Page 98 of Ford

The man caught her up, pulling her tight against him, making the sounds that York felt like making. Tiny whimpers of relief, perhaps, maybe even anger.

He bent over, breathing hard.

Ford.

Her brother, the SEAL.

No wonder his ribs hurt.

He stood back, watching the reunion, not sure what to say, a strange ache curling through him. Nearby, a petite dark-haired woman glared at him like he might be the devil.

“How—where—?” RJ pushed away from Ford.

“We just got to the station when the train pulled in,” said the woman. “I saw you go off the platform, but I wasn’t sure…” She looked at York almost accusingly. “Who are you?”

“He’s my friend,” RJ said before York could come up with an answer. “And he’s been trying to get me home.”

Her friend. Huh. He hadn’t exactly thought of that moniker.

Maybe.

Nope. Not even close. He didn’t know what they were, but friend didn’t seem to cover it. She was his responsibility, his cohort, his—no, not partner—and then there was the kiss. The mind-blowing kiss that made him painfully aware of all his brittle, aching places.

Especially now. “You were supposed to run!” He took a step toward RJ, wrapped his hand around her arm. “What were you thinking?”

“Step back, dude—” Ford started.

But RJ put her hand up and turned to York, her eyes wide. “I did run! And then—” She grabbed his hand off her arm. “Are you kidding me? How was I supposed to run when he was beating the crap out of you—”

“I was fine.” He glared at her. “If this guy hadn’t been your brother—” He looked up at Ford, who looked like he might want to have another go.

Sure, pal. And York didn’t know why suddenly he felt like going another round or putting his fist into something hard. Again and again—

“You’re shaking,” RJ said, her voice lower.

He looked back at her, his jaw tight. “You could have been killed. You didn’t listen to me,again.How am I supposed to keep you alive when you don’t listen to anything I say?”

“I’m not Tasha,” she said quietly, her eyes holding his. “And I’m fine.”

The world stilled, and his throat thickened. Whatever possessed him to think that he should get tangled up in this mess?

With her?

Ford stared at him, his mouth in a grim line. “You’re York.”

York wiped his hand across his mouth and came back with blood. “You might have mentioned who you were before you started punching me.”

“You jumpedme. I didn’t have the first clue who you were. I just saw you with my sister—”

“How’d you find us?” RJ asked. She reached out to touch Ford’s arm, and he took her hand.

“We went to Moscow. I met with an agent there, who said you were on the train.”

“Curtiss,” York said.

“And Yanna, his wife,” the woman added.

“You met Yanna?” Kat emerged from the shadows. “She’s FSB.”