7. Connor
Chapter 7
Connor
The chair creaks under my weight as I shift, checking my phone for the hundredth time. Dominic's leg bounces next to me, an annoying rhythm that's making my teeth grind. Isaac's examining his knuckles like they hold the secrets of the universe.
The door swings open, and Esteban strides in, his presence immediately commanding the room. The scent of his expensive cologne mingles with cigar smoke as he settles behind his mahogany desk.
"That piece of shit senator is dragging his feet." Esteban's accent thickens with his irritation. "Three days, and nothing."
"Maybe he needs another reminder of who he's dealing with," Isaac suggests, cracking his knuckles.
I lean forward. "The westside deal was supposed to be sealed Friday. He's either playing us or he's incompetent."
"Both," Dominic mutters.
Esteban's eyes narrow as he pulls out a cigar. "Connor, what's your read?"
"He's getting cocky. Thinks his position protects him." I run my thumb over my lip piercing. "A little press scandal might adjust his attitude."
"Agreed." He clips the end of his cigar.
"Or we just fuck him up," Isaac suggests. I swear, that mother fucker is always itching to beat the hell out of someone.
"That's an option too," Esteban says with a drag of his cigar. "But nothing visible. Nothing that keeps him from his public appearances. But make sure he understands the consequences of failing to deliver."
"What about his wife?" Dominic asks.
"Leave her be." His tone brooks no argument. "From what I've seen, she's just as clueless about his dealings as the public is. We don't need that kind of attention. Just rough him up enough to get the message across."
"When would you like us to sort this out?" I ask, already planning the logistics.
"As soon as possible." He lights his cigar, the smoke curling up toward the ceiling. "Show him what happens when people waste my fucking time."
"You got it boss," Dom shouts.
The concrete echoes our footsteps as we head toward the car. My fingers twitch against my thigh - something feels off. A shadow moves behind one of the concrete pillars, and I catch a glimpse of someone in dark clothes.
"Hold up." I grab Dom's arm, nodding toward the movement. "We've got company."
Dom's hand slides under his jacket. "Where?"
"Five o'clock. Behind the pillar." The figure shifts again, and metal glints in the dim lighting. "They're taking photos."
"Shit." Isaac moves to circle around, but I catch his sleeve.
"Wait. Let's not spook them." I keep my voice low. "Dom, cut left. Isaac, take right. I'll approach head-on."
My boots scrape against the ground as I walk forward, hands loose at my sides. The figure - definitely female - ducks behind a car. The shutter clicks again.
"You know," I call out, "if you wanted a photo shoot, you could've just asked."
The perp bolts, her heels clicking against concrete. Clearly not our usual snoops. Or they would have known to invest in some sneakers.
In her attempt to get away, she ends up barricading herself near the fire exit. I continue to step closer, close enough to see her pulse jumping in her throat. "Look, we can do this the easy way-"
"Fuck off," she seethes, and then she's in motion. I must admit, she moves pretty fucking fast for someone in three inch heels. But I'm faster. My fingers close around her wrist, and the camera clatters to the ground.
"Asshole, I paid extra to get that shit overnighted." she snarls.
She twists in my grip, her elbow connecting with my ribs. The impact forces air from my lungs, but I maintain my hold. Her hood slips, revealing a flash of blonde hair.
"Damn, she's got some fight," Isaac says, moving to block her escape route.
She kicks backward, aiming for my knee. I sidestep, using her momentum to spin her around. Her sunglasses clatter to the ground as she struggles.
"Let me go, you piece of-"
The words die in her throat as recognition hits me. Those eyes - I've seen them in campaign photos, standing next to that smug bastard Thomas.
"Well shit." I loosen my grip but don't release her completely. "Mrs. Cope, fancy meeting you here."
Dom steps closer, his massive frame casting a shadow over us. "As in the Senator's wife? What the actual fuck?"
"I prefer Tatum," she spits, yanking against my hold. "And I'm not leaving without those photos."
Isaac picks up her camera, turning it over in his hands. "Sorry lass, but that's not happening."
"You really shouldn't be following strange men around parking garages," I say, close to her ear. "Especially not ones doing business with your husband."
She stills at that, her spine straightening. "So you admit you're doing business with him?"
"Smart girl." I can't help but smile. "But not smart enough to avoid getting caught."
"What do we do with her?" Isaac asks, already removing the camera's memory card.
Dom crosses his arms. "Call the boss."
"Not yet." The words come out before I can stop it. Something about her determination, the fire in her eyes when she fought back... "Let me handle this."
I step closer, keeping my grip firm but not bruising on her arm. "What's so interesting about these photos that you'd risk following us?"
"Just adding to my collection." Her lips curve into a smile that's all edges. "You'd be surprised what I've managed to capture already."
That gets my attention. My fingers tighten reflexively. "What collection?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" She tilts her head, studying me with those sharp green eyes. "Though I have to say, you boys are much more interesting up close than through a lens."
"Dom," I call over my shoulder, not taking my eyes off her. "Get the car."
"He's already on it." Isaac calls from behind me.
The SUV pulls up, engine purring. I guide her toward it, expecting resistance, but she moves willingly. Too willingly.
"After you," I say, opening the door.
She slides in like she's getting into a limo, smoothing her dress as she settles into the leather seat. "At least you're gentlemen about kidnapping."
I quickly zip tie her wrists. "Who said anything about kidnapping?" I climb in after her. "We're just going to have a friendly chat about your photography hobby."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night." She crosses her legs, completely at ease. "Though I should warn you - my memory card's not the only copy."
Dom catches my eye in the rearview mirror. "Boss isn't going to like this."
"Boss doesn't need to know yet." I say as I study our unexpected guest. "First, Mrs. Cope is going to discuss exactly what other photos she's been taking, aren't you dear?" I ask, trying to seem as intimidating as possible although I really doubt this woman will fall for it.
She twists her auburn hair around her finger, "Wait, what is it all those gangsters say in the movies?" She looks to Dom and Isaac almost for validation. "Oh yeah, what's in it for me?" She says with a smug grin.
I have a feeling we're about to bite off more than we can chew with this one.