Page 93 of The Blonde Identity

The drive felt like a visceral, living thing as it lay in the palm of Zoe’s hand. Like it was something that could hurt her. Or save her. She wasn’t exactly sure which. But one thing was certain: she wasn’t alone with nothing anymore.

Now, she was alone witheverything.

“Lady?” the driver asked as they neared the embassy gates.

There was a billboard across the street—a picture of two mountain peaks rising above the clouds, snow-covered and almost mythical as a long bridge stretched between them like something made of ice, and Zoe thought of all the ways she could fall down.

“Lady?” the man sounded impatient. They were so close to the gates that she could practically see the marines’ eyes.

“Just keep driving,” Zoe said. “Just keep driving.”

***

Two hours, three taxis, and four stops later, Zoe had a cheap motel room, a large assortment of burner phones, two changes of clothes, and a plan. Because Zoe needed to be smart. Zoe needed to be patient. Zoe needed to think... like a spy.

But, aside from Alex, there was only one spy of Zoe’s acquaintance. Luckily, she knew just how to reach him.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Him

The sun was almost up by the time they reached the Kozlov compound on Lake Como. Sawyer should have slept in the car, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Zoe disappearing in the darkness. Every time he moved he felt himself reaching for her and coming back with a fistful of empty air. Every time he tried to think, he heard her voice sayingI was wrong. You’re exactly like your father.

Which was okay, Sawyer told himself. His father would know what to do.

The lake was still and the compound was silent, but Sawyer knew it wouldn’t last. Kozlov’s top lieutenant was flying in from Moscow with a special, highly encrypted laptop, and once it was there, Kozlov would open the drive and make a copy. And as soon as he no longer needed the drive... well... then he’d no longer need Alex.

Like all of Kozlov’s compounds, this one was a veritable fortress of guards and gates and fences, but it had been a late night and a long morning, so the house felt almost empty as Sawyer walked down the long hall toward the sound of...

Humming.

Just like Zoe,Sawyer thought as he reached the woman tied to a chair in the middle of the empty ballroom. She had a split lip and a black eye, but she looked as regal as a queen, even as he pulled the gag from her mouth and she kept singing, “I’m gonna kill you sloooowly. I’m gonna make it huuuuuurt.”

She’d do it, too, Sawyer mused, but the thought just made him smile. “You ready to get out of here?” he whispered.

“Fuck you.”

“Come on, Alex. Let’s— Shit. These are chains, Alex. They literally chained you to this chair.”

“Of course they did. If they’d used zip ties, I would have been highly offended.”

Sawyer looked up from the lock. “This would be a lot easier if your sister didn’t have my favorite pick...” He trailed off as he realized Alex was scowling at him.

“You do realize that as soon as you get me out of these chains I’m going to strangle you with them?”

And, suddenly, Sawyer wasn’t smiling anymore. It had been over a week since he’d started chasing, worrying, wondering... “I don’t know why you stopped trusting me, Alex, but we’re on the same side, remember? Would I be getting you out of here if I’d turned?” She honestly had to think about the answer, and Sawyer saw that for the opening it was. “Why’d you do it, Alex? We were supposed to get the drive together. Why didn’t you wait for me? Why’d you run?”

“I heard Kozlov and Sergei. They knew I was CIA.”

“So”—he started to snap, then realized—“You thought I told them.” Sawyer felt the words like a blow.

For the first time, Alex looked sheepish. “I didn’t know if I could trust you or not,” she admitted. Right before her gaze turned as sharp as a blade. “And then you showed up with my little sister and I stopped wondering.”

But something about the words—the indignant look in her eyes—made him chuckle. “Little sister? You’re twins!”

“I’m thirteen minutes older,” Alex said with more superiority than a woman chained to a chair should ever be able to muster. “It was a decent plan, I’ll give you that. Bring her to Europe. Slip her the card. Get her to be me at the bank.”

“I didn’t bring her here! I didn’t even know she existed until I found her half dead in Paris and thought she was you.”

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