Half Empty

by Catherine Bybee

  He shivered. “That was both exciting and a little terrifying, all in the same sentence.”

  “How so?”

  “Exciting to see you hunting me down. Would you dress like that woman in the hotel room, Catwoman?”

  “Sasha?” Trina laughed. “I don’t think I could pull that off.”

  “I disagree. I might buy you the outfit just to find out.”

  “Harboring fantasies about her, are you?”

  “Just the outfit. Not the woman.” Wade propped his stocking feet up on his bed and relaxed against his headboard.

  “So what’s the terrifying part?”

  He gave his head a quick shake. “The reality that I wouldn’t mind you trapping me.”

  He heard her suck in a breath. “Wade . . .”

  “Too soon?”

  “No, I just . . . I’m not taking you up on that. There will be no accidents that force us together. You’re gonna have to want it and stick around to see if it works.”

  “Should I get in my truck right now and show you just how much it works?”

  “When you’re back from Vegas.”

  Vegas couldn’t come and go too soon.

  Ruslan threw a crystal glass across the room and took brief satisfaction in it shattering into a thousand pieces on the floor.

  He looked at his phone again. Saw an image he knew was out there but had been told was destroyed.

  Now they had it.

  They . . . the collective clusterfuck that was on him like maggots on rotted flesh.

  Natasha had tried to blackmail him.

  Him!

  In Natasha’s attempts to blackmail him, Alice had gained her freedom by catching him in the act of removing that pizda from this earth. His wife was wise enough to know that she, and her son, would be dead if she said a thing to anyone. So when he’d gone to Fedor’s that night just over a year ago to sway him to his side, he’d learned that not only did Fedor not know about Natasha, he’d also turned into a tryapka.

  No son of his could be that weak.

  He’d put up a fight. Even had a gun, which Ruslan had put to good use.

  Everything had been sewn up.

  All the ends neatly tied.

  Until his daughter-in-law came back.

  Now everything was falling apart, and if he didn’t get his hands a little dirty, everything would be destroyed.

  “The woman in the pictures was Natasha Budanov, the same name written on the back.”

  “Russian.” Trina now had a name to go with the face of the dead woman whose killer was still free. “How was she connected to Ruslan, outside of the fact he killed her?”

  Reed spoke to her on a secure line.

  “They were lovers, from what I can tell. She lived in Germany. He would visit her when he was there.”

  “She didn’t look old enough to acquire a taste for a monster like him.”

  “He had money, and she was just short of a hooker.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She had a prior of burglary while she was servicing a man.”

  “Servicing?” Trina winced.

  “Prostitution isn’t as frowned upon in other parts of the world as it is here. Have you been to Amsterdam?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, so you know. Jacking the john for his wallet is a bigger deal. Natasha was pretty enough to avoid the streets, but she liked money. I can only assume Ruslan paid her well enough to keep her as a mistress.”

  There wasn’t enough money in the world.

  “Did her death go unnoticed?”

  “Virtually. But then, Ruslan was a mist in her bedroom that faded when the sun came up. The only person willing to part with information was a friend in the same field as Natasha that still lived in the same town.”

  “How on earth did you find her?”

  “We have boots on the ground where Natasha lived. With a picture of the woman and a wad of euros, people talk. Our source had a picture of Natasha and herself back when they were both working on their backs. Natasha’s friend gave up the profession after Natasha’s death. We dug a little deeper and found the prior in the database and connected the dots. Miss Budanov was found dead on the rocks off a cliff. It was labeled a suicide.”

  Fedor’s image flashed in Trina’s head. “That sounds all too familiar.”

  “We thought so, too. One more thing.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Natasha had a child.”

  The blood fell from Trina’s face. “Ruslan’s?”

  “We’re not sure. Locating her is proving more difficult than finding the mom.”

  “A girl?”

  “That’s what our source told us.”

  “Fedor had a sister?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Natasha wasn’t an exclusive woman. We would need a paternity test to prove it. With Fedor dead and Ruslan unavailable to swab, we may never know. But we are looking. The question really needs to be, Did Alice know about the child? Did Fedor? Sasha said she found the papers in Fedor’s office, but did she find all of them? Or did Alice give them to her?”

  “Why don’t you just ask her? Doesn’t Sasha contact you?”

  “Whenever she’s damn good and ready, she will. Until then, I’m out of luck.”

  Trina hung her head, gripped the phone. “Let me get this straight. You can find a woman who is what, dead twenty years?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “Twenty-five years,” Trina continued. “But Stealth Woman in a black leotard remains elusive?”

  “Yup. Pretty much.” Reed held no guilt in the tone of his voice.

  “Should I be impressed?”

  “Hell yeah. I am. So is Neil, and you know that man never cracks a smile.”

  Neil never talked, let alone smiled.

  “What about the box in Arizona?”

  “Empty.”

  “Who is it registered to?”

  Reed started laughing. “Buddy Nash.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Buddy Nash. Move the name around, take away a few letters . . . sounds a whole lot like Natasha Budanov, doesn’t it?”

  Trina squeezed the bridge of her nose. “You know, I really wish I had known Alice longer.”

  “I can do you one better. I wish I had known her at all.”

  Following Ruslan in Mexico City was a hell of a lot easier than in a graveyard in Texas. With her dark hair, dark eyes, and the ability to speak the language, she fooled the locals. She added a fake mole to her cheek and made sure it matched the one on the bogus passport she carried, and waltzed around in big sunglasses and red-hot lipstick on her lips.

  She lost Ruslan inside the hotel but followed him with her bug on his phone. She was making herself comfortable in the lobby when Zakhar walked past her and out the doors of the four-star establishment.

  Zakhar was on a mission.

  Instead of holding back, Sasha followed.

  He stayed on foot, walking through the city and around the backs of buildings that had seen better days. At one point Sasha reached into her bag, swapped out her sunglasses, and tossed on a hat. A second glance behind him and Zakhar wouldn’t be any wiser to her presence.

  He made his way down an alley that would have proved she was following him had she trailed behind. So she walked by and then crossed the street. He ducked into what looked like a building where she could find a replacement passport and the people associated with the trade.

  She waited for thirty minutes, all the while keeping an eye on the app showing Ruslan’s location. He hadn’t moved.

  When the door opened to the alley, Zakhar walked out with two extra men.

  They were big.

  Recruits, she immediately thought. Ruslan was hiring help.

  She’d seen this before.

  Zakhar walked them to the center of the city and into a store that specialized in big and tall suits.

  For a moment, Sasha’s thoughts flashed back two years.

  She stood i
nside one of the most expensive department stores in New York, Alice at her side.

  “You don’t need to buy me clothes.”

  “I don’t need to do anything,” Alice said. “But I’m setting up your accounts and want to make sure everything is taken care of.”

  Alice had hired her, flown her to the States, and funded the way for Sasha to watch over and protect an army instead of just her son and his wife.

  “I won’t say no, but this is overkill.”

  “Is it? I’ve been told you’re the best. Does the best not deserve the pay of kings?”

  Sasha knew at that moment there was more to Alice than the woman was letting on. But she held back and played out the woman’s game. “How many people in this room have a weapon?” Alice had whispered.

  Sasha had taken half a minute to scan the room. “The doormen, the man at the jewelry counter . . . but those are obvious. The man over there, in the suit, with his wife.” He looked like an ordinary customer, but she noticed the way he made sure his jacket didn’t slide open. “I’m guessing an off duty detective.”

  Alice smiled.

  Sasha reported three more “customers” that she would consider armed and dangerous.

  By the time they left the store, Sasha was overloaded with bags, and an account in her name was filled with more money than she’d spend in a lifetime. Alice had insisted that Fedor and Katrina would frequent many social circles, and Sasha needed to blend.

  For a brief moment, Sasha felt as if she’d found her fairy godmother.

  Before she let herself open her heart, she looked into the drawn eyes of a dying woman and shut her emotions down. No need to get attached to someone on their way out.

  Still, as Sasha watched Zakhar and his now well-dressed thugs leave the store, she felt a little kinship to them.

  They were hired and dressed the part.

  Too bad they were working for the wrong side.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Summer had yet to lose its grip on Vegas. It helped that the bright lights of the never-sleeping city warmed the Strip. Not that Wade had much of an opportunity to explore the city.

  He remembered touring the city with Gus, Sebastian, and Luke early on in his career. The other members of his band didn’t have quite the name recognition as Wade, since he’d branded himself as a solo artist, but his bandmates had enough claim to fame to warrant a following of their own. Something Wade encouraged at every turn. Truth was, the music they played was Wade’s. From lyrics to composition. Gigs like the one here in Vegas were bread and butter to his band. While they did make some money off the albums, it was the venues that filled their banks.

  Wade was prepared to cancel for Trina but couldn’t help but feel happy he didn’t have to, for the sake of his guys.

  “Mind telling us what all the Blues Brothers are doing, standing around?” Gus, his bass player, asked while looking toward the closed greenroom door.

  “Extra security.”

  Sebastian pulled a longneck from the table to his lips. “Have someone stalking you?” he asked with a grin.

  Wade adjusted his hat and turned away from the mirror. “More like the girl I’ve been seeing.”

  “The one from your party?” Gus asked.

  “Yup, Trina.”

  The three of them exchanged glances.

  “So why are they here?”

  Wade glanced at Jeb, who stood by the door. He knew from walking in there were three men outside, ready to escort them onstage when they were called to do so. “Because snagging me to leverage her is a real threat.”

  There weren’t many times he found his band speechless.

  Now was one of them.

  “Her to get to you I understand . . . but you to get to her?”

  “She’s that special?” Gus was the only married man in the band. He and his wife of five years had two kids and one of the strongest relationships Wade had ever seen.

  “She is. As in, I think she’s it.” Actually, he knew she was it. It was just going to take a little more time to convince her of where she needed to be.

  Gus offered a knowing smile and clasped Wade’s hand in a shake that formed a bond. “Congrats, man. I’m happy for you.”

  “Guess this means we’re not going for drinks after the show,” Luke, the youngest member of the band, said.

  “I’m sure you and Sebastian will find plenty of female companionship to fuel your evening without me.”

  Luke removed his hat in an overly dramatic fashion and pressed it to his chest. “We’ll do our best, won’t we, Seb?”

  “A sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Sebastian replied, patting his chest.

  A knock on the greenroom door directed their attention. “Five minutes.”

  Wade turned to the mirror. “That’s our cue, boys. Let’s see if these city folks know a little country music.”

  “You have it bad!”

  Trina turned down the stereo that filled the room with Wade’s voice and focused her attention on Avery as she walked into the room. She used one crutch and the walking cast the doctor had put her in before they left New York.

  Cooper attempted to be a shadow but somehow seemed to fail as he walked by the room.

  “I do,” Trina told her friend while she sipped on her glass of wine.

  “Do you have more of that?” Avery pointed to her drink.

  “Is it okay with the medication you’re taking?”

  “So long as you don’t plan on taking advantage of me, I’m sure one glass isn’t going to hurt.”

  Sadly, Trina knew firsthand how true that statement was.

  “Fine.”

  She crossed to the bar to pour her friend a glass.

  “The quiet is going to kill me,” Avery said after her first sip. “I don’t know how you do it out here all alone.”

  Trina glanced toward the opening of the great room. “I’m never really alone.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “What about you? How will it be back in LA?”

  Avery turned her head. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Avery?”

  “What?” Avery might be able to fool many people, but she didn’t fake well with Trina.

  “I know you.”

  “I’ll be fine. I won’t let Scarface own me.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Says who? I’m only sorry I didn’t get a punch at the man who altered my appearance for the rest of my life. If it would make a difference, I’d dig him up and kick him in the face to show him how it felt.”

  The image had Trina swallowing hard.

  Trina snapped out of her grave-digging trance almost as fast as she popped into it. “So Wade . . .”

  She didn’t want to change the subject but didn’t quite know what to say following Avery’s dip into the macabre. “I’m bummed I’m not there.”

  Avery shrugged. “It’s good to have time apart.”

  “I know that.”

  “But you miss him.”

  “I’ve leaned on him a lot since we met. It wasn’t that I looked for him to answer my questions so much as support me in asking them.”

  “I get that.”

  “I realize that Fedor and I . . . that we weren’t . . .” Trina glanced toward the open room, to whoever might be listening. “But we did talk. It was nice to bounce ideas off someone you shared something with.”

  Avery sighed. “Bernie and I had that, too.”

  Trina lowered her voice. “With Wade, it’s that friendship and a lover in the same person. I can’t help but think that’s rare.” She paused, sipped her wine. “I’m falling in love, Avery.”

  Her friend moaned. “I know.” Over her bandaged nose, Avery glared. “I really want to hate your guy . . . you know that, right?”

  Trina laughed and hung her head. “How is that working for you?”

  “It isn’t!”

  Trina laughed louder.

  Sometimes, when you wanted things done right, you need
ed to do them yourself.

  Ruslan pulled the cuff of his jacket and squared his shoulders.

  “Find her, bring her to me.”

  Zakhar disappeared into the thick crowd of rowdy, drunk urban cowboys toward the front of the stage.

  “Hello, Las Vegas!” Mr. Famous himself tilted his hat to the crowd.

  A chaotic cheer went up.

  “How’s everybody doin’ tonight?”

  Ruslan weaved his way through the crowd.

  “Hope you don’t mind if I take a couple of pictures. I have someone back home who really wanted to come.” Wade turned his back to his audience, lifted his phone in the air. “Say country!”

  He turned back around, waved his phone in the air. “Not sure how I’m gonna get this to all of you. Guess I’ll upload it on Instagram.” He fiddled with his phone before setting it aside on the stage. “Let’s get this party started.”

  The band struck a note, and the noise in the arena made it impossible to think.

  Trina opened the image on her phone and enjoyed the giddy buzz inside her body. Wade was onstage, an arena full of fans with bright lights and cell phones was a sea behind him. He captioned it, Wishin’ you were here!

  The fact that he was onstage right then, doing his thing, and taking even a second out of that to text her a picture gave her hope that they could work.

  She snapped a selfie in her reply. Wish I was, too.

  She hit send, knowing he probably wouldn’t respond until after the show.

  She set her phone aside and reached to refill her glass.

  “Someone is all smiles over there.” Avery looked up from her phone and the game she was playing on it.

  Trina showed her the picture. “I can’t wait to watch him in person.”

  “I’m sure we can pull up some YouTube videos to tide you over.”

  Trina set the bottle down, took a sip. “I’ll wait.”

  Avery didn’t look convinced.

  Her phone pinged with an incoming message.

  Trina’s heart fluttered. He wasn’t really texting her, was he?

  She smiled, prematurely, before the image came into focus.

  Then she dropped her glass of wine and yelled, “Cooper?”

  Avery jumped. “Jesus, Trina.”

  Cooper ran into the room, gun in hand.