9. Isaac
Chapter 9
Isaac
Dom pulls over in an old motel parking lot a couple miles down the road and we all scramble out of the car. My mind races with thoughts about the petite woman bound in our backseat. Her perfectly manicured nails and designer clothes scream 'politician's wife,' but something doesn't quite add up.
"What's your take on this?" Dominic asks, coming around the front of the car.
"I don't know what to make of it." I lean back against the door, crossing my arms. "If she's working with Thomas, she's the worst spy I've ever fucking seen."
Connor comes from behind the SUV after taking a piss. "Maybe that's what she wants us to think."
"Nah." I shake my head. "I've watched her when we talk about him. She tenses up when we mentioned the bastard."
I catch Dominic's skeptical glance. "Could be an act."
"Na, the senator's too controlling to let his wife do his dirty work. He barley lets her fucking talk in press conferences and shit."
Connor hesitates. "Let's just call Esteban, see what he says."
I pull out my phone and dial him, putting it on speaker. It doesn't ring long before his gravelly voice comes through.
"What is it?"
"Boss, we've got a situation. Senator's wife was taking photos of our cars."
"Interesting." There's a pause, ice clinking in what's probably his usual whiskey. "Maybe you should just keep her, let him squirm, if he reaches out about her whereabouts, we can ask him the whereabouts of my fucking forty grand he owes me."
"That's not a bad idea," Connor adds. "Might give him a little motivation. Her ransom could just happen to be forty grand."
Inside the car, Tatum starts yelling something I can't make out.
"Hold on," I say, reaching over to open the passenger door. "You got something to say?"
"He won't call." Her voice drips with venom. "Thomas couldn't care less if I disappeared."
Dominic's eyes meet mine.
"Is that true, Mrs. Cope?" Esteban's voice carries through the speaker, a note of amusement.
"Call me Tatum please, and trust me," she says, leaning forward despite her bound hands. "If you're waiting for a ransom call, you'll be waiting a long time. Thomas Cope only cares about Thomas Cope."
"Well, well." Esteban chuckles. "I say keep her. We could definitely use her to our advantage somehow, I'm sure. Just keep me posted. I'm leaving the ball in your court."
I end the call, studying our captive with new interest. The woman who should be terrified is instead sitting there looking like we've just rescued her from a boring dinner party.
We all gather back inside the car.
"So, let's have a chat." I say, as Dom pulls away from the parking lot.
She shrugs, the movement elegant despite her bonds. "As long as it isn't about politics or fucking Armani suits I'm all ears."
I lean back into the back seat and remove her zip ties. Because I know firsthand those things are uncomfortable as fuck.
"So, let me get this straight, you were following us because..." I lean forward, studying her face for any sign of deception.
She smooths her designer dress. "Because I need leverage. Thomas thinks he's untouchable, but everyone has secrets."
"And what makes you think we give a shit about your marital problems?"
"Because you clearly want something from him. And I want out. I've bid my time, I never agreed to marry him in the first place." She meets my gaze steadily.
"Keep talking," I say, sliding into the chair across from her. "So this was a marriage of convenience?"
She straightens her spine, hands folded neatly on her thighs. "Pretty much. Richard Matthews ring any bells?"
"The real estate developer?" Connor's eyebrows shoot up. "The one who got caught in that money laundering scheme last year?"
"Daddy dearest himself." Her lips twist. "He needed Thomas's family connections back then. I was the bargaining chip."
Dominic shifts against the wall. "Matthews did always strike me as the type to sell his own mother."
"His daughter wasn't much different." She traces a pattern on the inside of her palm. "Sign here, smile there, be a good girl and don't make waves. The perfect political wife at seventeen."
"Fuck, seventeen…" Connor says, "That's like…"
"Illegal? Yeah… but that doesn't mean shit when you've got money and the judicial system in your pocket."
"Still doesn't mean we can trust you," I point out.
"What do you want me to do?" Her green eyes lock onto mine, challenging. "Name it. I'll prove I'm serious."
"Well, now that you mention it," Connor pulls a flash drive from his pocket. "His computer. We need what's on it."
"That's it?" She picks up the drive, examining it. "His password is his high school football number and grad year. He's not creative enough to think I'd ever go against him."
"Get everything," Dominic rumbles. "Emails, documents, browser history. The whole damn thing."
"And when you do," I add, offering her a burner phone, "we'll talk about how to handle your husband problem."
She nods, tucking the drive and phone into her purse. "I'll have it by tomorrow. He has a late meeting with constituents."
"One more thing." My eyes meet hers, noticing their damming shade of green, reminds me of Ireland. "If you're playing us..."
"Save the threats." She adjusts sunglasses on her head. "I've lived with worse for years."
The engine purrs as we pull back into the dimly lit parking garage. Mrs. Cope's car sits exactly where she left it, a sleek black Mercedes that screams 'high class.'
I get out and open her door. She steps out, smoothing her designer dress. The click of her heels echoes through the concrete structure as I fall into step beside her.
"Remember," I say, keeping my voice low. "One wrong move..."
"I've got this, tattoo head." She cuts me off with a wave of her manicured hand.
We reach her car, and she turns to face me. "You'll have your flash drive tomorrow. Just make sure you hold up your end."
"We're not exactly known for breaking deals."
"Neither am I." She unlocks her car. "Tell your cronies thanks for the joyride, it was real enthralling."
I watch her slide behind the wheel, the engine starting with a quiet hum. As she pulls away, Connor appears at my shoulder.
"Think we just made a deal with the devil?"
"Nah." I shake my head. "Just with someone who's been living with one."
The Mercedes disappears around the corner, leaving us in the echoing silence of the garage.
"If she's playing us..." Dominic's deep voice carries from behind.
"Then we'll handle it." I turn back toward our car. "But something tells me she's exactly what we need."