Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet #2) - Nicole Fox Page 0,36
save them. I’m not sure when that little boy lost his humanity and became the Fedor I know today, but I wish more than anything I could go back and fix it.
My men have avoided their regular haunts and are keeping a low profile while I try to figure things out, but morale is low. This dinner with the Irish couldn’t have come at a better time. We need allies. Now.
I park along the curb in front of Molly’s apartment and just before I turn off the car, my phone rings.
It’s George.
“What do you need?” I ask shortly, not wanting to chitchat. “I have plans tonight.”
“And I have information.” His voice is gruff. “I’ve been monitoring Petr the last few days, and I’ve seen him driving into an Italian stronghold every day.”
“To see who?”
“I don’t know.” He sighs. “The damn streets are so narrow that I have to keep my distance to avoid him seeing me, and I lose him every time.”
I curse. “That isn’t good, but I need more than a suspicion. If I cast doubt on Petr, the entire Bratva could fall apart. If even my right-hand man is betraying me, what would keep everyone else from deserting me? I have to be absolutely certain Petr has turned his back on me before I do anything rash.”
“I’ll keep tailing him,” George says.
We hang up, and I take a deep breath, trying to release the tension building in my neck and shoulders. I look over and see one of my men parked across the road to keep eyes on the street outside Molly’s apartment. He rolls down his window an inch and sticks a finger out in a small wave. I tip my head in his direction, straighten my suit jacket, and head inside.
Molly told me she’d need a new dress, so I had one sent over for her this morning. She isn’t far enough along in her pregnancy to be showing yet, so the measurements I had taken after she first came to live with me still work. Eventually, I’ll need to buy her maternity clothes.
For our baby.
How can I let her walk away with my baby?
The question has been floating around in my brain for two days, and I’m no closer to having an answer. Perhaps we can arrange some kind of custody deal, but I’m not sure Molly would agree. Being close to me at all puts her and the kids in danger. She might want to cut ties with me completely, and I have to figure out whether I’m okay with that. Whether I can live knowing my child is out there in the world without me.
I knock on Molly’s front door three times in the specific pattern I devised with the guards and then unlock the front door with my key. One of the guards peeks his head around the corner to be sure it is me and then disappears, worries assuaged.
The living room is empty—Theo is with the nanny, and I’m not sure where Molly’s house guest is—so I mount the stairs to her room. I’m just about to knock when I hear voices.
“You don’t have to go.” I recognize the voice as Hannah’s. “Tell him you’re sick. Or that you are nauseous. You’re pregnant. He can’t argue with a pregnant woman.”
“I’m always nauseous,” Molly says. “Even before the pregnancy. This life gives me anxiety.”
I fight back the flare of anger and concern that rises up in me.
“That is why you need to get out of here,” Hannah says. “Let’s do it. Right now. We’ll leave, pick up Theo, and run. Who is better at living under the radar than a formerly homeless woman and a current one? We are society’s undesirables. Let’s embrace our invisibility and run.”
There is silence for a long time, and I start to worry Molly is considering the offer. But she wouldn’t … would she?
Running now would be so foolish. Fedor would find her in a second, and with no one to protect her or Theo or the baby, she’d be killed. Or worse.
“I can’t,” Molly says at last. “I have to think about Theo. Plus, I’m pregnant.”
“We were both pregnant the first time we slept under a bridge,” Hannah says. “We can do it again.”
Molly doesn’t say anything, but her answer must be clear enough because Hannah sighs. “Okay, but just know I’ll support you no matter what you decide.”
She sounds so sincere, but she is also trying to convince my (fake) wife to run away with