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“Aidan and his people are working on an angle. It seems that Ian’s co-conspirators didn’t trust that he’d do his job.”
“Growing a conscious doesn’t mean dick right now. They still managed to take Margo in fucking broad daylight.”
“This is more a technical detail that might help us. It’s the first mistake they’ve made. At least the first we’ve found. We may have a way to pinpoint where they are.”
Simon crowded into Donovan. “And where Margo is?”
“We’re doing everything we can. Now we have to wait for the call. I suggest you get some rest. I put together some food and drinks in the room down the hall. And also a few make-shift beds.”
Simon opened his mouth, but Donovan gave him a steely look.
“I get it. I wouldn’t be able to sleep either. But at least put yourself somewhere quiet. We need everyone as clear-headed as possible.”
Clear-headed? There was no way he’d be anything close to clear or sane until Margo was back in his arms.
Six
a little before dawn
The reassuring rise and fall of Ian’s chest beneath me on our cot had settled me into a weird space of half-sleep, half-wakefulness. That place was usually reserved for the end of a painting spree, when I wasn’t allowed on my scaffolding or ladder.
But this was so far away from my studio. They’d sectioned off a little partitioned room for us away from the endless murmuring and plans from the scary Roth Defense team.
Part of me wanted to get away from him. He’d lied to so many people. Lied to me by omission if not design. I understood part of it. Hadn’t I run to Los Angeles to start over? To show my family that I was worthy of becoming an artist?
They didn’t understand me or my art, but they’d supported me. They’d helped me with loans for school and for moving to J Town.
What would I have done without them?
Without my brothers looking out for me all my life? They’d taught me how to handle myself in most situations.
Ian had only himself. And a woman who twisted love into a bartering system that never worked in his favor.
But he’d made the decision to break the law. To take the easy way out to try and win the love of his mother. Was being alone better than living in that toxic soup of narcissism and abuse?
Those were the questions that whirled in my head, pingponging around like a super-ball thrown as hard as humanly possible. It could bounce forever without stopping, given the right circumstances.
I couldn’t focus.
I couldn’t hate him wi
thout loving him.
I wanted to hold him close and shove him out the fucking window. I wanted to rage at him and beg him to tell me none of this was true.
And in the end, all I could do was sit still with him and watch the minutes go by so slowly.
“Why does it have to be you?”
He toyed with the ends of my hair. “Because Jerry wants to tie up loose ends.”
“But wouldn’t that include Margo?” I didn’t want to ask that question, but it seemed to be the ugly one no one wanted to voice.
“I’m expendable. If Jerry hurts Margo, he’d have to contend with Donovan’s people for the rest of his life. Me? I don’t matter to anyone.”
I propped myself up on his chest. “You do to me.”
He cupped my face in the semi-darkness. “I brought this on everyone, I have to fix it. Simple as that.”
