The Blonde Identity (76)

“I’m Michaelson,” he told the girl in the booth. “You paged—”

“Your wife left something for you.” The girl scanned him up and down, as if trying to decide if he was worthy, then she held out a small padded envelope and popped a bubble with the gum he hadn’t even realized she was chewing.

“Where’s my wife . . .” He was looking around. “Where is Mrs. Michaelson?”

“Oh”—the girl’s mouth curved into a curious grin, like sitting behind that desk was an interesting job all of a sudden—“she’s already gone.”

The words hit Sawyer so hard that he was turning—he was already walking away before he remembered the package. He ignored every bit of his training as he ripped it open and tipped it out and a small silver ring landed on the palm of his hand.

Even though he knew it couldn’t still be warm from her skin, it burned him, searing into his flesh like a brand, a mark that only he could see and feel but would last for the rest of his life.

Whatever sliver of hope he’d held on to died in that instant. He was a guy who did bad things for good reasons and that was never going to change. Someday soon, he’d get Alex back and take Kozlov down. But there would always be another Kozlov and another cover and another mission until the man he’d been with Zoe faded away forever.

Good. Let him die, Sawyer thought just as a phone began to ring. He dug back into the envelope and pulled out a burner.

“Zoe!” Sawyer’s pulse was in his ears as he answered. “Are you okay?”

“Is my sister alive?”

“Are you okay?” he asked again because how was he supposed to say anything else? That mountain she’d fallen down was eight hundred meters high. He knew. He’d looked it up. And now her voice was on the other end of the line—he could even hear her breathing. “Are you hurt?”

Someone must have fallen on the ice because an ambulance was approaching, the sirens so loud he heard them in stereo. Here. And also through the phone. Which meant that Zoe was close. Zoe was there.

It was like diving into freezing water, looking through the dark. He hadn’t been able to see her that night in the river. He’d felt her, sensed her. Known her. So he took off at a run, following the sound of the sirens. Through the people and around the buildings then into the trees at the edge of the—

“Zoe?”

The sound must have scared her because she whirled and tried to step back but there was no place to go and she banged into a tree.

“Sweetheart?” Sawyer tried to keep his voice low as he dropped the phone and held up his hands. “I’m gonna give you something, okay?” Slowly—very slowly—he pulled out his Glock and tossed it on the ground in front of her. “That’s for you.”

But Zoe just stood there, staring and confused. “That’s your favorite gun.”

“I know.” He laughed softly—something he hadn’t even known he could do until he met her. “It’s yours now. Shoot me with it if you need to, okay?”

She didn’t stoop to pick it up, but she kept it between them, like it could protect her, there on the ground.

“Are you okay?” he asked again because nothing else mattered.

“I’m fine.” She sounded tired and annoyed and he wanted to kiss the little crease between her eyes until it smoothed away. “Is my sister okay?”

“She’s alive. She sent me to find you. Those were her exact words: find her. So I’m here. And, for the record, I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.” He heard pain in her voice. Not fear. Fear he could have handled. But he thought about a baby no bigger than the palm of his hand. He thought about a four-year-old in a hospital gown. She was fearless. Of course she was. She was never going to be afraid of him. He was nothing in comparison.

“Zoe, please . . .”

“Listen,” she snapped. “The drive Kozlov has is a fake.”

And for a second, the whole world seemed to freeze. The music went away and the crowd stopped milling. “I . . . I know. But how did you . . .”

“Alex had two boxes at the bank, and I accessed both. The real drive was in box number two. So—” She threw her shoulders back and stood a little straighter. “I’ve got a message for your boss.”

“He’s not my boss, sweetheart. He’s my mission.”

“Funny. Because that’s not how it looked when you gave him the flash drive.”

“I gave up the flash drive to keep you safe!”

“You kept yourself safe. I had to jump off a mountain!”

“Because I gave you the idea!”

They were inching closer and closer because they always did—they always would. He couldn’t stay away from her any more than a compass could stop pointing north.

“You did not give me the idea!” Oh, she was annoyed. And indignant. And glorious. Right up until she realized—“Wait. Did you give me the idea? No. You just wanted me out of the way for your mission—”

“I wanted you safe because I’m in love with you!”

Sawyer couldn’t hear the sirens anymore. Not the sound of the wind or the cries of the crowd. There was nothing but those words, floating in the frigid air. He wanted to pull them back. And he wanted to shout them louder. Because Alex was right. He was in love with Zoe. He was in love with Zoe. Zoe, who was just standing there, gaping. Stammering. “You . . . You . . .”