At 10:03 p.m., the hospital called—my ex-wife was unconscious, pregnant, and dying… and the child she’d been hiding was mine

exactly what they need her to be.”

“What?”

“A frightened ex-wife trapped between criminals.”

The words were ugly because they were true.

I stood.

“Then we do it clean.”

Ryan’s eyes flicked to mine.

He knew what that cost me.

Clean meant slower.

Clean meant traceable.

Clean meant no bodies in rivers, no burning warehouses, no midnight visits that ended in permanent continue reading …