Page 117 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
No, it was like they were running from destiny, something set into motion decades ago in another country by other people. A lifetime of secrets and lies that spilled over the years and acrosscontinents. This was who they were. This was what they did. And there was no one on earth Alex would rather do it with than the man who was currently holding her hand and running—
“Stop!” The opera house was a maze, and somehow, Tyler was up ahead of them. He stood there, breathing hard and face flushed, like he was the one who was running for his life. Like he was the one who was almost out of options. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“Oh yeah?” King shifted until Alex was behind him.
“Just come in, King. Alex.” Tyler shook his head in a silent plea that could only be translated asDon’t make me do this. “Just—”
The noise of the opera house changed then—aclick click clickthat reverberated down the halls as the auditorium doors swung open and ushers locked them into place. In the next instant, the applause died and the crowd swelled, pouring into the corridors, flooding the space with tuxedos and ball gowns and laughing, talking people.
“Kingsley!” Tyler shouted, but the crowd was too loud.
The corridor was too full.
And Alex and King were already gone, floating out onto the dark streets of Paris with the tide.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
King
“Starting to rethink my stance on ball gowns and covert operations.” Alex stopped, teetering on her high heels long enough to give her gown a rip. The slit in her skirt soared higher, but she didn’t even stop to care. They just ran faster.
“This way.” King steered her down another street. This one was narrow and darker, lined with tiny cafés and candlelit tables, so he draped an arm around her shoulders and they slowed their pace—just another lovesick couple out for a stroll as they tried to blend in. But blending wasn’t good enough. They needed to disappear.
The street must have been popular with tourists, because a band played “La Vie en rose” in the distance, and King felt her lean against his shoulder and sigh. “I guess we finally made it to Paris.”
He pulled her into a shadowy alcove and framed her face with his hands. “Should have been here with you a year ago.” He brushed a kiss across the corner of her mouth. “Should have followed you. Should have...”
There were sirens in the distance—lights and the sounds of shouting men—and Alex tensed. Her gaze flew over his shoulder, watchful. Worried. “They shouldn’t have been able to throw up this kind of net this quickly.”
“Merritt knew we were coming.”
She pulled back and studied him, something like heartbreak in her eyes. “Merritt knowsus.”
For the first time in a long time, he wanted to tell Alex she was wrong, but she wasn’t. Merritt knew them better than they knew themselves—it was why she’d spent the last ten years forcing thetwo of them onto yachts and into hotel rooms and car trunks. She’d been playing this game since before they were born, and for the first time, King wondered if she’d still be playing it after he was dead.
King wasn’t going to let that happen, though. They were almost to the bridge. And if they could get there...
A police car zoomed down the street, blue light spinning in the night, so King pressed Alex into the shadows and waited for the car to pass before he said, “Come on.”
“Michael—”
But King had her hand in his and was already leading her away. Even when the band stopped playing. Even when the tires screeched and the sirens wailed.
“Michael!” Alex was looking over her shoulder because she knew what it meant.
They were running out of time.
“Come on!” She tried to pull him faster. She tried to make him run. “They’re looking for us, or do I need to draw you a map?”
But King knew exactly where they were when he pulled her to a stop and pressed her against the railing of the bridge. The Seine was rushing below them. The City of Light was shining all around. Paris was alive and so were they—for the moment.
“Come—”
“Wait.” He was too big and too stubborn for her to pull. “They’re looking forus.”
“I know! That’s why—”
“Us, Sterling. Alex.” Something about the way she turned to him... something about it broke him, because the love of his life was no fool. She was already shaking her head.
