Panic shoots all the way down to my toes, and I jerk up—or try to—but solid arms band around me, and the bruises along my back protest. “Shhh, buttercup. You’re safe.”
I don’t want to believe the sleepy voice rumbling in my ear, but then his stubble scrapes against my forehead, and firm lips press to my brow. “Breathe for me, baby. In and out. And open your eyes.”
I do, his commanding tone impossible to ignore. It doesn’t smell like my basement prison. Or anything but him. As the room comes into focus, I gasp. Bright, colorful curtains cover a window, light seeping around them. A thick patterned blanket is draped over us, and Ford stares down at me, a concerned look deepening the lines in his forehead.
“Oh God. This is real. You’re real.”
“One hundred percent authentic United States Marine, ma’am. Retired. At your service.” He tries for a smile, but worry darkens his hazel eyes as he brushes a knuckle along my cheek. “You slept?”
“Yes. What…time is it?”
He checks his watch. “Almost nine. That was a solid six hours.”
Rubbing my eyes to hide the tears that burn at the corners, I wriggle out of his embrace. I haven’t slept that long at a stretch in…years. He put himself between me and the door, gun on the nightstand, his big body shielding me the entire time.
“Where are Trevor and…?”
“Nomar? I don’t know. They haven’t checked in yet. Until they do, we’re on our own.” Ford sits up and winces, wrapping an arm around his stomach.
“You’re hurt. Oh, shit. I didn’t even think…last night…” I’m a doctor. I should have remembered finding him hanging by his wrists in Faruk’s torture chamber. How he leaned on me. The bruise under his right eye, his split lip.
Kneeling next to him on the bed, I reach for the buttons on his shirt. “Joey,” he says, covering my hand with his. “I’m okay.”
“Who’s the doctor here?” Arching a brow, I wait, but he doesn’t move. “I need to do this, Ford. I’d never forgive myself if you were seriously hurt and I didn’t…do something.”
“I’ve taken worse beatings from my boss in the boxing ring,” he says with a wry smile. “Dax is kind of a badass—especially for a blind man.”
“What?” Despite his protests, I loosen the first two buttons, and my fingers skim the light dusting of sandy hair on his chest. Memories—good ones—float at the edges of my mind, and I take a deep breath as I continue to part the dark material.
“I work for a security firm called Second Sight. So does Trevor.” Ford sits up a little straighter as I reach the last button.
“A security firm? Oh no. Don’t tell me you’re…” I choke back a laugh, “a mall cop?”
His tunic is open now, revealing a solid six-pack and a round, raised lump of scar tissue below his collarbone.
“No!” He fakes offense with a soft snort. “We provide security and private investigative services. Dax is protecting a woman right now from a stalker who’s escalating. Ella is tracking down a deadbeat dad who hasn’t paid child support in six months, and my last case before this was a rich businessman embezzling a small fortune from his wife’s charity.”
My last case before this…
“I’m…just a case?” My fingers still, wrapped around the edges of the shirt. “Of course I am. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have known to look for me.”
Ford cups my cheek, his hand warm and solid as he urges my head up so he can hold my gaze. “You are not just a case. You are the most important person in the world to me. Dax and I…we started Second Sight together, but technically, he’s still my boss. Owns a majority stake in the company. I was supposed to be the one protecting Evianna from her stalker. But when your sister called…Dax didn’t hesitate. Told me to take Trevor and go find you.”
“Oh God. Gerry. She and my mom—”
“We’ll call them as soon as we get to Kabul. I don’t have a secure phone connection out of the country from here. Just our private comms channel. But I can get a message to Matt—he’s in charge of the team guarding Ivy and Mia—and have him call them for you.” Ford drops his hand, and the absence of his touch sends a chill down my spine.
“There’s so much…I don’t know…I didn’t ask last night.” My voice sounds strange as I struggle not to cry. “They’re safe? Ivy and Mia? Were they…?”
“We got to them before they were sold. Ivy hadn’t been touched. Just knocked around a little. Mia…wasn’t so lucky, but physically, she’s okay, and she’s a fighter. When Trevor killed the bastard selling them, they both insisted on watching.” Concern swims in his hazel gaze, and I know he wants to ask. But I’m not ready to tell him yet.
Instead, I nod and swallow hard. “It’s my fault. They were only taken because they were with me.”
Ford cups the back of my neck and urges me to look at him. “This is not your fault, Joey. Not at all. They don’t blame you.”
“They should. He…planned this. Planned to take me. Ivy and Mia…and…God. Ray. Our guards and translator.” I’m actively sobbing now as the weight of the lives I’ve ruined—the lives I’ve ended—crashes down on me.
“I’m going to hold you, baby. Okay?” Ford asks.
