Chapter 2 - The Note Beneath The Whiskey
Callum Briggs did not notice the change immediately.
That was the first thing that saved Tatum.
He was too accustomed to seeing people as props.
The restaurant owner, Raul Delvecio, was a prop. His nervous laughter and gambling debts made him easy to control.
Yousef was a prop.
The kitchen workers were props.
Tatum was supposed to be a prop.
And Declan Morrow, Briggs believed, was a broken version of the man he had once feared—a powerful boss trapped behind a wall of silence.
Briggs had built an entire plan around that belief.
He stood in the doorway with his expensive smile and looked from Tatum to Declan.
"Well?" he asked.
Tatum picked up the notebook.
Declan watched her.
She wrote:
He wants to know why you are here.
Briggs laughed.
"He can't hear me."
Tatum looked at him.
"I know."
The room changed.
Briggs's smile became thinner.
"You know?"
Tatum shrugged.
"I've served enough people to know everyone communicates differently."
Briggs stepped farther into the room.
One of his men shut the door.
Declan did not move.
Briggs looked almost disappointed.
"You're supposed to be nervous."
Tatum said nothing.
He stepped toward the table.
"Maybe you misunderstood the assignment."
Declan's hand moved.
Not dramatically.
Just one finger against the tabletop.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tatum saw it.
He wanted her attention.
She looked at him.
He pointed toward the whiskey bottle.
Then toward the bottom shelf of the drinks cabinet.
There was something there.
Tatum couldn't see what.
Briggs turned around.
"Pour me one."
Tatum lifted the bottle.
As she stepped around the table, her sleeve brushed against the cabinet.
Something metallic clicked.
She glanced down.
A tiny recording device had been taped beneath the lower shelf.
Her blood turned cold.
Briggs was recording everything.
Not because of the jokes.
Because he wanted evidence.
Evidence that Declan had threatened him.
Evidence that Tatum had witnessed it.
Evidence that could be turned into leverage.
She stepped back.
Declan's eyes met hers.
He had seen it too.
Maybe he had known it was there from the beginning.
The door opened again.
A man in a dark coat entered.
Tatum recognized him from newspaper photographs.
Marcus Vale.
Declan's second-in-command.
Marcus did not look at Briggs.
He looked at Tatum.
Then the whiskey.
Then Declan.
Something was wrong.
The feeling was immediate.
Marcus approached the table and placed a folder beside Declan.
He signed to him.
Fast.
Too fast for Tatum to follow.
Declan read his hands.
Then he looked at the folder.
He opened it.
His expression changed.
Marcus turned to Briggs.
"You need to leave."
Briggs gave a low laugh.
"This is my restaurant tonight."
"No."
Marcus's voice hardened.
"It isn't."
Briggs's eyes narrowed.
Then he looked at Tatum.
"You can go."
Tatum didn't move.
Yousef had told her to stay until Briggs released her.
Briggs pointed at the door.
"Go home."
Tatum glanced at Declan.
Declan wrote something in the notebook.
She stepped closer.
He wrote:
Take this.
Underneath the notebook was a folded receipt.
She slipped it into her apron.
Briggs didn't notice.
Marcus did.
His eyes followed the movement.
Tatum suddenly understood that she was standing between two dangerous men who might not trust each other.
She left.
The restaurant hallway seemed louder than before.
Dishes clattered.
Someone shouted in the kitchen.
A phone rang.
Tatum kept walking.
She made it twelve steps before someone grabbed her wrist.
Marcus.
"Where did he tell you to go?"
Tatum pulled free.
"He didn't tell me anything."
"Don't lie."
"I don't know you."
Marcus leaned close.
"You should."
Tatum stared at him.
"I know Declan Morrow."
Marcus smiled without humor.
"No. You don't."
He walked away.
Tatum waited until he disappeared.
Then she pulled the folded receipt from her apron.
The paper was blank.
Almost.
Written in pencil on the underside was a series of numbers.
7-14-3.
Then below it:
Look where the sound cannot go.
Tatum stared at it.
She understood the first part immediately.
Room 7.
Shelf 14.
Drawer 3?
No.
The phrase was not instructions.
It was a clue.
Somewhere in Delvecio's was a place sound couldn't reach.
The vault.
The private room.
But why?
She went back.
The hallway was empty.
She entered the service station and found the flickering fluorescent light.
She looked up.
Three weeks.
Nobody fixed it.
She suddenly wondered why.
Tatum took out her phone and snapped a photograph of the fixture.
Then another.
In the reflection of the stainless-steel prep table, someone moved behind her.
She turned.
Nobody.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A text appeared.
DO NOT GO HOME TONIGHT.
Her stomach dropped.
Another message came.
THEY KNOW YOU SAW THE DEVICE.
Tatum looked toward the front entrance.
Callum Briggs stood across the restaurant.
He was watching her.
And he was smiling.
She slipped her phone into her pocket.
She wasn't going home.
Not yet.
Instead, she walked into the manager's office.
Yousef was sitting there with his head in his hands.
"Tatum?"
"Did Briggs tell you there was a recorder in the private room?"
Yousef went completely still.
"No."
"You're lying."
"I swear."
Tatum closed the door.
"He knew about it."
Yousef looked toward the blinds.
Then he whispered, "You don't understand what you've stepped into."
"Then explain it."
Yousef's lips trembled.
"Briggs isn't trying to humiliate Morrow."
"Then what?"
"He's trying to make Morrow look violent."
"Why?"
"Because if Morrow is arrested, the Collective fractures."
"And Briggs takes over."
Yousef nodded.
"He doesn't want the restaurant. He wants the routes."
Tatum frowned.
"What routes?"
Yousef stared at her as if she had asked the wrong question.
"Your boss has been moving goods through the city for years."
Tatum knew what that meant.
Drugs.
Weapons.
Money.
She thought about Maya.
She thought about the apartment.
She turned to leave.
Yousef grabbed her sleeve.
"Don't."
She looked at him.
"They'll kill you."
Tatum's voice was steady.
"Maybe."
She opened the door.
"But if they wanted me dead, they wouldn't have sent a warning first."
Outside, a black sedan waited at the curb.
The passenger door opened.
Declan Morrow stepped out.
He couldn't hear the city.
He could feel its vibrations beneath his shoes.
His eyes found Tatum through the glass.
And this time, she saw something she hadn't seen before.
Fear.
May you like
Not for himself.
For her.
