The Blonde Identity

“There’s no place I won’t go and there’s nothing I won’t do to prove myself to you.”

“No, sweetheart. You’re the only one who does.”

“I love you.” Her voice was softer and her eyes were closed. “But I don’t trust you anymore.”

“I’m not your sweetheart!”
He shook his head. He had to make her see. Did she really not see? “You’re my everything.”

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

I swore I’d never be like him, sweetheart.

“But they scare me.” Her voice was so soft he wasn’t sure if she was admitting something to him or to herself. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what tried to kill me or how I survived it. So they scare me. Because . . . what if it tries again?”

She knew the moment he saw the red rings around her neck

“Zoe . . .” His voice was rough in a way that had nothing to do with blood loss or vodka. “Baby, I . . .”

“You promised.” He heard the swooping, pulsing sounds of a helicopter flying overhead and knew the agencies were coming—the agencies were there. They were all out of time. In so many ways.
“You’re gonna do great, sweetheart. Go. I’ll be fine.”