Page 87 of Ford
Scarlett turned, watching as Ford dispatched the first man with a couple body shots, a knee to the face.
The second man—David?—a tall blond who filled out his suit, had her other captor turned, his face against the elevator wall, his arm in a submission hold.
Steps from the hallway above told her that reinforcements were coming—for whom, she didn’t know.
“Hotel security,” Yanna said, still holding her. But Yanna looked like she might want to have at them too, her dark eyes blazing.
Ford’s man dropped, bleeding, onto the floor of the elevator, and Ford stepped out over the body just as two security officers dressed in gray suits appeared.
His expression, fierce and dangerous, said everything as he stalked straight for Scarlett and pulled her against himself. He was breathing hard—probably from his run down the stairs, although maybe from the adrenaline-laced dispatch of her attacker—and his body shook. “Are you okay?”
He leaned back, caught her head in his hands, his pale green eyes searching hers. Not a scratch on him, of course, whereas she felt like she’d been dragged down the street. But she nodded.
Ford stared at her a long moment, then abruptly let her go and turned, his hand to his mouth. He walked away from her, leaned over and braced his hand on the cement.
“Ford?”
“Give him a minute.” This from David who’d left the apprehension of the two attackers to the hotel security. He was good looking, with blue eyes and a gray suit, and he radiated some kind of military aura. He glanced at Ford. “I’ve never seen anyone move so fast.” He looked at Yanna. “You okay, babe?”
“I think this was my fault. I wanted to get a look at the men without them watching me—especially the blond. I think he was—”
“Gustov. Yeah. That’s my guess too.” David sighed as one of the guards pulled Ford’s victim from the elevator. David turned and put his hand to the assailant’s chest. Then he took the man’s shirt and ripped it open. The buttons broke off, and he yanked open the collar all the way to his shoulder.
A black-and-white tattoo of an eight-pointed star inked his skin, just at the base of his neck.
Next to her, Yanna stiffened. “That’s a Bratva star.”
David let him go, and the security dragged the men away.
“The Russian mafia.” Ford had returned, looking just a little pale. “What would the Bratva want with Scarlett?”
“I don’t know,” David said.
“You said that someone might mistake us for RJ and—”
“York,” David said. “Yes. Although if our research is correct, Gustov already knew you weren’t Ruby Jane.”
“How’s that?” Ford asked.
“Because he’s the one who set her up. And we think he’s good for the assassination attempt.”
“Then why attack us?”
“I don’t know. To hold you hostage?” Yanna said. “Maybe to get to Ford? And then RJ?”
“But how did he find us?”
“The Bratva has connections all over the world. Even in the FSB, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they had people in the CIA. If the CIA was tracking your sister, a good bet is that they also flagged you.”
“But we used a different passport coming into—”
Scarlett stopped him, her hand on his arm. “No. You did. But we traveled together going to Prague on our regular passports. If they flagged you in Prague, they could have flagged me. And I used my real passport coming into Russia.” She met his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
Ford turned to David. “I’m sorry. I’m not waiting for Vladivostok. I want to find my sister. Now.”
David drew in a breath. Looked at Yanna. “Okay. Let’s figure out where the train is, issue Ford and Scarlett new documents, and get them on a flight to meet the train.”
Yanna nodded. “You two come with me,” she said quietly. Then she walked over to David and grabbed his lapels. Pulled him down for a kiss. “You make sure to pick up the kids fromdetski-sod. I’ll be late.”