imports. The really expensive kind.”
Taggart whipped out a little black notebook and a pen. “When is this meeting?”
“Tomorrow night.” She hedged a little as if she were truly reticent to tell him. “It’s at Jacob’s warehouse down on the wharf.”
“Excellent!” Taggart stood up, obviously done with Maggie for the moment.
“Hey!” she said indignantly. “So is this it? I mean, I’m done right? I can go back to my regular life and you guys will leave me alone?”
Taggart snorted. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
“Sweetheart, you’re a mafia whore. As far as we’re concerned, you’re ours until we’re through with you.” Taggart’s expression of superiority made her blood boil.
“Your commitment might be three weeks, but after that we can run you in on conspiracy charges just about any way we want.” He pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slipped them on. “You might as well consider yourself FBI property, Ms. Morrison. Until you’ve outlived your usefulness of course. Then it’ll be a prison sentence or probation for you. The judge will have to decide. Either way it won’t be my problem.”
Taggart left and Maggie sat for a while, staring at the ducks frolicking in a pond not far away. She wondered if she would have chosen differently that night at Club 599 if she had known how things would turn out. What Taggart was telling her was that no matter what sort of agreement she had with the FBI, they weren’t going to honor it anyway. She would eventually end up in court. Her life would be over.
A soft breeze ruffled the loose hair around Maggie’s face and neck. She tried to imagine what it might be like to live somewhere other than New York. It was strange, but her thoughts kept returning to Jacob. She didn’t care anymore where she lived. She simply wanted to be with him. She wanted a chance to have a real life, both for them and for their child.
Standing up, Maggie put a protective hand over her belly. Jacob had told her weeks ago that she had to trust him. She did. Probably more than she had ever trusted anyone else in her life.
“Hello, sweetheart.” Jacob’s softly accented voice soothed her ragged emotions. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Not long.”
They both knew they were being watched. This was probably one of the most important parts of the entire scenario. The FBI had to believe that she was trapped and that their plan to keep her dependent on them was secure.
“What’s wrong?” Jacob asked, his expression looking almost wooden.
“Have you thought anymore about what I asked you?” she prodded. “You know, before?”
“About marriage?”
“Yes.” Maggie held her breath. This was fake, yet there was a tiny part of her that worried she could truly be trapped in this snare of FBI bullshit.
“Sweetheart, I cannot marry.” Jacob’s delivery was so sincere that Maggie felt her stomach knot with tension. “A man in my line of work must maintain his freedom. I’ve told you that I will happily provide for you and for my son, but I’m simply not ready to settle down. I won’t be here too much longer anyway, you know.”
“You mentioned that,” Maggie murmured.
“Of course, my son will accompany me back to Russia.” Jacob rested a hand on her belly. “Since he will have dual citizenship he can walk in both worlds.”
“So you’d raise him to follow in your footsteps?” Maggie asked. The question might have been a ruse, but the sentiment was real. Did she honestly want her child—her family—immersed in this world?
“Of course,” Jacob assured her. “He would be a Dolohov. It’s his birthright.”
Maggie didn’t say anything else. She had played her part. There was just a tiny portion of her heart that worried she’d played it too well.
Chapter Thirteen
“This is a bad idea,” Sasha muttered. “In fact I cannot believe you talked me into this.”
Jacob hid a grin. Sasha would not have appreciated it, nor was the
Taggart whipped out a little black notebook and a pen. “When is this meeting?”
“Tomorrow night.” She hedged a little as if she were truly reticent to tell him. “It’s at Jacob’s warehouse down on the wharf.”
“Excellent!” Taggart stood up, obviously done with Maggie for the moment.
“Hey!” she said indignantly. “So is this it? I mean, I’m done right? I can go back to my regular life and you guys will leave me alone?”
Taggart snorted. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
“Sweetheart, you’re a mafia whore. As far as we’re concerned, you’re ours until we’re through with you.” Taggart’s expression of superiority made her blood boil.
“Your commitment might be three weeks, but after that we can run you in on conspiracy charges just about any way we want.” He pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slipped them on. “You might as well consider yourself FBI property, Ms. Morrison. Until you’ve outlived your usefulness of course. Then it’ll be a prison sentence or probation for you. The judge will have to decide. Either way it won’t be my problem.”
Taggart left and Maggie sat for a while, staring at the ducks frolicking in a pond not far away. She wondered if she would have chosen differently that night at Club 599 if she had known how things would turn out. What Taggart was telling her was that no matter what sort of agreement she had with the FBI, they weren’t going to honor it anyway. She would eventually end up in court. Her life would be over.
A soft breeze ruffled the loose hair around Maggie’s face and neck. She tried to imagine what it might be like to live somewhere other than New York. It was strange, but her thoughts kept returning to Jacob. She didn’t care anymore where she lived. She simply wanted to be with him. She wanted a chance to have a real life, both for them and for their child.
Standing up, Maggie put a protective hand over her belly. Jacob had told her weeks ago that she had to trust him. She did. Probably more than she had ever trusted anyone else in her life.
“Hello, sweetheart.” Jacob’s softly accented voice soothed her ragged emotions. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Not long.”
They both knew they were being watched. This was probably one of the most important parts of the entire scenario. The FBI had to believe that she was trapped and that their plan to keep her dependent on them was secure.
“What’s wrong?” Jacob asked, his expression looking almost wooden.
“Have you thought anymore about what I asked you?” she prodded. “You know, before?”
“About marriage?”
“Yes.” Maggie held her breath. This was fake, yet there was a tiny part of her that worried she could truly be trapped in this snare of FBI bullshit.
“Sweetheart, I cannot marry.” Jacob’s delivery was so sincere that Maggie felt her stomach knot with tension. “A man in my line of work must maintain his freedom. I’ve told you that I will happily provide for you and for my son, but I’m simply not ready to settle down. I won’t be here too much longer anyway, you know.”
“You mentioned that,” Maggie murmured.
“Of course, my son will accompany me back to Russia.” Jacob rested a hand on her belly. “Since he will have dual citizenship he can walk in both worlds.”
“So you’d raise him to follow in your footsteps?” Maggie asked. The question might have been a ruse, but the sentiment was real. Did she honestly want her child—her family—immersed in this world?
“Of course,” Jacob assured her. “He would be a Dolohov. It’s his birthright.”
Maggie didn’t say anything else. She had played her part. There was just a tiny portion of her heart that worried she’d played it too well.
Chapter Thirteen
“This is a bad idea,” Sasha muttered. “In fact I cannot believe you talked me into this.”
Jacob hid a grin. Sasha would not have appreciated it, nor was the
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