Page 80 of The Blonde Identity

She really didn’t want to guess, though. And she really, really didn’t want to know. “You don’t have to—”

“Never, Zoe. Not once.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “I thought she was beautiful and smart and cunning. I thought she was a great operative. And I was glad she was on my side, but I never wanted to kiss her.”

“You probably say that to all your danger bangs.” It was a joke. It was. But he wasn’t laughing and neither was she and when he pressed against her, looked into her eyes, she knew—she knew even before he said—

“It wasn’t a danger bang.”

And then she wanted to cry—emotion springing out through her eyes because she was just so full she couldn’t hold it in as she shook her head and her voice got all wobbly and her cheeks got all wet. “It wasn’t a danger bang.”

His hands cradled her face, pushing the too-red strands of the wig away from her eyes—like he couldn’t take the chance she might not see. “And that’s why I’m telling you, you don’t have to do this.”

“No.” She kissed him quickly. And she knew it—in her gut and in her bones and in her soul. “That’s why I do.”

Chapter Forty-Nine

Her

Zoe didn’t remember Zurich. But, then again, Zoe didn’t remember anything. Her own face had been a surprise, so she didn’t know why she was expecting her memory to come surging back as they circled the streets around the bank.

“Any of this look familiar?” Sawyer asked with a gentleness that almost broke her.

“No. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never been here, considering...” She pointed toward her empty head. Her stupid, worthless, fallow brain.

“Hey. It’s okay. We always knew this was a long shot.” They were stopped at a red light and he was staring at her. It was like he knew what she was thinking—like he could read her mind. Oh, how she wished he could read her mind. Maybe then he could tell her all the things she didn’t know.

They’d been circling the bank for an hour, and the sun was getting lower—the sky darker. Streetlights were starting to glow in the twilight, and Zoe could feel the sands in the hourglass—a drip-drip-drip that told her they were running out of time.

So she wasn’t surprised when Sawyer parked the SUV and looked at her. “Are you sure about this?”

“No?” she said without thinking. “I mean yes. I mean...” She looked at him again but didn’t say another word. She just reached for the door.

“Zo—” he started, but she was already walking away.

He caught up with her in the small park across from the evensmaller bank, staring at the building on the opposite corner. With its old stone walls and stained-glass windows, it didn’t look like a business—more like the kind of house that belonged to someone with roman numerals after their name.

“Are you sure that’s a bank?” she had to ask him.

“Yes.”

“Because it looks like a club. You know, the kind that has tufted leather chairs and everything smells like cigar smoke.”

“It’s not.”

“Maybe a really high-end brothel?”

He coughed and shook his head and mumbled something that sounded a lot likewhat am I going to do with you?but he said, “It’s a bank.”

“But—”

“I promise. It’s a bank. A Swiss bank. So I guess itisa club, of a sort. Very exclusive. Very private.” He was quiet for a moment before adding, “This one has a reputation for being a little... intense. I’m not surprised Alex picked it. Now, you’ve got your card?”

She pulled the thin black card out of the pocket of her too-tight pants. “Got it!”

“Okay.” Sawyer‘s voice turned harder, colder. In that moment, he wasn’t the man who had kissed her, held her, teased her. He was the man with a dozen different safe houses and fifty Go Bags on three continents. “Walk me through it.”

“I go in. Give them Alex’s name—”

“No names,” he reminded her.

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