Page 81 of Ford

Behind him, Scarlett was packing her toiletries—the ones she’d purchased on his credit card—into his backpack. She had no change of clothes, so he’d given her one of his T-shirts. But she still wore a pair of faded jeans, running shoes, and a jacket. She’d scrubbed her face free of makeup—not that she wore much anyway—and still looked breathtaking, those dark brown eyes finding his.

She smiled, and he felt it all the way to his bones, a heat that he hadn’t a hope of shutting down. “We made it.”

“Just about,” he said. The train had stopped, and he picked up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. He reached out his hand. “All we have to do is find Ham’s contact.”

She took his hand.

They headed down the hallway to the door. The train had pulled up to a domed station, a cobblestone platform separating the lines. He climbed down the stairs, trying to sound out the Cyrillic.

Scarlett came down behind him. “There.Vhod.Exit.”

Yeah, he wasn’t going anywhere without her.

They headed toward the exit, merging into the crowd, just a couple tourists. Around them, other travelers with suitcases and rolling bags headed toward the exit, through wooden doors, and into the main area. The ancient building, with an arched ceiling, soaring windows, and mounted chandeliers, had been updated with advanced screening at the doors and electronic ticketing machines.

“According to the online metro map, we need to go to Krasnaya Presnya station on the Taganskaya line.” She pointed to a sign that said Suburban Trains in English. “I think that must be the metro.”

“You’re better at logistics than Trini,” he said.

They were heading out of the station into a corridor that fed into the metro when he heard a shout behind him. “Stop!”

Next to him, Scarlett stiffened. She looked at him.

And he saw it in her eyes.Run!

Except where, exactly, were they going to go?

Still, maybe running—

“Stop! FSB!”

“Go!” Scarlett said. “I’m the one without a visa. Just—”

“Have you lost your mind?” he snapped. “I wasn’t leaving you in Kiev, and I’m certainly not going to leave you with the FSB inMoscow.”

A woman in a black suit headed his direction. She wasn’t wearing the uniform of an FSB agent, but the two men next to her certainly looked the part. Black uniform, green hats, no smiles.

Yeah, he should probably be running, but Ford had a gut feeling that they wouldn’t get far.

And unlike him, these men carried weapons.

Ho-kay.

The woman was tall, slender, maybe late thirties, and unsmiling. “Americans?”

He nodded.

One of the men relieved Ford of his backpack.

“Come with me.” She spoke good English with the hint of a British accent.

“Where?” Ford said. “You can’t detain us—”

“Shut up,” she snapped. “Before you’re in worse trouble.”

Maybe he should run.Theyshould run because he wasn’t leaving without Scarlett. And she was fast too.

He glanced at her, and Scarlett met his eyes. Nodded.