39. Tatum
Chapter 39
Tatum
My head throbs as consciousness creeps back in. The air smells stale, like mildew and rust. My eyes adjust to dim fluorescent lighting flickering overhead, casting eerie shadows across concrete walls. A basement, maybe? Metal digs into my wrists and ankles where I'm bound to what feels like a wooden chair.
"Hello?" My voice comes out hoarse. "Is anyone there?"
Only silence answers. The last thing I remember is being in the house, cleaning. Then darkness. Ah shit, then being shoved into an SUV by voices I didn't recognize. Now this. For some reason, I don't feel like this was part of the plan.
"Dom? Connor? Isaac?" I test each name, hoping this is some kind of sick training exercise. But the ropes are too tight, the room too unfamiliar. This isn't their style.
A door creaks somewhere behind me. I strain to turn my head but can't see who enters.
"Let me go! Who are you?" I struggle against the restraints, the chair legs scraping against concrete. "You have no idea who you're dealing with!"
Footsteps echo, getting closer. My heart pounds. This isn't how this was supposed to go. We had a plan. The guys were supposed to be back by now.
"Help! Somebody help me!" I scream as loud as I can, my voice bouncing off the walls. "I swear to God when they find you?—"
A hand clamps over my mouth from behind. I try to bite it but can't get the angle right. Tears of frustration and fear stream down my face as I thrash in the chair.
"Now, now, Mrs. Cope," a voice whispers near my ear. "Is that any way for a senator's wife to behave?"
My chair suddenly spins in the opposite direction and I see three men in expensive suits stroll in like they own the place. Their polished shoes click against concrete, echoing off the walls. The tallest one adjusts his gold cufflinks while eyeing me with cold calculation.
"Who the hell are you people?" I strain against the ropes binding me to the chair. "If you're trying to get to Thomas through me, get in line. There's already a queue."
The man with the cufflinks laughs, but it holds no warmth. "Feisty one. Your husband didn't mention that quality."
"My husband doesn't mention a lot of things. Like his apparent hobby of pissing off every criminal organization on the eastern seaboard."
A shorter man with a scarred face steps forward. "We represent certain interests in Hong Kong. Your husband made promises. Big promises. Failed to deliver."
"Let me guess - he took your money and ran?" I roll my eyes. "Or did he promise to give your wives the best five minutes of their lives and didn't deliver? "Shocking. Truly shocking."
"Try five million dollars," Cufflinks says. "Plus interest."
"Well, you're shit out of luck. He just paid his debt to another group of gentlemen about..." I glance at an imaginary watch on my bound wrist. "Oh, three hours ago?"
"We know." Scarface crosses his arms. "Which is why we're here. See, we figured if he could magic up that kind of cash for them, he can do the same for us."
"And you think kidnapping me will motivate him?" I laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. "Trust me, you'd have better luck threatening his golf clubs."
"Oh, we have plans beyond simple motivation, Mrs. Cope." Cufflinks smiles, all teeth. "Your husband's been playing both sides for too long. It's time someone taught him about loyalty."
"You're not fucking getting it!" I strain against the ropes. "I'm already working with?—"
A backhand across my face cuts off my words. My head snaps to the side, copper flooding my mouth.
"Save your breath," Scarface growls. "We've heard every trick before."
"Not a trick." I work my jaw, tasting blood. "Thomas's enemies are my enemies. Trust me, I want him taken down more than?—"
Another strike, this time to my ribs. The chair rocks but doesn't topple.
"Enough games." Cufflinks pulls out his phone, snapping a photo of my bloodied face. "Someone will come looking for you since you're such a hot commodity. And when they do, they'll pay. Handsomely."
I laugh, the sound harsh and bitter. "You really think Thomas gives a damn about me? I'm just a trophy he bought from my father."
"Not Thomas we're counting on." Scarface grabs my chin roughly. "Those three thugs you've been shacking up with? They'll come running."
My stomach drops. They know about Dom, Connor, and Isaac.
"How did you?—"
"We've been watching longer than you think, Mrs. Cope." Cufflinks straightens his tie. "The question is, how much are you worth to them?"
"They won't pay." I lift my chin despite the grip on my face. "They're smarter than that."
"We'll see." He turns to leave, his lackeys following. "Better hope you're wrong. Or this gets much worse for you."
The door slams shut, leaving me alone in the dim basement. My face throbs, ribs aching with each breath. I close my eyes, praying the guys are smart enough to see through this trap.
But a small part of me hopes they're just stupid enough to try saving me anyway.
The basement door creaks again, and my heart leaps into my throat. Through my matted hair, I strain to see who's entering. I actually hope it's Dom, Connor, and Isaac coming to rescue me, not Thomas trying to play hero. If it is Thomas, I might just try my luck at being these assholes hostage for a while.
The sudden realization stuns me. When did that happen? When did three dangerous criminals become the ones I trust most?
My mind drifts to Connor's shy smiles over morning coffee, the way Isaac's eyes crinkle when he laughs at my attempts to be stealthy, how Dom's touch makes me feel more alive than I've felt in years.
"Please be them," I whisper, tasting blood on my split lip.
The thought of Thomas bursting in here, preening for cameras and playing concerned husband, makes my stomach turn. He'd milk this for political points, spin it into some sob story about reuniting with his beloved wife. The perfect campaign ad.
But the guys... they'd come in guns blazing, efficient and lethal. No pretense, no bullshit. Just to get me out. Because somehow, against all logic, I've become important to them. And they've become everything to me.
"Shit." I let my head fall back, ignoring the ache in my neck. "I'm in love with three mob enforcers."
A hysterical laugh bubbles up. Of all the ways I imagined escaping my loveless marriage, falling for a trio of criminals wasn't on the list. But here I am, praying they find me before Thomas does.
Because I don't want to be rescued just to go back to that empty life. I want to stay with them - all of them. Their dangerous world feels more like home than my pristine house ever did.
Footsteps echo down the hall again. I hold my breath, hoping against hope to hear Dom's commanding voice, or Connor's quiet intensity, or Isaac's Irish lilt.