Page 33 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold (The Blonde Identity #2)
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 what I think you’re thinking?”
“I know what 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 to mutually sway with 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.”
“That’s not it.” She held a little tighter to his shoulder. “I’m sorry she keeps making you work with me.”
Was that what she thought?
“I don’t... I mean... You are... Who do you usually work with?” he blurted, then studied her out of the corner of
his eye. “Is there anyone... Tyler, for example...”
“I’m better alone. Always have been.”
King was better alone. He was cranky and demanding and impossible to please. She was none of those things.
“Sterling—”
“Probably for the best, though, right? I don’t want to get anyone killed. A really smart guy told me I was going to, you know.
Maybe I don’t want to risk it.”
“I was wrong.”
He expected her to taunt or tease, but when she spoke again, she sounded sad and resigned and not at all like the girl in
the Future Spy hoodie. “You’re never wrong.”
He was, though. He was never wrong about the past, but he was often wrong about the future. From the moment he first met her,
she’d surprised him. For example, he never would have dreamed she would say—
“Do you ever think about what would happen if we stopped hating each other?”
King pulled back so fast his neck popped. “I don’t hate you.”
“You just don’t respect me.”
“Are we really going to fight about why we fight?”
“A girl’s got to have hobbies.” Alex forced a smile that was so un like her that he stumbled to a stop on the dance floor.
People were staring. They looked like they were about to break up.
Or he was about to go down on one knee and pull out a ring.
Or something. They weren’t far from Irina’s table and the guards were going to get suspicious, but all King could do was gape at Alex and say, “We don’t have to fight. ”
“What else can we do?”
“We can do anything!” he snapped, throwing an arm out and pointing to the coast and the sea and the world, big and beautiful
and all around them. They spoke ten languages between them. They had so many skills. They could go anywhere. They could do
anything. But they were there and they were... them. And—
He didn’t see the waitress, not until it was way too late. His arm was swinging out again, and this time it caught a tray
of drinks, sending the glasses soaring through the air and crashing onto the nearest table, leaving everything doused in glass
and booze and smelling like lemons. Irina jumped out of her chair with a screech. Her phone flew out of her hand and skidded
ten feet across the dance floor.
As it turned out, the job was easy after all.