Page 67 of The Blonde Identity

“What?” he asked after a while.

“Whatwhat?”

“I can feel you staring,” he said, but he never even glanced her way.

“I was just thinking... you know... I could be a car thief.”

He didn’t laugh, but she saw his lips tip up. She’d started to learn that, from Sawyer, that was the same thing. “You aren’t a car thief.”

She took her feet from the dash and turned to him. “TheFast and Furiousfranchise had to have been inspired by someone—”

“You are neither fast nor furious.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I’m probably more of a regular thief.You know, the kind that steals diamond necklaces while wearing ball gowns.”

The lips moved again, and she hated how warm that gesture made her. “I’d hardly call that a regular thief.”

“I probably strap them to my thigh with a garter belt...”

The big hand gripped and regripped the steering wheel and he swallowed like he had something in his throat. “Yeah.” Sawyer coughed. “That could be... uh... it.”

Zoe didn’t even try not to smile.

When they passed a road sign she tried to see how many kilometers it was until Zurich, but it wasn’t listed. In fact, she hadn’t seen it on any of the signs, which made her ask, “How far are we from Zurich?”

She thought he was probably doing the calculations in his head because it took him a long time to say, “We can’t exactly take a direct route.”

“I know, but we’ve been driving for hours...” She sounded like a grouchy child who really needed a juice box and some cheesy crackers. Which, come to think of it, Zoe really wanted some juice and cheesy crackers.

“Then take a nap.”

“I will. As soon as you tell me when we’ll get to Zurich.” But there was something in the set of his jaw, the look in his eyes.

“We’re not going to Zurich—”

“You promised!”

“—yet, okay. We’re not going to Zurich yet.”

“Maybe it’s the half-dozen intelligence agencies after us, but it feels like we’re in a time-sensitive situation here.”

“We are! It is!”

“Then—”

“We slept on a floor last night,” he reminded her. “We’re wearing clothes I stole from a laundromat. And I’m pretty sure we both smell like river water. So, no. We’re not going to one of the most secure banks in the world...” He looked at her. “...yet. We’re going to takehot showers and get a good night’s sleep, and then we’re going to think this through before we do anything. Okay?”

He was saying all the right things for all the right reasons, but Zoe couldn’t shake the feeling that there was way more to the story.

So she twisted in her seat and took off the heavy sweater. It was too hot and she was too frustrated. She didn’t realize her shirt was gaping open until she felt his gaze on her—on the scars that covered her chest.

“It’s not what you think,” he told her.

“Oh?”

“I was staring at your boobs,” he said, and she couldn’t help herself—she smiled.

“See. That was a well-delivered lie. Good job.”

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