Page 36 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“You gotta be kidding me,” Demyan laughs. “Multi-tasker of the year. You delayed an entire flight and got laid? When did you have the time?”

“I delayed the plane so I’d have time to build a rapport—to learn more about her. And it worked flawlessly.” I smirk. “I fucked her in the plane bathroom.”

“Lucky you,” he says. “You must have picked the fun sister.”

I cock my head to the side thoughtfully. “Actually, I don’t think so. She’s as boring as the reports indicated. Dresses like she’s forty and barely has a social circle back in New York. The people she does know are all work colleagues.”

“What’s your point?”

“She’s not the type of woman who fucks a stranger in an airplane bathroom,” I explain. “I think I was a rare exception.”

“Of course you were,” Demyan says. “Having you by my side for half of my life has been the bane of my fucking existence. Women take one look at you and suddenly, I disappear.”

I shrug. “You’ve eaten well on my leftovers.”

“Yeah, but being a bottom feeder sucks ass.”

Chuckling, I reach for the unopened beers that are sweating condensation onto the tabletop. “Want one?”

“Does a bear shit in the—”

“Here,” I interrupt with a scowl. “Take the goddamn beer and shut up.”

I pop the cap and hand him a fresh beer. I grab one for myself, too.

“I was an exception,” I continue to muse, “but I could tell she was trying to talk herself out of it. The entire time I was undressing her, I couldn’t tell if she was going to fuck me or bolt. She’s not confident. Not about her body or her life.”

“Methinks I sense a little fascination,” Demyan suggests in an obnoxiously twee voice.

I roll my eyes. “I just haven’t come across a woman like her before.”

“That’s because you’ve never taken the time to venture out and find them. And they aren’t exactly the type to come looking for you.”

“Fair point.”

He takes a swig of his beer and gives me a curious glance. “Just how attractive are we talking?”

“She’s beautiful,” I say honestly. “But she tries hard to hide it. Seems like she’s been fairly successful in that regard.”

“Beautiful, huh?” Demyan says. “Be careful with that shit, amigo. The last time I used that word to describe a woman, I married her. And we all know how that turned out.”

I smile. “Speaking of which, how is Miranda?”

Demyan leans back into his seat again and sighs. “She’s talking about moving to Nebraska.”

“Jesus Christ. Nebraska? Why?”

“Her family lives there,” Demyan explains. “Her parents and both brothers. The older one got married and popped out a couple of kids and now, she’s talking about moving Callie there so she can be with her cousins.”

I raise my eyebrows. “And what did you say to that?”

“I told her if she wants to move to Nebraska, she’s more than welcome to. But she’s not taking my kid with her.”

I snort. “I bet she took that well.”

“Does she ever take anything I say well?” he growls. He takes another swig of beer. “Trust me, man, it’s not fucking worth it. Marriage is… Suffice it to say it’s not for men like us.”

“Whoever said anything about marriage?”

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