Page 59 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold (The Blonde Identity #2)

One Year Ago

Scotland

Alex

Alex had never believed in happy endings, but as the days and nights stretched out, she started to wonder if maybe her sister

was right—like maybe they were possible. Like maybe one might be possible... for her.

The only person who could have known was Zoe, and suddenly, Alex wanted to hear her sister’s voice. She wanted to ask what

love felt like. She wanted to know if this was it.

King kept a bunch of cell phones in his workshop. There was a box labeled burners, never used , so it shouldn’t have felt like a risk, the act of picking one up and turning it on and typing in the number that anyone

but a trained spy probably would have forgotten by that point.

It was for a service—a number only she and Zoe ever used. During Alex’s first few years with the Agency, there had been messages

from her sister every day. Then every week. Alex didn’t remember the last time she’d gotten one. But, then again, she also

couldn’t remember the last time she’d left one. So she honestly wasn’t expecting to hear the voice on the line, saying, “You

have one new message.”

“Hi. Uh... Is this still the number for Alex?”

Even when Zoe was at her sickest, they’d always had the same general features—they’d always looked like twins. But they’d always sounded slightly different. Zoe’s voice was brighter, lighter. Zoe sounded like the sun, and Alex

closed her eyes and waited for it to warm her.

“I hope so. Anyway... it’s me.”

Alex knew that voice even better than she knew her own. Zoe was constant. Zoe was sure. Zoe was always Zoe while Alex had been a million different people. So it didn’t make any sense that the voice on the other end of the line felt

darker. Worried. Different.

Zoe sounded afraid , and the first thing that went through Alex was a shot of terror. She felt like she’d touched a live wire and she was going

to burst into flames because Zoe was sick again. Zoe needed surgery. Zoe needed a transplant. Zoe was dying. Zoe was—

Scared.

“So... uh... I’m not exactly sure what’s going on, but I got a call today from a man you work with,” the shaky voice

said, and Alex felt her heart ice over.

Kozlov.

But Zoe kept talking, and Alex almost couldn’t believe it when she said, “Mr. Collins says you need my help?”

Collins? At first, Alex couldn’t even place the name. It took her a moment to remember the slick operative with the sly smile

and nice suits—an Ivy league pedigree and good connections. He was the kind of guy King should have been. A spoiled suit with more ambition than sense. Alex knew him, but only barely. He wasn’t anything to her. He wasn’t

anything. But somehow, he’d found out about Zoe. He’d called Zoe. And...

“I’m trying very, very hard not to make a Pride & Prejudice joke right now.” Zoe sounded like she was going to laugh to keep from crying. “So that should tell you that... you’re

scaring me, Alex. So if you get this, please call me? Please? If not, well... I guess I’ll see you in Paris.”

The line went quiet and Alex’s blood went cold.

She was safe and sound in Scotland, but her heart was outside her body—it always had been.

And it was on its way to Paris.