Page 60 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
Chapter Thirty-One
King
The first task was simple, but that didn’t mean it was easy.
“Do you have it?” King asked, and he watched Alex try not to roll her eyes.
“Of course I have it. I’ve had it since the boutique and the jewelry store and the pharmacy. I’ve had it since you declared ‘this will be easy’ two hours ago. Spoiler alert: it isn’t all that easy.”
Which was an understatement. They needed eyes and ears on Kozlov’s compound, but the place was a fortress and that was the problem. Luckily, Irina, the new girlfriend, had already moved in. Unluckily, Kozlov either didn’t trust her—or he didn’t trust the rest of the world—because Irina had two goons who never left her shadow.
King had already cloned Irina’s smartphone and matched the case. All that was left to do was make the switch. It was something he’d been working on for a while—a new piece of software that would sync across her devices and turn every phone, tablet, and computer in the house into a bug or camera as soon as they got within range. It wasn’t as good as sending in a black bag team, but it was better than nothing, and they’d take what they could get—at least for now.
King guided Alex to a small table on the other side of the dance floor from where Irina sat. Waves lapped at the rocks beneath them as they sat surrounded by twinkle lights and live music and all the overpriced limoncello a person could hope for. The weather had turned, and it felt more like spring than winter as they sat there. He slipped an arm around her shoulders. People needed to think they were in love.
On the other side of the dance floor, Irina squealed as three mini-Irinas joined her.
“Do you think she’s pretty?” Alex asked.
“Yes.” Of course she was pretty. Kozlov wouldn’t have had an ugly mistress. “Though probably not as pretty as she thinks she is.” She was twenty-one and had spent the past two hours taking selfies and filming videos of herself, which King wouldn’t have minded, ordinarily, but it’s hard to swap a person’s phone when it’s glued to their hand.
“What aren’t you saying?” Alex asked.
“Nothing.”
“You never say nothing.”
“I say nothing all the time.”
Alex shifted in her seat and leaned closer. Twinkle lights reflected off her cheekbones and shone in her eyes. “You want to know whatIthink you’re thinking?”
“Iknowwhat I’m thinking.”
“I think you’re wondering what Merritt isn’t telling us.”
That’s exactly what King was thinking, but he didn’t dare say so. The clock was ticking, so he pushed out of his chair and said, “Come on.”
“What?”
“We need to get closer. Dance with me.”
“Dance?”
“Yes. The mutual swaying to music.”
“Did you just ask me tomutually swaywith you?”
He didn’t say anything else. He just raised one eyebrow, and a moment later her hand was slipping into his and they were moving around the floor, heading toward where Irina sat with her back to the dancing couples, her phone in her hand.Her phone was always in her hand.
“Follow my lead,” he said, and for once, Alex didn’t argue.
“Do you think there’s actually something we’re waiting on or does Merritt just want an extended holiday on the Mediterranean?”
King hadn’t considered that option, but maybe he should have.“Possibly. But Kozlov is still a bad guy, and we’re still in the bad guy business,” he whispered near her ear, and when she shivered, he realized the air was still chilly. Summer wasn’t quite there yet. “You still have it?”
“No. I threw it in the sea.” She didn’t roll her eyes, but she could have. The sun was down, and the lights overhead were growing brighter, and, suddenly, Alex looked away, almost guilty. “I’m sorry.”
“No. It was a stupid question. I’m sorry I asked it.”
