33. Dominic
Chapter 33
Dominic
I pull into the circular driveway, cutting the engine as Issac and Esteban exit their respective vehicles. The front door bursts open and Tatum comes rushing out, her auburn hair streaming behind her, wearing one of those sundresses she seems to favor.
"Thank god you're back! Did you find anything..." Her words trail off as she spots Esteban emerging from his Red Ferrari. She freezes mid-stride, bare feet on the concrete.
"Mrs. Cope." Esteban's voice carries across the driveway, smooth as aged whiskey. "The surveillance photos don't do you justice."
I move to stand between them, more out of habit than necessity. "Boss, this is Tatum. Tatum, meet Esteban Rodriguez."
"Don't look so worried, dear." Esteban straightens his tailored jacket. "I don't bite. At least not without provocation." His dark eyes assess her with calculated interest. "Though I must say, your husband's taste in wives far exceeds his business acumen."
"I..." Tatum glances at me, uncertainty clear in her green eyes. I give her a slight nod.
"Come inside," she says, recovering her composure. "I just finished making lunch if you're hungry."
"Domestic skills too?" Esteban raises an eyebrow. "Thomas truly is a fool." He gestures toward the door. "After you, Mrs. Cope. We have much to discuss about your husband's... extracurricular activities."
I watch as Tatum leads the way inside, her shoulders straight despite the tension I can read in every line of her body. This meeting could change everything - for better or worse.
We settle in the kitchen, Esteban taking a seat at the marble island while she serves up some kind of pasta that smells incredible. The tension in the air could be cut with one of my combat knives.
"So," Esteban swirls his wine glass, "your husband seems to think he can ignore my calls indefinitely."
I lean against the counter, watching Tatum's reaction. She sets down her fork with careful precision. "That sounds like Thomas."
"Three million now." Esteban's voice drops to that dangerous whisper I know well. "Plus interest. And now he's dealing with the Yakuza behind my back."
"Boss," I interject, "So we're restructuring the westside deal?"
"The westside deal is dead." Esteban's knuckles whiten around his glass. "Mr. Senator made sure of that when he tipped off the feds about our shipping routes."
Tatum's eyes widen. "He what?"
"Oh yes." Esteban's smile is all teeth. "Cost me eight good men and thirty million in product. And now he thinks he can play both sides?"
"I say we end him," Isaac growls from his position by the door. "Clean and quick."
"No." Tatum's voice is steady, surprising us all. "That's too easy. He needs to suffer first."
Esteban studies her with new interest. "Mrs. Cope, I'm beginning to see why Dominic speaks so highly of you. What did you have in mind?"
"He cares about two things - his reputation and his money." She leans forward, green eyes gleaming. "Let's take both."
I can't help the pride that swells in my chest. This woman continues to surprise me.
"Go on," Esteban says, clearly intrigued.
"Let's demand ransom first - enough to cover what he owes you, and more. Then we stage my murder and pin it on him." She speaks like she's just catching you up on the daily weather.
Connor whistles low from his spot by the window. "That's pretty dark, Tate."
"Think about it," she continues, pacing the room. "The beloved Senator, desperate to find his missing wife, pays the ransom. Then evidence surfaces that he orchestrated the whole thing. The police find my blood in his car, his DNA under my fingernails, maybe even a murder weapon with his prints."
"And you?" I ask, already seeing the potential. "Where do you disappear to?"
She shrugs, a small smile playing at her lips. "I've always wanted to see Europe. Or maybe find some cabin off the grid where it snows and you have a snowmobile. Anywhere as long as it doesn't involve him or my parents, really."
"It could work," Connor muses. "We've got contacts in forensics who could plant the evidence. Make it airtight."
"The press would eat it alive," Tatum adds. "The grieving husband revealed as a murderer. His perfect image shattered." She stops pacing, facing me directly. "He made me feel worthless for years. I want him to know what that feels like."
Esteban pushes off the counter, moving closer to her. I find myself absentmindedly stepping up, as if to protect her. Damn, she's gotten further under my skin than I realize.
Esteban grabs her hand, she shows no fear. That's my girl. "You realize Mrs. Cope, there's no going back from this? Once we set this in motion, we see it through."
"Good." Her voice is steel. "Let's destroy him."
I watch Tatum pace our office, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she outlines her plan to report back to Esteban. The late afternoon sun catches her hair, setting it ablaze with amber highlights. She's transformed from the victim we kidnapped into something dangerous - a woman with nothing left to lose and everything to gain.
"We'll need your blood," Connor says, already typing on his laptop. "Enough to make it convincing."
"Take it." She takes off her cardigan without hesitation. "Take whatever you need."
I lean back against my desk, crossing my arms. "You understand what this means? No going back to your old life. Ever."
"What life?" She stops pacing, fixing me with those green eyes. "Playing dress-up doll for a man who treats me like property? Being paraded around at fundraisers while he fucks other women?"
"Fair point." I scratch my beard, considering the angles. "But staging your murder... that's some next-level psychological warfare."
"Good." Her smile is razor-sharp. "I want him to feel hunted. Trapped. Like everything he built is crumbling around him."
Connor whistles low. "Remind me never to piss you off, Tate."
"You know what's really fucked up?" She perches on the edge of my desk, close enough I catch a whiff of her perfume. "I practiced my speech for what I would say to him before I left years ago. It just didn't involve jail time, this is so much better."
I can't help but chuckle. This woman is absolutely insane, brilliant, and beautiful - a deadly combination that's making it harder to remember she's technically still our hostage. The way her mind works, turning her own kidnapping into an elaborate revenge plot... it's impressive as hell.
"So," she says, "are we doing this?"
"Hell yes princess, we are." I respond.