Half Empty (First Wives #2)

He made it through the song and turned to Gus. “Buy me a few minutes.”

There weren’t many times he couldn’t make it through a set without needing to pee, so Gus looked confused. Then he smiled and started a slow intro to the next song.

Wade rushed offstage to find Jeb.

By the time he got back out, his mother had already disappeared from the audience, and Wade relaxed.



Ruslan lifted his phone after it buzzed in his breast pocket.

Everything is set. Waiting for your instructions.

Much as he didn’t like being this close to the action, he wasn’t about to leave this up to just anyone to handle.

With a final glance toward the stage, Ruslan turned on a heel and strolled away. Two hired hands flanked his sides.

He slowly made his way out of the arena and onto the casino floor.

Eyes followed him, he could feel it.

He paused at a craps table, made eye contact with a busty blonde, then turned and walked away. The hotel elevator took him up to his room on the twenty-eighth floor. Double doors opened to an empty suite.

His guards flanked the doors, once they were shut, and folded their hands.

Ignoring the “No Smoking” sign on the bar, Ruslan lit up a cigar while he poured himself a drink.

He looked at his watch.

Wade’s show should be ending any minute.

Ruslan put his phone to his ear.

It rang once.

“Put me on speaker.”

His voice was encrypted.

He waited until he heard a female voice.

“You’re going to look into the camera and say exactly what I tell you to say.” He pulled two silver balls from his pocket and shuffled them between his fingertips.

“Who the hell are you?” The woman screamed the question.

“Remind her of her manners.”

Ruslan waited, heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

She cried out.

“Now . . . let’s do this again. You’re going to look into the camera and say exactly what I tell you to say.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t hurt me. I have money. Please don’t hurt me.”

Ruslan’s hands itched to be the ones inflicting pain.



Wade said a final good night to the crowd while he and the band took a bow and waltzed off the stage.

The roadies swept in after them, collecting anything they left behind, while the lights in the arena lit up, signifying that there weren’t going to be any more encores.

Jeb was at his side as one of the roadies shoved Wade’s cell phone into his hands.

“Where is my mother?” Wade felt Jeb’s energy before the man opened his mouth.

“We gotta go.”

Two more bodyguards flanked Wade’s front and back, their eyes in constant motion.

“What happened?”

“Wade?” Gus called out as he stepped close.

One of the bodyguards cut him off.

Jeb pulled on Wade’s arm.

“Where is Vicki?”

Jordyn ran up behind the stagehands. “You were on fire tonight.”

Wade didn’t look at her twice. “Jeb?”

He paused. “We can’t find her.”

Wade’s blood chilled. “Where is my mother?”

“Wade?” Jordyn pushed between him and Jeb.

“Did you bring her here?”

“Who?”

“Vicki? My mom?”

Jordyn placed a pout on her lip. The one that she’d used to get her way when they were dating. Wade saw through it then and hated it now. “I want a second chance. Your mother loves me. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Wade pushed Jordyn aside. “Where is she, Jeb?”

The background music in the stadium filled the PA.

Wade started for the stage again as his bandmates gathered around.

“What’s going on?” Gus asked.

“My mom is here.”

Gus smiled. “Where? I could use a dance partner tonight.”

Wade turned to Jeb.

“We can’t find her.”

Panic, like nothing Wade had known before, filled every cell in his body.

“We need you out of here.”

“Not without my mom.”

Jeb took hold of Wade’s arm and didn’t let go. “Ruslan is in the building. I have the house security at every exit.”

“What’s going on, honey?” Jordyn’s words made him want to throttle her.

Wade turned, put two fingers in front of Jordyn’s nose. “Did my mother tell you it was a risk for her to come?”

“She said there was some drama with your new friend . . .”

“Trina is more than a friend. That drama—”

“Wade? We have to go!” Jeb pulled on his arm and didn’t let him finish his sentence.

“We’re over,” he called behind his back. He forced his feet in the direction Jeb was pulling. “Make sure she gets home.”

“I already have that handled.”

In less than two minutes, Wade was tucked into the back of an SUV and driving away from the venue.

“I need to be back there, looking for her.”

Jeb had his phone in his hand, the receiver to his ear. “How far could you look? The front row?”

The driver took the corner too fast while Wade’s phone buzzed.

He pulled it from his pocket, saw his mother’s number pop up on the screen with a photo text.

He clicked on the image and froze. “Good God.”

“Wade?”

“Sweet Jesus, Jeb, look at this.”

His mother was tied to a chair, her lips swollen.

“You can’t have my son. Kill me. I don’t care.” The image switched to what looked like a live feed outside of a ranch house that looked familiar. The scene flashed to Trina helping Avery inside the doors of her house. His heart plunged. The next video image was of Trina’s father, and a woman who Wade had to assume was Trina’s mother, as they sat half-asleep on a sofa, watching a television. The image then switched to a high-rise building he’d never seen before, then to Aunt Mavis’s living room. “My bombs will kill everyone you love.” Someone offscreen lifted a gun and placed it on his mother’s temple.

“No. No. No!” Wade screamed into the phone.

Vicki closed her eyes, pulling away from the barrel of the gun as far as she could.

The screen went dark.

“What the hell?”

Jeb’s face was just as horrified as Wade’s.

Wade’s phone buzzed.

Turn the car around.

Wade pushed on the front seat. “Turn the car around.”

“Hold up, Wade. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”

“Yes we do, we’re dealing with a sociopath. Call Reed, turn the car around, show them we’re following instructions.”

“The phone isn’t secure. If I call Reed, Ruslan will know.”

Wade looked at the driver. “Is his phone secure?”

Considering Wade had never seen the driver before in his life, he assumed the man wasn’t connected to any of them outside of a car service.

“Give me your phone. Turn the car around, find traffic.” Which, on the Vegas Strip on a Friday night, wasn’t a problem.

The driver handed Wade his phone.

“Reed and Trina have the only secure lines.”

Since Wade had memorized Trina’s new number instead of putting it in his directory, he dialed it first.

“Hello?” She sounded distraught.

“Oh, baby, are you okay?”

“Wade?” She started to cry.

“Shh, I’m okay. Listen carefully. Get out of the house, but don’t leave through the front gate. Call your parents, my aunt. There was a condo . . . high-rise, I don’t know who that is.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He has bombs. Get everyone out quietly. There are cameras everywhere.”

Wade’s personal cell phone buzzed.

Fremont Street

Wade showed the text to Jeb, who told the driver where to go.

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out. He has my mother, Trina. At gunpoint.”

“No.”

“I’m headed toward Fremont Street.”

“He’s desperate.”

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stop it. Get out of the house and tell Reed where we are.”

“Please be careful.”

Wade hung up. “Now what?” he asked.

“Even if Trina manages to get everyone else out, he still has Vicki,” Jeb said. “He needs her for leverage.”

“Which means he won’t kill her.”

“I hope you’re right.”



Trina used a conference call function and dialed Reed’s and Sasha’s numbers.

Sasha answered first. “This had better be important.”