Page 90 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
She couldn’t believe it when he laughed. “You’re always one or the other.”
He wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t joking.
“King... Michael.” That was when he looked at her. His finger brushed away a strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear.
“I’m out. I can’t do this anymore.”
“As of when?”
“Tonight.” The word was the kind of black that sucks up all the color—all the light. The full range of the spectrum could disappear inside it and get lost there.
“Is this about Tyler?” She was half afraid to say the name. “What you did?”
“Tyler’s fine. Tyler’s safe. Tyler isn’t...” He looked down at her. She felt small in one of his big T-shirts and even bigger bed. “It’s about you.”
Alex had never heard his voice crack. She’d never seen his hand shake. She’d never seen...him. Not like this. She watched him draw a long, deep breath and then choke out the words, “I have a photographic memory. Do you know what that means?”
“Of course I know what that means. I’m not a moron, Kingsley.”
“Do you know what it—”
“It means you remember,” she shot back, but he just sat there in the stillness, as innocent as a little boy and as tired as an old man when he whispered—
“It meansI can’t forget.”
It was the same thing, but it was also completely different, and Alex didn’t want to think about the burden.
“I remember, Alex. Every bullet. Every knife. Every scab and scar and scratch. I remember all of them. The memories are just right here”—King tapped his temple lightly—“but you’re not. And that’s okay. As long as I know you’re okay. But, someday, Alex... Someday you won’t be. And then it will kill me.” He got to his feet. “Someday it will kill me too.”
“Michael—”
“So I’m out.” He drew a ragged breath, and suddenly, he looked tired and worn-out, and Alex couldn’t help but think about his father—his grandfather. The fact that he’d probably been the only kid at preschool who knew the Moscow Rules by heart. He’d been doing this job since the cradle. Their world was like a carnival ride, and the man in front of her wanted to get off. I want you to come with me.”
At least, that’s what Alex thought she heard. But Alex was wrong. She had to be. There was no way he was saying, “Come with me, now. Today. We can... Come with me.”
Alex knew as soon as the laugh burst free that she was going to regret it for the rest of her life. He eased back like she’d hit him. Like she’dhurthim.
“Michael, we can’t... I can’t... We’re spies.”
“We don’t have to be.”
“People don’t just stop being... us.”
“We’d still be us.” He brought a hand to the back of her head and cupped her nape, fingers weaving through her hair. “We’d be better. We’d be together. And we’d be free.”
“There is no free.” How could the man with the perfect memory have forgotten that? King and Alex could never be anything but what they were: people who were trained to be someone else but never really happy?
“What do you think’s going to happen? What’s your plan? This is you, King.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Michael. Do you think you can just buy a fortress somewhere and pull up the drawbridge and live happily ever after?”
“Why not?” The words were so sharp, they might have cut her.
“Where are we supposed to go?”
“We can go anywhere.”
“What are we supposed to do?”
“We can do anything! They trained us for this—for exactly this. We can goanywhere. We can beanyone. They trained us to be ghosts, but right now, all I want to be is happy. All I want...” He pulled back. Like he was afraid to touch her. “Is you.”
