJ recoiled, just staring at him in the artificial orange light of the eerie, vacant subway. Down here, the bowels captured the odors of old cement, diesel fuel, dust, and oil. The metal from the bench sent a chill creeping through her jeans, the cold cement wall finding her bones.

  She tucked her hands between her legs and tried not to shiver. “I was doing my job—”

  “Yeah, let’s start there, should we? Your job. Your job with the freakin’ CIA.”

  “Maybe you could shout it a little louder so the FSB will be sure and find us.”

  Ford cut his voice low. “Just listen to yourself for one doggone minute. FSB. You’re wanted for an international crime, sis. I’ve been going out of my mind with worry.”

  “I’m not sure why—I’m not your responsibility! You walked away from me years ago—”

  “What are you talking about?” His eyes actually widened, his voice thin. “I never walked away from you.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not having this fight now.”

  “Yes, actually, you are. I didn’t drag myself—and Scarlett—halfway around the world for you to give me the silent treatment. Again. Been there, done that, and I’m over it.”

  “I never gave you the silent treatment.”

  “My entire teenage existence was the silent treatment from you—”

  “You didn’t want to talk to me.”

  His mouth opened. Closed. He shook his head. Walked away from her.

  She glanced at the woman. Scarlett. Wait— “Are you the one Ford brought to my brother’s wedding a few weeks ago?”

  The woman nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

  It felt a little surreal shaking her hand.

  “Thank you for…um….” RJ frowned, glanced at Ford. “I’m sorry—how did you get here?”

  “We flew. And then took a train. Then flew again,” Scarlett said.

  Ford strode back to her. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to watch Ma hear that you were wanted in connection to the assassination attempt on a Russian general?”

  RJ made a face. “Really?”

  “It was on the news. Congratulations, you made CNN.” Ford shook his head. “What happened?”

  She took a breath.

  “For cryin’ out loud, sis, would you just trust me for once?”

  She stared at him. “I’ve always trusted you, Ford. Always.”

  He shook his head, turned away from her.

  “Is that what you think? That I didn’t trust you anymore?” She found her feet. Walked over to him and grabbed his arm. Oh my, yes, her twin had put on muscle.

  He didn’t turn, so she crossed to face him. “Is this about the cave?”

  His gaze met hers, and she drew in her breath at the storm in his eyes. “It’s always about the cave,” he said quietly.

  Yeah, maybe it was. Or it started there… She touched his arm. “We were twelve years old. And we were scared. And—”

  “And Dad never forgave me for getting you trapped in there.”

  He said it so softly, it was more of a moan than words. He wouldn’t look at her.

  “Is that what you think?”

  “It’s what I know.” He stepped away from her, out of range of her touch. “I was sitting in the hospital, waiting to hear if you’d lived or died, and he came up and told me that I should have known better. That I got you in over your head.”

  “What—? I got myself in over my head. I was the one who wanted to go swimming that day—”

  “I should have stopped you.”

  She blinked, frowning. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  He rounded on her. “I should have stopped you.”

  “Just like I should have stopped you from going out for BUD/S?”

  “It’s not the same thing.”

  “It is—Ford, you seem to think it’s your job to protect everyone. When did God step off the throne and put you in charge?”

  Ford’s lips thinned.

  “Last time I looked, you weren’t the Savior of the world.”

  “Tell that to Dad.”

  “It’s a little late, isn’t it?” She didn’t mean it like that and instantly wanted to take back her words.

  Ford just nodded.

  “Ford—”

  “No, you’re right. I’ll never be able to prove to Dad that…that…”

  “That you’re just as capable as Reuben and Knox and Tate and Wyatt?”

  “No. Just as capable as him.”

  His words silenced her. She wasn’t unaware of the gaping cutout her father had left behind for his sons—and daughter—to fill.

  Ford walked away from her, to the edge of the metro line, staring down at the tracks. “He went to Tate’s graduation from Ranger school.”

  She came up to stand beside him. “We all did. First time I flew on a commercial plane.

  “I saw the way Dad looked at Tate, and I knew right then that I wanted to be a SEAL.”

  Oh, Ford.

  “I couldn’t think of anything tougher than a Ranger except a SEAL, so…yeah. That day I told myself I’d be a SEAL, and I dreamed of the day when Dad would show up at my graduation, see me get my Budweiser.”

  She didn’t have to be a CIA analyst to get it. To understand how Ford, the youngest brother, the forgotten brother, might want the family to show up for him. To be impressed with him.

  Her throat tightened.

  He gave a wry chuckle, something eaten by the caverns of the metro. “I was almost there. I called him after I’d made it through hell week. I was torn apart—mentally, physically. I nearly died twice during BUD/S, but
I made it, and I called him. He answered the phone but didn’t say anything. I think he was afraid that I had rung out.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. “‘I made it, Dad.’ That’s all I said. Just I made it. And he was still silent. For a minute, I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me. And then he said, real quietly, ‘I’ll meet you on the beach in a year, when you get your trident.’”

  Ford looked away, a muscle pulling in his jaw. “He never made it to the beach.”

  “He died six months later,” she said.

  Ford nodded.

  “I was there the day you called after Hell week. I was home from school for the summer. And what you don’t know, Ford, was that Dad fasted the entire time you were in BUD/S, starting when you arrived at Coronado for BUD/S orientation, all the way through hell week.”

  Ford frowned.

  “Yeah. Ma too, but Dad…he dropped like thirty pounds. Praying, I think.”

  Ford glanced over at her.

  “He was so proud of you. We all were. Are.”

  “Dad always thought I was reckless.”

  “No. He just knew how desperately you wanted to keep up with our brothers.” She raised an eyebrow. “And knew that you didn’t even look before running into trouble.”

  He lifted a shoulder.

  “Ford, you’re not the only one who was ashamed. That’s why I walked away from you. I knew it was my fault we nearly died—”

  “No it wasn’t.” He turned to her, a storm in his eyes. “I tried to leave you, RJ. That first night, you fell asleep, and I thought—I’d just swim out and by the time you woke up, I’d be back.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “But it wasn’t that easy. The water had filled up the tunnels, and it was pitch black, and the current was so strong, and I…I chickened out.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t have what it took.”

  “No wonder you made it through BUD/S.”

  He frowned, cocked his head.

  “What was it that Dad always said? Something about God knitting together our past to equip us for the future? Maybe the cave was exactly what you needed to push you to being a SEAL.”

  He met her eyes, searching them.

  She touched his hand, wove his fingers through hers. “Thank you for not leaving that night.”

  Ford looked down at the tracks. “Funny thing is, I was trying so hard not to lose you…and I did anyway. I lost my best friend.”