Knox leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “Tough shape. The bullet collapsed her lung, and she has quite a bit of internal bleeding.”
Ford nodded, his jaw tight.
York glanced at him, a little surprised at his unlikely ally. The last time he’d seen Ford the man had left a few bruises.
Ford came over to him. “So you’re not dead after all.”
York looked at him, but Ford smiled. “RJ refused to stop looking for you. She believed that you’re apparently superhuman.”
He wanted to smile at that. But Ford’s words raised the prayer that kept rattling around inside him. The one he’d spoken nearly a week ago at the altar in Shelly. Please, Jesus…help me to live as a new man.
For a week he’d been trying to figure out what that meant—a new man. Sort of thought it meant starting over, far away from his old life.
But something Hardwin had said kept ringing through his mind too. When all else is done, God is enough, everything, and always.
What if living as a new man wasn’t about changing his location or his name or even his skill set—but what Caleb had said…just him, clinging to God?
Just him and God, nothing else between them. No hate, no anger, no fear—
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
Maybe his purpose wasn’t a mission or a name or even a location but a surrender.
What if he was just supposed to do and be who God told him he was?
Trust Him to give you what you need. And in this, you will find what you truly hunger for—peace for your souls.
He hungered for peace. For home. For RJ.
And maybe a small town. Lasagna. Baseball.
But not today. Not yet.
Because he also hungered for justice.
Which felt like something that was very much on God’s list also.
“I’m not superhuman,” he said now to the Marshall brothers. “But I do have a certain set of skills that might help you catch the person who shot your mother.”
Tate looked at him. Then he gave a slow nod.
Wyatt too.
Knox sighed. “Thanks, York.”
Ford clamped him on the shoulder.
Hardwin walked back in, carrying coffee. Looked around. “Where’s RJ? I got her a cup of coffee.”
York frowned. “I’ll go find her.”
But as he was starting to leave, the surgeon came into the room. He wore scrubs, a tall man who introduced himself as Dr. Wilson. “She’s out of surgery and doing well. We have her in recovery, but she’ll be in a room in a bit—you can see her then.”
York could nearly feel the collective relief from her sons as he exited the room. He looked up the hall for RJ.
Found the vending machines. Came back. “Did you see her, Hardwin, when you went for coffee?”
“Yes,” Hardwin said and frowned. “We talked. She got a call just as I was leaving.”
Huh.
York exited again and this time headed downstairs to the lobby. Sometimes with calls, reception was spotty in a hospital.
He lifted his own burner phone, the one he’d picked up in Vegas, from his pocket. Dialed RJ’s number.
Got her voicemail.
And now he was worried.
He called again. “RJ, call me when you get this.” Texted the same message.
She wasn’t outside in the parking lot.
The hair started to rise on the back of his neck.
He returned to the waiting room, hoping she’d beat him back. The brothers were just starting to leave to visit their mother.
Ford gave him a frown.
“I can’t find RJ.”
Ford turned to Scarlett. York recognized her from the alleyway in Russia, the woman who had crossed an ocean with Ford to find his sister. “Can you check the ladies room?”
Thank you, Ford, for being worried. “It’s weird, right?”
Ford nodded. Reuben, Knox, Tate, Wyatt and Hardwin followed a nurse down the hall toward Gerri’s room. Ford waited with him.
Ford looked at him. “We never, um…so…” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for watching RJ’s back in Russia.”
“Thanks for getting her home.”
“I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“Thanks.”
Scarlett returned, shaking her head.
And now York was starting to freak out, a fist in his gut. RJ—
His phone vibrated in his hand. The only one who knew his number was RJ. “Hey. Where are you? Are you okay?”
“Da,” said the voice. “Vso Horosho.”
York stiffened, the Russian like an old shoe he’d slipped on and was still trying to work out the kinks. Because the voice stirred up a dark, age-old threat, one he’d tried to forget.
And, he understood the words perfectly.
Of course. He closed his eyes, his jaw tight. “Where is she?” he said in Russian, glancing at Ford, then walking to the window. He looked down three stories to the parking lot, scanning it. He switched to English, his voice emerging in a growl. “You’d better not have hurt her.”
“She’ll be just fine, York. All I want is you.”
He didn’t even pause. “Deal. When and where.”
He got a location. Hung up.
Ford had followed him. “That wasn’t RJ.”
“No. But we’re going to get her back.” He pocketed the phone. “Don’t tell your brothers what’s going on. I need to finish this. But I promise—RJ will be coming home.” He strode past Ford.
The SEAL stopped him with a hand to his chest. “You’re not doing this alone.”
York moved his hand away. “He just wants me. And RJ would kill me if any of you got hurt.”
“RJ believes you’re a good man, worth fighting for. And I’m inclined to believe her.”
York considered him, a little moved by the words. Yes, he would have wanted to be in this family. He moved away from Ford. “Thanks. But RJ’s wrong. I’m not a good man. Not today, at least.”
13
His mother could have died and it was all his fault. Tate wanted to put a fist through the arrogant visage in the mirror. Why hadn’t he listened to RJ?
Because in his heart he didn’t want her to be right. Didn’t want to believe that he’d spent the past six months helping a traitor. Believing in someone who had no regard for the safety of their country.
The one his Ranger brothers had died for.
Frankly, Tate still didn’t know what to believe, especially with RJ’s words sticking in his head like a burr—What if this was intended to silence—
Wyatt shouldn’t have snapped at her—Tate knew that—but they were watching their mother bleed out, and RJ’s obsession with her conspiracy theory was the last thing they needed.
Although, what if she was right? Now that he’d seen his mother and called Glo and also Swamp, just to make sure the house was on lockdown, Tate had a second to process.
To breathe.
Either he’d completely dropped the ball on his job or…or RJ was right, and this hit wasn’t for Senator Jackson but Sloan.
Either way, he stared at the face in the mirror and shook his head. “You’re an idiot.”