Page 58 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold (The Blonde Identity #2)

Present Day

Scotland

King

King never wanted to go back to Scotland. There’d been a time when he’d thought he never would. But, in the end, he’d invested

too much money there. Too much time. Too much history. And too much her.

So, eventually, he’d had to come back without Alex. He’d just never planned on coming back with her and, at the moment, that was the problem.

“This doesn’t look familiar.” Alex peered out the car window, looking around at the little dirt road that was barely more

than a trail.

“Back door,” he said as he pulled the car behind a hedgerow. He turned off the engine but didn’t open the door. Instead, he

just sat there, hands gripping the steering wheel like a man desperate to keep his life on the road. He couldn’t even face

her when he said, “You could wait in the car.”

“Ha!” She waited a beat, studying him out of the corner of her eye. “That was my ironic laugh.”

“I know.”

“Because it’s not really funny, but it’s also hilarious .”

“I get the picture.” He undid his seat belt and secured the emergency brake.

“Because you thought I would wait... in the car !” It was the punch line of a joke that wasn’t funny anymore, so King got out and slammed the door, but Alex was still looking at him like she didn’t know whether she should be horribly offended or terribly amused. Then, suddenly, she grew worried.

She crawled out of the passenger side and studied him over the hood. “When have I ever waited in the car?” It was a test and

he was going to fail it.

“Never. Okay? Sorry I—”

“Why on earth would I—”

“Because I asked you to?” He whirled, but all the fight went out of him. She was going to find out eventually, but that didn’t

mean he was in a hurry to tell her. “Because I’m an idiot—which you know. So come on.”

He took off walking cross-country. After thirty minutes, they climbed a rocky hill, and he heard a near-silent wince and risked

a glance behind him.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, and so help me, if you tell me to wait in the car again, I’ll...” But she trailed off as they crested a ridge

and looked down at the castle in the valley below. The sun was setting in the west, painting the sky with color until the

stone walls and high towers looked like something from another age.

He’d been an idiot to buy it. It had cost a fortune to remodel, but he just kept hearing her in that damned bungalow on that

damned island, talking about Scottish heroes and castles and what a dream man would look like. He’d been a fool to think it

could ever be him.

“What are the odds someone is watching this place?” It was one of about five hundred questions King currently had on his mind,

but at the moment, it was also the most pressing. “Because you’re acting like you think someone found your Fortress of Solitude.”

King wanted to tell her she was wrong. That he’d been careful. That no one knew about this place—no one but him and Alex and

two dozen tradesmen who all thought his name was Mr. Masterson—but King didn’t know what was real anymore, so he sank to the

ground and pondered the castle in the distance.

“There are forty-eight blank hours in my mind, Sterling. There are things I’ve been trying my whole life to forget, but the thing I’d give anything to remember is just out of reach, so yeah... I’m going to sit here and wait until I’m sure we’re not walking into an ambush.”

“ Again ,” she added helpfully as she sank down to sit beside him.

Because they didn’t know who was after them. They didn’t know if this mystery villain was CIA or KGB or something altogether

different. They didn’t know anything except they had to be careful.

But all King could do was smile and echo, “Again.”

It was dark and silent when she whispered, “I spent the last year thinking I’d never come back here.”

He didn’t say what he was thinking: that he’d spent the last year praying that she would.