The Blonde Identity

by Ally Carter

And in his defense, he didn’t answer. But in her defense, he didn’t have to. She knew. She knew. And it broke her. “Because you were leaving me.”

“Touch her, and I’ll kill you.” Sawyer’s voice was dark and deep and Zoe finally understood all those times he’d said he was a bad guy. A villain. A threat. Because, in that moment, he was the most dangerous, beautiful, terrible, wonderful thing she’d ever laid eyes on. He looked like someone who would follow his enemies to the ends of the earth; he was a specter in the shadows, a sound on the wind. He was the thing that went bump in the night and there was no place you could run, nowhere you could hide, nothing you could ever do to keep you safe from him.

Oh, how he wished she hadn’t said that. Because he didn’t want to lie to her, but he also really didn’t want to tell her the truth. “What?” She stopped. Because the truth was going to make her do that.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling . . . “Are you lying?” “Constantly.” He turned her around and nudged her forward, but she glanced back over her shoulder. “You promised you wouldn’t die on me, remember?” He gave her his hot guy smirk. “Why? Would you miss me?” Oh, she hated that cocky edge to his voice—absolutely loathed how much she liked it. “No. I just need you, that’s all. For my cover.” “Of course.” “I don’t have time to find another fake husband, is all.” “Naturally.”

“You didn’t sell it.” His voice was soft, but his gaze was hot, like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss her or spank her or maybe a little bit of both and Zoe felt her cheeks go even redder. When he slid the ring back on her finger, her hand felt funny. Tingly. Alive with possibilities. “Okay, Mrs. Michaelson. Let’s go find a ride.”

Zoe must have sensed it, too, because she nervously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. That fixed it,” Sawyer said and she smacked him on the arm. He couldn’t keep from smiling.

“Because you told her you were pregnant!” “What?” She looked so innocent, so proud. So beautiful. It was incredibly annoying.

He actually had to dive out of the way before it slammed to a stop and the passenger door flew open; and there was Zoe, leaning over the seat. Eyes bright. Skin glowing. The single-most gorgeous sight he’d ever seen as she yelled, “I know how to hot-wire cars!”