Tony clenched his jaw and his leg bobbed up and down.

“Relax,” Plasky said. If Plasky told him to relax one more time, he would punch him in his goddamn face.

“She shouldn’t be in there. It’s too dangerous.”

“She’s doing great.”

“You didn’t see her after he beat her,” Tony spat.

“I’ve seen it,” Plasky said flatly.

Tony glanced over at him. No doubt Plasky seen some bad shit in his years on the force, but damn, the memory of Ginny waiting for him at his front door, beaten and broken, flooded his mind and pulled at his soul. How could he let her go in there knowing that could be the result?

He wanted to take care of Barkov for her so she would never have to see that asshole again. But deep down he understood why she needed to face him herself—to free herself from her fear of him. That’s the only reason he stepped aside.

Right now, though, while she was in the thick of things, it was hard to remember that.

He heard Ginny sob over the speaker and he pounded his fists on the dash.

“Chill out,” Plasky said, “and give your girl some credit.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t give Ginny any credit—it was that he gave Barkov none. If that motherfucker laid one hand on her, Tony would kill him, pure and simple.

* * *

“You have to still want me.” Ginny’s voice trembled. She closed her eyes, visualizing everything bad that had happened to her in the past few days: the stone-cold look on Veronica’s face when Ginny confirmed the truth, her parents huddled as they watched their home burn, her mother’s paintings, destroyed and strewn about the driveway.

She didn’t have to fake the tears.

“Oh, my kotik,” Fedor said in a coddling tone. “If it means that much to you, I can let you make it up to me.”

She sniffed. “Really?”

“Of course, luybov moya. Women are weak. They make mistakes. You need a strong man to keep you on the right path.”

“You’d do that for me?” She nearly gagged on the words.

“For you, yes. And I’m sorry to hear your parents’ house has been destroyed. I hope they are okay.”

“They’re fine, but everything they own is gone. It’s horrible, Fedor, horrible. We need someone to help us. Someone strong, with resources.”

He preened, puffing up his chest slightly and Ginny fought off rolling her eyes. “You’ve come to the right place. Your family will soon be my family. I can’t let them suffer.”

“Oh, Fedor.” Ginny jumped up and rushed to his side, throwing her arms around him. “I was so angry at you at first, but then I started to miss you and realize what I was giving up.”

Fedor was surprised for a moment at the open show of affection—Ginny had never willfully done that in the past and had in fact gone to great lengths to avoid touching him at all. He recovered quickly and ran his hand down her back and over her ass.

“Of course, luybov moya. It pleases me that you’ve seen the error of your ways.”

Ginny pulled herself away and sat on her knees in front of him while he sat in his desk chair, looking up at him adoringly. “I have a confession to make. I’ve been spending time with an old friend.”

Fedor’s eyes darkened and his fist pounded on the desk. “The Adamo boy.”

Ginny nearly snorted at his description of Tony as a boy. Tony was more of a man than Fedor would ever be.

“Yes. It was a mistake. Such a mistake.” She forced herself to sound contrite. “But I’m glad it happened for two reasons.”

“Oh?”

She’d caught his attention. Good.

“It made me realize I wanted you.” She took his hand in hers and kissed it, pressing it to her cheek. “And the second—I learned some information that might help you.”

“What is that?”

“Are you in business with Santi Adamo?”

Fedor grunted. Damn. She needed a strong affirmative.

“Tony talked about this new deal his father was in. Said it would be very lucrative. He wouldn’t tell me who Santi’s partner was, only that this man was rich, powerful, and connected in ways that they weren’t. Since they’re pretty powerful—”

Fedor snorted. “They are not as powerful as they think.”

Ginny chuckled. “You’re right. They are only connected in one part of the city. Not like you.” She paused reverently. “Fedor, you are set up to rule the city, not just the north or the south side, but the entire city.”

Fedor leaned back in his chair. “This is true.”

“But I’m worried.”

“You are with me, now,” Fedor said. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Santi is going to ruin you.” Ginny took a deep breath. She was playing her trump card—the only one she had left. “I overheard him bragging about how he was going to switch the product with an inferior one and let you take the hit for it. Then he’d take the real High out on his own.”

Fedor stood abruptly, knocking Ginny sprawling on the ground. “Ya yego ub’yu! He thinks he can cross me! Yebat’ yego!”

Ginny scurried backward, fear blooming in her chest. It wasn’t a full confession, but it was the best she could do. God, she hoped it would be enough. Though, she hadn’t gotten the coded text from Plasky, she’d had enough. She could do no more.

Now for the hardest part—time to get out of there. It’d already been fifteen minutes, way longer than she’d wanted to stay.

Fedor glanced down, noticing her on the ground. He held his hand out to her. “My apologies, my kotik. You’ve brought me good information.”

She took his hand and he yanked her up, pulling her roughly against him.

“I will reward you handsomely,” Fedor said. He pressed his mouth to hers and grasped her breast, squeezing so hard it hurt.

Ginny couldn’t help it—she recoiled, but he held her firm.

“You have only partially redeemed yourself, luybov moya. Now it is time to pay the rest.”

Her heart thunked in her chest. I have to get out of here!

He gripped her ass with one hand and fondled her breast with the other while forcing his snake-like tongue into her mouth. The taste of cigars made her gag and she pushed against him, which forced his hand to shift.

And come into contact with the microphone.

He forcefully pushed her back, then gripped her upper arm with one hand. With his other hand, he yanked at her shirt, revealing the wire, the microphone, everything.

He shoved her away with a growl, and she crashed into an end table. She scrambled to her feet and turned to face him.

She was so fucked.

* * *

“Fedor, please.” The panic in Ginny’s voice was clear over the radio. Blood rushed in Tony’s ears and he struggled to keep himself from jumping out of the car and scaling the wall surrounding Barkov’s compound.

It ripped at his soul to hear Ginny begging Barkov not to hurt her.

“We’re getting her out of there. Now.”

“Wait a second,” Plasky said. Tony wanted to deck him, cop or not.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“We need a plan. If we rush in with guns blazing, we could make it worse for her.”

Tony fought to maintain composure. Okay, I’ll give him exactly ten seconds to come up with a plan. If Plasky didn’t act, he would take him out, too, if he had to. Nothing would keep him from Ginny.

“No one turns on me!” Fedor roared. “Not even you, my kotik.” There was a loud scuffling and then the audio went silent.

Oh, fuck. Tony’s worst fear had come true—Ginny was at the mercy of Barkov and they had no clue what was even happening.

Plasky didn’t hesitate. He pulled the car away from the curb with a screech and didn’t hit the brakes until they were at Barkov’s gate. Personally, Tony would have rammed it. This was taking too much time. Barkov could be using his fists on Ginny right now and they were idling outside the gate.

Plasky flashed his badge to the guard. “Police. Open this gate. Now.”

The guard scrunched his eyebrows and replied in another language—sounded like Russian. He was playing stupid, using a supposed language barrier to delay them, probably notifying Barkov the police were at his door.

Fuck that.

Tony jumped out of the car and hopped on the hood, then easily scaled the gate.

“Stop!” the guard yelled after him.

Language barrier, my ass.

Tony raced up the long driveway past the Bentley Ginny had driven. On the porch, he couldn’t hear anything from the inside of the house and he remembered that Ginny was unable to keep Fedor near the front of the house as planned. He tried the knob, but it was locked. Fuck.

He circled around the house, looking for another way in. He’d break a damn window and climb in if he had to, but it would be more efficient and also draw less attention to find an open door.

The patio around back had a screen porch. That door was locked, but he ripped a hole in the screen and stuck his hand through to unlock it. The sliding glass door inside the porch was open. Jackpot.

He quietly stepped inside, pausing to gain his bearings. The room looked to be a seldom-used living or dining area. There were huge windows that overlooked the backyard and a large glass dining table with white wicker chairs. It looked like it belonged in a nursing home rather than a drug lord’s house.

He peered out into the hallway. No one was there, so he proceeded. But where the fuck was everyone? He would have expected Barkov’s house to be teaming with people. Servants at the very least. The house was silent, the only sound his soft footsteps on the thick carpet.

Most of the doors in the hallway were open, making it easy to eliminate the rooms as possibilities. Five minutes—maybe more—had passed since he’d last heard Ginny’s voice. Every second represented the possibility that Barkov was inflicting more pain on her. He wanted to rush through the house, but getting himself caught wouldn’t do Ginny any good.

He turned the corner, entering some kind of great room.

Fuck. There on the couch watching TV was one of Barkov’s goons. The TV was muted, though. Weird.

Tony watched for a second. They guy was pretty focused on the TV, so he could try to sneak past him. But then he’d really have to watch his back. No, it was better just to take him out.

Tony kept low, stealthily creeping up behind him. The man bobbed his head in time to music playing in his earbuds. Before the guy even knew he was there, Tony reached over the back of the couch and wrapped his arm against his neck, pressing against the windpipe. The guy struggled, but Tony help firm.

1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . .

The guy was out. That bought Tony a few more minutes of uninterrupted searching. Hopefully he wouldn’t run into anyone else. And damn, where the hell was Plasky? How long did it take to get past the damn gate guard?

Tony came to a corner and took a left down another hallway. All of the doors were open except one.

He heard a thud and a scream.

Oh, fuck.

* * *

Fedor dragged Ginny to a standing position by her hair.

“Stop, please!”

But he didn’t even hear her. “I trusted you!” he bellowed, then backhanded her across the mouth.

She collapsed on the ground and tasted blood from her recently healed lip.

She needed a weapon. She scanned the room looking for something, anything, she could use to hit him. There—on the end table was a small metal clock. It looked heavy.

She got to her feet, springing toward the clock, but she wasn’t fast enough. Fedor pushed her facedown on the couch, burying her face in the cushion. She couldn’t breathe.

She struggled against him, flailing her arms and making contact with his legs. She managed to turn her face a tiny bit and sucked in a huge breath. Then he pushed her face down harder, cutting off her air again.

She dug her fingernails into his legs, but it was no use.

“Cyka!”

That was the last thing she heard before her world went dark.

* * *

Tony heard Barkov cursing at Ginny in Russian just as he tried the doorknob. Fuck—locked.

He hopped back and assumed his fighting stance, sending a front kick into the door, just to the side of the doorknob. The wood dented, but it didn’t give way. Damn, it was solid wood and not one of those cheap hollow doors.

Plasky came up behind him. About fucking time. Tony didn’t even spare him a glance, sending another kick into the door. Then another.

Finally, the door crashed open.

Tony immediately scanned the room for Ginny. He didn’t see her immediately, but Barkov stood over the couch with a murderous look in his eyes.

Barkov roared and pulled a gun out of a side holster, pointing it at Tony. Before he could pull the trigger, a shot fired, hitting him in the shoulder. He clutched at the wound and Plasky rushed to subdue him.

Tony scaled the couch. His heart stopped at the sight of Ginny’s limp body.

Please, God, no.

She was facedown, so he gently gripped her shoulders and turned her, then gathered her in his arms. Her chest slowly rose and fell.

She’s breathing.

He cradled her against his chest, barely noticing as Plasky cuffed Barkov and read the Miranda rights.

Ginny stirred. When her eyes opened, her body jerked.

“Shh,” Tony murmured. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

She settled, reaching up and putting a hand on his cheek as her eyes focused. “You came for me.”

“Of course. I’ll always come for you.”

A small smile graced her lips. “I did it. Did you hear?”

“You were awesome.” Keeping his arms around her, Tony helped her sit up. “We’ll get the paramedics to look at you.”

“I think I’m fine,” Ginny said.

Like hell. Tony would have her examined by the best damn doctor in the city, even if it was just to reassure himself she really was fine.

“Shlyukha,” Barkov spat at them as Plaksy guided him toward the door.

Tony closed his eyes. Aw, fuck.

In one swift move, he rose and swung at Barkov, the blow landing on his jawbone. His neck snapped to the side.

“I didn’t see that,” Plasky said, his eyes focused on the ceiling.

Barkov laughed darkly and turned his head to face Tony once more. “You will pay for that.”

Tony said nothing, staring at him with his hands in fists. Fuck. He wished Plasky weren’t here so he could give Barkov what he really deserved. One punch was not nearly gratifying enough.

Ginny clutched at his arm from where she sat on the couch. “Let it go,” she said quietly. “It’s over.”

Tony turned his back on Barkov and turned toward Ginny—his future.