Ford

by Susan May Warren

  Out of all of them, Wyatt led with his heart. It made him a personality on the team, charming, a magnet for the women…and sometimes reckless.

  Tate held up his hand. “Ease back there, bro. We all know how you feel about Coco. We care about her too.”

  Wyatt’s mouth tightened. Oh he much more than cared. But RJ just couldn’t betray him.

  “But Ford’s right. We need to think this out if you don’t want to end up arrested and sent to the gulag.”

  “Or shot,” Ford said.

  “Yanna and David said they had a contact in Vladivostok. Let’s start there,” Scarlett said.

  Tate touched Wyatt’s shoulder. “Get on a plane, come home with us, and we’ll regroup.”

  “And what about RJ?” Wyatt said. “She’s still not safe.”

  “The Marshall Triple M feels like a good place to lie low,” Ford said. He turned RJ. “You can’t do anything here, not wanted by Interpol. Stavros’s jet will take us stateside. You’ll get in under the new passports the FSB issued and go home with Tate and Wyatt.”

  It made sense, but the words burned through RJ. “And what about York? And Coco?”

  “My gut says that York can take care of both of them,” Ford said.

  She considered her sweating lemonade. “I’ll get ahold of Sophia and see if she has any more information.”

  “Or not,” Ham said. “Seems funny that Sophia was incommunicado when Roy’s information came in. If you hadn’t intervened, maybe the assassination would have succeeded.”

  “I didn’t intervene,” RJ said. She couldn’t relay the general’s words that would affirm Ham’s. “But without the country looking for me, they might have found Gustov, and who knows but the CIA’s shadow connections might have been discovered.”

  “Randall could be a part of it,” Tate said. He turned to her. “You can’t go back to the CIA. Not until your name is cleared.”

  She heard the big brother in his tone. Protective Tate. No, protective Marshalls. She hadn’t a hope of going rogue with her brothers standing guard. “Fine. Probably you’re right.”

  She looked at Ford. “I’m going to shoot an email to York, tell him that I think I met Gustov, just in case—”

  “I’m sure he already knows,” Scarlett said. She raised an eyebrow.

  The truth sunk in, curdled her gut. “The kiss. He kissed me because he was trying to hurt York.”

  “Why? Because he saw something between you and York?” Now she heard a new tone in Tate’s voice. “Is there something between you and York?”

  “Yes,” Ford said.

  She glared at him and shook her head, maybe a little too quickly, but, frankly, she could be telling the truth. At least on his side. “York’s girlfriend was killed by Gustov. It’s personal. And when York rescued me, it turned personal for Gustov, too, so…no wonder he said it was more fun to keep me alive.”

  “He said it was more fun to keep you alive?” Tate said, his eyes darkening. “Yes, you’re definitely coming back to the ranch.”

  “Tate—”

  “Ford, back me up on this?”

  But Ford just looked at her, smiled. “While I agree with Tate…RJ can take care of herself. Whatever she wants…” He winked at her.

  Tate just looked at him. Then back at RJ. “Whatever.”

  “So that means he’s after York,” Wyatt said. “And Coco is with York.”

  Maybe she had to go home for Wyatt. Because they were right. She couldn’t do anything from here.

  If she wanted to get to the bottom of the story, she needed to do some, well, analyzing.

  “Wyatt, we need to go home. Regroup. But I promise we’re not going to leave York and Coco to be tracked down and finished off. We’ll figure out a way to get them out, I promise.”

  He looked away.

  She finished off her lemonade. Put down her glass. “Let’s go. We have an escape plan to hatch. The sooner we get home, the sooner we find…” The people we love.

  Wyatt met her eyes and nodded.

  14

  “Do you think she’ll like it?” Gunnar knelt by the grave of their mother, digging in the rock he’d painted displaying her name, her age, the word Mommy at the top.

  Overhead, the sky soared blue and clear, the clouds wispy, the early August air muggy. A hawk soared above, crying, and in the tiny graveyard, a few Douglas firs whispered in a faint, desperate breeze.

  “I know she will,” Scarlett said. She’d placed her own stone, a white one she’d found off the shores of Coronado, where she’d trained for her PRT.

  A memorial of better times that she wanted her mother to keep. Because despite her mistakes, Sammy-Jo Hathaway had made her daughter resilient. A fighter.

  She’d helped Scarlett become the woman who saved lives.

  And maybe, despite her broken places that made her give her heart away too easily, she’d also taught Scarlett about taking chances, believing in love.

  Fighting for a happy ending.

  Gunnar wore a clean T-shirt, a pair of athletic shorts, and his hair was freshly cut, shorn short under his baseball cap. His tan evidenced time at the community pool, a smattering of freckles across his nose.

  He looked healthy and happy, and she’d had to swallow back a flare of stupid hurt when she’d picked him up this morning from the Ferrils’. Still, Gunnar had thrown his arms around her neck, a sharp contrast to the way he’d left, and that fact alone made her thank Ellen and Craig, who handed her his suitcase of new clothes.

  Just a weekend trip to the Marshall family ranch, but it was a start.

  Ford leaned against his F-150, arms folded. He was still on emergency medical leave—and probably deserved it after his night at sea two weeks ago. He’d emerged hypothermic, with a bruised shoulder and ribs, and certainly wasn’t operational.

  It had given them time to figure it out.

  Given them time to return home, for Ford to take her out on a date, then for them to walk, fingers entwined, up the Coronado Beach and talk through Ham’s offer.

  Run the swimming program for GoSports, Hamilton Jones’s fitness club organization. And she could do it in San Diego at his shiny new sports center that focused on ocean sports—paddleboarding, surfing, free diving, wind sailing, and kayaking.

  Are you sure you’re ready to separate from the Navy?

  She couldn’t answer Ford’s question without a week of thinking, of sitting by the ocean, listening to her heart.

  In the end, it was Yanna’s voice which told her the truth. Sometimes something looks so good, you just have to have it, right? And pretend to like it, even if it’s terrible, just to prove you didn’t make a mistake.

  She loved the Navy. But it was just a substitute for what she really wanted…a family.

  A home.

  Ford. Gunnar.

  She wanted to be a rescuer. But she wanted to do it on her terms. And being a trainer for GoSports…and the SAR drone operator for Ham’s private international SAR team, Jones, Inc., could give her all of it.

  And Ford too.

  Now she pressed her hand in the grass peeking out of the soil. “Thanks, Mom. I miss you.”

  Gunnar did the same.

  Scarlett reached over and pulled him to herself. Felt his body relax in her arms.

  She drew him away, found his blue eyes. “Gunnar, I need to tell you something.” She glanced at Ford. He was smiling at her, gave her a tiny nod.

  Oh, she didn’t deserve this man.

  But maybe that was the point.

  She’d asked God to show up in her life…and the answer had been standing in front of her all this time.

  “I’m leaving the Navy. It’s time, and I’m getting a new job. It’s still in San Diego, but sometimes I’ll have to go to Minnesota or travel around the world to help people.”

  “Like Wonder Woman?”

  She laughed. “Yeah, sort of. And… I think Ford and I are going to get married.”

  His mouth made an O, and he glanced at For
d, grinning. Back to her. “I like him.”

  “Me too. But here’s the part I need to talk to you about. But, little brother, I need you to be honest with me. See, I made you a promise that I would come back for you, and I meant it. You’re my little brother, and I want you to live with me. But I know you like the Ferrils. They’re good people, and they love you. They’re taking good care of you, so if you want to stay with them, then that’s okay with me.”

  She forced the last words out, easy and bright, despite the cotton in her chest.

  But it would be okay, no matter his choice because he would know he was loved. She’d make sure of it.

  “Stay with Craig and Ellen?”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  “And their baby?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know Ellen was going to have a baby.”

  “Yeah. Next year. I could be a big brother.”

  She nodded. “Yeah you could, pal.”

  “Or I could go with you and watch the Padres?”

  “Yep. But you don’t have to live with me to do that. Anytime, pal.”

  He nodded, biting his lip.

  “You don’t have to decide right now. I have a month left, and it might take even longer to get the paperwork done, so…”

  “Mommy used to have your picture next to the television. Sometimes I’d see her kiss it.”

  Really?

  “She cried when you left.”

  Scarlett’s eyes burned. “Me too, buddy.”

  “I think maybe I want to live with you?”

  She rubbed her thumb across his cheek, wiping away the moisture there. “I’d like that. But you keep thinking about it and know that whatever you choose, I love you, buddy. I’ll always love you. And nothing will ever change that.”

  She drew him close. The wind shifted in the firs. Want an animal cracker? I already ate all the elephants, but I left the lions for you.

  I love you too, Mom.

  Gunnar pushed away, and she followed him to the truck. Ford opened the back door for Gunnar. “Ready to go ride a horse?”

  “A horse!”

  “Oh, good grief, Ford. Now that’s all we’re going to hear about for the next two hundred miles.”

  He turned to her, reached out, and pulled her against him. Caught her in his beautiful eyes. “We can always listen to the radio.”

  “You and your British girl bands? No thanks. You are a strange one, Petty Officer Marshall.”

  “C’mon. You know you can’t get enough of me.” He winked at her, leaning down to kiss her, something sweet and fun and holding promises for more.

  And as she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back, she could agree.

  She might never get enough of Ford Marshall.

  But she could try.

  What Happens Next…

  Wyatt

  * * *

  He was probably losing his mind, but he’d rather be in Siberia.

  Wyatt sat on Miami Beach, his bare feet dug into the sand, staring out at the mysterious black eastern Atlantic. The moon slid over the silver-tipped ocean, the smell of coconut oil, chlorine, and palm trees stirring the late-summer night air. The waves rolled toward him, frothy, hungry, and tempting, and behind him, the lights of the Ocean Drive hotel splashed across the patio, lifting the sounds of the band, an Ed Sheeran song awakening dangerous emotions.

  I found a love for me…

  I found a girl...

  His shirt had started to dry, his pants still soaking wet, and yet a bead of sweat streaked down the back of his spine.

  It was all taking way too long.

  A month since his sister had been rescued from Mother Russia and he’d yet to hear from Coco.

  She could be dead for all he knew, and it was driving him—

  “Wyatt! What’s happening? You ran away, and without a drink.”

  Wyatt didn’t turn, recognizing the voice of his star forward, Deke Stoner.

  Probably finding him to apologize.

  “Go away.”

  “Dude. C’mon. Loosen up. It was all in fun.” Deke sat down in the sand beside him. Short brown hair, bearded, Deke knew how to handle himself, a puck, and the crowd. Of course, he’d been surrounded by women tonight, and that started the trouble.

  His publicist’s matchmaking efforts combined with Deke’s penchant to show off.

  Deke held a glass with an umbrella in it.

  Wyatt shook his head. “In training.”

  “You’re always in training, bro.” Deke shrugged and took a sip of his girlie drink.

  “I’m still wet. And these are silk pants.”

  “Yeah, but you landed in the pool with Miss Minnesota. She thought it was funny.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  But yeah, Rachel had been a good sport when Deke “accidentally” pushed him into the pool with the tall, beautiful redhead.

  The pictures were probably trending on Twitter, much to Nick Coyote’s joy.

  His publicist was going to destroy his life while trying to make him the most popular goalie in the league.

  Because apparently Nick hadn’t gotten Wyatt into enough trouble last month during the crazy charity event in downtown St. Paul. The annual Blue for You party that raised money to fight children’s cancer by offering dances with the many eligible players.

  Nick had made him the star and landed him a dance with Miss Minnesota, Rachel Meyers.

  Wyatt had made the mistake of offering her a ride home.

  Of course, it made the tabloids. Even if he’d simply dropped her off at her apartment entrance.

  Hadn’t talked to her since, until tonight.

  Frankly, he’d been too busy trying to track down Coco.

  And convincing Jace, his coach, to enter the team into the Ice Hockey International Cup.

  Which took place in Russia. Far East Russia, to be exact.

  Where, Wyatt dearly hoped, Coco might be hiding out.

  “Apparently, it’s good press to link you two. The hottie of hockey finds a beauty queen.”

  “That—what did you call me?” Wyatt turned to Deke.

  Behind him, cheers lifted, and he didn’t want to know what crazy stunt his fellow players were getting into. Around the deck of the pool, lights hung, splashing brilliance onto the patio, across the lounge chairs. The entire team of Blue Ox players, including wives, girlfriends, and plenty of hockey bunnies, had shown up for the end of the season celebration.

  They’d made it into the finals of the Stanley this year. Could have gone all the way if not for—well, it wasn’t exactly fair that the entire game rested on a shootout between two men.

  Wyatt hated being defined by his mistakes.

  “The hottie of hockey. Didn’t you see the cover of NHL Today? They did their spread on hot goalies, and apparently, you’re at the top of the list.” Deke touched his arm, pulled back his finger, shaking it. “Sizzle.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Wyatt said.

  “What has your breezers in a bunch?”

  “Nothing. Just…thinking about the tournament.”

  “The one in Russia?” Deke took another drink. “Listen, we’ll go there and show those Russians what we’re made of.”

  “We’re not just playing Russia. Hockey is an international sport—there’ll be teams from Europe, the former Soviet Union, and even Hong Kong.”

  “But it’s in Siberia. We’re going to be eating cold noodles for breakfast. You know no one goes to Siberia willingly, right?”

  Except him. He couldn’t wait to get there.

  He just had to know if Coco was okay, then maybe he could sleep through the night.

  He didn’t know what it was about Coco Stanley. She’d left him—twice—without looking back, and still he couldn’t get her out of his system.

  Which was why he’d talked to Rachel tonight. They’d gotten along last time they’d met. Laughed. And she was really pretty. He could admit noticing her when she arrived tonight. Tanned, long legs under a short black
dress, long auburn hair, pretty hazel eyes. She met his glance and smiled.

  But he’d been tired and in no mood for…well, he simply wasn’t the player Coyote wanted him to be. So he’d dropped his water bottle into a nearby trash can and headed around the pool, past Rachel and her friends, on his way to bed.

  Rachel had lifted her hand, and he couldn’t be a jerk, so he walked over to her. “Hey.”

  “Hey. This weather hot enough for you?”

  “Beats twenty-seven below in January.”

  She laughed, her eyes sparkling, and right then, he didn’t know what his problem was. Maybe Nick was right. He should loosen up. He’d made a name for himself as the gentleman goalie, the guy who was nice to the press, who showed up at all the charity events, who signed autographs after the game. And sure, it was all a part of his contract, but he tried to be the guy who gave hockey a good name. He attended parties but made a point of not ending up in the news.

  He wasn’t a player.

  But he was a man, and dancing with Rachel had been fun. Easy.

  The band was playing a slow song, and he didn’t know why, but he’d held up his hand. “Wanna dance?”

  Rachel looked at him, raised an eyebrow. Then lifted a tanned shoulder. “Sure.”

  He’d taken her hand to walk across the deck, and that’s when Deke checked him. Maybe in play, he didn’t know, but the guy bumped him so hard that he went flying.

  Slammed into Rachel on his way overboard.

  They’d landed in the pearly blue pool to the shouts of his teammates.

  He surfaced fast and grabbed Rachel, pulling her up. Against himself.

  He held her with one arm, treading water with the other as she wiped water from her eyes. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  She laughed then. “I figured I’d get wet tonight. Waterproof mascara for the win.”

  She winked. Then, to the cheers of the crowd, leaned in and kissed him on the lips. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

  He hadn’t—oh brother.

  He was going to kill Coyote who was standing on the deck snapping a picture.

  She pushed away from him and swam over to the side. Kalen, the backup goalie, pulled her out. Handed her a towel.