Page 29 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
“Clearly.”
“I improvised—”
He stepped closer, crowding against her. “That wasn’t improvisation. That was playing games you can’t win.”
“I already won.”
“Did we?” He honestly wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it was thecoming storm or the eerily quiet streets, but something made the hairs on King’s arms stand up. He glanced back to the store and the SUV and the guards. “Because from where I’m standing, the buyer’s muscle is extremely interested in us right now. And interested—in case you didn’t know—is bad.”
“That’s okay.” She sidled closer, gazing up at him with wide-eyed... lust. Yes. That was the only word that described it. “We have Lozano’s stones. And Lozano has ours—”
“Which is the last thing we want them to know!” King felt like he might snap in half with the words.
“We left because you were very concerned about your wife. Because you love me. And you cherish me. And you want me.”
His jaw ticked. “Well, how do you propose we—”
King didn’t want to kiss Alex Sterling. He’d never thought about it or considered it or woken up dreaming of such a terrible, heinous thing.
And yet it felt inevitable when he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. When her hands gripped him tighter as the sky opened up and the thunder struck and the world disappeared behind a curtain of hard, hot rain.
An engine revved. Headlights burst on, cutting through the storm like a spotlight on the raindrops. But when Alex tried to pull away, King had no choice but to cup the back of her head with one hand—fingers in her hair, eyes on her lips.
“Kiss me,” he ordered. “And don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”
So that’s exactly what she did.
It didn’t have to change anything—mean anything. It was just another cover, another lie. And after this... Well, it was a big world full of dark corners. If he was smart and careful and good, chances were he’d never lay eyes on Alexandra Sterling again.
Chapter Seventeen
Present Day
Las Vegas, Nevada
Alex
The elevator was scuffed from decades of laundry carts and room service trays. It felt like they were a million miles away from the swirling lights and ringing bells of the casino floor, so Alex wasn’t quite prepared a minute later when the doors slid open to silence. There was thick carpet and a long hall and, out the window, a view that seemed to stretch forever. They were on one of the guest floors, evidently. Thetopfloor. And somehow Alex wasn’t even surprised when King let them into the biggest hotel suite she’d seen since Cartagena.
“Oh yes. Very covert. I’m sure no one is monitoring this place.” She looked at him. “That was sarcasm, by the way. In case it was too subtle.”
“Trust me, Sterling, ‘subtle’ has never been a word I associate with you.”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh, you charmer.”
The glance he shot her was lethal, and Alex had to bite back a laugh as she looked around the opulent room. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the Strip. There was a balcony and plunge pool, a sunken living room and bar. Judging by the number of doors, there had to be at least two bedrooms. She watched King walk to a galley kitchen and tap a switch. The lights came on and the windows went dim. It was like he controlled the sun.
“We’ll be safe here,” he said simply.
“And you know this because...”
She had never seen Michael Kingsley look guilty—not until he glanced away and muttered, “Because I own it.”
It actually took a moment for the words to land. “Youwhat?”
She’d honestly forgotten about the handcuffs until she tried to spin away and got tugged back too quickly. He started throwing open drawers with his free hand, finally finding a small leather-wrapped kit and unzipping it with his teeth.
“Stay still,” he ordered, but the angle was weird, and he wasn’t as dexterous with his left hand. Alex could have stood there for a week, watching him struggle. It was literally the most fun she could remember having in days.
