Page 72 of They All Own Me

"Fine," Thomas snaps. "Ten million. Just... don't hurt her anymore. I need her intact for appearances."

The call ends and Tatum lets out a bitter laugh. "Intact for appearances. That's rich coming from him."

"At least he's predictable," Connor says, shutting his laptop. "Everything's going according to plan."

I nod, checking my watch. "Now we wait for him to scramble for the money. Should be entertaining."

It's 9 pm when I text Thomas the coordinates for an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. His response comes quickly - too quickly. He's eager. That's never good.

"Everyone clear on positions?" I check my weapons one final time, scanning the faces of my crew.

Connor nods, adjusting his earpiece. "I'll be on the catwalk with the rifle. Clean shot if needed."

"And I'll be watching the perimeter," Isaac adds, strapping on his vest. "No surprises."

Tatum appears in the doorway, practically bouncing with anticipation. She's wearing one of Connor's t-shirts like a dress, hair pulled up in a messy bun. The sight of her in our clothes still throws me.

"You boys be careful," she says, crossing her arms.

"You seem chipper for someone about to be murdered," Isaac observes dryly.

She shrugs. "Better dead than married to that asshole. Besides, the look on his face when the police arrest him? Priceless."

"You're kind of terrifying," Connor says with admiration.

"Thank you." She beams at him.

I check my watch. "Time to move. Tatum, stay inside. Lock everything down once we're gone."

"Yes sir." She throws me a mock salute. "Go get 'em, tiger."

We file out to the garage where our vehicles wait. As I slide behind the wheel, I catch a glimpse of Tatum in the doorway, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. For someone about to become a murder victim, she's having the time of her life

Chapter 37

Tatum

I'm dustingthe shelves in the living room, swaying my hips to "Sweet Dreams" playing through my wireless earbuds. The feather duster swishes across the wooden surface of the bookshelf as I lip-sync along, enjoying a rare moment of freedom while the guys are out handling the ransom drop.

This time tomorrow I could be a free fucking woman. The thought almost brings me to tears, except I don't think there's any fluid left in my body after Isaac and I's hostage situation earlier. I can still feel the ache in my wrists and between my legs. I definitely plan to ask him if we can role play more often when I'm in the clear.

"Sweet dreams are made of—" The music cuts off abruptly. The room plunges into total darkness.

"What the..." My heart jumps into my throat. The darkness feels oppressive, almost solid. I reach out, hands searching for familiar surfaces. The shelf edge meets my fingertips.

Moving carefully, I edge along the wall. My phone has to be somewhere. I left it... where did I leave it? The kitchen maybe? Or was it upstairs?

Maybe I blew some kind of circuit running all the appliances at the same time. When I'm stressed I clean, so sue me.

Suddenly, a floorboard creaks behind me. I freeze.

Fuck, I'm residing with three mobsters. Why would my first thought about the power outage be about overloading the fucking circuit.

"Hello?" My voice sounds small in the darkness. No response.

The security system should have kicked in by now. Something's wrong.

Another creak, closer this time. My breath catches. I try to remember the layout of the room, but everything feels different in the dark. The coffee table should be three steps to my left. If I can just reach it...

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