The second one was of her the previous year at Fedor’s funeral. Wade’s picture was of him onstage at a concert. The headline read: “Will the Black Widow Strike Again?”
The third one was a less flattering image of Wade and her holding hands outside the doors of the hospital, laid over a picture of her Hamptons home surrounded by police cars. The caption? “Tragedy in the Hamptons.”
Trina put her coffee down and picked up the magazine with the two of them outside the hospital. “Is my butt really that fat?”
Wade started to chuckle.
Jeb sighed and Ike grinned. “Okay, then. You found a woman who understands the media.”
“I wish I didn’t.”
“I don’t like that they’re calling you names,” Wade said.
“I don’t like how they made my butt big.” Trina made an effort at looking at her own ass over her shoulder.
Wade swatted it with a playful smile.
Ike turned to Wade. “Corrine wants to know all about Trina.”
“Who is Corrine?” Trina asked. How many women did Wade have in his life?
“My publicist,” Wade explained. “Tell her she’s my girlfriend.”
Ike regarded them with a lifted eyebrow.
“Don’t look at me,” Trina said. “He started the whole girlfriend thing . . . I was just looking for a good time.”
Wade turned toward her and lifted her off her feet, his hands firmly on her not-as-big-of-a-butt as the tabloid led others to believe. He twirled her around. “I’ll give you a good time,” he teased.
Smiling was starting to truly work the muscles in her cheeks and make them ache.
She liked it.
“You’re adorable,” he told her.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and let him hold her off her feet a little longer. “Do you really want to tell the world you’ve got a girlfriend?”
“What I want is to tell the world that you’ve got a boyfriend so no one else comes knockin’.”
“I doubt I’ll be good PR.”
“I could not care less about any of that,” he said.
Wade kissed her, briefly, and set her down.
“Tell Corrine, Trina is my girlfriend and we’ve been practically inseparable since we met.” He tapped Trina’s nose. “Including a secret trip to the Bahamas on a private plane.”
“That was platonic,” she said.
“No one has to know the details. Besides, the tabloids will find it if we don’t reveal it.”
She sighed. “Fine. Your mother is gonna be pissed.”
“Again with my mother. I’ll deal with her. Don’t worry. What about your parents?”
Trina hadn’t given it a lot of thought. “I should probably call them. They don’t know about any of this as it is.”
“You haven’t told them?”
She shook her head. “If I told them about you, my mother would remind me that it’s only been a year since Fedor’s death. She’s Catholic, and while she doesn’t want me alone my whole life, I can guarantee she will think it’s too soon for me to be dating anyone, let alone be in any kind of relationship. My dad will want to meet you as soon as a plane can fly him here.”
“That’s sweet.”
“He will wonder if you’re gunning for the oil money.”
Ike laughed from across the room. “Sorry.” He ducked his head when they both turned to look at him.
“When Daddy finds out about Avery, he is going to worry. I don’t want to do that to him.”
“Fathers are supposed to worry, darlin’.”
“Yeah, well . . . he isn’t getting younger, and I’d hate to be the one to add more stress to his life.”
“That isn’t your call. If you don’t tell him, the papers will.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right. It will have to wait until I get my phone back, though. I haven’t memorized a phone number other than my own in years.”
“So we have today’s game plan. We let Corrine deal with the Wade Thomas PR, you’ll get ahold of your parents while I prepare to meet your father.”
“You’ll deal with your mother,” she pointed out.
“Yup. Anyone else?”
“I should make a call to Diane and Andrea.”
“Who are they?”
“Fedor’s aunts. I’m pretty sure they listen to country music, so you’re safe there.”
Wade smiled.
“All of this can happen from the waiting room at the hospital. I don’t want Avery waking up without me there. You shower, and I’ll call Lori’s room and see if she’s ready to walk over.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Avery was getting sick and tired of waking up with a new pain somewhere on her broken and battered body. Hospitals were not the place to sleep. Between doctors coming in every few hours, nurses waking you up every two hours in the middle of the night, tests, and visitors, she wasn’t sure how it was possible to get better at all.
That morning she’d been wheeled into surgery before the sun came up, or so it seemed. In the fog of her brain, Avery realized that she’d gotten out of surgery only to wake up in a recovery room feeling as if the world had sat on her face and wasn’t giving her any room to breathe without pain shooting behind her eyeballs. Someone had given her something in her IV and she’d fallen into a blissful haze again.
Now, the earth was still knocking her in the face, but the pain wasn’t as sharp as it had been the first time she’d opened her eyes. Her back felt as if she’d been moved to a proper bed instead of being on a surgical gurney. She’d take her comforts any way she could at this point. A soft mattress on her ass was a start. She attempted to move her head and instantly regretted it.
She moaned.
“Hey . . .”
Trina.
“Water,” she sputtered.
Trina was there with a cup and a straw. Since the bed was already elevated, Avery didn’t attempt to sit up more. The first sip hurt, but the second sip soothed. Trina pulled it away. “The nurse said only a few sips to start. We have to do everything we can to keep you from coughing or getting sick to your stomach.”
She imagined the pain with either task would equal walking barefoot on broken glass. Avery’s face was covered in bandages once again and it felt as if someone had a party in her nose and had invited the entire state of New York.
Trina came into focus, the concern in her eyes making Avery want to blow off her pain.
“How do you feel?”
“Ready to party.” Avery closed her eyes.
“There’s a button for the pain medication.”
Yeah, but the medication would just knock her out, and she wanted a few minutes of cognition before falling back asleep.
“How do I look?”
“Ready to party,” Trina repeated her words with a small laugh.
She opened her eyes again. “No, really?”
Trina made a point to look everywhere but in Avery’s eyes, as if studying her face. “There’s more swelling, and a few new colors have been introduced to your complexion. I’d hold off on any new selfies for your Tinder profile.”
Avery smiled and felt the packing in her nose even more.
“I’m so sorry any of this happened, Avery.”
She held open the palm in her good hand, and Trina slipped hers in. “Not your fault.”
“But if you weren’t in the city for me—”
Avery tried to squeeze Trina’s hand. “Still not your fault.” She used only her eyes to look around the new room. It was a private room that looked less like a hospital room and more like a hotel. The darker color on the walls soothed her senses more than the stark white of the ICU. There were flowers. Two bouquets sat on a shelf across from her bed and brightened the space. “What time is it?”
“Two thirty. Are you hungry?”
“No. Where is everyone?”
“Lori, Shannon, and Reed are grabbing a bite in the cafeteria. I told your parents I’d call once you’re awak
e. Your mother doesn’t like hospitals, apparently.”
“Yeah, did she tell you why?”
Trina shook her head.
“Because they remind her of two days of labor with me . . . her greatest disappointment.”
Trina looked at her as if she were joking.
“Fine, don’t believe me. But if you ask why she has an aversion to hospitals, she’ll tell you because of the time she’s spent in them. Then ask my father when my mother was in a hospital the last time.”
“I’m sure that’s not it.”
“I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I’m telling you the facts. Whatever, she stresses me out anyway. Now that I’m out of the ICU, I’m pretty sure I can get her to go home.”
Trina patted her hand. “Bernie sent the flowers.”
“That’s nice. Do I still have a guard at the door?”
“Yup. Rick is right outside.”
“That’s good.” And it was. There was comfort in the fact that no one could come in and finish the job. The pain in Avery’s body was proof she was lucky to be alive. “Where is Wade?”
“Dealing with a few PR issues while I’m here with you. The police are coming by this afternoon.”
She closed her eyes and tried to remember something, anything about that day. All that came to her was a fuzzy memory of walking by Central Park, and then she was waking up and feeling like she’d been run over by a bus. “I don’t remember anything about what happened.”
“The investigators of the assault asked us to call them if you have anything new to tell. The police I’m talking about are the ones dealing with the break-in at the house.”
Avery blinked through swollen eyes. “What break-in?”
Trina opened her mouth and then closed it.
“Trina?”
“Someone broke into Fedor’s office and completely trashed the place, after wiping it clean of every fingerprint, on the day you were attacked.”
“Robbery?”
“We don’t know if they took anything.”
“They were too late. I took the pens to Mr. Levin.” Even as she said the name, the memory unfolded in her head. “Braum Auctions. I remember that now.”
Trina sat forward.
“He has the pens.” It felt good to get that piece of memory back. She closed her eyes and searched for more. “The watches. I remember being happy to have them out of my purse. God, where did I take them?” Why couldn’t she remember?
“Christie’s?” Trina suggested.
“Yes! Oh, right. They were snotty but so excited about an auction and wanted to know if we had more.” The hair on Avery’s skin tingled. “I remember that now.”
“Anything else? Do you remember anything else?”
She saw the garage when she closed her eyes. Only she was leaving the car . . . “I had a mom purse. I think it was one of yours. I needed a big one to put everything in.”
“Yes.” Trina seemed excited. “The black one.”
“I remember leaving the garage. I don’t remember going back in. That’s where they found me, right?” She seemed to remember someone telling her that when she was in the ICU.
“Yes.”
Avery shook her head slowly. “I don’t remember anything else.”
Trina smiled. “Well, it’s more than yesterday, so there is progress. The doctors will be excited to hear that.”
Her head started to throb, and instead of denying herself relief, she opened her palm. “Where is that button of fun?”
Trina reached over the bed and put the thing in her hand.
Avery pushed it and sighed long before the medication circulated in her veins.
Ruslan Petrov was a patient man with one impatient moment in his past. That moment changed everything. He was a man who had more plates spinning in the air than a circus performer, and one was slipping off his finger, and he’d be damned if he dropped anything now.
Across from him, Zakhar delivered unwelcome news. “Ms. Grant had already delivered the items to the auction houses.”
“Did your man at least steal her wallet?”
“No.”
Ruslan clenched his fist. “He didn’t finish the job.”
“He said he was interrupted.”
“Let me see if I understand this correctly. I said to make it look like burglary, and now it simply looks like a vendetta. And she’s alive to identify him.”
Zakhar matched Ruslan’s stare. “I have already taken care of the situation. Nothing will be tied to you.”
That had Ruslan releasing the hold he had on his own fingers and rubbing the tension away.
“What about the other collateral damage?”
“She is scrubbed. No trace.”
“I expect nothing was messy.”
Zakhar smiled, a white line of a scar he earned in a street fight distorting his face, making his grin look like a threat. It was one of the many things Ruslan liked about the man. “Car accident.”
It would be so much easier if he could just scrub the woman who destroyed everything. But that would only result in the wrong people looking his way. Instead of losing a fortune, he’d lose his freedom.
He used a remote control to reveal a monitor behind a picture on the wall. When the image flicked into focus, a map of the world emerged. With another button, the map focused on the state of New York. Several dots blinked, each a different color.
Katrina’s bitch lawyer and their friend blipped in the same place. He knew without looking that they were at the Manhattan hospital where he’d put their friend. The redneck blipped a few blocks away, and it appeared Trina was by herself downtown. Which didn’t sound right, considering she’d been flanked by security since he’d started his cover-up. A cover-up he had thought he’d taken care of the year before.
Ruslan pointed at the map. “Where is this?”
Zakhar moved behind the desk and clicked into the program tracking the players.
“Looks residential.”
“Have our man on the ground find out. What about the house?”
“Police activity has pulled out. They didn’t find anything.”
At least that worked as he’d planned.
“I do have some positive news,” Zakhar said.
“I’m waiting.” Ruslan reached for a cigar on his desk.
“The tabloids are circulating speculation on your daughter-in-law. Indirectly pointing a finger at her for Fedor’s death and questioning if she’s unhappy with one man’s fortune and trying to add to it with her new male friend.”
Ruslan rolled the cigar between his fingers and held it under his nose. “That’s helpful,” he said before he reached for a lighter. Once the cigar was lit and the sweet smoke filled his lungs, instantly calming his nerves . . . he blew out the smoke slowly. “I think it’s time for me to visit my son’s grave.”
“In Texas?”
If his Russian friend disagreed, he didn’t express his feelings.
“I’ll arrange it.”
Two days later, Trina was arranging a hospital bed to be delivered to the Hamptons house for Avery’s release. She wanted to take her back to Texas, but the plastic surgeon and neurologists felt that should wait for another week.
Lori argued to return to LA, but Trina pointed out the quiet of the country would give Avery the time she needed to heal. Ultimately the decision was one of practicality. They would stay in the Hamptons home for the next week and then fly back to Texas for the prolonged future. Considering the surveillance and bodyguards on them now, it would be easier to watch over them at the ranch.
Truth be told, Trina was a little anxious to get into the safe deposit box Sasha had given her the key for. But taking care of Avery was the priority, and the box would have to wait.
The only media was a lone car parked across from the Hamptons home with a camera pointed out the driver’s side window.
They pulled in like a presidential motorcade. Three black SUVs, all rented, and all home to at least one armed bodyguard.
Wade jumped out of their car and opened the door for Trina and Avery. Jeb stepped in the second Avery poked her head out, reached in, lifted her out of the car.
The drive from the hospital had been slow, to avoid potholes and any unnecessary bumps along the way.
Trina walked ahead of everyone with keys in hand to let them all in. Once inside, she disarmed the alarm system and tossed her purse on the foyer table.
She turned to Avery, who looked comfortable in Jeb’s massive arms.
“Do you want to go to bed or get propped up in the family room?”
“I’ve been in bed for days,” Avery said.
“Family room it is.” Trina pointed Jeb in the right direction and went upstairs to find a few pillows and a blanket while everyone else filed inside.
By the time she returned, the flowers from the hospital were brought in from the cars, as well as several pieces of luggage from the group.
Shannon took the blanket and pillows from her and went to Avery’s side.
Lori was already in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee, and Wade and Ike were hoisting bags to the second floor.
“Good thing this is a big house,” Lori told her as she removed coffee cups from the cupboard.
“It felt like a mansion when I was married. Then it was a place to rest between hospital visits and funeral homes.”
Lori gave her a one-arm hug. “You survived it.”
“Feels like I’m right back where I started.” Her gaze drifted to the family room.
“Except that no one is ending up in the ground, and there’s a big Texan winking at you every time you walk in the room.”
Just thinking about Wade had blood rushing to her face.
“God, it’s good to see that smile,” Lori said.
“I can’t believe he’s still here. All this crazy and he hasn’t even hinted at leaving.”
Half Empty (First Wives Series Book 2) Page 20
