38
FORD
Ford expected to be driven to Blackwood Headquarters, but ten long, long minutes later, and with his shoulder still throbbing, Rafael ushered him through a plastic curtain and into a dirty truck emblazoned with a faded logo for Uncle Chuck’s Frozen Seafood. But rather than the stink of shellfish and the chill of an oversized refrigerator, he found himself surrounded by several people and the quiet hum of electronics. Hell, this truck had more technology than the space shuttle.
A woman dressed in maroon jeans and a ski jacket watched him silently from one corner, and opposite her, Nate sat before a bank of monitors while Sky hopped around in her underwear, one foot in a pair of black leggings. Rafael’s eyes lingered on her ass for a second before he turned his attention back to F
