Page 39 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold (The Blonde Identity #2)

Present Day

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’ve seen it, sure.” Alex sounded annoyed. “But we don’t have it. We never had it.”

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

himself TriBlade , 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 in poof — 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 hire me to find it .” This time, the kid looked like he was the one who might laugh. But, just that quickly, his expression turned serious. “He

hired everyone ”—he let the word settle—“to find you .”

“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 unmistakable click of 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—”

“Or whoever is 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.

“It doesn’t matter.” And it didn’t because more shots were ringing out from overhead; they were officially out of time. So

King pushed Alex toward the helicopter, then turned and fired back quickly.

“Are you sure you can fly this thing?” he asked, but she gave him a look like she’d never been more insulted in her life.

“Give me two months and a credit card and I could build this thing.”

That’s my girl.

He didn’t say it— wouldn’t say it. But he thought it. He was going to think it every day for the rest of his life.

They were still firing on them from up above. King heard Alex wince—

“Alex!”

But she was already climbing into the cockpit. A moment later, the blades were starting to turn. And she was shouting, “I’ll

leave you!” over the roar of the spinning blades. “Don’t make me—”

He dove into the cabin just as the helicopter started to rise.

“You okay?”

She kept her gaze on the dark horizon.

“Never better.”

***

King must have lost track of how far they’d gone or how long they’d been in the air. He didn’t know if it was five minutes

or five hours before Alex spoke again.

“Why on earth would they think we have that ring?” She was honestly asking. Like this was a puzzle on a game show and they’d

each win a brand-new car if only they could get the answer right. “King?”

The sun would be up soon. Already, the sky in the east was morphing into a watercolor of pinks and grays and violets. People

would be after them again. The helicopter probably wouldn’t have enough range to get them much farther than the Portuguese

shore. Which was fine. They’d need to ditch it anyway. He’d get them to a safe house. They’d regroup. Rest. Think. They’d—

“Kingsley!” The helicopter was losing altitude and Alex was losing patience. “We blew up Kozlov’s house and everything in

it. We turned that ring to ash, so what are we going to do?”

The sun broke over the horizon, beams shining through the clouds, but it didn’t feel right. Inside of King, everything was

dark and gray.

“King?”

“We’re going to get the ring.”

“Yes. Great plan.” Sarcastic Alex he could handle. Sarcastic Alex he was used to. “Except we can’t get the ring because of

the aforementioned explosion .”

Her cheeks should have been flushed from adrenaline and rage, but if anything, she was going paler. She seemed almost unsteady—her voice all but quivered when she asked, “Why do they think we have that ring?”

It was like she knew the answer—like she’d known it for the past two hours. Two days. Two years. Like she knew the truth because,

deep down, she knew him . He closed his eyes and tried to stop the thought in its tracks, shoot it dead.

She knew him.

“Michael—”

“They think we have it... because I stole it.”

The good news was they didn’t crash and the sun was rising. The bad news was that Alex was staring at him, mouth gaping. And

her skin was the color of paper. There was sweat on her brow and—

“Alex?” She was shaking her head or maybe just trying to stay awake. He couldn’t tell anymore. “Are you okay?”

“Where is it, King? Where is it right now ?”

But all King could do was look out the window and whisper, “Scotland.”

She closed her eyes so tightly, it was like she was trying to weld the lids together, like she didn’t want to see anymore,

and if she couldn’t see, then maybe she wouldn’t have to hear either. Like it was all too much—too quickly—or maybe like it

wasn’t nearly enough.

“Why? Just... why?” Her voice broke.

He would have given anything not to tell her, “Because it made you smile.”