Page 36 of Wyatt

“You’ve been down here every night for…well, at least the last couple weeks. And that’s just since Gilly and I moved in permanently. What’s going on? Does this have to do with your…event in Russia?”

Event. That was one way to say it.

Another could be Idiotic Attempt to Save the World. As if what she did mattered. As if she could be a hero like Ford, or frankly, any of her brothers.

Apparently, she would always be just the girl who needed saving. Something her nightmares reminded her of every night. The residue of tonight’s nightmare, another rerun of her bare escape from a killer, still buzzed under her clammy skin. Even now, a half hour later, she could still hear the gunshots that had taken down Boris.

Still feel York’s hands on her as he grabbed her and told her to run.

She was still running.

And he was still in Russia, trying to keep her safe.

Or maybe not. Maybe York had forgotten about her. It wasn’t like she was Sydney Bristow or he was Vaughn.

She ran her fingers through the golden fringe of the afghan. “Every time I close my eyes, I think about Coco and leaving her bleeding in some Russian alley…”

Coco. Their foster sister.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Reuben’s mouth tighten. Oops. He’d always been a protector, looking over his little sister like a mastiff.

He reminded her so much of their father. Quiet. Faithful. Strong. Brave.

Not unlike York.

Oh for Pete’s sake, she really had to stop thinking about the man. About his dark blue, pensive eyes trying to read her. The way he pulled her to himself, held on to her as if…as if…

As if he was trying to… Save. Her. Life. Because she needed rescuing.

She needed a good dose of reality. Namely, that she was a peon CIA analyst—formerCIA analyst, thank you—and he was some kind of 007-slash-Jason Bourne who had risked his life to get her out of Russia.

A superspy who’d kissed her.

Oh, how he’d kissed her.

Sometimes, she simply stopped and hung on to that kiss. The way he’d pushed her against the wall and kissed her like he might be pulling his heart from his body to give it to her. He’d tasted of desperation and danger and what-if andif onlyand she had let herself believe—for that moment—that maybe he could love her.

I could find you when this is over.

York’s words, spoken in his slight British accent, probably meant to convince her to leave him.

On the screen, Will was following Sydney as she dragged him, wide-eyed and terrified, to safety, and yeah, maybe this wasn’t the episode to watch.

Because she wasn’t Sydney. She was Will…in over her head.

Yes, her feelings for York had everything to do with the fact he’d saved her life and nothing at all to do with reality.

“I never did hear what exactly happened,” Reuben said, picking up the remote and turning off the television. “You came home, and you went quiet and we didn’t want to pry. But now I’m prying.”

Oh.

“All I know is that Ford was completely freaking out,” Reuben was saying. “I suppose we all were—after you were blamed for shooting that general.”

“General Boris Stanislov,” she said. “He’s one of the troika—one of the three Russian leaders who can deploy nuclear weapons. He’s a moderate and has been a supporter of peace and nuclear disarmament.” And was Coco’s biological father. But she left that out because Coco had hidden that truth for years when she lived in Montana.

Boris had sent her to the States with her mother to hide after she’d nearly been kidnapped.

“And they thought you tried to kill him, why?”

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