Page 118 of Property of Rattler

Dee and Dum appear, and race to Ames, then take out their weapons and race for the door.

I fall back into my chair, my face in my hands, and my shoulders heaving. Even if I know Ames is safe with Trixie, that video was far too close to what could have happened that day not to affect me. I don’t even think I needed the onion.

Prez steps forward and shuts the laptop. “You owe my brother recompense. You sent that woman here, she killed his wife.”

Volkov seems to have paled, the AI video Pippa had so carefully crafted seems to have swayed him. But then his face tightens. He takes a few steps forward, bringing him right in front of me.

“You,” he snaps. “You the supposed husband?”

“You want a copy of the marriage certificate?” Bullseye asks.

Ignoring Prez, he addresses me again. “You. Look at me.” I raise my head, using yet another of the tissues. “You got my money.”

“I don’t want the fuckin’ money. I want my wife,” I cry out.

“You can’t inherit if you’re dead.” Suddenly there’s a gun in his hand, and it’s pointed straight at me. “Stone gets it all if you are not breathing.”

Prez hurriedly steps in front of me. “Stone’s dead.” He waits for the Russian’s reaction. Peering around Bullseye, I can tellVolkov doesn’t believe him. “Genie?” he barks, and holds out his hand. This time it’s a tablet that is placed in it by the tech expert. He passes it to the Russian. “You can check it out for yourself. It’s genuine.”

What he’s showing Volvok is a news article about how an entrepreneur from Phoenix managed to write both him and his car off in a nasty accident. It describes the police report showing that Stone’s car had insufficient brake fluid, which caused him to fail to slow. That there were other signs that he’d failed to maintain his care properly, such as low engine oil levels and tyres with less than the minimum amount of tread. Though the mechanical failure was listed first, the local press couldn’t miss the chance to speculate whether out of towners had sufficient ability to drive safely on the mountain roads around Gravity. I risk a glance at Freak, he’s hiding his face from me. Yeah, the enforcer had done good.

“Stone is dead?” Volkov barks something in Russian at one of his men.

We all tense, but the man simply gets out his phone, and obviously checks that the story is real. Theboyeviktaps and stares at down for a while, then passes it to Volvok. “It has been reported on many sites,” he confirms.

Volkov’s face has gone red, his cheeks sucked in, his body tense. I know now he’s as dangerous as a rabid dog.

Prez quickly moves to defuse the situation. “Stone had a life insurance policy, his sister the beneficiary.” He’s caught Volkov’s interest. “And since he’s dead, her husband will have claim to the money. As soon as the policy pays out, he,” he indicates me, “has magnanimously agreed to give you a portion of the money to go some way to clearing Stone’s debt.”

“No money will bring my wife back,” I wail on cue.

“Husband will get inheritance.” Volkov’s eyes narrow. “Husband dies.” He takes a step to the side to get a clear line of sight.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A racking of several rifles accompanies Prez’s words. Winchester, Piston and Paint stand from their hiding places, receiving a chin lift from Prez, who then continues, “Rattler’s death would solve nothing. If he dies, the state gets everything, as he’s Amethyst’s only living relative. You want that, Volkov? You let him live, you get at least some money, which should get you off the hook with the Pakhan. You kill him, you get nothing.”

“He killed my wife. You’re just letting him get away with it? And the money too?” I’d been told to make a token protest.

Prez steps back, puts his hand on my shoulder, and says gently, “Brother, I know you blame him, but it was Satin who killed her. What did he stand to gain from taking her out? It’s the woman who’s responsible, and we won’t rest until we find her.”

“I never told her to kill Amethyst. She was to bring her to me. I do not know why she did that.” Volkov looks genuinely bemused. He shakes his head. I notice his eyes are on the brothers holding the rifles. “No benefit if money ends up in the purse of the state of Arizona. Her husband can live. He will pay the full twenty thousand Stone owed.”

“Ten,” states Prez. “And that’s being generous.”

“He married woman who promised to me.”

“By Stone, and he wasn’t in a position to promise things he couldn’t deliver,” Prez points out. “Now he’s dead. You have no claim on Amethyst Stone’s, or sorry,” he casts a sympathetic look my way, “Ellington’sinheritance.”

Volkov’s face tightens. “You expect me to walk and accept he’s got money owed to me? You have declared war.”

“War?” Prez queries, his forehead furrows. “What the fuck do you get from declaring war on the Kings? You fuck with onechapter, you fuck with us all. You’ll only be signing your own death warrant.” He pauses and his tone goes icy. “You want war, you got it. But if that’s how you’re going to play it, we’ll rescind the offer to pay you anything at all.”

He swears loudly in Russian, I take it it’s not complimentary.

“You expect me to accept ten thousand? That is half of what Stone owed.”

“Take it or leave it.” Prez shrugs. “Something or nothing.”

Volkov swings on his heel and starts pacing. Then suddenly he stops and turns back. “Eighteen,” he states. At least he’s come down from demanding everything.