Page 48 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
“There aren’t any bugs. We can—”
“You call me Sterling. Or Alexandra when you want to be especially mocking. We’re not friends, Kingsley. We are partners. Temporarily. Because Merritt and the Agency and the freaking country need us to be. But we are not... I appreciate you stooping to working with me, and I’m sorry I’ve been forced upon you—again. But we are not friends. I would think someone with an eidetic memory could remember that much.”
Alex would have given her life savings to know what he was thinking in that moment. Not that she cared. Except she really, really cared. And she hated that most of all.
He backed up three whole inches but didn’t let the door close. “Tell me who you read them to.”
She didn’t know why he cared. She really didn’t know why itmattered. But he was looking at her likeshemattered. Like she was the only language he couldn’t speak—the only code he couldn’t crack. She was the photograph his mind couldn’t hold on to, and heneededto know the answer to this question. Like this small piece of information was the key to her cipher and he needed to find the thing that would finally make her make sense, and Alex couldn’t help herself.
She whispered, “My sister.”
The air was hot and thick with steam. It filled her lungs. It was getting hard to breathe, but she could see him clearly.
“Zoe.” It was like watching a Rube Goldberg machine that had been running for two years suddenly come to its ultimate conclusion. The last piece fell into place in his mind. “Zoe’s your sister.” It wasn’t a question, and King seemed almost giddy with the possibilities. “Is she older? Younger?”
“Younger.” That could have been the end of it—shouldhave been the end of it. But something made her add, “By seven minutes.”
And then Michael Kingsley, Boy Wonder of the CIA, just stood there, totally dumbfounded while the pieces came together in his mind. “You’re a twin. You’re... Are you fraternal?” She shook her head, and he let out a gasp. “Identical?”
“That’s most common alternative, yes.”
Then he leaned against the doorframe, like his legs couldn’t quite support his weight. “Sweet mercy. There are two of you.”
For a moment, it almost sounded like a compliment.
“She doesn’t know,” Alex blurted. “About me. About this... She doesn’t know what I do, so you can save whatever lecture you were going to give me about—”
“I’m not going to give you a lecture.” He looked cool, even in the stuffy room, eyes taking in her face, like he was wondering if maybe she and Zoe had pulled aParent Trap, like maybe she was an entirely different person and he was mad that he’d somehow missed the clues.
But then his expression changed. Something occurred to him,and Alex honestly didn’t know what he was thinking until he whispered, “So I guess you told me yours...” He didn’t have to explain.
Alex thought about the not-quite-game she and King had been playing for the better part of two long years. “I did. So is this the part where you tell me about Nikolai?”
“No.” He couldn’t look at her.
“Because it’s need-to-know?”
“Because it’s way too painful.” Then he turned around. He closed the door. And Alex didn’t ask a single question.
***
When she got out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, King was lacing up his hiking boots. “I’m going to go take a look around.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“It’s our only idea.”
Maybe it was all in her head, but it felt like he was trying to not face her.
Suddenly, there was a flash of lightning outside—a boom of thunder. And then the hardest rain that Alex had ever heard slammed down on the roof of the bungalow.
“King! Wait,” she called before he reached the door. “If you insist on going out in this, I’ll go with you.”
“No, Al— Sterling.” He half stumbled over the word. “Get some rest. I won’t be long.”
Lightning flashed again, and Alex didn’t want to admit it, but it scared her. She didn’t want him out there. Getting hurt or getting lost.
“We’ll look in the morning. Come on. Come to bed. If you get caught in a mudslide or fall down a mountain and bust your head, Merritt will blame me. And then she’ll kill me. And then we’ll both be dead and the CIA will never recover.” There was something strange about his face—like he was amused in spite of himself andthat amusement made him angry, which just pleased Alex even more. “Fine.” She knew better than to force his hand and make him dig in his heels. “Do whatever you want, but I’m going to bed, and you can join me or—”
