The doorbell rang, and Tony glared at the door. He wasn’t letting Veronica in a second time. He stalked to the door and flung it open, scaring the shit out of a pimple-faced teenage pizza delivery boy.
Shit. He’d forgotten all about the damn pizza. He pulled some bills out of his pocket and handed them to the delivery guy, taking the pizzas and shutting the door with his foot. He put them in the kitchen, then returned to the living room.
The situation had gone from major disaster to seriously fucked-up shit storm.
“You can’t stay here anymore,” Tony said grimly.
Ginny looked up, her expression a mix of hurt and confusion.
“Veronica might give you away,” Tony said gently and her face fell. “It’s not safe.”
He’d lost track of how many times he’d cursed Veronica in the last twenty-four hours alone. Not only had she put Ginny more at risk, she’d forced him to point out that Veronica might betray her.
And now Ginny could no longer stay with him. He wanted to kill Veronica for that alone. She was like a fucking cockroach—he’d terminate her in one area of his life, and then she’d pop up to contaminate another. When would it end?
“I didn’t think of that,” Ginny said. “Do you really think she’d tell Fedor where I am?”
Tony clamped his mouth shut and worked his jaw. Ginny needed to realize the truth about her sister on her own, but he was having a hard time holding his tongue, especially when Ginny’s naivete might endanger her.
“Of course you do.” Ginny sighed and shook her head. “I hate to say it, but I think so, too. I’m not safe here anymore. And if Fedor learns you’ve been helping me, you won’t be safe, either.”
“I’ll be fine,” Tony assured her. “Don’t worry about me.”
“You could stay in the hotel with me.” Hope shone in her voice and her eyes, and it killed him to have to extinguish it. He’d like nothing more than to take her away from this mess to the best hotel room money could buy, then spend days in bed, putting his mouth on every inch of her skin. Making love to her until they were both sated and exhausted.
But he’d have to take a rain check for that.
“A hotel isn’t the best option,” he said. “Barkov could have someone hack into their system and find out you’re there.”
“I’ll pay in cash and use a fake name.”
“Even still, it’s too risky. We don’t know who’s on his payroll.” Tony paced. “You need to stay with someone we can trust. Someone Barkov doesn’t know about.”
“I don’t have anyone! Goddammit!” Ginny stood up, anger flashing in her eyes.
Tony looked on in approval. Anger was preferable over passivity. And dammit, she had every right to be angry. She should be fucking pissed. He was. All she’d ever wanted was to help and protect her family, and as a reward for her efforts, she was hiding in fear. And who knew how long that would last? There was no easy way out of this.
He wracked his brain, trying to come up with contacts that might be suitable. He was coming up empty so far. Everyone on his side of town knew each another and was in one another’s business. It was one of the reasons he’d assumed his double life, taking to the south side.
In MMA, no one gave a fuck if you were high society, impoverished, or fucking royalty. Everyone bled the same.
It went against reason to take her to the south side, but that’s exactly what they needed to do. No one would suspect a Frazier to know anyone there.
“Let me make some calls,” he said. “I think I might know someone.”
* * *
Ginny shoved her toothbrush into her toiletry bag, then threw her moisturizer in after it. When she tugged on the zipper, she noticed the moisturizer lid had come loose and spilled white lotion all over the inside of the bag and all its contents.
“Dammit!” The sight of the lotion coating the bristles of her hairbrush made her want to cry, and tears threatened to spill over. It was too much and the damn brush put her over the edge. She laughed, a maniacal sound that sounded foreign. But what else could she do? It was either laugh or cry at the absurdity of everything.
Pull yourself together.
She gripped the edge of the counter and stared into the mirror at the fading bruises on her face, which had changed from eggplant purple to a sickly yellow. Crying wouldn’t solve this problem. She would not give in.
“You’re done with tears, Ginny.”
Her life was messed up beyond belief. Some of this—a lot of it—was her fault. She shouldn’t have tried to protect Veronica. She shouldn’t have given in to Fedor’s blackmail. She shouldn’t have taken on the responsibility for saving the family’s financial firm, especially since she had no expertise in that area.
But damn it, she wasn’t taking all of the blame. Her father shouldn’t have let the company get so far gone before he asked for help. Fedor shouldn’t resort to blackmail to make his way in society. And worst of all—Veronica shouldn’t be such an unscrupulous bitch.
Guilt lined her stomach at the unflattering thought, but Ginny dismissed it. She didn’t have the energy or the motivation to defend Veronica anymore.
Veronica might not have killed Barry, but Ginny needed to examine the fact that she thought Veronica capable of it. Why should Ginny sacrifice everything for her when Veronica wouldn’t return the favor? Hell, Ginny would settle for some heartfelt concern for her beaten face. Even an honest “how are you?” would be nice. But no, the only sympathy she could got from her sister was self-serving.
So from now on, Ginny was going to put herself before her sister. Veronica was a big girl—she could take care of her own damn self.
She flipped the suitcase closed and poked in the fabric that was sticking out the sides. She’d tossed everything in, not bothering to fold or organize, so it was going to be a mess when she finally unpacked. If she ever got to unpack. When would she be able to return to a semblance of a normal life?
Whatever that was. Her life hadn’t been her own since she’d put everything on hold to help her father at the company. But that would have to stop, too. She couldn’t keep living for everyone else or she would break.
Tony was in the living room making calls. To whom, she didn’t know. He was trying to find somewhere safe for her to stay, and she hated the possibility of putting anyone else at risk. But what choice did she have?
She could go to Fedor to try to negotiate her way out of this. And perhaps she should—she’d have to face him eventually, so why not do it sooner rather than later if it might save some heartache? Deep down, she knew it wouldn’t do any good. He wasn’t the type of man to accept defeat and he would view her breaking off their engagement as exactly that.
With her help, he was worming his way into society, but once their engagement was publicly dissolved, he’d lose what little progress he’d made. Her stomach turned at the thought that she’d exploited her family’s good name to help that monster. Thank God she’d finally come to her senses.
So she’d continue to hide and try not to feel cowardly about it. There was no point meeting with Fedor until she had leverage. What it would be and how she would to acquire it, she had no idea.
Her first order of business was learning more about what Fedor had against Veronica. Ginny might mentally talk a big game about abandoning her sister, but if there was any way to keep Veronica safe, she would. Veronica was her damn Achilles’ heel. But this was the last time. After this, she was on her own.
It could be that Fedor’s evidence wouldn’t stand. Would the courts accept the testimony of an obviously crooked lawyer? Could they prove that Barry had commissioned the new will? It wasn’t signed, so it easily could have been drafted after his death, effectively framing Veronica. There was so much Ginny needed to find out. And if it turned out Veronica was guilty . . . well, she would deal with that when the time came. If the time came. She still hadn’t given up the tiny shred of hope that Veronica was innocent.
But if she was innocent, then why did s
he refuse to talk about Barry’s death? Even after it had just happened, Veronica wouldn’t discuss it, which was uncharacteristic. Ginny had chalked it up to grief, but now she wasn’t sure that was the case. She could be hiding something.
If Veronica was responsible for Barry’s death—Ginny gulped, the thought almost too horrible to comprehend—maybe she had good reason. There were two sides to every story and whole lot of gray area.
So many if’s. Ginny needed answers.
She spied her forgotten lip balm on the nightstand, and when she reached for it, she knocked it off the tabletop and bumped Tony’s computer that was sitting there. The screen flashed on as the computer woke up.
She sighed. Her nerves were totally shot.
She dropped to her knees to fish the lip balm out from under the bed. In doing so, her eyes were level with the computer screen, which had a cell phone statement pulled up.
A number caught her eye—that was Fedor’s number.
Her heart jumped into her throat. Why was Fedor’s number on Tony’s cell phone record? Could he—
No. Not Tony. He cared about her. He was not like Veronica. If he’d called Fedor, he must have a good reason. Or good intentions at the very least.
Feeling like a suspicious girlfriend going through her boyfriend’s things, she scrolled to the top of the page to see the addressee. Adamo Enterprises.
Why? Just why?
She wanted to laugh, cry, scream, pound her fists into the walls. Every time she thought things couldn’t get more fucked up, they did. She’d thought she’d hit rock bottom, but it turned out she still had a long way to go.
She’d put off confronting Veronica, but she wouldn’t make that mistake again. Ginny squared her shoulders and went into the living room.
Tony wasn’t there, but she found him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and eating a piece of pizza. Her stomach was hollow and empty, but it twisted at the sight of food. Even though she should be hungry, her appetite was gone. The last hour had seen to that.
“Why is Fedor’s phone number on your cell phone bill?” she asked, looking him in the eye.
His hand holding the pizza paused midway to his mouth. “What?”
She gauged his reaction—his eyes widened with genuine surprise. He isn’t hiding anything. She exhaled. Thank God. She didn’t think he was, but for just a moment, she’d doubted. Her judgment lately had proven faulty. It was reassuring to know her instincts weren’t wrong when it came to Tony. If they were, she’d have to admit defeat and go into permanent hiding, living as a hermit.
“I accidentally bumped your computer and I saw your statement with Fedor’s number.”
Tony dropped the half-eaten slice on top of the box. “Show me.”
He followed Ginny into the bedroom. She pointed to a line on the screen. “There. That’s Fedor’s number.”
Tony ran a hand over his face, then stared in disbelief at the number on the screen, which was repeated several times. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m positive.” Now Ginny was thoroughly confused. “Why? What’s going on?”
“That’s my father’s phone records. It seems he’s doing business with Barkov.”
Chapter 19
Tony couldn’t decide between pulling Ginny toward him and kissing her or pounding his fist through the wall. She’d found the missing piece.
His father. And Barkov.
Fuck.
They were in business together, no doubt to manufacture and distribute B37. How did something like this happen? His father didn’t even know Barkov, or so Tony thought. Whose idea was it? Who had approached whom?
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that his father was using Adamo resources to create a drug that Barkov planned to distribute.
But why?
His family was wealthy—money couldn’t be the motive. And as CEO of Adamo, Santi Adamo was a powerful man in his own right. What did he stand to gain? He didn’t need to resort to doing business with scum like Barkov. It didn’t make sense.
But nothing about his father ever did. He’d been raised by the two most compassionate people Tony knew, yet his father was one of the biggest assholes he’d ever encountered. It defied reason.
Any lingering respect he had for the man who’d fathered him disintegrated.
For a moment, he considered calling Marco. Since his brother abruptly left for the military nearly four years ago, they’d become distant. But until then, he’d shared the burden of his father with his brother.
He quickly dismissed the idea. Marco was deployed in the Middle East somewhere—he didn’t even know exactly where. If Tony notified him, what would he do? What could he do? Nothing. He was in his own dangerous situation. No need to distract him with something he couldn’t do anything about anyway.
Tony realized Ginny was staring at him, dumbfounded. Questions were written all over her face, but she couldn’t seem to articulate them.
He knew the feeling.
“My father is involved in the manufacture of a new drug, like a powerhouse OxyContin,” he explained. “I discovered it not too long ago and just learned exactly what it is. It seems he’s gone into business with Barkov to sell it on the streets. It’s much more powerful and even more addicting.”
Ginny stared at him for a moment, then closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry.”
Her life was falling apart, yet she still comforted him, always putting others first. She knew what a blow this was to him and his family. He didn’t need to explain it to her.
He pulled her tight against him, needing the feel of her body to stabilize his overflowing heart. Her compassion floored him. How could she have anything left in her to give?
Yet she did, and she offered it freely, not expecting anything in return.
She would get something though—all of him. He would protect her with his life and when all this was over, he’d devote himself to loving her.
If he hadn’t been holding her, he would have staggered backward—he loved her. He loved her in a way he’d never loved anyone else, in a way that made him willing to die for her, in a way that her happiness was all that mattered.
He pressed his lips to her forehead, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of her hair.
She was everything.
Tony gave himself another moment, then reluctantly pulled away. They needed to get moving.
“Are you all packed?”
“Yes.” She pulled her hair back into a no-nonsense ponytail. “I just need to grab a few things I left in the living room.”
“Good.” He picked up her suitcase. “We need to go. Veronica could have talked to Barkov by now.”
“I don’t think she’d go straight to him.”
Tony didn’t think so either, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Veronica—like Barkov—was unpredictable. It really was a shame. Under other circumstances, the two of them would have made an excellent match.
That is, until they tore each other to pieces. It was laughable that Veronica wanted Barkov for herself. The two were so much alike, they’d butt heads like two damn bulls. They deserved each other.
If Tony had anything to say about it, though, neither would get a happily ever after. He would destroy Barkov.
And Veronica? That part was trickier. If it turned out she really did kill Barry, then Tony would have to talk Ginny into turning her in. Ginny wouldn’t like it, but Veronica couldn’t walk free, not if she was a murderer.
Tony just hoped that when the time came, Ginny would be able to do the right thing. He wasn’t a cop or an attorney, but he was pretty sure if Ginny protected her sister, she would be an accessory after the fact. Tony would not let Ginny take the fall for her sorry excuse for a sister. He would do whatever it took to protect her, even if it meant losing her.
He held her hand as they descended the stairs that led to the parking lot. He hoped to God he wasn’t forced to do something she wouldn’t forgive him for—b
ut he wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice Veronica to save Ginny. Ginny might be willing to risk her freedom so that Veronica could have hers, but Tony wouldn’t let her.
Leaving Ginny just inside the building, he went out to his car alone to scout out the area and make sure Barkov didn’t already have men watching them. It was clear, which was expected. If Barkov knew where she was, he wouldn’t be content to just watch.
He pulled up to the walkway and sent Ginny a quick text. She darted out and jumped in the passenger seat. He pulled away from the curb before the door was all the way closed.
It might be overkill, but he wasn’t taking chances, not with Ginny. The seconds she’d been exposed while running to his car felt like eons.
She pulled the seatbelt across her chest. “You never told me where you’re taking me.”
Tony pulled out into traffic, keeping his eye on the rearview in case they were followed. Still clear. Damn, though. How long would he have to look over his shoulder even after this was over? As long as Barkov was around, would it ever truly be over?
Probably not. Men like Barkov had long memories. They didn’t forgive and forget easily.
Thanks to his MMA life, Tony had experience with a man eerily similar to Barkov: X. The major difference between the two men was that X accepted his place as ruler of the south side—he’d had no desire to pretend to be legitimate.
Barkov wasn’t exactly pretending—he just wanted the best of both worlds. He had his toes in both pools, legal and illegal. Since X had been keeping a low profile, Barkov’s power on the south side had grown. He wouldn’t simply walk away from that, no matter how much his legal entities grew. He was a man with an insatiable thirst for power.
“Her name is Kat,” Tony said. “She’s a friend of Natalie’s but she lives on the south side.”
Ginny wrung her hands. “I hate asking her to take me in. I don’t even know her and if Fedor finds out—”
Hold You Close Page 17
