Hold You Close

by Jessica Linden

  “I’m sorry,” Ginny said. She wanted to reach over and touch him, but she didn’t want to distract him while he was driving, so she put her hands in her lap.

  “Why?” Tony kept his eyes on the road, his hands massaging the steering wheel.

  “Because even though you hate your father, it still has to be awful to have the worst confirmed about him.”

  “I made peace with my father being an asshole years ago.” Tony glanced over at her. “Are we talking about my father? Or Veronica?”

  Ginny’s lower lip trembled. She put her fist against her mouth and looked out the window. She’d been trying unsuccessfully to put Veronica out of her mind. It had been stupid to cling to the hope that Veronica was somehow innocent and she’d thought she was prepared for the inevitable, but it turned out she was wrong.

  She could have never prepared to accept the fact that her sister was a murderer.

  And because of her, because she’d refused to accept the truth, poor Barry’s family didn’t know the truth. His murderer walked free.

  A sob escaped her.

  Tony pulled off the road and undid his seatbelt. Gathering Ginny in his arms, he pressed his lips to her temple. The simple act calmed her and the contact with him soothed her.

  “It’s okay to be upset,” he said. “You love your sister and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “But she’s a monster. And I’ve enabled her all these years.”

  Tony didn’t respond right away, making Ginny think he agreed.

  Ginny had known for a long time her sister wasn’t the nicest person. She had a mean streak that went on for miles and even their patient, loving parents had just about washed their hands of her. But Ginny had stuck by her, always giving her the benefit of the doubt and making excuses for her even when she clearly didn’t deserve it. She’d clung to the hope that deep down Veronica was a good person.

  In reality, Veronica had been playing her this whole time. She felt like such a fool.

  “The only one responsible for Veronica is Veronica,” Tony finally said. “You’ve got to let that go.”

  “I’m trying.” Ginny sniffed. “But it’s hard.”

  “I know. That’s one of the things I love about you—you love your family unequivocally. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. Always have.”

  Sometimes having a big heart was a weakness though, not a strength. If she had seen Veronica clearly before, would Barry still be alive?

  Ginny laughed, a sad sound. “I was trying to take care of you, and you turned it around on me.”

  “I want to take care of you.” Tony brought her knuckles to his lips and her heart fluttered. “If you’ll let me.”

  Her heart expanded in her chest and the crater left by Veronica began to fill in.

  I’m going to be okay. For the first time, she truly believed it because she believed in Tony and she believed in them.

  Ginny’s phone chimed and she shifted so she could pull it out of her purse. As soon as she answered, all she could hear were sirens, a cackling noise, and a whooshing sound.

  “Hello?” she said, pulling the phone back to look at the number. She didn’t recognize it. Damn. She’d been so caught up in her grief over Veronica that she hadn’t checked the number before she answered. Maybe she should just hang up.

  “Ginny?” Her father’s voice was and ragged. Nothing got her father down—not even the company tanking. Her blood chilled and icy dread pulsed through her veins.

  “Dad?” She pulled away from Tony, sitting at attention. “What’s going on?”

  “The house was firebombed.”

  Chapter 26

  Ginny gasped and her heart fell into her stomach, which clenched and churned. “Are you okay?” she asked. “What about Mom? Is Mom okay?”

  “I’m fine. Your mother’s fine.” Her dad coughed, a horrible, hacking sound. “We both had some smoke inhalation and she sprained her wrist, but we’re fine.”

  That was not fine. Anything other than her parents going about their lives normally was not fine.

  “I’m on my way,” she said. She disconnected and looked at Tony, who’d overheard the conversation and was already pulling back out into traffic. “Hurry.”

  She sat like a statue, her hands squeezing her knees so hard her fingers spasmed.

  Her street was blocked off by cop cars, so they were forced to park at the end of the neighborhood. Ginny took off at a run. An officer stepped in front of her, blocking her path and holding her back when she tried to push past him.

  “Ma’am, this road is closed. There’s a fire.”

  “I know!” she yelled, wanting to knee him in the groin and keep going. “It’s my family’s home.”

  Tony came up behind her and disentangled her from the officer. He towered over the man, glaring at him for daring to put his hands on her.

  “What’s the address?” the officer asked.

  “2783 Mill River.”

  “Okay, go ahead.” He finally stepped aside.

  Ginny raced up the block toward her family home, her heart pounding. She slowed at the sight of her parents huddled together, sharing a blanket as they watched their home burn. Her mom turned, tears streaming down her soot-covered face.

  “Mom.” Ginny rushed into her mother’s arms. “Are you okay?” She ran her hands over her mom’s face, then down her shoulder and arms, wanting to check for herself. Her mom’s wrist was wrapped in an ace bandage.

  “We’re fine,” her mother reassured her, stroking her hair like she’d done when Ginny was a child.

  A creaking sound, followed by the firemen’s shouts, caused Ginny and her parents to turn. Flames lapped at the section of the roof over the garage and the middle began to cave. Ginny watched in horror as the center collapsed in a horrible crash, sending smoke billowing out. The loss of the roof did nothing to abate the fire—the flames raged on, claiming another part of the house as its next victim.

  She’d always considered the crackling sound of fire to be soothing. Never again. She’d never be able to hear it without remembering watching her family’s home burn.

  With the exception of her small suitcase, all of her clothes and personal items were in the house. She’d put her furniture and household items in storage when she’d given up the apartment, so there was that. What bothered her the most, though, was the house. She hadn’t cared about it until now, until it was too late. She’d spent her entire childhood in that house—every Christmas, every first day of school, every birthday. The dogwood tree to the side of the garage that she’d planted for Earth Day one year was engulfed in flames. The tangible reminder of one of her best childhood memories—just gone. Like everything else her parents had worked for. Savagely taken.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I was in the kitchen and I heard the window break in the living room, so I went to see what had happened,” her father explained in a hollow voice. “There was something resting on the floor, but before I could get to it, it exploded.”

  “Oh my God,” Ginny said, grabbing her father’s hands to reassure herself he was all right. “You could have been killed.”

  “Takes more than that to get your old man down.” He pinched her cheek with a sad smile. “Turns out that wasn’t the only window that was hit. So I went up to find your mother—she was in her studio.”

  Oh, no . . . all of her mom’s art. It was in the house.

  “We gathered as many paintings as we could and carried them out.” Her father gestured to canvases spread across the driveway. Some were soaked from the firemen’s hoses, some had holes burned by cinders from the fire, and others were ripped. It was a graveyard of broken dreams. “By the time we went back in for another batch, it was getting bad, so we tossed as many as we could out of the window and then hightailed it out of there.”

  Her mother choked back a sob and put hand over her mouth. “I know it’s silly—they’re just material things—”

  “No, I understand,”
Ginny said. Her mother’s heart and soul were her art. She could give or take her clothes, jewelry, and all the other possessions, but the art? That was sacred.

  “I’m just glad you weren’t home,” her mom said.

  “Ma’am? Sir?” An officer approached. “Can we have a word?”

  Her mother wiped her tears away. “Of course.”

  Ginny watched as the officer led her parents away, then she turned to Tony who’d been standing a respectful distance apart, giving her and her parents space. She curled her body against his chest.

  “Fedor did this.” She didn’t need proof. In fact, she expected there wouldn’t be any proof to find, at least none that could be traced back to him.

  “I know.” Tony tightened his arms around her and Ginny allowed herself to get lost in the comfort for a moment.

  “We need to go to the police with those pictures. Fedor needs to be stopped.”

  “I have a contact I’m going to call.”

  “Good.” Ginny closed her eyes. “I want to say it couldn’t get any worse than this, but I know better. If they question me about the fire, I’m going to tell them I’ve recently split up with Fedor. That might be enough for the police to look into him as a suspect, especially if he’s been on their radar before.” She sighed. “My parents didn’t deserve this. They shouldn’t be in danger because I messed up with Fedor.”

  “Don’t worry,” Tony said. “He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

  * * *

  Tony held his phone to his ear several yards away from the scene, both to give himself privacy for his call and to let Ginny and her parents have space. Well, as much as he could give them without letting her out of his sight. He wasn’t too worried about Barkov or his men pulling anything here, not while the area was swarming with officers, but then again there wasn’t much he’d put past the corrupt fucker.

  “Detective Plasky.”

  About time. Tony had been on hold for nearly ten damn minutes. David Plasky was Marco’s friend from high school who’d cut ties with the north side to live, work, and serve on the south side. That meant he’d also cut ties with Marco and Tony. If he only knew Tony had also turned to the south side in the form of MMA—of course, if he’d known that, he’d have had to arrest Tony, since the fighting ring was illegal. Nevertheless, Tony respected the guy.

  “David, it’s Tony Adamo.”

  A pause.

  “Hell, it’s been a long time,” Plasky said. Tony couldn’t read his tone.

  “Unfortunately, I’m not calling to catch up.” Tony told him everything he’d learned about High, leaving out Barkov’s connection to Ginny. There was no way to bring in Ginny’s relationship with him and all it entailed without casting a gray light on Ginny as well. Tony didn’t give a fuck how Barkov went down—just that he did. And his involvement with High was enough to get that ball rolling.

  Plasky whistled, low and long. “Shit, Adamo, when you come calling, you really come calling.” It got quieter in the background and Plasky lowered his voice. “The department’s been trying for years to get something on Barkov, but he’s slippery as fuck. Witnesses recant or disappear. Evidence goes missing. You know.”

  “Yeah,” Tony said, thinking of the events from the last week. “I know.”

  “The earliest I’ll be able to look into this is tomorrow. The fucking red tape is endless.”

  “Yeah,” Tony said again. That was one of the reasons he’d waited this long to get the cops involved.

  He ended the call just as Ginny walked over to him. Her shoulders were slumped, her hands shoved into her pockets. There was soot on her face.

  That fucker knew how to hit her where it hurt.

  Damn, he wished he could throw caution and protocol to the wind and take down that asshole himself. Barkov deserved worse than prison. He deserved to have his heart ripped out and fed to him, because that’s essentially what he’d done to Ginny by going after her parents.

  Tony used his thumb to wipe the soot off her cheek, wishing he could do more.

  “My parents are going to stay with some friends,” she said. “I told them a little bit about what’s going on with Fedor. Not everything, though. Just enough so they’d understand the danger and be alert.”

  Worry still lined her face, though, and there was nothing Tony could do to take that away. He wouldn’t lie to her and tell her she had nothing to be worried about.

  Because she had everything to be worried about. Barkov had proven that.

  “That’s all you can do. I talked to my contact at the police department. He probably won’t be able to look at the lab until tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  His sentiments exactly. He wished he had better news to share, but it was what it was. Maybe they were wrong to wait this long to get the police involved. With Ginny’s situation, though, that wasn’t his call. He wouldn’t violate her trust by going over her head—not unless her life was in danger. Then he’d do anything to save her.

  With High, he’d made the right call. The police wouldn’t have been able to track down the lab, not like he had. The fact that it was also tied to Barkov made it that much more complicated.

  In any event, they had to play the cards as they fell. So far they’d fallen in Barkov’s favor. Hopefully the hands would shift.

  “Bureaucratic bullshit,” Tony said. “But I can guarantee that he’ll look into it faster than anyone else would.”

  Tony’s phone rang. It was Darius. Finally. Maybe some good news.

  “Isaiah stopped by. I told him you wanted to talk to him.”

  Tony gripped the phone. “Yeah?” If he could get the name of the dealer, that would make it easier for the cops to trace High back to Adamo. Better yet, if he could get a sample from the streets, he could send it to Phil to be analyzed.

  “He’ll be at Bev’s Diner tomorrow morning. I, ah, insinuated you’d be willing to buy him breakfast. Among other things.” Darius sounded mildly embarrassed, but Tony didn’t care. He could spare a few dollars if it got him the information he needed.

  “If you talk to him again, tell him I’ll make it worth his while to show up.”

  Chapter 27

  Tony drummed his fingers on the table as the waitress approached for the third time.

  “More coffee?” She was terse and more than a little annoyed that Tony and Ginny had been there for an hour and hadn’t ordered anything other than coffee.

  Frankly, the coffee was barely drinkable. Tony could feel it eating away at the lining of his stomach. No way was he risking any of the food at this joint.

  “No, thanks,” he said. The waitress walked away with a scowl.

  “I’m calling Darius again,” Tony said with a frown. He knew Isaiah wasn’t reliable, but he also knew what lengths junkies would go to for money for their next fix. So Tony was a little surprised he hadn’t shown. He’d already called Darius once twenty minutes ago, but no answer.

  He had better luck this time and Darius answered on the first ring. In the background there was the sound of female sobbing.

  Oh, shit. What now?

  “The cops are here,” Darius said. “Isaiah was found dead this morning.”

  “Damn,” Tony said. “I’m sorry, man.”

  “He was into some bad shit. It was only a matter of time, but he’s Tameka’s brother, so she’s taking it hard. He was only family she had left.”

  “Did he OD?” Tony asked. Plasky better come through. Though it was in no way his fault, as CEO of Adamo, his conscience would not rest easy knowing the company had a part in releasing a potent drug onto the streets. Because once it was out there, there was no telling how far it would go and the damage it would do.

  Tony wished he’d bashed his father’s face in the last time he saw him. He deserved so much worse than that.

  “The cops aren’t telling us, but I don’t think so. I think he was killed. I can’t even begin to guess by who. Ever since he became an addict, he’s pissed people off left an
d right. Stealing, doing anything he could for his next fix. Guess he crossed the wrong person this time.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tony had already said that, but he didn’t know what else to say. It was a damn shame, especially if Isaiah had once had the potential to have gone to college on an athletic scholarship.

  “Shit, man, he was supposed to meet you this morning. I forgot all about that.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Darius. If there’s anything I can do, let me know. Go take care of your family.”

  Damn. It was awful coincidental that Isaiah was killed right before they were supposed to meet. Could he have run his mouth about the meeting? If the wrong person had heard about it and it had gotten back to Barkov, Barkov might have ordered the hit. How much effort would the police expend looking into a junkie’s murder? Probably not much.

  Had Tony inadvertently caused Isaiah’s death? The idea didn’t sit well. Once the funeral arrangements were made public, he’d make an anonymous payment to the funeral home to cover the expenses. It was the least he could do.

  “What happened?” Ginny asked.

  Tony stood and threw two twenties on the table to make up for the waitress’s time. “He’s not coming.”

  Ginny gave him an odd look, but followed him out of the restaurant to the car.

  “Isaiah was killed,” Tony said. Now that they were in the privacy of his car, he could talk about it. Too many potential eavesdroppers in the diner.

  And shit, if Barkov had ordered the hit, they’d made themselves easy targets in the diner. He might have known about the meeting. Tony pulled out into traffic, wanting to get as far away from the south side as he could.

  “Oh, no,” Ginny said. “That’s terrible.”

  “Yeah, it is.” There was not much else to say about it. Tony glanced in the rearview, making sure they weren’t being followed. Though by now, between Isaiah and Veronica, Barkov probably knew exactly where they were.

  Natalie might have sounded cocky about her security earlier, but she had a point. The Farrington family was legend in this city. If Barkov had any hopes of making it, he wouldn’t dare cross her. Not openly, anyway. Natalie’s was probably the safest place for them.