Page 6 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold (The Blonde Identity #2)

Present Day

The Shack

King

“King?”

When King heard the voice in the darkness, he didn’t know whether to feel relieved or downright angry. He’d been sitting there

for at least twenty minutes, listening to the unconscious figure behind him breathe and groan and stir. It had sounded like

her, but he hadn’t been sure. Not until—

“Kingsley?” It was more curse than question, and that’s how he knew for certain.

His head hurt. And his arms hurt. He couldn’t even feel his hands, they’d gone so numb in the too-tight handcuffs. The dusty

air made him feel like he was going to sneeze, which would have added a new layer of insult to his injury, but King couldn’t

help himself. He went boneless, one thought echoing over and over again in his mind.

She’s alive.

She’s alive.

She’s—

“King?” Her voice cracked, and he thought of a million things that she might say. I’m back. I’m here. I’m sorry. But what came out was “What did you do?”

King couldn’t help himself: he laughed. Nothing was funny, and yet... “What did I do? You’re the one who’s been out in the cold for a year, Sterling. What did you do?”

“Let me go.” She pulled at the handcuffs again, trying to break free from whatever was holding her back. She clearly hadn’t realized that the thing she was handcuffed to was him .

“Ow.” His voice was flat, and she went still.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” She jerked her arms again—which hurt. But not as much as his pride. “Of all the idiots in all

the abandoned shacks in all the world, I had to get tied up with you.”

“Actually, you’re tied to me,” King corrected, and Alex gave an exaggerated gasp.

“You’re actuallying me? Now? At this moment?” Then she jerked her arms again, just to spite him. Because, after all this time, she was still

the girl in the Future Spy hoodie, and he was still...

“Kingsley!”

“What?” he asked.

“Tell me what you see.” The room was pitch-black, nothing but a few traces of faint light drifting through cracks in the walls.

It wasn’t a house. Maybe a barn or shed. It was dusty and dry and had the smell of disuse and desperation.

“Not much on this side. How about on yours?”

“Nothing,” she conceded. “What can you hear?”

“Nothing.”

“You have to hear something. You’ve been awake for longer than I have and—”

“I stand corrected. I hear nothing but the sound of you yapping—”

“Yapping?” The handcuffs jerked as she tried to spin. “Little dogs in expensive purses yap. I do not yap.”

“Clearly.”

“They’re going to try to torture me, but they’re too late.” She drew a dramatic breath. “Because this is torture. This. Waking up, restrained in the dark, with you should have been outlawed by the Geneva convention.”

He felt a tug on his hands, like she was making sure he was still with her, and then Alex went silent in the darkness. It

was his turn to lash out, but King was too busy thinking... and remembering... and smiling.

“Come on, Sterling. It’s not like it’s the first time.”