Page 53 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold (The Blonde Identity #2)
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. Or she ? 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 rose and 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.”
“I said okay.” She sounded angry, but she looked more annoyed with a touch of happy someone finally cares .
There were only a handful of people on the ferry, and everyone else had the good sense to stay inside, so they were alone
when they settled onto the bench and Alex cautiously raised her shirt up. She’d been right. It really was more of a graze
than a gunshot, but it had bled like the dickens and the skin was angry and red.
“It might scar,” he warned.
“Darn. I guess my beauty pageant days are behind me.”
But all King could do was say, “Ordinarily, I’d think that was a joke, but with you I never know.”
He tugged off the old bandage and put on a fresh one, but Alex kept her gaze straight ahead, wind in her hair. She should
have been shivering. It was January on the North Sea. The wind was straight from the Pole, and the mist flying off the water
felt like sleet, but it was like she didn’t feel it. Like she’d spent her whole life teaching herself not to feel anything,
and King wanted to go back in time and tell the girl at the airport Ramada that it was okay to feel, it was okay to hurt,
it was okay to be too excited and too angry and just generally too much. He hated that he had ever made her feel like not
enough.
“Alex...”
When she turned to him, she was so close and her skin was so warm as her hand cupped his face. “Did I tell you I like your beard?” She was looking at his lips, and it was like the last year had been a very bad dream.
“Alex...” He inched closer, needing her heat and her weight and... her. He needed her, and he’d never stopped and that’s
what he wanted to tell her—show her. And never let her forget. “Sweetheart...”
But the sea chose that moment to dip too quickly. The ferry felt like a roller coaster, and a cold spray blew across the bow,
chilling them both to the bone while Alex turned a shade of green that King had never seen before.
“You okay?” Now he was honestly worried. “I thought you liked boats.”
“Yeah, well. I didn’t have a great time on the last one.”