28. Connor
Chapter 28
Connor
I watch Dom and Tatum walk in the house and it's painfully obvious what went down on that jet. The way they keep their distance but can't stop stealing glances at each other speaks volumes. In this business, you get pretty fucking good at reading people. You can tell alot about someone based on body language alone. And theirs is screaming newest members of the mile high club.
Dom's usually perfectly pressed shirt has a slight wrinkle at the collar. Tatum's blonde wig isn't quite as pristine as when they left.
"Meeting. Now." I clear my throat, running a hand through my hair. "We need to discuss the situation with Thomas."
"What's the update?" Dom asks, all business despite the lingering tension.
"The press is eating up the concerned husband act." I pull up the latest coverage on my tablet. "But we've got a problem. Thomas has been making calls to some contacts in Hong Kong. I think he's trying to pin this on the Triads to cover his own ass."
Tatum drops onto the leather couch, kicking off her shoes. "Of course he is. He'd rather start an international incident than admit he's in bed with everyone."
"That's not all." I pace the room, my jaw tight. "If he keeps pushing this angle, it could blow back on our entire operation. The Triads start digging, they'll find out we have you."
"So what's the play?" Dom leans against the wall, arms crossed.
"We need to accelerate the timeline. Get Thomas to crack before he can cause real damage." I stop pacing and face them both.
I pull up the latest news coverage on my laptop, grinding my teeth at the scrolling headlines. Thomas has plastered a million-dollar reward across every network for information leading to Tatum's return.
"This complicates things." I push back from my desk, addressing Dom and Isaac. "Every wannabe bounty hunter and PI in the tri-state area will be sniffing around."
"We need someone to stay with her at all times now," Dom says, running a hand through his hair. "Can't risk her being alone with that kind of money on the table."
"I'll do it." The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. "I can monitor the security feeds from here, coordinate our moves. Makes the most sense."
Isaac raises an eyebrow. "You sure that's why?"
"Focus." I pull up the satellite view of our territory. "We've got three locations that need handling today. The warehouse on 5th, that meeting with Rodriguez's crew, and the shipment coming in at midnight."
"Fine." Dom checks his watch. "Isaac and I will split up, handle the immediate fires. Connor keeps eyes on everything from here, maintains our alibis."
I look in her direction. "What kind of access did Thomas give you to the accounts?" I ask.
Tatum shakes her head, snacking on a piece of beef jerky. "None. He kept me completely in the dark about finances. I got an allowance, if you can believe that. Like a child."
"Not even joint accounts?" I lean forward, studying her face.
"Everything's in his name. The house, the cars, even my credit cards are just authorized user accounts on his." She takes a sip of water. "He said it was to 'protect our assets' but really he just wanted control."
"What about his office? Any paperwork lying around?"
"He's obsessive about keeping everything locked up. The only time I saw anything financial was when he'd leave bank statements on his desk, but those were probably just decoys." She taps her fork against her plate, thinking. "Although..."
I raise an eyebrow. "Although what?"
"He does have this old leather briefcase he carries everywhere. Even sleeps with it in the bedroom sometimes. I've seen him input some kind of code to open it."
"You remember the code?"
"No, but I remember the sound pattern. Six beeps, pause, four beeps." She demonstrates the rhythm with light taps on the table. "He's weirdly protective of that thing."
"That's something we can work with."
"Oh, I almost forgot." Tatum taps her phone screen, pulling up Thomas's calendar. "He's got this big weekend trip to Cozumel planned. Some kind of donor retreat."
I lean forward, scanning the details. "Think he'll cancel with you being 'missing' and all?"
"Yeah right." She scoffs, dropping her phone on the table. "He wouldn't miss a chance to network with deep pockets, potentially murdered wife or not."
Dom crosses his arms. "He'll spin it. Say he needs the support of his colleagues during this 'difficult time' or some bullshit."
"Actually..." I pull up satellite imagery of the venue. "This could work in our favor. Isaac and Dom can tail him, see who he's meeting with."
"What about me?" Tatum asks.
"You'll stay here." I catch her eye. "With me. We can't risk moving you around with that reward money out there."
Isaac snorts. "How convenient."
"It makes tactical sense," Dom cuts in, though there's something knowing in his expression.
"Plus," Tatum adds, "I can teach him how to make something besides protein shakes and microwave meals. Maybe he can keep up the cooking after I'm gone"
"Hey, my cooking's not that bad." I protest, trying to keep the appearance of a smile when there's a pit in my gut when she mentioned after she's gone.
"Your idea of cooking is ordering takeout and putting it on actual plates." She grins. "At least make an effort to hide the evidence."
"Fine." I hold up my hands in surrender. "Whatever you say."
Dom and Isaac leave to go tie up some loose ends before they leave tomorrow for their stalking Thomas mission. The house already feels different and they aren't even out of the state yet. What the fuck was I thinking volunteering to stay behind?
"So..." Tatum's voice carries from the kitchen. "I was thinking lasagna for dinner? Unless you've got some weird mob-related dietary restrictions I should know about?"
I lean against the doorframe, keeping my distance. "No restrictions. Just don't poison me."
"Please. If I wanted to poison someone, it would've been Thomas years ago." She pulls ingredients from the fridge, moving through the kitchen like she owns it. "Besides, you guys are way more interesting alive."
The way she says it, casual and playful while wielding a knife to chop garlic, does something to my insides. This woman is dangerous in ways that have nothing to do with weapons or violence.
Jesus Christ. Three days alone with her might actually kill me. I push off from the doorframe, needing to put space between us before I do something stupid.
"I'll be in the security room. Gotta monitor the feeds."
"Running away already?" Her laugh follows me down the hall. "And here I thought mob guys were supposed to be tough."
I'm definitely in trouble.