Page 118 of Dirty Grovel

“Seriously, Oleg,” I insist. “I’m fine. I wanted to go check on Sydney anyway.”

Before he leaves, he plants a kiss on my forehead, his lips send another shiver cavorting down my spine. “Don’t wait up for me. It might be a late night.”

He’s halfway to the door when I say his name. When I do, he stops and turns to look at me again.

“Oleg… will this end soon?”

His mouth turns down at the corners. “I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep. But my goal is to finish this as fast as possible.” His eyes slip down to my belly. “For the sake of our family.”

“What was that call about?” I can’t help but ask.

I can tell he’s contemplating telling me. “I told my men to drop Lipovsky’s body off at the Martineks’ main residence. They were calling to let me know the job is done.”

Immediately, my mind conjures up the image of Paul—face blown apart, black heart stilled, his bloody, broken body speared in front of a wrought iron gate.

I don’t say anything.

Neither does Oleg.

We both know what’s coming and what it might mean.

We both know that none of us will be safe from the fallout.

36

OLEG

Drew Anton has vanished—a ghost in the Florida heat.

He’s left his stench behind, though. Rank and rotting, the last whiff of a corpse decaying into soil.

“He’s good at running,” Artem growls, glancing over my shoulder at the screen I’ve been staring at for the last several minutes.

“Unfortunately for him, I’m good at hunting,” I say, my hands dancing across the keyboard, homing in on any and all activity even remotely connected to the Martineks. “There is some noise down here.” I point to the map on my screen. “Our men down there have heard rumblings about a Martinek enforcer.”

“He’s close to the Mexican border,” Artem mutters quietly. “Let me see this for a second. I think we had some resources…”

He fades away as he takes control of the computer.

I check my phone as he does and see a text from Sutton. It’s simple—just a “good morning” and a smile—but it makes something deep in my chest clench tight.

The fact that there exists a woman like Sutton Palmer is miracle enough.

The fact that she’smine—mine to protect, mine to claim, mine to keep—is a whole other level of mind-blowing.

Which is why I feel the pressure, landing on my shoulders with the full weight of my responsibility.

I have to make the world safe for her.

And for our baby.

Fuck ambition and empire.

Fuck the old world Bratva rules and the men and women who enforce them.

Theyare my new compass, my north fucking star, pointing me true at every bend in the road.

“That far, huh?” Artem murmurs, pulling me back to reality. “I say we let the cartels in Mexico handle Anton. They don’t play well with others.”

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