Page 112 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
And then he remembered the fireplace. It hadn’t worked in ages. He’d considered it a fire hazard for his father and too much trouble for himself. But the old stones and heavy mantel were pretty. They were charming. And, most of all, the cold firebox made a great place to hide a shotgun.
King dove and rolled and came up with it. “Stop!” he shouted when she came around the desk.
She had the pistol trained on him, and he had the shotgun trained on her, and they were both breathing too hard. It wasn’t the fight; it was the adrenaline. The fear. The wondering how it had ever come to this and could they ever fix it?
Shouldthey fix it?
King stopped to wonder if maybe he was wrong. Maybe this fight and this moment were predestined—something set in motion at the airport Ramada and always meant to be.
“Alex. Please.”
“Why?” Her voice broke, and that broke him. He’d seen her bloody and bruised and clinging to life. He’d seen her angry and giddy and so frustrated, she could scream. But he had never—ever—seen her cry.
“Why?” Alex shouted, shaking the gun with the word.
Why did he tell her not to come back?
Why did he keep calling when she’d done exactly what he’d asked?
“Whywhat?”
“Why did you lie about Zoe and trick me into going to Vegas?”
“I...” King had a hundred explanations right on the tip of his tongue, but all he could do was shake his head and spit out, “What?”
“Don’t deny it.”
“I don’t... Alex, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She cocked the gun. “Tell me where the ring is. Or— Wait. Does the ring even matter? Was that a long con, too?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“Are you Nikolai?”
It hit him harder than a punch. “No.”
“Then tell me where the ring is!”
“You know where I wanted to put that ring? Onyour finger. That’s the only place I ever wanted to put it, but that wasn’t exactly an option now, was it?”
He watched her recoil, like the words hurt more than the bruises. Like the worst thing a spy could ever do was dare to love out loud. Like that was the thing that was finally going to kill them.
“Come on!” she shouted, shaking the gun. “Let’s finish this!”
But King had been battling his feelings for so long that he couldn’t even remember what it was like to stop fighting. He couldn’t even remember what had ever made him start.
“King!”
He dropped the shotgun and kicked it to the other side of the room.
“Okay.” He held his arms out wide. “You want to win? You win. You want me to be the bad guy, I will be. But if you kill me... andyou’re wrong? Then you’re dealing with this by yourself, and so help me, Alex, I can’t live with that.”
“Stop talking.” She shook the gun at him again. “Stop...”
“Think about it, Alex. Think about us!”
“There is no us.”
