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“Well, this was just an excellent idea.” “Thank you,” she said, sounding mildly pleased with herself until she turned, staring at him through the shadows. “Wait. Are you being sarcastic? Because it might be the brain injury, but I’m finding it really hard to tell if you’re being sarcastic.” Given that they were both clinging to a pair of old, rusty beams, feet scraping and scrambling for purchase as they held themselves horizontal over the icy water of the Seine while eight to twelve Russian mobsters with semiautomatic weapons searched the streets overhead . . . Yeah. Sarcasm seemed okay under
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“Uh . . . can I ask you a question?” “Yes. That is a gun in my pocket.”
She thought about giving him a little more space but didn’t. Because when cuddling with a hot guy is a matter of life and death, you just go with it.
“Maybe her archnemesis has heard from her.” Her eyes went wide. It was her excited face and he was starting to fear it. “Ooh! Alex has a nemesis? Are they enemies to—” “They are nothing to lovers!” Sawyer blurted, and her face fell. “Besides. He got out of the game five years ago and Alex hates his guts.”
Alex always looked like she was in on a secret. But Zoe looked like she was in on a joke—like at any moment she was going to say knock, knock and the whole world was going to lean close enough to whisper who’s there?
The good thing about being an amnesiac is that when your life flashes before your eyes it doesn’t take very long.
“Did you just break an assassin’s nose with a telephone?” Her eyes were wide. “I think so?” He absolutely beamed. “Good girl.”
She’d spent all afternoon learning hand-to-hand combat from an actual spy but he hadn’t covered “How to Not Drown in a Freezing River” in the intro course. Zoe wanted her money back.
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.
“Touch her, and I’ll kill you.”
Then she heard a groan behind her. She saw white breath fogging in the air. And a figure pushed out of a snowdrift, breathing hard and saying, “I told you there was only a twenty percent chance of dying.” So Zoe hit him with a snowball because, really, what else was she supposed to do?
he trailed off as he looked at her and, suddenly, he knew that there was absolutely no one with whom he’d rather undercover.
It wasn’t until they’d been walking for three blocks that he realized he was still holding her hand. It wasn’t until they’d been walking for four that he realized he had no intention of stopping.
He forced a smile and turned toward the street—he started to walk away. He should have walked away. But he stopped. And said, “Fuck it.” “Langu—” she started, but he was already pulling her into his arms and pressing her up against the snowy car. Lips touching, tongues seeking, skin caught between fire and ice. When he pulled back, her eyes were dazed and her lips were parted and he had no idea if she even heard him when he pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “I’ll find you.” And then he went to buy her some time because it was all he had left to give.
The asshole was going to make her a widow before she’d ever been married, and that alone made her want to kill him.
“What gives you the right to give certifiable movie kisses and say certifiable hero lines and stand there with your certifiable hot guy smirks while telling me you just wanted to save my life? What gives you the right . . . you absolute jerkface!”
Before she could kiss him again, a man landed on the ice in front of them, shouting, “Which one of you is”—he checked his notes—“the Denominator?”
“You don’t have an accent.” “Don’t I, love?” And there it was. The accent. “No. Gasp. Put that thing away.” “What?” “You can’t just go around with an accent like that. And with your shirtsleeves rolled up? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Zoe saw the truth in his eyes—that she could fight Kozlov and Collins and even Alex. But she was no match for the little boy who was still lining up dominoes on the cabin floor, waiting for them to all fall down.
“Long story short, I’m in an enemies-to-lovers situation.” Alex took a deep breath. “And I think I’m gonna need your help.”
