Page 58 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
“Anything for you. You know that.”
“I do.” She sounded adorably smug and almost like herself. Maybe the old lady look was a cover, after all? Maybe... Merritt coughed. “I’ve been better.”
Oh. Oh no.
The ferry was about to pull away from shore. They were drawing up the gangway and the seats were almost full as Alex looked around, a little more obvious than she should have been. Maybe she was getting old too. Or maybe she was just getting sloppy.
“Is he coming?” She toyed with a thread on her sleeve.
Merritt smirked. “He’s already here.”
***
They found him on the top deck near the aft of the boat, leaning against the railing and looking over the rocky shore. Houses were nestled among the cliffs like birds that had made their nests there. The roads were steep and narrow, and the beaches were covered with rocks, but there was a reason those cliffs were sprinkled with mansions and the water was dotted with yachts. It was one of the most beautiful playgrounds in the world, but the man at the back of the ferry looked like he’d seen better. He seemed almost bored. And maybe that’s why all the women (and a few of the men) on the top deck watched him out of the corner of their eyes. He was the kind of man it would feel amazing to impress.
When Alex stepped toward King, he turned and leaned against the rail, watching as the wind blew her hair—too wild and too red—around her face. “You changed it.”
“Let me guess. Too bright? Too bold? Too—”
“I like it.” He shifted and looked down at the water. Like he didn’t trust himself to look at her. “It suits you.”
“Is that an insult?” Alex cocked her head. “Because it didn’t quite sound like one, but I might be rusty.”
King made a sound that was almost a laugh, and she wanted to ask a million questions. She wasn’t prepared to see him smile. “It’s good to see you, Sterling.”
Did he...mean it? It actually sounded like he meant it, but Alex might have been wrong. She was probably wrong.
“Are you feeling okay? Head injury? Personality disorder? Ooh! Did they finally perfect face-swapping technology, because if theydid...” He was laughing. At her.Withher. Like she was... amusing. “Okay, now I’m worried. What’s going on with you?” she asked, but he just looked at her like that was one secret he’d never tell.
“Okay, you two, cut it out,” Merritt ordered. “We’re attracting attention. Act like you like each other.”
Alex expected King to blame her hair. Or her clothes. Or maybe justherin general, but instead he tugged her close and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before wrapping her up tight. “Better?” he whispered, but Merritt just stood there, a curious look in her eye.
“Slightly.”
People were still looking, but now they stared at Alex, jealous that she got to snuggle up to Michael Kingsley and burrow into the warmth of his wool peacoat and broad chest. She half expected someone to try to throw her overboard.
And then he maneuvered so that she was standing against the rail, pressing against her from behind, arms bracketed around her like it was his job to keep her safe. As if Alex hadn’t been keeping herself safe since she was five years old and realized no one else was going to do it because everyone else had to worry about Zoe.
Instantly, Alex bit back the thought. It wasn’t fair—to her parents or her sister or, especially, King. She had no right to read anything into that moment. He was just doing his job because covers were survival and survival was the game, so Alex didn’t say a thing as he put a hand over hers on the railing, intertwining their fingers, as if the two of them had been tangled together for years. She smiled when she realized it was true.
“Why do I get the feeling you didn’t come all this way to play matchmaker?” King almost sounded bored.
This time, it was Merritt’s turn to look out over the water and the cliffs like she would have given anything to be a regular person on that ferry, going to or from a regular life. But when she spoke, the words were steel. “Recognize anyone?”
She pulled a photograph from her pocket and King took one glance. “That’s him. The buyer in Cartagena.”
“It is.” Merritt smiled like she was going to give King a gold star. “He’s been using those emeralds well. In addition to various large purchases from our friend on the island, he’s had his fingers in all kinds of nasty pies.”
“Who is he?” Alex asked.
“His name is Viktor Kozlov.” Merritt’s voice was too low to carry on the wind, but she gave an almost imperceptible glance at the people on the top deck. Families and tourists and couples who, unlike King and Alex, were actually in love.
“So he’s Russian,” King whispered. He sounded like he didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, but Merritt gave a dry laugh, likeKids today... So sweet... So naive...
“Of course he’s Russian. And he’s been a very busy boy. Smarter than average. More ruthless than most. He has a weakness, though.”
“He’s a man,” Alex blurted, and Merritt smirked.
