Rock Redemption #3: Rock Revenge Trilogy, page 5
“Nothing about me will be at ease until Margo is in front of me.”
“No. I’m sorry, Simon, I agree. But with Ian being our sole source of information, it helps to have as many details at hand as possible.” He pulled a phone out of his jacket pocket. Not the same one Simon had half crushed. This one was sleeker and looked much like an iPhone, but not one he’d ever seen.
Leave it to Donovan to have access to an unreleased one.
He set the phone on the conference table and pushed play. “Based on the time stamp of the surveillance, it was just before he came to see me.”
“Surveillance?”
“Just listen.”
There was a rustling then Ian’s voice boomed into the room. Small and hesitant, talking to his mother. The audio changed again and then it continued.
“Because he was smart—far smarter than me. If something hurts you, you should rip it out. Not sit there and nurse the pain until it’s part of you.”
Then there was sharp banging.
Simon winced. He knew that sound. Knew it from his own days of not knowing where to put the rage. How many nights had he been beaten and bruised by his father and left without an outlet for the anger? How many fights had he gotten into with other kids? With Nick?
He swallowed at the broken speech. The one-sided conversation with Ian and the woman who had given birth to them.
“He didn’t know where you were or even if you were still alive! You wanted everyone to think you were dead. Just vanished into the ether so when I pulled off this ridiculous scam, it would seem more real. But it’s not reality. You know what’s reality? I’m a fool. A puppet. Because even if I do this, even if I steal from your son—your own goddamn son—you still won’t love me. You don’t love me any more than you ever loved him.”
Ian’s voice was ravaged and broken.
Simon wanted to shut it off. To slam his hands over his ears.
“No, you’re right. I just know what you told me. You said he was your favorite. That it hurt you so much to leave him, but you’d done it for love. And then the man left you because of me. Because you were pregnant with me. I was the cause of the loss of all your great loves…your son, the man you wanted to be with. But I was always there, wasn’t I, Mum? I always kept fucking trying.”
The noises that came from him reminded him of a dying animal. Such loss and so much pain.
Simon didn’t want to know any of this.
He lifted his gaze to Donovan’s impassive face. The older man stared him down—daring him to continue to listen.
Simon fisted his hands.
“You’re right. It’s my fault I agreed to any of this.”
A door opened and shut in the audio then it changed once more. Jesus, just how lit up was this fucking building? Everything was under a microscope.
“I should’ve just taken my sentence. At least I’d be free now. At this rate, I’ll never be free. You’ll both see to that, won’t you?”
The shocking laugh was like an icicle scraped over Simon’s spine.
“And I still won’t have a mother who gives a shit about me.”
“I didn’t have a fucking plan! Except to somehow come here and make the impossible work. He was never going to pay for your return, and I was the idiot who couldn’t see how flawed this thing was from the start. He would never throw good money after bad. Wiser than me, he is. But I can learn.”
The one-sided conversation made it a little difficult to understand all the nuances, but there was one truth. Either he was the best fucking actor Simon had ever heard or he was having an epic awakening.
“It means I’m done. I’ll pay Jerry back every cent I owe him, and I’ll do it as fast as I can. But I’m not going to be his toy any longer. Or yours. I’m not going to lie to my brother. Not any more than I already have.”
“I already am. If Jerry wants to talk to me, he knows how to find me.”
“No!”
Simon jumped at the vehemence and panic in the voice. It filled the room and made all of them lean back. All but Donovan. Because of course he’d already listened to this. Already had his cards close to the vest.
“You fucking stay away from her. I’ll fucking kill you. Kill him too. If you even think about—”
There was a crash, then the audio was abruptly cut off.
Nick scrubbed at his hair. “He set that up.”
“I’m not sure he’s that good of an actor.” Donovan picked up the phone and slid it back into his pocket. “Unless you’d like to listen to it again to make sure.”
“No.” Simon’s voice was a croak. He couldn’t listen to that again. He didn’t want to know about the whys. They didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but getting his wife back. “He still brought this to our door. He’s to blame.”
“There’s little doubt that Ian made poor choices, but I wanted you to see that he may not be the soulless viper you want him to be.”
“I don’t care.” Simon met Donovan’s gaze, then swung to where Lila had turned into Nick’s arms. She was just as shattered as he felt. He locked eyes with Donovan. “I don’t care if he saves fifteen kittens from a five-alarm fire every fucking day of his life. Nothing makes up for what he’s done.”
Donovan nodded. “I just wanted to give you some perspective.”
“Since you have everything being recorded in this place, were you able to gather any other information that would help us?”
“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 without 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.”
“But you just said you are literally going to die.” I curled my fingers into his shirt. I wouldn’t cry. That wouldn’t help anything, but he needed to understand me. “Why is that fair?”
“It’s not. Do you think I want to do this?”
“Yes.”
He sat up. “Zoe…”
“You’re taking the easy way out. Stand up for yourself, for me, for us.”
The pale light from the large windows started creeping into our space. His storm-surge eyes were bleak and shattered. “Me for Margo—there is no question. Tell me you see that.”
The impossible situation dragged me under. I curled my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist as I hugged him tight. He clawed at my back, his fingers sliding under my shirt to get to skin.
Right now, we both needed those life-affirming touches.
I curled my fingers into his hair and buried my face into the crook between his neck and shoulder. It was all we could do with so many people around us.
Tears dripped down my face and into his hair as the watery gray light filtered into the buttery dawn.
We pulled apart as the partition opened. Ian lifted me up and set me on the floor before climbing off the cot.
“Glad you could get some rest.” Simon’s voice was flat, but there was anger simmering.
Ian cleared his throat. “Not hardly.” He raked his fingers through his hair.
I passed him one of the ponytail holders from my pocket.
He gave me a sad smile and pulled his hair up into a messy bun. “What do you need me to do?”
“Not fuck this up.” Simon cracked his neck, then his knuckles.
Donovan came around the corner, drying his hands on a towel. Him doing something so mundane felt out of place. He must have splashed water on his face and hair. The unflappable Donovan Lewis seemed a little nervous.
If that wasn’t a dose of reality, I wasn’t sure what would be.
Beside him, the hulking man in black gear who always seemed to have a weapon strapped to him was unstrapping some piece of technology. “All right, the call should be coming in any minute.”
Ian twisted his fingers with mine for a second before he stepped forward.
Donovan met him at the table, clasping Ian’s shoulder once when the phone rang. He nodded to Ian. “Just like we spoke about.”
“Right.” He lifted the cell to his ear. “Hello?” Ian’s eyebrows immediately snapped together. “What? No. I—” His Adam’s apple bounced and a blank, shocked curtain seemed to drop over his face. He turned to Simon. “They don’t want me.” He held the phone out to him.
The big weaponry guy—Aidan, I thought. I couldn’t keep all their names straight. He and another man, lankier and no less strapped with weapons, were typing furiously as they listened in on the call.
Ian stumbled back and I caught him against me. “They don’t need me.”
Relief and horror crashed together inside of me. “What about Margo?”
Seven
The darkness was absolute.
Still.
Always.
To keep herself sane, Margo ran through pieces of music in her head. Familiar ones, like Oblivion’s “The Becoming,” the song that had brought her and Simon together when she’d been called into the studio as a guest musician to sit in with the band. Ones she’d learned years ago, like Beethoven’s “Minuet in G.” Running through chords gave her something to focus on other than the fact she was being held captive by Simon’s mother.
His mother, for God’s sake.
Did he even have a clue she was still alive? As far as she knew, he had no idea. He certainly hadn’t seemed interested in ever finding her.
Margo hadn’t really ever pictured meeting her mother-in-law, since her involvement in Simon’s life had been a non-issue. But if she’d ever imagined it, the meeting wouldn’t have been like this.
Mrs. Kagan—or whatever her name was now—hadn’t lingered after their conversation earlier. Margo had been sure her little slip about the baby would’ve made her stay and ask questions, but she hadn’t. She’d just made noises about getting Margo some “soothing” food and making sure she had milk to drink.
Shockingly, her calcium needs weren’t her biggest concern right now.
When Margo hadn’t seemed interested in the tray of food and drink Mrs. Kagan had provided, she’d left it behind on the bedside table despite Margo’s inability to use her hands to feed herself.
As if she’d even swallow anything they put in front of her. She’d drank some water—with help, as if she was a child—but that was all she’d managed.
She shifted against the mattress and wrinkled her forehead in a futile attempt to itch her nose. What was the purpose of this whole scenario? Obviously, it had to be money. His mother must’ve decided she was tired of her son raking in the cash while she had to work a regular job for a living.
The craziest part of all of this? Simon would pay. Much as Margo hated him being put in this position, she didn’t understand what the delay was. He’d been on the phone with her when the accident happened. They would’ve had no time at all before Simon started ripping up the universe to find her.
Maybe they didn’t realize that. It could be a good thing, if they grew complacent while Simon—and Lila and Donovan, because they would be involved too—grew closer to figuring out their location.
Assuming they hadn’t gotten her out of the area entirely. She could be anywhere. She hadn’t been awake or aware for a chunk of time, and though she didn’t think it was too long, she couldn’t be sure.
Luckily, more pieces of the day were coming back with each passing hour. Patchy fragments, as if her mind wasn’t quite working right yet. It was working better than earlier though, no question. Her memory about things before the accident seemed almost back to normal, but the accident itself and the aftermath held a lot of gaps. Still, most of the fuzziness she’d experienced earlier had dissipated.
She’d also been nauseous on and off since she’d awakened, but she didn’t know if it was from hunger or the possible head injury or her baby.
God, her baby had to be okay. She’d happily take the nausea now if it meant their lemon drop was all right.
She shifted again on the mattress, trying in vain to get comfortable. If she ever saw their glorious King-sized bed again, she’d probably cry tears of joy. Not if, when. She hadn’t come this far and fought this hard for it all to end here. Not just her. Her and Simon together. They’d grown up from the ashes of shitty upbringings, but they were making their own way and their own family.
Their own forever.
But she wouldn’t mind one bit if those little ripples she’d felt earlier happened again. She remembered that part, loud and clear. Before she’d climbed in the car, she’d been racing around to get ready and the baby had punched or kicked or backflipped, she was almost sure. It was awfully early, especially for a first pregnancy, but she’d just known.
She stared down at herself in the darkness, willing her baby to react. Just some small signal that yeah, they’d both gotten the jolt of their lives today, and this wasn’t over yet, but they were together.
Fighting to get back to her daddy. A team.
Her throat tightened. A her? Could it be? Probably just a slip of the…well, mind. She hadn’t had a strong feeling one way or the other until this very instant.
Maybe that was another sign too. A tiny flicker of hope she could hold onto.
Despite everything, she smiled. Simon with a daughter would be adorable. It’d be priceless to see him freaking out as she got older, prepared to fight off any male who dared look at her. She knew he’d be the very best father, although he still wasn’t certain. She’d doubted a lot of things in her life—including whether he’d be pleased at the news she was pregnant, simply because it hadn’t been in their plans—but she’d never doubted the capacity of love Simon had to give.
Amazing, considering how he was raised. She’d heard all about his father, and as bad as he’d been, his mother certainly was no prize. No wonder Ian was so—
Ian.
Pretty interesting that he’d shown up, so brash and in their faces, right before Simon’s mother had made her presence known. Was that part of why she’d chosen now to make her move? Or was he her mole, sent ahead to spy on Simon and help her figure out the plan?
A sharp pain went through her belly and she let out a whimper before she could stop it. Not being able to use her hands to soothe the ache just made it worse. Could it be a nervous reaction or was it more than that?
If she lost the baby—
No.
The baby was fine.
She was fine, and they’d make it out of here as soon as they got their money. That had to be the point of all this.
But then what? Were they going to have to be on guard for the rest of their lives, waiting for the next time Mommy Dearest needed a payday? She wanted to believe Donovan and his men would catch her—because they all knew his feelings about dealing with the cops if he had any choice—but if they didn’t, then what? She and Simon would have to spend their days in a pretty fortress, only coming out for shows, and looking for shadows in corners.
