Page 17 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
“There are stars on the wall at Langley. I know.”
“You don’t know!” She lunged for him, but she telegraphed the move and he caught her, forearm tight against her throat, as he leaned close and whispered, “You’ll never know until you’ve lived it. And by the time you’ve lived it, it’s too late.” He felt her go still in his arms. “Say mercy,” he whispered in her ear, and Alex choked out a snicker.
Then she kicked him in the shin and slipped his hold. “Never.”
“You fight dirty,” he told her, hobbling slightly.
“I fight to win.” She charged at him again in a flurry of punches, but he blocked every one, blow after vicious blow until she stopped—momentarily stunned and suddenly furious. It was like she’d finally realized—
“Hit me back.”
“I am.”
“You’re pulling your punches. Stop it.”
“Never.” It was fun, using her own words against her, and something about it snapped something inside of her. She charged, but he dodged her, and that made her even angrier, which made King feel even more certain.
“See? This!” He batted away her kicks and felt her form get sloppy. “You’re emotional, and you take everything personally. That makes you volatile and—”
“Call me a hysterical woman.” Alex was breathing hard, but the look in her eye was even harder. “I dare you.”
He caught her arm, pulled her tight, and whispered, “Say mercy.”
So she flipped him.
All the air whooshed out of his lungs when King landed—too hard—on the mat, but the most painful thing was the way she stood over him, looking down and mouthingoopsas he frowned up.
Her hair was dark with sweat, and her eyes were bright with rage. She looked like some kind of avenging angel—mythical and revered—and he wanted to tell her that she was the one who was wrong to doubt her place there. She was smart enough. She was strong enough. She was scrappy and resourceful and—
She was going to get them all killed.
“You don’t scare me, Mr.My Grandfather Founded the CIA.”
“Well, that’s not accurate at—”
“I’m not scared of you! Or Merritt. Or anyone here. And I’m not afraid of anythingout there.”
“And that’s the problem!” He rolled and swept a leg, knocking hers out from under her, and she crashed to the mat beside him. “Nothing scares you, and you should be terrified.” She moved fast but he moved faster, and he caught her fist before it landed. “I know this world, Sterling. People die. The people you love die. I’m telling you, it’s not like the movies. At least not the kind with happy endings.”
Alex was flat on her back and King was on top of her, a hand oneach of her wrists, pinning her down. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest, see the green of her eyes. Her cheeks were pink and she looked like how sunshine feels, and all he wanted in the world was to never lay eyes on her again.
“Say”—he banged her hands against the mat—“mercy.”
If she’d had any sense, she would have done it. If he’d had any sense, he wouldn’t have cared.
“I’d rather die first,” she ground out, and King felt the fight leave his body—a subtle snap and then the tension ebbed away as he told himself he didn’t have to save her.
He just had to not care.
“Good.” He pushed away and collapsed on the mat beside her. “Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”
He watched her struggle to sit upright. He heard her draw a ragged breath. “Why do you hate me so much?” Her breath came hard, and she blinked like she knew there might be tears there. “Is it because my family isn’t important enough? Fairies didn’t visit me in the cradle and bless me with divine arrogance or—”
“Because you’re too beautiful.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but the words were out now and floating around the room. He wanted to shoot them out of the air, break all the windows and let them fly away on the wind. But he couldn’t, so he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated and angry with himself—with her.
“What...”
“Spies disappear, Alexandra.” Those weren’t King’s words. They were his father’s. And his grandfather’s. Those words had been handed down for centuries, and he was just the messenger. There was probably a tablet someplace in Langley. Somewhere, they were carved into stone. “Spies blend. They fade into the background and slip through cracks, and believe it or not, that’s not easy to do when you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
