Page 4 of Donovan Blake: Passion

“Second, you’ll give me the name of the person who convinced you to help him. After all, it was his idea…and his friends,” Donovan said, hoping he was right. “I assume it was one of the young men I saw on the playback. What’s his name? I didn’t catch it, but I can always let your father and staff see it. Maybe someone will be able to identify him—or the local police might know him.”

“Jimmy Pike,” she exclaimed, “and you must have seen me try to stop him at the last minute. That must count for something.”

“It might lessen your sentence, but you’ll still be looking at time behind bars. This is grand theft, not stealing lipstick from a cosmetics counter.”

“But I can’t go to jail, I can’t. Isn’t there some way you can help me?”

“Perhaps. Tell me about Jimmy and his friends and I’ll see what I can do, but I must have everything. Their names, where they live, absolutely everything.”

“Oh, dear God, Jimmy will kill me…” she whimpered.

“No, he won’t, and would you like me to tell you why?”

“Uh…okay.”

“Besides the additional security I’ll recommend to your father I’ll be bringing in a bodyguard to watch over you for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“Until any danger has passed. But there are two more conditions.”

“Now what?” she grunted impatiently.

“Don’t take that tone with me! I’m giving you a break.”

“Sorry, but this is a nightmare.”

“A nightmare is being locked up,” he warned. “The first is, I won’t tell your father, you will.”

“What?”

“But before you do that, you’ll wash your hair and get all that ridiculous crap off your face.”

“But—”

“After you’ve spoken to him, you’ll tell me everything you know about Jimmy and his friends. That’s the deal. Take it, or I call the police.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it.”

“If you’re not speaking with your father in the next thirty-minutes the deal’s off.”

“You’re a beast.”

“Jimmy and his friends are the beasts. I’m the guy saving your ass. and you’d better get out of here before I change my mind. Phoebe, go with her. Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

* * *

As Phoebe and Jane left the room, Donovan waited a few minutes to gather his thoughts, then stepped into the hall, walked down to Peter’s study and tapped on the door.

“Come in.”

“Hello, Peter.”

“Ah, Donovan, how can I help?”

“I’ve located your painting.”

“But…but..how?” he sputtered, abruptly rising to his feet. “Where is it?”

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