40. Connor
Chapter 40
Connor
I slam my fist into Thomas's ridiculously chiseled jawline again, watching his head snap back. Blood trickles from his split lip onto his thousand-dollar suit. The basement echoes with the sound of the impact.
"Where is she?" I growl, grabbing his collar. "You took her, didn't you?"
Thomas spits blood onto the concrete floor. "How would I have taken her? She's been fucking missing."
"So you think," Isaac says with a smug grin.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I paid the ransom to the informant, she was supposed to be returned."
Dom steps forward, cracking his knuckles. "Yeah, that was our informant dumbass. We got the ransom to pay off your debt to us before more shit went south and Tatum was in danger."
"Well sorry to inform you, but that was a waste of funds on your part." Thomas snaps.
The chair Thomas is tied to scrapes against the floor as Dom tips it back, balancing him precariously. Fear flashes in Thomas's eyes - the first real emotion I've seen from him.
"Nothing is a waste when it comes to ensuring her safety, but you wouldn't know about that would you, you fucking pig?" I can feel the tension radiating from Dom. It's been a long time since I've seen him this unhinged.
"Will someone care to tell me why the fuck I'm dealing with you three? I thought we were on the same side."
"That changed when you fucked Esteban out of the Westside deal by informing the fucking feds." Dom grates out.
Thomas turns white as a sheet. "Esteban? as in Esteban Ramirez?"
"That would be him," I say, circling him like a fucking vulture. "You're looking at his employees of the month for the last, I don't know, fifteen years maybe?"
"You should probably invest more time in doing research about your potential "investors" Senator, instead of sticking your dick in women that aren't your wife." Dom retorts.
"Look lad," Isaac says, pacing behind him. "We know you had something to do with her disappearance, whether you know you did or not. The house was trashed. Someone took her. Start fucking talking."
"I said I didn't take her!" He struggles against the zip ties. "Why would I? She's nothing but a business acquisition anyway."
My vision goes red. I grab his throat, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. "She's worth a hundred of you, you piece of shit."
"I think the sack of shit is telling the truth." Dom says, holding up his hand. "I don't think he orchestrated it. But if he didn't take her..."
"Then who did?" Isaac finishes.
Thomas starts laughing - a hollow, bitter sound that bounces off the warehouse walls. "You idiots really think you're the only ones I've pissed off? The only ones I owe money to?"
Ice forms in my gut. If Thomas is telling the truth, Tatum could be in even more danger than we thought.
"Names," I demand, tightening my grip. "Give us names, or I swear to God what we've done so far will feel like a massage."
The smug bastard just sits there. Like Tatum's life couldn't potentially be on the fucking line.
I run my hands through my hair, pacing the basement floor as the pieces click into place. "Open your mouth, Thomas. Or it will end up wired shut. I need Every single shady deal you've made in the last year so we can get here back here where she fucking belongs."
"Wait… wait… wait, you had her?" His eyes widen, then narrow. "This whole time?"
"Yeah, and she was safer with us than she ever was with you," Dom growls. "Now answer the fucking question."
Thomas laughs, but there's an edge of hysteria to it. "You want a list? Fine. The Yakuza - borrowed two million last month. Hong Kong helped launder some campaign funds. Oh, and there's this delightful little Russian outfit-"
"Jesus Christ," Isaac mutters. "You really are the dumbest motherfucker alive."
I slam my hands on the arms of Thomas's chair, getting in his face. "Which one of them would want her? Think carefully."
"How should I know? They all want their money." He swallows hard. "The Russians, maybe. Dmitri's been getting impatient."
"Dmitri Volkov?" Dom's voice is sharp. "You borrowed from Volkov?"
My stomach drops. Volkov is notorious for using loved ones as leverage. And his preferred method of sending messages involves returning those loved ones piece by piece.
"I might have mentioned something about taking her as a whore as payment, but it's hard to say my lines get a little crossed."
My feet move with a mind of their own. The next thing I know, I've tackled Thomas, knocking the chair over into the floor, and I'm on top of him landing punch after punch to his smug fucking face.
"Mother fucker, I'll kill you…" I feel myself being lifted off the ground against my will.
"Calm down brother," Isaac's voice invades my haze of rage. "We need him alive for the best chance at finding her. That can't happen if you continue to make his face ground beef."
"The stupid fucker deserves it," I shake the hair from my eyes. That will be the last time Thomas fucking Cope ever mentions a word in regards to Tatum. I will make damn sure of it. If I have to go back to prison, so be it.
I see Dom's tall frame saunter over and lean over Thomas. "You better pray we find her before Volkov decides to start mailing parts of her back to you."
He groans. "Why should I help? You're the ones who took her in the first place!"
I grab his collar, pulling him up from the floor and close enough to see the fury in my eyes. "Because unlike you, we actually give a shit about keeping her alive."
I slam his chair back against the wall, his head hitting with a dense thud that makes me satisfied. My forearm presses against his throat. "You're holding something back. Spill it."
"I told you everything!" His voice cracks, eyes darting between Dom and Isaac.
"Bullshit." I press harder, feeling his pulse race beneath my arm. "Your tell is showing - that thing you do with your jaw when you're lying."
Dom steps closer, his presence menacing. "You borrowed from the Russians, the Yakuza, and the Triads. Who else?"
Thomas's adam's apple bobs against my arm. "The Albanians, okay? I borrowed from the Albanians too."
"The fucking Albanians?" Isaac kicks a nearby chair, sending it skittering across the concrete. "Are you trying to get her killed?"
I release Thomas, letting him slump against the wall. My stomach churns as possibilities race through my mind. The Albanians are known for their brutality - and their particular hatred of politicians who cross them.
"How much?" Dom's voice is deadly quiet.
"Ten million." Thomas straightens his tie with shaking hands. "But I was going to pay them back-"
"When?" I grab his collar again. "After they carved her up?"
"I didn't think-"
"No, you didn't think," Isaac cuts in. "You never fucking think about anyone but yourself."
Dom pulls out his phone, already dialing. "We need to move. Now. If it's the Albanians, they don't fuck around."
I run my hands through my hair, mind racing. If they have her... Jesus. The image of her beautiful face twisted in pain makes my blood boil.
"You better pray we find her alive," I tell Thomas, my voice raw with barely contained rage. "Because if anything happens to her, what the Albanians do will look like a day spa compared to what I'll do to you, and that's a fucking promise."