Page 46 of Ford

The last thing she needed was a glimpse of her picture on one of the daily rags.

“I thought you said I should do what you say.”

“You should. I just meant—I’m not a hero, and I don’t want you thinking that.”

“I don’t know. A guy runs me down, drags me to safety, feeds me, and makes sure I get home safely. You’re right. Not a hero at all.”

He rounded on her, and she just stared at him, her eyes hard in his.

A beat passed between them. “I just don’t want you to depend on me, okay? Start thinking I’m going to come to your rescue. I’m not that guy.”

“Why not? Because it seems like you’reexactlythat guy, whether you like it or not—”

“No, I’m not.” He glanced around her, then caught her arm and pushed her into an alcove between buildings. “Listen. You need to watch your back. Pay attention to things around you. Something looks suspicious, you take precautions. Cross the street. Detour. Expect danger.” He drew a breath. “You never know when something is going to come out of nowhere and…and—”

“Kill the woman you love?”

He sucked in a breath. What? He was turning away, but she grabbed his jacket sleeve. “York. I know about Tasha. I know Gustov killed her. And that you think he’s after me too.”

Kat had been talking.

“Tasha wasn’t careful. I kept telling her to stop stirring up stories, that if she went sniffing too deep, someone was going to bite back. But she didn’t listen.” He yanked his arm away from her grip. “Andyoudidn’t listen. You just had to come to Russia, just had to show up at the scene of a political assassination. What were you thinking?”

Her jaw tightened. “I was thinking that I didn’t want someone to die if I could stop it. That maybe I had information vital to the safety of the world, and that someone had to do something about it. Because apparently,you weren’t going to.”

His mouth closed, and he shook his head.

“Except…wait.” Her eyes widened. “Youwere, weren’t you? That’s why you were there. Because…because you knew it was going down, and you wanted to stop it too.”

He looked away.

“See?”

She had a hold of his jacket again, and he glanced over at her, wanting very much to stalk away and leave her here, but…but…shoot.

She was right. He was that guy, and he didn’t like it. “Whatever.”

A tiny smile drifted up one side of her face.

“What?”

“I’m an analyst. It’s what I do.”

She stood there, now grinning at him, and if he thought she was pretty without makeup, he’d underestimated her impact when she added a little glitz. Her pretty blue eyes seemed bigger, brighter, her mouth intriguing with the outline of lipstick. He found himself staring at her lips. Remembering…

Yeah, he needed to get her out of the country—away from him—as soon as he could because he had one goal when he dropped her off.

Find Damien.

Finish what Damien started.

RJ’s smile fell. She let go of his jacket, smoothed it. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Tasha.”

He clenched his jaw, a little unnerved by the sudden rush of heat in his throat. “It’s been a long time.”

“I lost my father five years ago. Sometimes it feels as fresh as yesterday. Grief never loses its sting, it just recedes until suddenly, it’s right there, taking you out, right?”

“We need to get going.”