Page 95 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
Alex had trusted Sawyer from the moment he’d first appeared on that tarmac and said King’s name into the wind. She’d trusted him, but that was the problem, wasn’t it? Because, at that moment, Alex couldn’t even trust herself, and suddenly, the gold cuff was a heavy, familiar weight on her wrist—more talisman than bracelet—and she saw Sawyer cut his eyes down at it.
“You ever going to tell me the story behind that?”
“No,” she said, but he smiled the smile of a man who already knew, and then he inched away.
“You sure you’re okay?”
No, because Kozlov has a mole, and I can’t swear that it’s not you.
No, because I know what Ihave todo but there’s not a soul I can trust to help me.
No, because I was with someone in the womb, but I’ve been alone ever since—alone and afraid—and there’s a part of me that’s still waiting for my chicken fingers to get there, wondering if I’mactually goodenough for the guy on the other end of the bar.
No.
No.
No.
“Yeah. Of course.” She cocked a hip. “Never better.”
Five minutes later, Sawyer was gone, and Alex was adjusting the rearview mirror on Kozlov’s favorite car as she sped down the winding drive.
One down, she told herself as, behind her, the compound exploded.
One to go.
Chapter Fifty-One
Present Day
The North Sea
King
“I know why they want the ring.”
King jolted upright, not entirely surprised to realize he’d been sleeping. The ferry was small and the sea was rough—the bench was hard as a rock—but they’d been traveling for two days, and between the stolen cars and high-speed trains, he’d managed to steal, at most, six hours of rest since they left the Portuguese safe house. It made sense that he would have drifted off eventually. So he wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t embarrassed.
“What?” His voice sounded too rough. It almost got lost in the wind.
“The ring. I know why they—or he. Orshe? I know why Nikolai wants it.” Alex had said that she was seasick, but she’d lied. King watched the way she stood at the railing of the little ship that was battling the cold, rough waters. Spray misted around her, turning the air to tiny rainbows in the streaks of sunlight that sliced through the clouds. “When I was undercover, I heard Kozlov talking one time.... You know how he was obsessed with spy gadgets?”
King almost smiled. “Like the ones we burned to a crisp seven years ago?”
“Exactly.” She huffed out a silent laugh. “Well, one time, I heard him brag that he used to own a ring that belonged to the greatest spy who ever lived. Which, in hindsight, sounds a lot like...”
“Nikolai.” King stood up to walk to the railing. The ferry roseand fell with the waves, and he tried to keep his gaze on the cold, gray horizon. “And you think Nikolai wants their ring back?”
Alex shrugged, but winced. She tried to hide it, but he knew her too well by that point. He could always tell when she was hurting. “It’s time to change your bandages.”
“They’re fine.”
“Okay.” King turned and leaned against the rail. He didn’t bother to argue with Alexandra Sterling in the same way one shouldn’t bother holding back the tide. “No problem. I hear infections are very flattering these days.”
“Okay.”
“Some spies do their best work with a fever.”
