16. Dominic
Chapter 16
Dominic
I lean against the kitchen counter, watching Connor pace back and forth across the marble tile. His anxiety is starting to get on my nerves.
"What if she's playing both sides?" Isaac says from his perch on the barstool.
I take a slow sip of my whiskey. "You saw the footage. That prick treats her like garbage."
"Yeah, but-" Connor starts.
"But nothing." I set my glass down with a decisive clink. "She planted the camera and mic exactly where we needed them. Did exactly what we asked without hesitation."
Isaac runs a hand through his hair. "That's what worries me. Too eager."
"Or desperate enough to want out," I counter. "Think about it - arranged marriage at seventeen to that pompous asshole? Her father's just as fucking dirty as Thomas."
"Still risky bringing her here, to our house…" Connor mutters.
The tension in my shoulders eases slightly as headlights sweep across our front windows. Right on time.
"Listen up," I say, my voice dropping low. "She's proven herself useful. More importantly, she's our best shot at nailing Thomas. So everyone needs to chill the fuck out and treat her like an asset, not a liability."
"But-"
"That's an order." I fix them both with a hard stare. "We play this smart, we all get what we want. Thomas goes down, she gets free, and we keep the boss happy. Simple as that."
The doorbell rings, ending any further discussion. I straighten up from the counter, already moving to answer it. "Remember what I said. We need her."
I open the door to find Tatum standing there in a long yellow sundress, looking like she just left some place tropical. Only she can make a sundress look like a damn vanity fair shoot, or whatever the hell those magazines are called. Her eyes widen as she takes in the modern open-concept living space behind me.
"Well, this is unexpected," she says, stepping past me. "I was expecting more of a... villainous lair situation. Secret underground bunker maybe?"
Connor snorts from his spot by the kitchen island. "Sorry to disappoint. We save the torture chamber for special occasions."
"Damn, I knew I should have brought my ball gown." Her wit catches me off guard. Most people who end up in our world don't maintain their sense of humor.
"So, this is where we live." I say with an extended arm.
"Already knew that." "Mr. Vance, Mr. Yates, and Mr. McClellan." She perches on the edge of our leather couch. "My…br… contact is thorough. Ex-military turned IT tech. He pulled your files within an hour of me giving him your descriptions."
"Smart girl," Isaac says, impressed.
"Hey if you ever want to come over to the dark side, we've got an opening," Connor says. "Could use someone with your… skill set."
"I'm sure you could." She crosses her legs, somehow managing to look both elegant and dangerous. "Now, enough chit chat, what's our next move against my dear husband?"
I settle into my chair, prepared to watch Tatum's face as Connor lays out our plan.
"We're going to stage your kidnapping." He says, with as much confidence as he can muster.
"A kidnapping?" She lets out a sharp laugh. "Thomas won't pay a dime. He'd probably send a thank you note."
"That's where you're wrong." I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "We're not asking for ransom money… yet. Hopefully his dumbass will fulfill his debts before it gets to that point."
Connor picks up his laptop, fingers flying across the keys. "The plan is we leak the story to the press before Thomas even realizes you're gone. Force his hand."
"The concerned husband act?" Tatum's lips curl into a knowing smirk. "I gotta warn you, he's a terrible actor."
"Doesn't matter." I stand, pacing the length of our living room. "What matters is optics. A senator's wife goes missing? That's front-page news."
"The press will eat it up," Isaac adds. "Young, beautiful political wife vanishes without a trace? They'll camp outside your house for weeks."
"And Thomas will have to play along." Connor spins his laptop around, showing her mock-up news headlines. "He steps one toe out of line, looks anything less than devastated, his whole career goes up in smoke."
"It buys us some time to get some more intel, enough to destroy him, enough… to buy you an out." I say.
"Hm, the perfect husband searching for his beloved wife." Tatum's green eyes spark with interest. "While actually scrambling to cover his ass with your boss."
"Exactly." I stop pacing, catching her gaze. "He'll be too busy juggling press conferences and police interviews to focus on his... other obligations."
"And that's when we squeeze him," Connor says. "While he's distracted, we'll have complete access to everything."
"Plus," Isaac adds with a grin, "you get a mini vacation from playing Stepford wife."
"Hell, when do we start?" The eagerness in Tatum's voice matches the determination in her eyes.
I check my watch. "How's tomorrow sound?"
"Sounds like a plan to me. But where exactly am I staying during this little vacation?" Tatum asks, crossing her legs and leaning back into the couch cushions.
I gesture around us. "Right here. We've got a spare room upstairs."
"You're keeping me in your house?" Her eyebrows shoot up. "Isn't that a bit... risky?"
Connor drops into the chair across from her. "Safest place, actually. No one would think to look for a senator's wife in a townhouse in Brooklyn."
"Plus," Isaac adds, "we can keep an eye on you."
"Still don't trust me?" She shoots him a knowing look. "Seasoned criminals."
I pull up the security feed on my phone. "You'll have free run of the house except for the basement. That's off limits."
"Oh, so the torture chamber is a legit thing?" She says cautiously. It's the first time i've ever seen her sweat, It's quite funny.
"Eh, something like that." I tuck the phone away. "We'll stage the kidnapping tomorrow morning. Make it look like a random grab."
"Thomas knows I take the trash out by seven every morning," she says. "Like clockwork. Otherwise Debbie from next door bitches to the HOA."
Connor nods. "Perfect. We'll have a van waiting down the street. Quick and clean."
"And then what?"
"Then you disappear." I meet her eyes. "No contact with anyone outside this room. Not even your brother."
"How'd you…" She starts to question. "You know what, never mind…"
She holds my gaze for a long moment before adding. "He'll understand. How long?"
"Two weeks, maybe three. However long it takes Thomas to crack under the pressure."
"That's it?" She laughs. "Hell, I've been trapped in that marriage for ten years. Three weeks is nothing."
"Then we're agreed?" I ask.
Tatum stands, smoothing her dress. "Agreed. When do I move in?"
"Tomorrow," Connor says. "Pack light. Nothing traceable. We can get you whatever else you may need."
"Done." She heads for the door, then pauses. "One last thing - what happens when this is all over? Do you have a plan for that?"
The vulnerability in her voice is damn near heartbreaking.
I shrug. "That's up to you Tatum. We're playing it by ear, but rest assured we're here to help you get free."
"Free," she repeats softly. "I like the sound of that."