“Neither are you.” I tangled my fingers in his hair. “You’re just a man. You know her though. You know places she’d go.”
“If it was London, I might be able to give them ideas. Here?” He shook his head and touched his forehead to mine. “I’m the only leverage they have.” He framed my face with his long fingers, thumbing away tears I didn’t even know were falling down my face. “Please, Zoe.”
“Don’t ask me to let you go. Don’t ask me to make this okay.”
“I’m not.”
“Fight for me. Fight for us.”
The door opened and I sagged against him. I couldn’t turn around to see who it was. Whoever it was would take him from me. The silence and Ian’s stillness said everything I needed to know.
“They called.”
I crumpled against Ian. Donovan’s voice. Even though I’d only met him once before, his voice was memorable.
Even if it wasn’t a trade, they’d sacrifice him without a thought. Because Ian meant nothing to anyone other than me.
Ian shifted down so he could tighten his arms around my waist. “I have to do this,” he said against my ear.
I pushed him away and turned toward Donovan. “You’re okay with this? One life for another?”
All polish and severe lines, Donovan Lewis stared me down. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Miss Manning.”
“Do you really think it will make a difference? That they’ll give back Margo? She knows who they are too.”
“Zoe.” Ian came up behind me and pulled me away from Donovan.
The question no one wanted asked. I knew it. I could feel it like a pulse between all of us.
“Things are a little more complicated than that, but there are consequences for all the decisions we make. Your Ian knows this, and in your heart you do too.”
I opened my mouth, but Donovan kept speaking.
“It’s an impossible situation that I’m working through, but I need everyone’s help. While I appreciate your passionate stance, there are more things at play than you know.”
Ian slid an arm around my middle and stood behind me. “What do you need me to do?”
“As expected, they’re looking for money. Less than I would have imagined.”
Ian sighed. “Jerry’s particular talents lie in the digital world.”
Donovan nodded. “That number is probably what Simon could liquidate easily.”
“Or already has available.”
Donovan narrowed his gaze. “While we’re alone, why don’t you tell me exactly what the plan was?”
Ian stiffened behind me. I laced our fingers together across my midriff.
“I was to get close to Simon and gain sympathy. Then ask him for help extracting our—my mum from her…situation.”
“You’ve been very antagonistic. That plan seems,” Donovan paused as if choosing the correct word, “counterintuitive.”
“I’m not making excuses.” Ian’s voice was firm and cool.
“That’s not what I’m asking, Ian.”
I glanced up at Ian. “Tell him.”