Page 84 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“Thanks, I’m aware.”

“She doesn’t need to be stressed out.”

“Tell that to her siblings. They're the ones inducing the stress.” She’s about to open her mouth when I stop her. “And if you say one more fucking thing about Saint Rob, I’m not paying you this month.”

She frowns and mutters something under her breath I don’t catch. I decide to ignore it.

“Why are you here, Jen?”

“I have something to tell you.”

I frown. “It isn’t going to be good, is it?”

“That’s what I thought when I walked into a private room at the club last night and my new lead introduced himself. I was wrong, though.”

“New lead? Who is he?”

She smiles. “I think he’s what we call a ‘game changer.’”

21

OLIVIA

The kitchen is dark. I walk around the island and reach for the refrigerator door, only to realize someone is already standing there.

“Jesus!” I cry out as I yank my hand back.

“Sorry,” Jennifer says, sounding not sorry in the least. “I needed to grab a quick bite before I got back to it.”

I don’t bother asking what “it” is. She and Aleks are cut from the same cloth. They’re both secretive, cagey. Addicted to their power games. And equally unlikely to share so much as a crumb of information with me.

“I should be used to it by now, I guess. You seem to turn up everywhere these days,” I say resentfully. I want to walk away because there’s no way this ends well, but I’m too hungry to retreat to my room.

“I wasn’t trying to interrupt your conversation with Aleks earlier, I swear.”

I roll my eyes and eye the ham and cheese sandwich she’s got between her fingers. She notices what I’m looking at, so she pulls out another one wrapped in plastic and slides it onto the center island.

“They’re really good. There are some chicken sandwiches in there, too, if you’re interested.”

I nod reluctantly and she pulls out another sandwich. Then she walks over to a second, smaller fridge set underneath the cabinets and pulls out a couple of bottles of juice.

“Still a fan of lemonade?” she asks with a conspiratorial smile, as if to say,I know you, Liv. You know me.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “What about you? Are you still obsessed with orange juice or was that just part of the whole Isabella cover?”

She gives me a tight smile and offers me the bottle of lemonade while she pops the top of her orange juice. “That part was me.”

“I guess you only lie about the important stuff.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I was more myself when I was with you guys than I’ve ever been outside of it?”

“No,” I snort. “I would not.”

“I didn’t think so.” She sighs and takes a bite of her sandwich. “But it is true. You know what never made sense? I actually wanted you guys to like me. I mean, of course, part of the job was getting you to like me. But I shouldn’t have cared about that on a personal level. I don’t know. It’s hard to understand, even for me.”

“I understand that you’re a sociopath. Seems pretty cut-and-dry.”

She chews her food slowly and watches me with a hopeless kind of gaze.

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