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.
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.”