Page 67 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“He was nothing more than a job, Jennifer.”

“Olivia was supposed to be a job, too,Aleks,” she snaps right back at me. “And now what is she? The mother of your child? A pawn in your games? A way to get back at Rob? Your wife? Which is it?”

“It’s different.”

“How?”

“I never lied to her about who I was.”

She looks aghast for a moment. “I was on the job. Onyourjob.”

“And I gave you the option of getting out. I gave you the chance to turn it into something real. You’re the one who chose to go back undercover. You’re the one who chose your work over Robert Lawrence.”

“If I’d chosen him, I would have had to tell him the truth,” she whispers. “And he would never have forgiven me.”

“I think you might be underestimating him.”

“Careful, or you might accidentally give out a compliment,” she drawls. “But it doesn’t matter. He’s not the type of man who forgives betrayal.”

“I suppose now you’ll never know.”

“What would you do in my position?” she asks, somewhat desperately.

“In your position, I would want nothing to do with him in the first place.”

“You can’t really afford that point of view,” she says. “He is your brother-in-law, after all.”

“One of two, it seems.”

“Meaning?”

I turn to gauge her reaction as I say, “Mia is engaged to Hargrove.”

“Jesus! What?” Jennifer exclaims. “Are you serious?”

“Apparently. Olivia found out just before they took her to the hospital.”

“Fuck,” she groans. “She’s going to marry a sadistic sexual predator.”

“If you ask Mia, Olivia already did that.”

Jennifer scowls. “Make a left here.”

I turn the corner and we drive down a quiet suburban street. It’s not the best neighborhood, to put it charitably. A broken swing dangles forlornly from the set by a single rusted chain. The paint on the houses is faded and cracked, windows covered up with decrepit bars.

“The one with the yellow fence,” Jennifer points out.

I park on the curb and step out. As I do, I see a pale face in the corner window. It disappears instantly and the curtain snaps closed.

I grimace. Gavin brought me the simplest car in my garage, and it still sticks out like a sore thumb. We won’t stay under the radar here for much longer.

Jennifer walks up to the front door and knocks hard. Nobody answers.

She gives it a minute and then knocks again. Still nothing.

Another minute, another round of knocking, more silence.

“They’re not going to answer. Time for a different approach.”

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