Page 33 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
“One, I don’t own it. Technically. And two, we didn’t exactly have other options.”
“That is a matter of opinion.”
“It’s math!”
“That’s not what math is!”
King went to the second body and kicked it over. Alex was already leaning over, rummaging through the pockets and she pulled out a phone.
“I don’t suppose you have a Faraday pouch handy?” she asked, and King pulled one from a drawer.
“I’ve never been more insulted in my life,” he said as she dropped the dead man’s cell phone inside, where no signal could get in or out. And, together, they kept searching his pockets, but there was nothing else. No papers. No IDs. No credit cards or cash or handyIf found, please return to...stickers.
“He’s clean.” Alex kicked the body for good measure, and King pinched the bridge of his nose. “What? He can’t feel it. And it was just a little—” She did it again. “Who knows you own this place?” she asked.
“I don’t own it—”
“So you keep saying, and yet...” She gestured toward the two dead bodies as if that made her point. And, in her defense, it kind of did.
“Two, maybe three, people know I have sole access. All high-level associates of mine. All people I can trust.”
“Canyou trust them?” She gave aCan you really?head tilt.
“Yes.” King was a little insulted. Mostly that she had a point. “What about you? Who did you call?”
“Who do you think?” The words were sharper than usual. She wasn’t in a teasing mood when the tables turned.
“You called Merritt?”
“Of course I called Merritt.”
“Well, she would have told the Agency...”
The facts were simple and the truth was clear, but that didn’t mean King had to like it.
“We can’t trust my people, and we can’t trust...” He gave her a caustic look.
“Are you asking if I havepeople?”
“I don’t know who you have, Sterling. I don’t know you.”
“But you’re stuck with me.” She gave the smirk that had been haunting his dreams for the better part of a decade. “Because”—she hesitated. It was hard to admit—“you’re right.”
“Can I get you to say that again? Slower and for the record?”
“We can’t trust the Agency. So I guess we have no choice but to trust...”
She searched his eyes and King searched his soul. It was like a whole other person who whispered, “Each other.”
Only Alex could make it sound like an adventure when she said, “We have no safe house, no money, no allies, and no clues.”
But that was when King saw it—a tiny image on the dead man’s skin. He dropped to a crouch and pulled back the sleeve to reveal the tattoo—a triangle made out of three sharp daggers.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say nothing.” King couldn’t help but smile when he said, “Look familiar?”
Chapter Nineteen
Eight Years Ago
