Tony did a double take. Had he heard her right?

“Say that again,” he said.

This time, Ginny looked up at him, the anguish apparent on her features. “Fedor has evidence that Veronica killed Barry.”

Tony broke eye contact by scrubbing a hand over his face. He was the first to admit that Veronica could act like a bitch, but murder? That was a stretch, even for her.

Yet, he couldn’t completely eliminate the possibility. Veronica had always been ruthless, and from what he’d seen lately, that ruthlessness had only increased over the years. Would it extend to killing her own husband? For what gain?

One look at Ginny told him she harbored the same doubts.

Damn. How long had Ginny known about this? It had to be eating away at her. For all of Veronica’s faults, Ginny loved her. Ginny’s willingness to marry Fedor suddenly made sense. Of course. She wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice herself to protect her family.

Tony sat next to Ginny and reached for her hand. He ran his thumb over the back of it, and her shoulders relaxed a little. “Tell me what Fedor said.”

She took a deep breath, then braced herself to speak words that obviously tormented her. “He told me Veronica poisoned Barry.”

Underhanded, cold, and detached. Sounded like Veronica’s MO. Still, that didn’t prove anything.

“The autopsy would have found that,” Tony said.

“You would think.” Ginny pressed a hand to her stomach, as if talking about this was making her physically ill. “The autopsy reported heart attack as a cause of death.”

“So what’s Fedor’s evidence then?”

Ginny sighed. “He claims he can prove Veronica bought potassium chloride. When injected in the right dose, it mimics a heart attack. And it’s normal to have large amounts of potassium in the blood after a heart attack.” She laughed bitterly. “I did my research. Everything he said checks out.”

If that was true, it was very clever of Veronica in a twisted, sick way. Where would she have learned about that, though? Veronica wasn’t stupid, but she wasn’t inclined to intellectual pursuits. And she certainly wasn’t one to get her own hands dirty.

He tried to picture Veronica puncturing her husband’s arm with a syringe, knowing the liquid she pumped inside his body would kill him. It wasn’t a pretty picture—but it was there. He could see it happening.

Goddamn her.

“Wouldn’t the medical examiner have noticed an injection wound?”

“Barry was diabetic. He had lots of them.”

“Damn.”

“You got that right.” Her voice was edged with anger. He much preferred that to grief.

“Did you ever find out what Fedor’s proof is?”

“He told me he knows the guy who sold her the potassium.”

Tony paused for a moment, running over the scenario in his mind. He was no lawyer and he didn’t know one he trusted enough to talk to about this.

“Unless he has concrete evidence, it’s their word against hers,” Tony mused. “The type of guy who’d be in the business of selling that wouldn’t be a good witness.”

It hadn’t escaped his attention that neither one of them had addressed whether or not the allegations were true.

“She had motive,” Ginny said quietly. “Somehow Fedor has copies of Barry’s wills.”

“Wills? More than one?”

“Yes. The original will leaves her seventy-five percent of the estate with the rest going to various relatives. But he’d been working with his lawyer on a new will, one that only left Veronica ten percent. If they had a child together, it would go up to twenty-five percent with fifty percent going to the child. The remaining twenty-five percent remained unchanged.”

“Wow. That’s quite a difference. Do you know if anything prompted the change?” Tony didn’t say what he was thinking. Veronica had cheated on him, so it wasn’t farfetched to think she’d cheat on her husband as well.

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked her about it.”

“How did Barkov get the wills?”

“Through the lawyer,” Ginny said bitterly. “Barry really had poor judgment when it came to trusting people.”

Tony hadn’t known Barry well—had only met him a handful of times—but he had seemed like a nice enough man. Obviously, since he’d married Veronica, his judgment was questionable, but he didn’t deserve to die.

As much as Ginny wanted to protect her sister, Barry’s murderer should be brought to justice. Had Ginny considered that? Or was she blinded by her love for Veronica?

None of this even mattered if Veronica was innocent. The more he thought about it, the more his gut told him she wasn’t. If she’d really killed a man, they couldn’t just let her walk.

But he wasn’t going to broach that subject until they knew for sure if Veronica was guilty.

“Fedor wouldn’t tell me anything more than what I told you,” Ginny said. “But his story aligns with everything I’ve been able to find out. I couldn’t risk it.” Her eyes begged him to understand.

In a way, he could. Despite his recent differences with Marco, if his brother were in trouble, he’d fight through fire to help him. The one difference was that Marco was worth saving—Tony couldn’t say the same for Veronica. Even if Ginny managed to get her sister out of this mess unscathed, her conniving ways were bound to catch up with her eventually. Ginny couldn’t protect her indefinitely—not when the greatest danger to her was herself.

And how much was Ginny willing to compromise her own morals?

“I take it Veronica denied everything,” Tony commented.

Ginny ducked her head. “I didn’t ask her. I couldn’t. If it turned out to be true . . . I just couldn’t. Besides, true or not, if Fedor went public with that information, Veronica’s life would be ruined. You know how people can be—‘innocent until proven guilty’ is just a myth.”

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 she 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.”