Page 72 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
The Island
King
King might never fully understand the woman beside him, but he knew exactly what she was thinking as they stared down at the photograph of the small platinum ring with the big red stone in the center.
A hot, humid breeze was blowing through the open French doors, but he could almost hear the distant boom of the fireworks—see the flashes of light in her eyes when she said, “We’veseenit, sure.” Alex sounded annoyed. “But we don’thaveit. We neverhadit.”
But Franklin’s eyes were crinkling; his lips were quirking. He looked like he was intrigued and inspired and a little infuriated, and King, obviously, knew the feeling—had claimed it and staked it and made it his own—and no one, least of all a guy calling himselfTriBlade, was going to encroach upon King’s turf. No one had the right to be more annoyed with Alexandra Sterling than he did.
But Alex was almost blissfully unaware of the effect she was having on the man. For a good spy, Alex was almost always unaware of that. But that didn’t change the fact that she was angry.
“That ring was destroyed in a house fire on the Amalfi Coast!Destroyed. As in, turned to ash. As inpoof—smoke!As in... We. Do. Not. Have. It. And you can tell your mystery employer that we don’t have it. We burned it to a crisp seven years ago, so thanks for playing, but this has all been for nothing.”
She was spinning to leave, glorious in her rage and indignation,when Franklin gave a low, cold laugh. “Maybe I’ll let you tell Nikolai yourself.”
“No.” She wheeled on him. “Whatever he hired you to do, it’s over because—We. Don’t. Have. It.”
“Oh, but like I said, he didn’t hiremeto findit.” This time, the kid looked like he was the one who might laugh. But, just that quickly, his expression turned serious. “He hiredeveryone”—he let the word settle—“to findyou.”
“Well, congratulations. You found us. But we’re leaving now, so—”
“Are you?” It was the calm in Franklin’s voice that had King worried. “Because, see, here’s the thing.... You are, after all, very good and—like I said. I’m a fan. So I thought, hey—why should I go looking for them when they’re going to come looking for me?” There was movement in the doorway. The unmistakableclickof a cocking gun. “And here you are.”
And then all hell broke loose.
There was a man on the patio, blocking the doors. He was alone, and that was the good news. But he was employed by one of the largest arms dealers in the world and that was the bad.
Instantly, King dove, dragging Alex behind a couch while the man shot the hell out of Franklin’s living room. “Not the TV!”
A moment later, the firing stopped. The man was reloading? Rethinking his life choices? It didn’t matter because King was up and over the couch in a flash. The shooter must not have been expecting it because he actually stood there, watching King rush him head-on, barreling into him and knocking him back across the stone patio. He stumbled, unsteady, and King kicked, sending the shooter staggering and then tumbling backward over a low stone wall.
There was a crash—the sound of breaking tree limbs and possibly body limbs, but that didn’t matter because lights were going on around the compound. An alarm was starting to sound.
And they were running out of time.
But Alex was lunging for Franklin. He pulled a gun, but Alex swatted it out of his hand as if he were nothing. They fell to the ground, and Alex straddled his chest, pressing down and staring daggers.
“Where is Nikolai?” She banged his head against the ground. “Who is he?”
“Alex...”
There was the sound of distant gunfire and shattering glass. Pieces of stone were flying around the room as bullets slammed into the walls, but Alex had one mission—one goal. “Tell us how to find him!”
“Oh.” Franklin gave a bloody grin. “Don’t worry. He’ll find you.”
King could only think of one thing: Alex. He had to get Alex out of there. He had to get her safe. So he reached down and pulled her off Franklin and dragged her toward the door.
“You’ll never get off the island.” Franklin laughed so hard, he shook. “The road will be blocked in two minutes. You’ll never get down.”
“That’s okay.” Alex cut her eyes at King. “We’re not going down.”
The helicopter was thirty feet away, down a narrow set of stairs cut into the stone on the mountain’s side, and if they could reach it...
“Do you think he knows who Nikolai is?” Alex asked as they ran.
“I told you. Nikolai isn’t—”
“Orwhoeveris using the name,” she spat. “Do you think he knows?” She looked up at King, nothing but trust and uncertainty in her eyes, like she didn’t believe herself anymore. Like he was the only thing that was real and she trusted him. Needed him.
