38. Dominic
Chapter 38
Dominic
From inside the surveillance van, I watch Thomas hand over the briefcase to our decoy. Too fucking easy. There's no way he doesn't have some kind of brain damage as stupid as he is.
My phone vibrates - Esteban.
"It's done," I say into the phone, keeping my voice low. "The money's been transferred exactly as planned."
"Excellent work." Esteban's satisfaction comes through clearly. "Check the fucking briefcase when you get it. I wouldn't put it past the dumbass to put monopoly money in there."
Connor opens the door and hops in the front seat, the briefcase in hand. "So what now, boss? What about Tatum?"
"Do whatever you want with her," Esteban says dismissively. "Return her, keep her, I don't care. Just make sure there's no trace back to our organization."
I exchange glances with Isaac in the rearview mirror. We both know returning Tatum to that bastard isn't an option we're willing to consider.
"Understood," I tell him. "We'll handle it."
"It's all here boss," Connor says as he closes the briefcase.
"Excellent work gentleman."
I end the call with Esteban and toss my phone onto the dashboard. Isaac shifts forward between the seats.
"So what happens when this is all over?" he asks, running a hand through his beard, "with Tatum, I mean."
I run my fingers through my hair, watching Thomas's Mercedes disappear around the corner. "She's free to do whatever she wants. That was the deal."
"Yeah, but..." Connor hesitates. "What if she wants to stay?"
The question hangs in the air. I think about how different the house feels with her there - the smell of fresh coffee in the morning, actual home-cooked meals instead of takeout, someone to call us out on our bullshit.
"Would that be such a bad thing?" I ask carefully.
"Nah." Connor's lips quirk up. "Place runs better with her around. And she's not afraid of any of this." He gestures vaguely at our surveillance setup. "Most people would've run screaming by now."
"Or tried to turn us in," Isaac adds. "She's different."
"She fits," Connor says simply. "With us. With everything."
I nod slowly. "Then if she wants to stay, she stays. Simple as that."
"So, we gonna talk about it?" Issac says from the backseat.
I shift in the drivers seat. "About what? The fact that we've all been with her?"
"Yeah, that." Connor's piercing glints as he leans forward. "What're we gonna do?"
I grip the steering wheel, considering our options. "We need to give her a choice. It's her life we're playing with here."
"Agreed," Isaac nods. "She deserves to know everything."
"Including that we know about each other?" Connor asks.
"I imagine she's already figured that out, she's not dense." I release the wheel and turn to face them both. "Look, we've got two clear paths here. Either we let her walk - give her the freedom to start fresh somewhere else, maybe even go back to Thomas if that's what she wants."
"Bullshit," Connor says.
"Or?" Isaac prompts.
"Or we follow through with the original plan. Frame Thomas for her murder, get him locked up for good. But she'd have to disappear completely. New identity, new life."
Connor runs a hand through his hair. "With us?"
"If she wants." I keep my voice neutral, though the thought of her leaving makes my chest tight. "But it's gotta be her choice. No pressure, no manipulation."
"Agreed," they say in unison.
I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. "But we also need to be honest with her..."
Connor shifts in his seat. "You mean about..."
"Yeah." I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. "About how we all feel. About what this could mean going forward."
Isaac leans back, crossing his arms. "You really think she'd be open to something like that?"
"Look at how she's been with each of us," I say. "She's not playing games. She connects with all of us differently, but genuinely."
"But sharing?" Connor runs a hand through his hair. "That's a whole other level."
"We already share everything else," I point out. "Our house, our work, our lives. Why not this?"
"Because most women aren't exactly thrilled about the idea of multiple partners," Isaac counters.
"Tatum isn't most women." I turn to face them both. "She's proven that over and over. She deserves to know she has options. Real ones, not just the bullshit choices Thomas gave her."
"And if she says no?" Connor asks quietly.
"Then we respect that," I say firmly. "Whatever she decides, we back her play. Agreed?"
"What if she chooses one of us?" Issac asks.
"Then the other two are just going to have to get the fuck over it and get used to having her around or figure out how to do business with a scientist who can clone her."
They both laugh. I find myself fortunate to have brothers who always have my back.
"So we tell her everything," Isaac says. "The whole truth about our feelings, what we're offering."
"Together," I confirm. "No secrets, no games. She deserves that much from us."
I start the engine. "Together then."
I pull up to the house, and something immediately feels off. The entire property is pitch black - no porch light, no warm glow from the windows where Tatum usually has every lamp blazing.
"Power's out," Connor mutters, already reaching for his gun.
"Check the perimeter," I order, my own weapon already drawn. "Isaac, get the generator."
We move in sync, years of working together making us efficient. The gravel crunches under our boots as we split up, checking entry points. The front door stands slightly ajar - not how we left it.
"Dom!" Isaac's voice cuts through the darkness. The backup generator hums to life, flooding the property with harsh fluorescent light.
"Jesus Christ." Connor's curse echoes my thoughts as we step inside.
The place is destroyed. The kitchen table's overturned, chairs scattered like pickup sticks. Broken glass glints on the hardwood. One of Tatum's cookbooks lies torn and water-damaged near an overturned vase.
"She put up a fight," Isaac says, toeing a broken lamp.
My jaw clenches as I spot drops of blood on the carpet. "Thomas."
"That stupid fuck." Connor kicks a chair. "He must have figured out where she was and had someone grab her."
"Split up," I command. "Check every room. Look for anything that might tell us where he took her."
The rage building in my chest threatens to overwhelm me. That entitled piece of shit thinks he can just walk in here and take what's ours? I examine a bloody handprint on the wall - too large to be Tatum's.
"At least she got some hits in," Isaac says, noting my gaze.
"Dom!" Connor's voice echoes from upstairs. "You need to see this."
I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding against my ribs. Whatever that bastard's done to her, he's going to pay. And this time, we won't be gentle about it.