Page 60 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“I’d like to think I had something to do with her choice. But they certainly sped up the process,” I admit. “She and I left together. Hargrove had no choice but to let us go. I had him surrounded.”

“And everyone was fine?”

“Rob wasn’t hurt, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She breathes a sigh of relief that she tries to hide behind an unconvincing cough.

“But, Jennifer?” I add.

She looks up at me, brows drawn together.

“The story isn’t over yet.”

She frowns. “Oh God. Do I want to hear this?”

“You might as well hear it from me,” I say. “Things got a little tense once I showed up. Mia and Olivia really got into it. And Hargrove wasn’t really helping things either. It was all too much for Bethany.”

Jennifer’s jaw drops. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare—”

“She didn’t make it. Heart attack. Took her quick.”

For once, Jennifer’s veneer of indifference cracks, and I see beneath it. To the raw, beating heart of her that’s taken lash after lash, no matter how hard she’s tried to protect it.

I see suffering.

I see torment.

She buries her face in her hands for a moment. But when she pulls them away, her eyes are dry and her persona is back in place.

“He must be an absolute wreck,” she whispers.

“They all are,” I say. “Olivia is the only one who’s guilt-free.”

Her eyes snap to mine. “You know, Rob is only doing what he thinks is right, Aleks,” she says. “He doesn’t deserve this any more than Olivia does.”

“If you care so damn much about Robert Lawrence, how about you grow a fucking pair and face him?”

It’s not exactly a fair suggestion to make at the moment. But I’m pissed. Certainly not in the mood to be lectured about the virtues of that asshole. Olivia’s brother or not, he started this whole thing by refusing to let the case go. The blood is on his hands.

“I’m still undercover,” she says weakly.

“Somehow, I doubt he’d care.”

“And he’s working with Hargrove now,” she says. “He won’t care what I have to say.”

“He thinks you’ve been taken hostage and brainwashed. Maybe you can convince him otherwise. Convince him to change sides.”

She snorts derisively. “He’s stubborn.”

“You two have that in common.”

She falls into silence for a moment, still trying to process this barrage of news. “Bethany was a good woman,” she says softly. “The kind of woman who welcomes everyone into her home. We used to just sit and talk for hours. Good woman. She was a good, good woman.”

“You made things worse for yourself by caring, Jen.”

“I know that.” She drags her eyes up to mine. “But you know what? I still wouldn’t take any of it back.”

I nod. “You can’t stay here long.”

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