Page 76 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold (The Blonde Identity #2)

Christmas, One Year Later

Scotland

King

“I still say it doesn’t count if they’re not wearing kilts!” Zoe shouted in the direction of the kitchen.

King didn’t roll his eyes, and he was proud of that fact. It might have been because he genuinely adored Zoe. Or because he

genuinely feared Sawyer. But that didn’t mean that he was putting on a kilt for the occasion.

“You wanted a tree, we got a tree. You wanted a fire, we built a fire.” King glared at his sister-in-law, which felt a lot

like glaring at his wife. He was getting good at it.

“You’re in Scotland in winter, and I got you a foot warmer,” Sawyer pointed out. “So kilt or no kilt, this classifies as a

Zoe-approved Christmas.”

“Does it?” Zoe tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “Does it, really?”

“Really!” Sawyer snapped, then headed to the bathroom to wash the tree sap off his fingers.

The days were short that time of year, and six p.m. felt like the middle of the night. King was ready for bed. Of course,

those days, he was always ready for bed, but that probably had more to do with the woman who was underneath the covers beside

him.

“Are you sure Sawyer’s dad and Merritt will be okay coming up from London together?” Zoe asked, and King bit back a grin.

“Will they be okay? Yes. Can I guarantee that they won’t take down a terror cell for fun on the train? Not even a little bit.”

“I think they should hook up.” Zoe was picking the cashews out of a bowl of Chex Mix. Where she’d even found Chex Mix on that

side of the Atlantic, King didn’t know. He’d learned never to question his sister-in-law’s ways. But when he gave her a questioning

glance, she widened her eyes and said, “What? They’re both awesome. I ship it.”

“New rule,” King said. “You can never use the words ship or hook in my presence again. Especially when talking about my elderly mentor—who is at least twenty years older than Sawyer’s father.”

“What?” Zoe looked aghast. “Age gap is hot. Merritt is hot. Sawyer’s dad is hot. Hot people should—”

“Do not say it.”

Zoe zipped her lips and threw away the key but looked like she instantly regretted it, so she unzipped her lips and ate more

cashews.

“What’s for dinner? I’m starving,” Zoe asked.

“Chicken fingers.” Alex cut her eyes at King, and he tried not to grin.

“Yum.” Zoe hummed. “That sounds good. I haven’t had—”

A crashing sound cut her off, echoing off the stone walls and bouncing all around the castle. Instantly, King and Alex were

on alert, old instincts kicking in. None of the perimeter alarms had sounded, so King wasn’t panicking. Yet. But there were

three former spies in that house, and between them, they’d made more than a few enemies. King lived in fear of the day that

one of them would come calling.

He pointed at Alex. “Take Zoe to the safe room. I’ll—”

“What is this?”

They all turned to see Sawyer standing on the threshold of the room, something in his hands. Judging by the way the little

plastic stick was wrapped up in toilet paper, Sawyer knew exactly what it was, so that wasn’t really what he was asking.

No. Sawyer’s question probably had more to do with the two little pink lines that were as plain as day, and King couldn’t bring himself to look away because—

Two.

Pink.

Lines.

King was an expert on many things—languages and linear algebra and the best places to buy a passport in what used to be East

Berlin—but at that moment, his mind was blank. And gibberish. He was nothing but blank gibberish, with nothing but two little

pink lines rattling around in his head like a pinball.

He felt like how Sawyer looked—confused and afraid and... excited?

They both turned to the sisters.

“Well?” Sawyer shouted. “Who... When... Who...”

But Zoe and Alex were looking at each other like this was their favorite story ever. They were both smiling when Zoe said,

“Guess.”