Page 192 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

He waits for a moment until the car in question pulls away and disappears from sight. Only then does he hustle around the front of the car and climb into the driver’s seat.

The moment he is situated in the car, I turn to him. “Rob, is everything alright?”

He glares at me as though offended by the question. “Jesus, did you really just ask me that, Liv? Nothing is alright. You were held hostage for three fucking months. It’s not like you were on a goddamn vacation.”

“Listen to me,” I say, grabbing his hand. “There’s something you need to know.”

He starts the engine and pulls out of his parking spot. “Later.”

“Rob, I’m trying to tell you something important.”

“You can tell me once we get to safety,” he says.

I can’t explain it, but something isn’t right. A vague sense of foreboding is working its way up my spine.

“Rob, can you please pull over?”

“Liv, we don’t have the time for—”

“Make the damn time,” I snap. “Pull over now!”

He looks at me with alarm. He’s not used to me asserting myself this way. In fact, I’m not used to it, either. It feels wrong to be demanding, especially since Rob showed up to save me.

But he makes a turn and then, at the first available opportunity, he pulls over to the curb.

“Pretty sure this is a bus stand, so talk fast.”

It’s not the way I want to tell him, but I’m hoping this news will make a difference to him. Maybe it’ll pull him back from the ledge he seems to be on right now.

“You were right, Rob,” I say. “She’s alive.”

He doesn’t even have to ask who I’m talking about. His eyes go wide. I see relief and hope flood his features. In that moment, I see a flicker of the man he used to be.

“I knew it,” he breathes.

“But it’s not what you think,” I tell him urgently. “Isabella… that’s not even her real name.”

He goes still and fixes me with a strange expression. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, she was—is a spy.” I hate the clumsy way this explanation is coming out. “She works for Aleks. She was planted by him in the first place to try and suss out how deep the investigation into his Bratva went. They were trying to find the person who tipped the FBI off in the first place. She was meant to extract that information from you.”

He stares at me without saying a word.

“Her name is Jennifer,” I continue. “She disappeared because one of her former targets recognized her and threatened to blow her cover. It wasn’t a murder—it was an escape plan.”

Still nothing.

“Rob?”

He blinks once. Twice. Three times.

“Rob, this is all true. I spoke to her.”

That forces him to snap out of it. “You actually saw her?”

“Yes.”

“And she told you this?”

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