Page 6 of Donovan Blake: Passion

As he ended the call, he thought about the crime families he’d dealt with in the past. They always had a weak spot. In his last case Manny Trubello, a mafia kingpin, had been obsessed with a priceless necklace which had ultimately been his undoing.

Donovan caught his breath.

Manny had been murdered by a Russian oligarch named Alexi Koslov. The Russian had snatched up the priceless jewelry, and even though he could have stolen other priceless pieces, small and easy to slip into his pockets, he’d chosen a Renoir. The painting had been cumbersome and obvious.

“Is it possible…?” Donovan muttered.

“So, what’s the news?” Phoebe asked, breaking into his thoughts. “How’s Sam?”

“A bit panic stricken.”

“Really? I haven’t dealt with him much, but I can’t imagine him panic-stricken.”

“He tried to hide it but I know him and he’s stressing. Another painting has disappeared from a home in Knightsbridge. He wants us there now.”

“Um—excuse me,” a tentative voice called.

Glancing across to the door they saw Jane poking her head in.

“May I speak with you?”

“Sure, come in,” Donovan said, thinking how pretty she was without the garish makeup.

“I have an idea,” she began as she walked quickly over to join them. “Dad and I—we just had this really heavy talk. We haven’t been getting along since mum left. Well, she hasn’t actually left, but she’s involved in all sorts of things in London so she’s not here very much and I really miss her. He thinks that’s why I went a bit off the rails—that’s what he called it. Anyway, I spoke to her on the phone just now and she’s blaming herself for all this. It’s not her fault…not really…but the point is, now I feel terrible about it all. Dad said Jimmy just used me and he’s right. So, I have a thought. You want me to tell you about Jimmy and his friends. The problem is, I don’t actually know that much, but if I go back to his place maybe I can get some information for you.”

“I appreciate the offer, Jane, I really do, but it’s much too dangerous, and if he suspects—”

“But, Donovan, I have to do something,” she said urgently, cutting him off. “I really want to help.”

“Let me think…you can’t see him, but you can call him. In fact, I need to get to London but I can’t leave until he tries to pick up the portrait. Tell him you’re calling because there will be workers in the basement tomorrow. Is your father busy? He needs to be involved in this.”

“He’s in his study.”

“Perfect. Let’s go there now and work this out.”

* * *

Jimmy Pike was edgy, and it wasn’t because of the coke he’d just snorted. He’d been desperate to escape his boring country life and move to the city. But he didn’t want to be in a crappy flat in a crappy area. He wanted to arrive with money in his pocket, live in a cool place, and enjoy the expensive clubs where the hot, sexy girls hung out. Now, because of a bizarre twist of fate, he was finally on the verge of making it happen.

A month earlier, he’d been in the village and met Jane Hawthorne, the daughter of the local aristocrat. To his shock she wanted to spend time with him, and just a week later she’d taken him into her family’s amazing home.

Things suddenly soared from great to fantastic.

Out of the blue his dealer, a tough biker known as Johnny Boy, called asking about stately homes in the area. The moment Jimmy described Hawthorne Hall, Johnny Boy asked if he’d like to make fifty-thousand pounds for a night’s work. All he had to do was steal a painting.

Jimmy had almost screamed with joy.

Jane Hawthorne had been wearing the slutty makeup he’d insisted on, and when he called, she came running. Twice he’d almost taken her V-card, but she’d changed her mind at the last minute.

He’d invited her over, managed to get her tipsy with a bottle of cheap red wine and tried a third time. When she’d refused, he’d told her she could make it up to him by helping him steal a painting, and if she didn’t agree he’d have to stop seeing her. The entire thing, from getting her on board to moving the portrait into the basement, had been as easy as shoplifting.

Now all he had to do was collect it.

But the thought of creeping into the huge home and moving it out was nerve-racking. His phone rang, making him jump. But seeing Jane’s name on his screen he hastily accepted the call.

“Hey, Jane.”

“Hello, Jimmy. Sorry, but I need to make this quick. I just heard workmen will be going into the basement tomorrow. You’ll have to get the portrait out tonight.”

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