Page 60 of The Blonde Identity

“Okay. Yes. Deal!”

“I need...” Sawyer started. “I need you to trust me. Can you do that? After last night? After this morning, if you can’t trust me, then this won’t work.”

She was a little too quiet for a little too long, biting her lip in the way that almost killed him.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Now leave.”

“No! I just said I’m not going to—”

“No. I mean get out. Please.” She might have blushed. She couldn’t meet his gaze. “I came in here for a reason...”

He suddenly remembered where they were. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll just wait...” He tried to point over his shoulder but banged his thumb on the door. “Ow. Yeah.” But the door wouldn’t open. “I’ll just...”

He pushed. He leaned. And then the door opened a little too quickly and Sawyer, a man who earned his first black belt at the age of fourteen, almost fell on his face.

“I’ll be right here.” He pointed to his feet and once the door closed, he was pretty sure he heard laughing.

And, worse, he was pretty sure he liked it.

Maybe that’s why he missed the footsteps—didn’t hear a thing until the gun cocked and cold metal pressed against the back of his neck and a deep voice said, “Move and I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

And all Sawyer could think wasNot again.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Her

Zoe was a liar. And a fraud. And someone who should have her feminist card revoked because as soon as the hot guy with the big gun came crawling back, she let him. Worse, a part of her rejoiced at the sight of him. Because he was way better at strangling people with lingerie than she was. And he knew Alex. And spy stuff. And she was in the middle of an extremely spylike situation. So she needed someone who knew the ropes. And the guy on the other side of the door... well... he tied her in all kinds of knots. The question was, were they the kind that would hold her together or the kind that would hold her back?

He pounded on the door and she sighed, because ninety seconds of solitude was evidently way too much to ask.

“Okay! I hear you!”

But all she got was another bang or two, and Zoe knew she should open the door. She also knew she really didn’t want to. Because opening that door meant looking at broad shoulders and blue eyes and feeling things she really didn’t want to feel. Opening that door meant going back to pretending she was strong, pretending she was fine, pretending she had everything under control when the truth of the matter was, she spent most of her energy in any given moment trying to keep the rest of the world from seeing how very not fine she really was.

But what if she didn’t have to pretend with Sawyer? What if there was more than one way for him to keep her safe?

“Sawyer . . .” She had to say it while the door was closed. Shedidn’t think she could face him. “Don’t say anything, okay? But I just . . . You have to know . . .”

Then she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, and what she saw was a woman with bad fashion sense and no hairbrush—someone who had been through hell. And lived. But that little voice inside of Zoe couldn’t keep from addingSo far.

So she leaned against the door and said, “I’m scared, okay? Of what happens if we don’t find Alex...” She gave a small, sad laugh. “And maybe what happens if we do. But most of all, I’m scared that I’ll never find... myself. I’m scared that I can’t trust myself. So I get that you’reMr.I Can Kill a Man with SleepwearGuybut right now the only thing I care about is whether or not I can trust you? So... I guess that’s what I’m asking. Can I trust you?”

She stayed silent for the space of five whole heartbeats, waiting, worrying. Wondering.

Had he gotten bored? Walked away? Left her? Or was the answer simply no?

“Sawyer?”

When Zoe pushed open the door, the first thing she noticed was the wind, gushing ninety miles an hour through the train’s side exit and blowing all around her. She tried to pull her hair out of her face, but the strands were stiff and curly and...

The second thing she noticed was the banging.

And the cursing.

---