Page 71 of They All Own Me

The kitchen smellslike vanilla and cinnamon when Connor and I walk in. The sight before us stops us both dead in our tracks. Tatum's wearing one of Isaac's t-shirts that hangs to her thighs, flour dusting her bare legs. She's humming while mixing something in a bowl. Isaac leans against the counter next to her, closer than necessary, watching her with a look I know too well.

"Looks like someone's been busy," I say, dropping my keys on the counter. The clatter makes them both jump.

"We made cookies," Tatum says brightly. "And there's dinner in the oven."

Connor's jaw tightens. "How domestic." His tone could cut glass.

"Got the ransom video done?" I ask, noticing the way Tatum's hair is mussed, how Issac can't seem to stop stealing glances at her.

"Yeah, it's ready to go." Isaac straightens up, all business now. "Came out perfect. Very convincing."

"I bet," Connor mutters.

Tatum sets down her mixing bowl. "I'll go change and we can review it." She slips past us, bare feet silent on the tile.

The temperature in the room drops ten degrees once she's gone. Connor stares daggers at Issac, who meets his gaze steadily.

"Something you want to say?" Isaac asks.

I step between them before this can escalate. "Both of you, cool it. We've got work to focus on."

"Right." Connor's voice drips with sarcasm. "Work. Is that what we're calling it now?"

"You got something to say, just say it," Isaac challenges.

I slam my hand on the counter. "Enough. Both of you get your heads straight. This op is complicated enough without this bullshit."

The tension in the kitchen could be cut with a knife. We're all gathered around the massive oak table - Connor at his laptop, Issac cleaning his gun for the tenth time, and Tatum picking at a pastrami she made. The silence stretches thin until my phone buzzes.

"It's done," I announce, scanning the message. "Video's been delivered."

Connor's fingers fly across his keyboard. "Good. I've got the voice modulator ready for when that bastard calls."

"How long do you think it'll take?" Tatum asks, pushing her plate away.

"Not long." I cross my arms, leaning back in my chair. "Your husband's a politician - he knows how this looks. He'll want to appear concerned."

The phone rings again ten minutes later. Connor activates the voice modulator while I motion for everyone to stay quiet.

"Senator," I answer, keeping my tone cold.

"Listen," Thomas's voice wavers slightly. "This situation... it's becoming problematic. The press is having a field day, and my constituents are starting to ask questions."

"That sounds like a personal problem." I catch Tatum rolling her eyes at his predictable self-interest.

"Name your price. Whatever it takes to get her back and end this circus." He clears his throat. "I can have the money within twenty-four hours."

Connor types rapidly, the AI voice responding: "Ten million. Cash. No police involvement."

"Ten mil-" Thomas sputters. "That's... that's outrageous."

"Your wife's life isn't worth that much?"

"No, I mean... yes, of course it is." He recovers quickly, political smoothness taking over. "I can get you eight million by tomorrow afternoon. That's the best I can do on such short notice without raising suspicions."

I glance at Tatum, who's shaking her head in disgust. Issac mutters something under his breath that sounds like "cheap bastard."

"Ten million, by 10 pm tonight" I repeat firmly. "Or the next video we send won't be so pleasant."

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