Half Empty (First Wives, #2)(29)

“There is a solution to Ruslan?”

“Yeah, ignore him.”

“That didn’t work for us last year.”

No, it hadn’t. Ruslan had researched Alliance, the company that arranged her and Fedor’s marriage, and went after Lori. Not in a legal way, but by kidnapping her brother and attempting to hold him hostage for proof that their marriage wasn’t completely real. By the time that unfolded, Ruslan’s people were either dead or gone forever, and no ties to Ruslan had been kept intact. Which prevented any legal action against the man. Yet they all knew who was behind it. Since that day, Ruslan had dropped out of the picture. After six months, Trina shook loose the bodyguards and extra protection.

Fedor’s estate had ended up in the company lap, which Trina said she would manage, and Alice’s estate had ended up in Trina’s bank. None of which Trina had wanted. Ruslan, on the other hand, wanted it all. There simply wasn’t any way he was going to get it. Fedor hated his father, and from what Trina had figured out, the man had abused his wife before they divorced. So Alice and the entire Everson family hated him, too.

Avery picked up the expensive watch again. “I’m going to look this up and call a locksmith. I’d feel a lot better if all the six-figure stuff was somewhere safe. Just talking about Ruslan makes me feel like he’s outside, listening and ready to try his hand at burglary.”

“He would never dirty his own hands.”

“Still.” Avery tossed the watch in the air, caught it. “Hiding stuff in plain sight only works for so long. Once we get appraisers and movers in here, nothing will be hidden.”

“Let’s figure out what we’re looking at before we hire anyone. Then maybe we should consider a guard.”

“Sounds good.” Avery started to leave the room.

“Oh, one more thing.”

Avery turned.

“Five percent, or whatever the going rate is.”

“Five percent of what going rate?”

“You need a job, and I need someone to manage all of this and sell it for as much money as we can get. It will be like reverse shopping. Considering you’re the knower of all things high end, I think you’re perfect.”

Avery used the watch as a pointing stick. “You want me to work for you?”

“Why hire a stranger when you’re right here and already doing the job?”

“I don’t know anything about estate sales.”

“Me either. But I need to learn. When we’re done here, there is Alice’s house in Germany I haven’t even been to.”

“You’re not going to keep it?”

Trina shrugged. “I don’t speak German.”

Avery grinned.

“It gives us something to do,” Trina said.

The air in the room felt lighter. “There is a lot here. More than just a closet to go through.”

Trina agreed. They thought they’d only be there for a long weekend, but when you found a watch worth a hundred thousand dollars sitting in a drawer with a dozen of its brothers, the job became bigger.

“Five percent?”

“Or whatever the going rate is.”

Avery smiled. “You’re on. But if I screw up, or don’t know something . . .”

“I would have guessed that watch to be a few hundred bucks. Probably sold it for thirty.”

“Got it. The bar is set low for messing up.”

“Go, find a locksmith. One that isn’t named Guido.”

Avery turned and left the room. “On it.”





Chapter Eleven

The ranch had a state-of-the-art recording studio that sat separate from the main house. It made life easier when Wade wanted to work. No need to head into Austin, or even Houston, where he’d have to deal with hotels and fans. Right now was time for rest, reflection, and living. Although he wasn’t sure what rest looked like.

He turned on the lights and walked past all the expensive recording equipment and into the studio he would eventually sit in completely alone to record.

Half a dozen guitars lined the wall.

A smile crept onto his lips. He remembered his first six string and sitting in the senior quad at his high school, writing his first song. The instrument was an extension of his fingertips. Or so he’d been told the first time he’d shared his music. It was like he was born to it. Considering he’d never taken lessons to play the thing, he couldn’t argue.

Wade removed one of the guitars from its stand and walked over to a stool to perch his butt. He strummed a few chords and tightened a string to bring the instrument into tune.

He started the opening riff of a melody that had been drifting in and out of his head for over a month. Even though he’d been on tour and busy with sold-out arenas for the better part of eight months, he still found himself writing new music. He didn’t think touring and creating were exclusive to themselves, so he always had new stuff in the works.

He hummed a note, changed the rhythm, and then repeated it again. “I’m gonna make you smile . . .” He changed a chord, sang the verse again. He did it half a dozen times more before he grabbed a piece of staff paper and wrote the music down.

Time slipped away, and in what felt like minutes, the door to the studio opened, and Ike sauntered in.

“Do you ever stop?”