Half Empty (First Wives, #2)(91)

“Help is on the way.”

Wade looked around the room. “Help has already been.”

Vicki lifted her eyes to Wade. “Do they have Trina?”

The mere mention of her name brought pain to his chest. “I don’t—”

“Trina is fine,” Jeb announced.

“They showed me a video of my sister’s house. Did they get to her?”

“They’re fine, Miss Vicki. Bomb squads are already there, and Mavis is far away.”

They all paused when they heard a woman and a man arguing through the communication system Ruslan had put in the room.

The scene from miles away unfolded for them to hear.



“Fedor committed suicide.”

Sasha watched the irises in Ruslan’s eyes contract as he continued his lies. “Fedor ate a bullet, but he didn’t put the gun into his mouth willingly. You were there, snuck up on your son to try one final time to get him to come over to your side. You even convinced the housekeeper to let you in.”

Ruslan’s jaw twitched, his fingers rubbed together.

“The police know all about Cindy. How long had she been on your payroll?”

He didn’t answer.

“What happened, Father? Did your weak son protest a little too loudly? Did he manage to get a punch or two in?” She moved slowly to the front of him, buying a little time as she brought his crimes to the surface. There was no way Reed had mistaken her all clear. It was only a matter of time before he arrived with backup.

“Or did he slice you open? The knife he used to carve his trinkets never was found. An observation that will come out now that this death has been labeled suspicious and homicide is involved. Your blood had to have been shed, or why would you have brought in a team to clean up your crime?”

A bead of sweat pooled on Ruslan’s forehead.

His hand twitched.

“Fedor cut you, and you repaid the favor by blowing him against the wall. Didn’t that hurt? Just a little?”

“I lost my son long before he died.”

Get him talking. A confession, even one that would likely be thrown out, was better than no confession at all.

“With Fedor dead and Alice having tea with the grim reaper, you were weeks away from throwing her entire estate to the courts to get your share.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“Cindy was your informant on the inside. The housekeeper always knows what’s going on. You knew about the separate bedrooms and the lack of noise coming from the honeymoon suite. You made sure the housekeeper knew how she would die if she said anything. You paid her off. Since no one was around, poking questions, she kept quiet. She was a loose end you had to tie up. But a bad brake job? Really, Father? I knew then you were close to the breaking point . . . you don’t make those kinds of mistakes.”

“I had nothing to do with her accident.”

“No, but Zakhar did. I doubt your man’s loyalty will go so far as him allowing you to stay free while he rots in jail. Much like you tracking all the players, I have been watching you.”

Ruslan ran a palm on his pants, her words penetrating his brain.

Her pulse ticked a steady beat in her neck. Every muscle in her body was ready for him to pounce. He was big, but she was faster.

“You intercepted Avery’s call. You learned about the blood left in the room and hired a drugged-out murderer who couldn’t follow instructions and a cleaning crew that wouldn’t know the term stealth if they looked it up in a dictionary. You wanted Avery out of the picture since she saw what you left behind. But your bankroll has been dwindling, can’t quite afford the help you once had.”

“You can’t prove anything.”

“Did you miss the part about me tracking you? Alice hired me to keep her son and daughter-in-law alive.” The desire to get in the man’s face and smash an elbow into his nose was so strong Sasha could taste it. “Once you killed Fedor, that only left Trina. With the support of her new family of friends, that gave me time to watch you . . . watch and wait for you to fuck up. With everything I’ve found, and the evidence left behind by your unassuming ex-wife, you’re going to be mopping the floor in prison with your hundred-year-old ass.”

Ruslan kicked the coffee table over as he stood and reached for his gun.

Finally!

One round kick and his gun was sliding across the hotel floor. Her second kick to his chest was pure satisfaction.

She moved in, fast. Managed two blows to his face before he blocked her elbow by shoving his shoulder into her torso.

Sasha used his move to capture his head and force it to her knee, repeatedly. “That’s for Avery!”

When she felt his body go lax, she pushed him away and sent a kick to his groin. “That’s for Mom.”

Ruslan spat blood to the floor and charged.

Sasha fell back, the table breaking their fall. And Ruslan started punching.

The pain of his meaty fists fueled her anger. She bucked with her hips and rolled to the side. Her knee met his groin again.

“You’re a filthy whore, just like your mother.”

He sent a fist to her stomach.

“You take a punch better than your mother. Weak woman didn’t even put up a fight when her neck snapped.” He threw her off and scrambled to his feet.

Sasha rolled onto the balls of her feet and sent a fist to his face.