Harrison Ford Novels & Stories

My mother was bleeding… I remembered the broken shelves and the words she just told me recently. Before I knew it, I started fighting Cassandra in the air. “Enough!” Damon yelled and struck her on the arm. Cassandra dropped to the floor, coughing. Damon rushed to Scarlett first and looked straight at her wound. “It’s not silver. She will heal.” Then he turned to me. He tapped my shoulders gently, bringing me back from that edge. “Annie, breathe. I’ve got you.” The anger left my body for a while. I hurried to my mother to hold her and make sure she was safe and doing well. Then, she smiled slightly at me. “I’m fine, my girl. Go and finish this.

It’s then that we see two headlights heading our way. The car comes to stop about 15 feet from us and out come two human police detectives. One them I know. Scott Buckingham, a good-looking guy (well, good-looking as far as humans go) with deep brown eyes and light brown hair that always looks like he has bed head. Add to that his slightly crooked smile that shows off his perfectly arranged, white teeth and he has the kind of easy, all-American boy good looks that you’d expect to find in a movie about a high school football team. Except he’s no longer a high school student, instead he’s actually my age. The other guy, shorter and stockier than Scott but cute in his own way with reddish-brown

Velaré’s control room “Open the gate. It’s Mr. Ford.” “On it.” A Mercedes-Maybach S680—obsidian black with a subtle satin finish, deep-tinted glass rolled in smoothly like a scene from a movie. The door swung open, revealing Christian Ford (CEO of Ford Enterprises), 6.2ft tall, smooth pale-skinned, full but excellently trimmed beard, sharp jawline. Just the perfect description of a good-looking man. He was elegantly dressed in a burgundy tuxedo.