Rock Redemption #3: Rock Revenge Trilogy, page 6
They couldn’t live like that. Their child definitely shouldn’t have to.
As much as she loved being in the band, she’d quit today if it meant she and the baby would have more freedom. But since the threat had come from within Simon’s own family, where could they be safe?
Nowhere.
She shut her eyes on a hot rush of tears. Not unless Donovan and his men were able to eradicate the danger.
Simon’s mother or not.
The door creaked open and she went still. That same shaft of light bled into the room but it seemed different now somehow. Brighter. As if the darkness behind it was even more than it had been before. What time was it? She wished she wore a watch so she could angle herself enough to see it. Not that she knew which day it was. Had it been one or two or…more?
Then Simon’s mother entered the doorway and her thoughts clicked off.
“Are you hungry now?” She moved toward the bed. “I can feed you.”
“No, thank you.” That her manners were so ingrained that she would even use them now seriously pissed her off.
On the other hand, this woman was batshit. No need to get her riled up any more than necessary.
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you? I picked that up from you earlier.”
Margo said nothing.
“You know, I don’t have any grandchildren. Never thought I would. I never pegged my boys for the settling down types. Then again, I didn’t think Ian would turn out to be such a disappointment either.”
“A disappointment how?” It was a risk trying to engage her in conversation, but if she could find out something that might be useful later, it was worth it.
“Ah, my dear sweet girl, you think I’m not too bright. Most people do. You should know how it is. If a woman has looks, often her brains aren’t valued.” Mrs. Kagan stepped closer to the bed and stroked Margo’s hair while she fought back a shiver.
Don’t react. Don’t even give her that much.
“Ian was never like Simon. Both a blessing and a curse. But when I needed him most, he decided to take a page out of his older brother’s playbook. And now he thinks he’s wanted here? That we’ll trade him for you? He’s so very foolish. You’re our ace in the hole.”
Margo swallowed hard at the wave of revulsion threatening to rise up inside her. “Ian is a kid.”
“He is, and he knows nothing. It’s time for him to understand the ways of the world. I protected him for far too long, and what did it get me? I always hoped he’d be more like my Simon. Instead, he’s a disgrace.”
Margo shut her eyes. She didn’t want to feel sorry for Ian, but she couldn’t help it. As someone who’d spent a lifetime being compared to her younger sister, she understood all too well the damage that could do. She and Jules were close now, but their parents had pitted them against each other for years.
Even if Ian hadn’t been involved in this scheme—although it certainly sounded as if he’d played some role—who could blame him for hating Simon? He’d been born and bred to do just that, thanks to his mother’s obvious obsession with her eldest son.
“He thinks he can operate as we do, just because he has Donovan Lewis behind him now. As if we don’t know his type.”
Relieved tears burned the backs of Margo’s eyes. Donovan was involved. She’d known he would have to be, but even this much confirmation was a miracle.
They hadn’t forgotten her.
As irrational as it seemed to think that for even a second, crazy thoughts were part and parcel of being chained up alone in the dark. When she got back home, she might never sleep without a light on again.
“So, you might want to have something to eat,” Mrs. Kagan said after a moment, her hand still moving over Margo’s hair. Every stroke made Margo’s skin crawl. “It’s a long trip, and you need to think about the child. It’s not all about you, you know.”
Was this woman serious? She had shackles around Margo’s wrists and ankles, yet Margo wasn’t being a good mother?
“I know it’s hard to adjust to caring for a new life, but it’s worth it. I’ve spent all these years waiting for the day I’d see Simon again. The timing was never right. But it’s finally almost time.”
“A l-long trip where?” That tremor in her voice was detestable. Some of it was for show, to make Mrs. Kagan think she was weak. Easily manipulated.
But part of it was all too real.
“I’m going to see Simon again soon,” Mrs. Kagan said as if she hadn’t heard Margo’s question. “You won’t keep me from him, will you?”
Margo struggled to keep her panic and disgust from showing on her face. “No. Of course not. Are we going to see Simon?”
“We are. You, my dear, are going somewhere else.”
“No.” The word tasted like blood. She’d bitten her tongue in her hurry to speak, and the coppery tang filled her mouth. She swallowed it down, forcing the terror away with it. “Don’t send me anywhere else. I need to make sure the baby is okay. You want the baby to be all right, don’t you? We took a hard jolt from the accident—”
“Simon’s baby.”
“Yes.” She looked up at Simon’s mother even when every part of her wanted to shrink away. The older woman’s beauty didn’t do a thing to diminish the coldness of her eyes. They were like winter, icy and forbidding. “Simon’s baby,” she agreed quietly.
“You’ll let me see the baby after he or she is born. I’m sure the child will be beautiful like its father.”
Margo’s skin chilled and she couldn’t help shuddering. “Of course.”
Not while there was breath left in her body would she let this woman within fifty feet of her child. If that meant having armed guards surrounding the nursery, then that was what she would do.
“Drink some more water at least before you leave. You’re going to be on the road for a long time.”
Margo shut her eyes and sat up to drink when Mrs. Kagan tipped the glass to her lips. Some dribbled out over her chin, just as tears leaked down her cheeks.
She didn’t know where they were taking her or if her pleas had made any difference. It wasn’t as if she could fight. She was chained up and even if she wasn’t, Mrs. Kagan had referenced a ‘we.’ What chance did Margo have to overpower someone else as well, who was probably a man?
A short while later, Mrs. Kagan left her and two men entered the room. Both wore black and kept their faces averted as they moved toward the bed.
Margo dug her nails into her palms and debated scratching the first guy’s eyes out the minute he freed her wrists and ankles. What if it was her only opportunity to escape?
In the end, he moved too swiftly for her to even try.
Her throat grew tight as she shuffled out between the two men, each tightly holding her arms. If she tried to run, they’d hurt her. She had no doubt. Both were heavily muscled, and baby or no baby, she was certain that Mrs. Kagan wouldn’t allow her to stand between her and her money.
So crazy. To risk lives for so little. How could anyone be so callous?
A woman who’d abandoned her son to an abuser could be. Even if now she wanted to pretend she loved Simon so much.
Spare her from such love.
And was this their end game? They’d get the money and then what? Just disappear? Or vanish for a while, lull her and Simon into a false sense of security, and then return to try their luck one more time?
“Bathroom first.”
Since she’d had to go fiercely for the last hour, she didn’t protest. She’d only been given a chance to go twice since whenever she’d been taken.
“You got two minutes.” The first guy shoved her toward the closet-sized bathroom she’d been allowed to use earlier. “You don’t come out on your own, we’re coming in after you.”
She hurried inside and shut the door. Quickly, she took care of business, nearly letting out a sob of relief that she wasn’t bleeding. She’d checked each time she visited the bathroom after the accident, afraid of the worst.
Nothing. Thank God.
All evidence pointed to her baby hanging in strong with her. They just had to deal with this a little longer, and then they’d be free.
She had to believe that or she’d go nuts.
She washed up and took one last glance around the room. It was a truly tiny room, with no windows or anything to use as a weapon. Not that she even had any clue how many people she might have to overpower on her way out. Mrs. Kagan had said we several times, but Margo had to believe she had someone else on her side other than the two men who seemed more like hired muscle. But maybe not.
If she hadn’t been pregnant, she would’ve tried to make a break for it anyway. She had strong hands from years of playing violin, and she was quick and agile. Even with the bad odds of going up against two burly men, she would’ve tried it. But she couldn’t take that chance because of her baby.
And without her baby, she probably wouldn’t have made it this far. She would’ve gone out of her mind hours ago. Focusing on her child gave her something to put her attention on outside of herself.
The doorknob turned and she rushed out, wincing as the men gripped her arms on either side. She had a second to blink in the brighter hallway light before one of the guys lifted a piece of black fabric. She barely had time to make a sound before he was stuffing it in her mouth, nearly choking her. Swiftly, the other man wrapped another long length of material over her eyes.
Back in the darkness again.
She fought them reflexively, but it did no good. They neutralized her with what seemed like little effort and then wrapped more material around her wrists so that they were useless. They weren’t even breathing heavily from the exertion of subduing her.
She was well and truly fucked.
This was a nightmare. Worse than any frightening dream she’d ever had.
She was maneuvered up the hall again between them, barely able to take a step with how closely they were surrounding her. A door opened and warm air blew over her face, making her throat ache. Outside. It seemed as if it had been a lifetime since she’d seen the sun or felt its warmth on her skin.
Then another door was being hauled open. This one sounded like maybe a door on a vehicle. An older van perhaps?
She didn’t have more than a few seconds to consider it before she was being pushed into the vehicle. She made noises against the gag, but what was the point? Even a shout barely registered.
“You better not keep yelling your fool head off, lady. I’ll take off the gag if you promise to shut the hell up.”
She nodded as fast as she could. Blessedly, they removed the fabric from her mouth, but she had no time to speak.
The door slammed behind her, and now even the fleeting warmth from the wind was gone.
Why hadn’t she tried to make a fuss when she was outside? Not that she could do much, but if she’d screamed—even with the gag in place—maybe someone could’ve heard her. Though she had a feeling where she’d been held was an isolated place. Mrs. Kagan wasn’t a fool. Margo knew that instinctively. If she had been, Donovan and his men and Simon would’ve found her already.
And now they wouldn’t be able to, because she was being moved like a slab of beef.
The vehicle rumbled into motion and Margo tried to shift herself into a less uncomfortable position. She was sort of draped over the seat, and without use of her hands, couldn’t right herself. Eventually, she managed to buck and inch over until she was kind of on her side. Her hip was killing her.
They couldn’t be traveling far. Not if they hadn’t even bothered to help her sit on the damn seat. But Mrs. Kagan had mentioned a long trip, hadn’t she?
God, she was so tired.
The men up front didn’t speak. It felt as if they were driving forever. Were they even still in California? She had no clue how far they’d traveled before she’d come to in shackles, and now they were on the road once more.
Maybe she’d never see Simon or her family or her band ever again.
Maybe this was it.
And maybe she needed to stop thinking ahead and just deal with the present moment before she went insane.
She adjusted her jaw and tried to bring her wrists up so they weren’t at such a weird angle beneath her. There, that was better.
Small victories.
After a while, the rolling motion of the vehicle lulled her into sleep, even with the awkward position. When she awoke, the van was rolling to a stop. She tried to lift her head but pain streaked through her neck from her position. The van door slid open and rough hands grabbed at her, making her cry out as they dragged her across the seat. One of the guys ripped at her blindfold and she gasped as the world around her came into focus. She was on the side of the road.
Cars rushing by. Horns. Life.
Just as suddenly as they’d ripped off her blindfold, they tore at the material around her wrists. Then without a word, they rounded the hood of the idling van parked beside them and sped off, leaving her on the side of the road.
She watched the taillights disappear in the distance, tears blurring her vision. Was this just another dream or was she really finally free?
She started to cough, the dusty air bothering her lungs. That and the lack of any liquid in forever. Her gaze swung left to right and somehow she instantly knew she wasn’t in California. She’d traveled a lot with the band and the symphony, although most of that had been in the back of a tour bus or in a plane where she couldn’t see much. But that was a fucking cactus a few feet ahead of her on the side of the road.
Swallowing hard, she glanced down at herself. She’d lost one of her shoes. Her hose were ripped. The white twin set sweater and top she’d put on this morning—or yesterday or whenever—was torn and dirty. There was blood on her inner arm. And all of a sudden, her head ached like a bitch.
But she was free.
She was finally free.
Thank God.
Just in case they changed their minds and decided to come back, she hurriedly pulled off her other pump and rushed up the side of the road in her stocking feet. It was late at night, although she couldn’t guess the time.
In the distance, there was just the faintest orangeish-pink light along the horizon. Dawn was coming, and she had to get help.
Had to make sure her baby was okay.
She didn’t have a clue where she was or possession of her ID and her phone. Didn’t matter. She was free. If she had to limp a hundred miles to safety, she’d do it.
First, she had to get out of the flow of traffic.
Up ahead, there was a parking lot with a few squat buildings side by side. The scatter of cars in the lot made her already stampeding heartbeat pick up speed. Though her ankles hurt from the shackles and the weird positions she’d been forced into, she moved as quickly as she could.
Halfway across the lot, she saw the words Vegas Quick Care on one of the buildings.
A clinic.
Had they left her nearby intentionally or was this just blind luck?
Eyes wet again, she hurried toward the building, coming up short when she saw the hours listed on a sign in the window.
It didn’t open until eight am.
“You’re a little early, Miss—oh, Miss, sit down.”
Margo scarcely had time to turn toward the older gentleman with salt and pepper hair before she swayed on her feet. He helped guide her onto a bench, and she fumbled for his arm as her vision wavered at the edges and nausea churned in her belly.
“You have to help me. I was kidnapped.” She took a deep breath and marshaled the last of her strength. “My name is Margo Kagan.”
Eight
He took the phone with a frown and brought it up to his ear. He glanced at Aidan for a clue as to what to do, but the change in plan seemed to be throwing everyone off, not just Simon.
“Hello.” His voice was flat and hard.
“Pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Kagan.”
Silence seemed the better part of valor at this point. Because he was ready to bodily drag this piece of shit’s ass through the phone and stomp on his goddamn neck.
“Nothing to say? You’re much smarter than your younger brother.”
“He’s not my brother,” he ground out.
“Ah, well. He’s worth very little to me. You’ve always been my big fish, son. Now let’s get down to it.”
Panic and anger clanged in his head like Jazz’s hi-hats. “Where is my fucking wife?”
“She’s safe. For now.”
Simon fisted his hands as Aidan’s people swarmed around him, trying to triangulate the call—at least that was his guess based on the wordless communication going on. He couldn’t concentrate on any of that.
There was only one thing that mattered.
Only one end he could focus on. And it wasn’t capturing Jerry.
It was Margo—always.
The money didn’t matter.
This shitstain walking away with millions didn’t matter.
“Give me my wife.”
“I like how focused you are, Mr. Kagan—or may I call you Simon?”
“Tell me where you want me to meet you.”
“All business.” He sighed. “As you wish.”
The faintly British accent dug under his skin and mixed with the fury and molten madness he’d barely been keeping at bay. Once he’d tolerated the accent. It belonged to the lyrical and somehow stilted awe of a boy who didn’t know what to do with a studio. And the cultured formality of the man who’d helped start his career.
Now it turned his stomach.
Now he wanted to stab at his ears to obliterate it.
Jerry rattled off an address on the fringes of the city. A place Simon would never go, let alone travel to with a fucking boatload of cash.
A desolate place the cops didn’t bother with.
