Page 92 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
“You are not a bad...” He got it, then. She could see it in his eyes because he shifted, softer now. “You didn’t kill your sister.”
“I know. She’s alive.”
“Even if she had died, it wouldn’t have been because you killed her. You didn’t do that.”
They were the words Alex had needed to hear her whole life, but no one had ever said them—until then.
“Kozlov...” she started because it was either that or become some other person. A girl who cries and cares and loves. But girls like that get hurt.
“I have to stop him, King. I’m in. I’m already in, and I can stop him. I can.”
But he was looking at her like he was trying to memorize her face and her voice. Like of all the things he’d never forget, the only one he wanted to hang on to forever was her.
“I get it...”
“When I’m done... When he’s gone—”
“When he’s gone, there’ll just be another Kozlov.” He gave a long, sad sigh. “There’s always another Kozlov.”
But there was only one of him.
“King—”
Then he leaned close and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “The apartment is yours for as long as you need it, sweetheart.” He looked into her eyes. “It’s yours.”
I’m yours.
He was already in the kitchen and halfway to the door before Alex started thinking clearly enough to follow.
“Wait!”
He reached for something on the counter. Alex recognized thegreen stone, but now it was set in a beautiful gold cuff, and King didn’t say a word. He just picked it up and clamped it around her wrist.
“Your emerald...” Her eyes were wet, and her throat burned.
“It’s yours now. If you ever need me... I don’t care where... I don’t care when... If you need me, press the stone, and I’ll find you.” That time, when he kissed her, his lips lingered on her skin. “I’ll always find you.”
“Don’t.” She caught him before he could turn. Maybe it was instinct—or maybe it was fate—but the next thing she knew, she was in his arms and her back was against the wall, legs wrapped around him as their arms tangled together and their lips met and their tongues sparred. It was part kiss, part fight—part surrender. A code that spelled outthis this this.
It was the scariest moment of either of their bullet-ridden lives, and Alex almost forgot how to breathe.
She forgot her name. Her covers. Her lies. She forgot all the things she’d been trained to remember.
She forgot.
And she wanted to stay right there—right then—forever. Because, in the next moment, she was on her feet again, and he was turning and opening the door.
“Take care, Sterling.”
And then she was Sterling again.
And then he was gone.
***
Two months later, Alex was standing on a windy airstrip outside of London when she met a man with a crooked smile and sad eyes. It was the look of a man with absolutely nothing to lose, and, immediately, she understood him, even when he looked her up and down, studying everything from her new boots to her new hair. Even when his gaze lingered on her new bracelet.
“So you’re the one who’s going to make my life miserable?” he asked, but there wasn’t any heat behind the words.
