Page 12 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

She shakes her head, abandoning the weak lie at the first push of resistance. “I’ll never tell.”

“So be it. I can respect that.”

She looks nervous for the person who helped her. As she fucking should be.

“Rob has joined forces with Donald Hargrove,” she blurts unexpectedly.

I arch a brow. “Lying down with the dogs. That means the fleas are coming, Olivia. You ought to run from them.”

“He stepped up for my family,” she says defensively. “After what you did to them, my mother couldn’t stand to be in that house. Donald gave them security and protection. Peace of mind thatyoustole away.”

“You really think he’s some benevolent guardian angel, sent from the heavens to make the Lawrence family feel nice and safe?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I look down at her. “Have you stopped to wonder why the motherfucker is involved in this at all?”

Doubt flickers across her face. Shehaswondered—and come up empty. “Apparently, his goddaughter was one of your victims.”

I wince.Jesus Christ.The blatant lie doesn’t surprise me.

But Olivia believing it does.

“Is that really what you think?”

“Rob told me,” she says. It’s not a true answer to my question. It’s a deflection, a way to avoid thinking about all the implications of what it means to believe me and accuse her family of the lies.

“Rob’s been fucking conned,” I say with a scowl. “Not surprising, really. He’s not very bright.”

“Don’t even start with that,” she snaps. “They have proof, Aleks.”

“Then why haven’t they gone to the police with it?”

She hesitates for a moment. “Well…”

“Well? Why not, Olivia?” I press closer to her, crowding her in with my body and with all the loose ends she’s desperately pretending not to see.

“The girl is traumatized,” she stammers. “She hasn’t said a word since she went back to her parents. And they can’t bring her to court because she’d be deemed an… an unreliable witness.”

The phrase sounds clunky in her mouth. Because it’s not her thought, not her understanding. She’s parroting her brother’s words.

“And yet, somehow, she managed to give the police my name? How convenient.”

I can see reason start to pierce through the sickening smog they’ve choked her with. “It does seem a little—”

“Ridiculous?” I press. “Because it is. It’s a fucking fantasy, Olivia.”

“Why would he make up a story like that?” she demands.

“Excellent question, little lamb. Why would he?”

She stares up at me with those huge, glistening eyes, and I have to physically hold myself back. The need to touch her is strong.

But I’m stronger.

She thinks about it for a moment. “Because he needs a… a justification to come after you?”

“And why would he do that?”

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