Page 162 of Hate to Love You

He takes the computer, closing the file and opening another one. I immediately recognize the footage from The Studio.

“The next two clips are on the nights that Abby was spotted at the club.”

Pressing play, I watch the two thirty-second clips. The first is blurry and too hard to identify, but the second is very clearly Abby sitting at the bar with Igor. The footage in the dark club is admittedly poor, but I can clearly see the distinct tattoo that sits between her shoulders of the snake and the flowers.

It’s her alright.

And I can also see where Oleg came to get Igor, presumably to answer my phone call, where I told Igor to keep an eye out for her.

Fucker conveniently didn’t mention she was already there.

Honestly, I’m glad Igor’s dead. I hated him anyway.

“This doesn’t show much Cal,” I growl, trying to convince myself with my words. “It’s clear she operates in the same circles as we do.”

Cal’s stare drops from mine, and that’s when I know.

He has more evidence. Damning evidence.

“I went through all the tagged posts for The Studio’s social media accounts on both nights,” he says quietly. “And, well…”

Sighing heavily, he minimizes the current video and presses play on another.

It’s posted by a woman claiming to be a regular, and in the time-stamped video, I watch as Igor leaves the bar, and Abby waves her hand over his unattended glass.

Fuck.

“If you zoom in on the video,” Cal says cautiously. “You can see the ring on her hand a little better. From what I can tell, it might be an old pillbox ring. They were pretty popular in the 80’s club scene, for cocaine.”

“Is that what you think she gave him?” I ask, without meeting his eyes, instead watching the looping image of Abigail drugging Igor. “What did the coroner say?”

“They retested him, per your request,” Cal shrugs. “But nothing came up.”

“Then…she didn’t drug him?” I ask, confused.

“There’s really no way for us to know,” Cal says with a shrug. “The coroner said that certain aspects of decomposition on his body could potentially indicate poisoning, but if there isn’t a test already out in the world for the particular type of poison she used, then we’ll never find it.”

“What?”

“There are thousands of different poisons, Boss.”

My jaw spontaneously clenches, and I take a deep breath.

“Boris,” I say softly. “She volunteered to get him coffee. She could’ve…”

But my voice trails off, knowing I don’t even have to finish that sentence as I watch Cal nodding at me.

This definitely could explain how my men have kept dropping like flies around me, but I still don’t understand why.

Somehow, I both have answers, and new questions.

“Boss,” Cal says quietly. “If you’ll allow me?”

I don’t want to allow him.

I want to hit him.

Not because of anything he did, because the man was just doing his job. But because I can feel my chest tightening at the very thought of Abby betraying me.