24. Tatum
Chapter 24
Tatum
I plate the food as footsteps echo down the stairs. My breath catches in my throat as they enter the kitchen in casual wear - a far cry from their earlier blood-spattered appearance. The soft cotton of their t-shirts clings to their still-damp skin, and low-slung sweatpants reveal hints of defined muscle.
I set the plates down, my hands trembling slightly as I try to focus on the task rather than how they each affect me differently.
Dom takes his seat at the head of the table, radiating that natural authority that makes my stomach flip. The way he carries himself, like he owns every room he walks into, reminds me of a prowling tiger.
"This smells incredible," Isaac says, sliding into his chair with that easy grace of his. His gentle giant demeanor contrasts beautifully with his imposing, tattooed frame. I imagine that underneath it all, is a force to be reckoned with.
Connor's fingers brush mine as I hand him his plate. The contact sends electricity through my skin. "Thanks, Tate." His playful smirk and those mischievous eyes make heat pool in my core.
"Oh so we're on a pet name basis now, skater boy?" I say with a wink.
"Well… we we're… until you compared me to an Avril Lavigne song…" he says with a smirk.
"Hey, she is a bad ass. Got me through some troubling times as a teenager." I don't miss his sly smile.
"Hope you like chicken marsala," I manage to say, proud that my voice stays steady. "It's one of my specialties."
"Anything beats protein shakes and takeout," Dom says, his deep voice doing things to me I'd rather not analyze.
I take my seat, hyper-aware of being surrounded by them. The domesticity of sharing a meal with these dangerous men feels surreal. And thrilling.
"So what's the verdict on giving your chef an extended holiday?" I ask, desperate to distract myself from how good they all look in casual clothes.
Isaac chuckles. "After this? He's definitely getting vacation time."
"Careful," Connor teases, "or we might decide to keep you around after this whole thing is over."
The thought sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with fear.
"So, how was your day?" Dom asks between bites. "Must've been boring stuck here alone."
The question catches me off guard, my fork hovering midway to my mouth. When was the last time anyone asked about my day? Thomas barely acknowledges my existence unless he needs something or wants to criticize me.
"I..." My throat tightens. "It was nice, actually. I swam, read a book from your library - hope that was okay - and then cooked. It's been ages since I've had a day to myself without..." I trail off, not wanting to sound pathetic.
"Without your husband breathing down your neck?" Connor finishes, his piercing gaze meeting mine across the table.
"Yeah." I push a mushroom around my plate. "It's funny, isn't it? Three supposedly dangerous criminals are showing more interest in my well-being than my own husband has in years."
"There's nothing supposedly about it," Isaac says with a wink. "But being dangerous doesn't mean we can't have manners."
"Speaking of manners," Dom interjects, "what book did you pick up? Better not have been my first edition Hemingway with wet hands from the pool."
I gasp in mock offense. "Please, I'm not a complete heathen. It was actually a collection of Pablo Neruda's poetry. Didn't peg you guys for poetry lovers."
"There's a lot you don't know about us," Connor says, his voice dropping lower. The way he says it makes my skin tingle.
"Well," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, "I look forward to finding out more. Unless you plan on blindfolding me every time you discuss business."
Dom chuckles. "Careful what you wish for, princess."
"What about you guys?" I ask, genuinely curious. "How was your day?"
"Productive," Dominic says, cutting into his chicken. "Took care of some business. Some killing involved, you know the usual."
The casual way he mentions murder makes me pause mid-bite. I study their faces - none of them seem affected by this revelation. It's like they're discussing picking up dry cleaning.
"Was it just one?" I ask before I can stop myself.
Isaac barks out a laugh. "She's got jokes."
"Not joking. I mean, if you're going to go through all the trouble of killing someone, might as well make it a two-for-one deal. Efficient use of time and resources."
Dominic's fork clatters against his plate. "You're something else, you know that?"
"So I've been told. Usually not as a compliment though."
I lean forward, wine glass dangling from my fingers. "So, about this business you took care of... what exactly did he do to deserve it?"
Dominic's dark eyes lock onto mine. "You sure you want those details?"
Heat spreads through my chest that has nothing to do with the wine. "I'm not made of glass. Ten years of playing the delicate politician's wife hasn't completely broken me."
"First guy was leaking information," Isaac says, watching my reaction carefully. "He needed a lesson in keeping his trap shut."
"And?" I press, taking another sip.
"His demise wasn't too enthralling. Mediocre at best."
"Well, what about the other guy?" I ask.
Connor exchanges glances with Dominic. "You really want to know don't you?"
"Would I be asking if I didn't?" The edge in my voice surprises even me. "Tell me how you do it?"
"Tatum." Dominic's voice carries a warning. "This isn't a movie. It wasn't clean or quick."
"Good." The word slips out before I can stop it. Three pairs of eyes snap to my face. "I mean... if someone betrays you, they deserve what comes next, right?"
Isaac leans back in his chair. "Most people would be running for the hills by now."
"I'm not most people." I drain my glass.
"You really want to know?" Dom asks.
I settle back in my chair, plate pushed aside. "Yep, so enlighten me."
Connor leans forward, elbows on the table. "He tried running through an alley off 42nd. Made it about halfway before Isaac caught up."
"Tackled him right into a dumpster," Isaac adds, a hint of pride in his voice. "Cracked two of his ribs on impact."
I pour myself more wine. "Then what?"
"Brought him to a warehouse," Dominic says, his deep voice measured. "Gave him one last chance to come clean about who else was involved."
"Let me guess - he wasn't feeling chatty?"
"Not at first." Connor's tongue works at his lip ring. "But Dom here has ways of making people talk."
"Started with his fingers," Isaac continues. "One joint at a time. By the third finger, he was singing like a bird."
My stomach should turn at this. I should be horrified. Instead, I find myself leaning in closer. "Did he give you names?"
"Four of them." Dominic's dark eyes study my face. "Plus locations, dates, everything we needed."
"And then?"
"Then we made sure he wouldn't be ratting to anyone else ever again." Connor mimes slicing across his throat.
"Messy business," Isaac adds. "But necessary."
I nod slowly, processing. "Good. People who betray trust deserve what they get."
The silence that follows is heavy with unspoken questions. I can feel them wondering what darkness lies beneath my perfect politician's wife exterior.
Truth is, I'm wondering the same thing.
The room feels stifling despite the cool air conditioning. My skin tingles as I watch Dominic's hands wrap around his wine glass, the same hands that hours ago... I shake my head, trying to clear the inappropriate thoughts.
"I should head to bed," I announce, standing abruptly. The chair scrapes against the floor. "Thank you for dinner conversation. It was... illuminating."
"You good?" Isaac asks, concern etching his features.
"I'm great." My voice comes out higher than intended. "Just tired. It's been an eventful day."
I gather the plates, my hands trembling slightly. Dominic reaches for his, and our fingers brush. A jolt of electricity shoots through me.
"Leave those," he commands in that deep voice that makes my stomach flip. "We'll take care of cleanup."
"Right. Thanks." I step back, gripping the counter for support. "Goodnight then."
I practically sprint up the stairs, closing my bedroom door and leaning against it. My heart pounds against my ribs.
What is wrong with me? These men just described torturing and killing someone, and instead of being terrified, I'm... attracted? The thought of their capable hands, their controlled violence, their raw power...
"You're losing it, Tatum," I mutter to myself, pacing the room. "Completely losing it."
I've clearly been trapped in my sterile marriage too long. That must be it. Because finding murderers sexy? That's beyond messed up. Even for someone as screwed up as me.
But the way Dominic's eyes darkened when he described their work, how Isaac's muscles flexed as he demonstrated the takedown, Connor's satisfied smirk...
I groan and fall face-first onto the bed. I need a cold shower and serious therapy.