Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tatum sipped her coffee and stared out at the river.
She dreaded going back to her apartment, but she knew sooner or later she would have to. That was where all her work was. The work that might have caused this whole mess in the first place. The work that, apparently, might get her killed.
She still couldn't quite wrap her mind around that. By digging into the Ponzi scheme, she'd caught someone's attention. Someone who was now watching her.
She nibbled at the croissant the waiter had brought from the kitchen. It was delicious, light, buttery, perfect, and she knew she should eat. Her body needed fuel. But her appetite just wasn't cooperating.
Enough of this wallowing. She needed to figure out her next step. If she could unravel this, if she could identify who was really behind it, then maybe the danger would pass.
Maybe.
So how did she do that? She needed one of the three men to talk.
As far as she was concerned, the weakest link had always been Richard North. Of the three, he'd been the most decent. Decent might be stretching it, but he loved his kids. She'd heard that from multiple people. He didn't see them as often as he should have, but when he did, he made the effort.
Maybe she could work with that. Get him to tell her the truth about who was really behind everything.
He'd also been in the most dire financial shape. Friends on the inside of the investigation had quietly confirmed it. His penthouse was mortgaged to the hilt. He was paying alimony and covering expenses for his ex-wife's house in the Hamptons.
Pressure points. She hated it.
She hated pressuring people into talking. It felt gross. Slimy. It was the part of being a lawyer she disliked most, but she understood the necessity. And in this case, she was willing to push. Too many good people had been hurt.
She stood and cleared her dishes. It was Saturday, so she hadn't bothered dressing up. Just jeans and a cornflower blue sweater. Her long blonde hair hung loose down her back, still drying from her shower. No makeup. She simply didn't care right now.
She grabbed her laptop, slid it into her bag, picked up the key fob, and opened the door.
And gasped.
Archer stood right there, his hand lifted as if he'd been about to knock.
"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you."
She exhaled slowly. "It's okay."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
He was close enough to smell his cologne, something clean and understated that she was, annoyingly, starting to find familiar.
The hallway behind him felt suddenly too small, the quiet between them stretching in a way she didn't know what to do with.
Her pulse jumped, traitorously fast, and she resented it immediately.
She shifted her grip on the strap of her bag and grounded herself. This was ridiculous. He was just Archer. Head of the Society. Controlled. Untouchable.
Her gaze flicked briefly to his mouth before she caught herself and looked away.
She stepped back, giving him room. "Did you need something?"
As soon as the words left her mouth, she pulled herself together. Last night had been intense. Charged by fear and adrenaline, and that was all it was. Stop reading things into it that weren't there.
She straightened her shoulders. Whatever she was feeling, Archer Gray was not part of her plan.
Not now. Possibly not ever. But even as she told herself that, she couldn't quite ignore the way his presence settled something in her, or the quiet certainty that if something went wrong again, he would already be there.
He was dressed about as casually as she'd ever seen him. Suit trousers, a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up. Neat. Trim. Effortless. And infuriatingly attractive in a way that made it very hard to concentrate. Those green eyes didn't help. They never helped.
She cleared her throat. "Is there something you needed?" she asked again.
He gestured lightly toward the apartment. "Maybe we could step back inside."
Her heart dropped, but she nodded. "Okay. What is it?"
He gestured again, and she backed up, moving toward the sofa. She set her bag down. Archer closed the door behind them and came to stand in front of her.
" Richard North was found dead this morning." His voice was flat, almost clinical. "Apparently, he was drunk and fell down the stairs in his place."
Tatum stared at him as her mind reeled. "Do you think that's true?" she asked. "Do you think it was an accident?"
"I have my doubts."
Her stomach rolled. "What do the police think?"
"They're calling it an accident," Archer said. "But the police don't have all the facts."
"Do they ever?" she muttered. Then reluctantly, "Still. They could be right. It could have been an accident."
"Tatum," Archer said quietly, "do you really believe that?"
She exhaled, her shoulders sagging. "No. No, I don't." She looked away. "He was the weakest link. I was going to try to talk to him today. See if I could get him to flip."
"I agree," Archer said. "He was the weakest link. And I think someone else knew that too."
Her pulse jumped. "And that's why he's dead."
"Yes."
"Shit." She looked up sharply. "I was heading to my apartment just now."
"I'll have someone go with you."
"Archer, I don't—"
"A man is dead," he cut in. "Your apartment was trashed. I think we're past the point of arguing on principle."
She frowned. He was right, and she hated that. She wanted to argue anyway, out of sheer stubbornness, but the truth was she'd feel better with someone there. "Fine," she said. "One of the guys would be great."
"Are you planning on bringing your things back here?" he asked. "That would be wise."
She shook her head immediately. "No. If whoever trashed my apartment didn't find what they were looking for, then my research is safer where it is."
"You don't trust my security?" Archer asked, his voice cooling slightly.
"It's not about trusting your security," she said evenly. "It's about knowing that everyone here is a member. Too many members were involved in the Ponzi scheme. I'd rather my research not be anywhere near them."
She could see he wanted to argue. After a moment, though, he let it go.
"Fine," he said. "Give me a few minutes. I'll have someone ready to go with you."
"I'll meet them at the door."
"The garage," Archer corrected, and it wasn't a question.
She bit back a retort and simply nodded.
He turned and left.
The second the door closed behind him, Tatum pressed her back to the wood, balled her hands into fists, and ground her teeth together hard in an effort not to scream, stomp her feet, or throw something at the wall.
That man was infuriating. She wanted to go to her apartment and deal with this on her own terms. Yes, having someone with her would make her feel safer, but she also needed space to process what had happened without someone clocking her every move. That wasn't her idea of helpful.
And there was no way in hell she was bringing her research here. This had nothing to do with Archer personally, or even his security. It had everything to do with the fact that a lot went on inside these walls. As much as Archer liked to believe otherwise, he couldn't be everywhere at once.
Archer was right, though, that Davis wanted his position.
That much was obvious from the board meetings.
But, until last night, she hadn't fully appreciated what that would actually mean.
Even as a board member, she didn't have a firm grasp on just how much power Archer Gray could wield.
The fact that he chose restraint, that he held all of that and used it carefully, was impressive in a way she hadn't expected.
She pushed those thoughts aside. She didn't have the bandwidth for Austin Davis and his ambitions right now. She needed to get through today, one step at a time.
She checked her watch. Enough time had passed. The whole situation was starting to genuinely piss her off, and that was good. She'd much rather be angry than afraid. Anger, she could work with.
She left the apartment, marched down the hallway, and headed straight for the parking garage.
Archer was standing beside the door.
She stopped. Stared. "How did you do that?" She'd given him barely two minutes. She glanced around but didn’t see anyone else. "Where's the person who's supposed to escort me?"
"I'll take you," Archer said calmly.
She stared at him. "Archer, surely you have better things to do than ferry me around."
"No," he replied evenly. "Keeping my board members safe is a top priority. At the moment, my security team is handling other issues. I'll handle yours."
She crossed her arms. "You usually have people for this. Besides, it's broad daylight."
She'd heard the rumors about Archer Gray over the years.
High body count both in the bedroom and outside of it.
MMA. Former intelligence, or something darker than that.
She'd always dismissed them as exaggeration, the kind of mythology that built up around powerful men.
Looking at him now, standing there in the garage with that particular stillness he carried everywhere, she wasn't so sure.
The rolled-up sleeves exposed forearms roped with muscle.
His knuckles were scarred. His stance was balanced, coiled.
Even in dress trousers and a white button-down, he looked like something barely contained.
All lean power and controlled danger. The kind of man who calculated outcomes before anyone else in the room had registered that something was wrong.
But it was his eyes that did it. Cold. Flat. Assessing. The veneer of civility she'd grown accustomed to had dropped away entirely, and what remained was something primal. A predator running quiet calculations. She had no doubt whatsoever that he would kill to protect someone if he had to.
And worse, she was equally certain that he'd be good at it.
A small shiver moved through her that had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature of the garage.
That had not been on her bingo card for the year. Needing protection was one thing. Having someone this dangerous insist on providing it personally was something else entirely, and she wasn't sure she trusted herself to spend the morning alone with him and come out of it with her composure intact.
"Fine," she said briskly, covering all of it. "Let's go."
She wanted this over with. Facing the mess in her apartment was inevitable, part of the healing process, and she knew it. But she hadn't planned on doing it with Archer Gray watching her every move.
The deeper she got into this, the more she was convinced that showing weakness to anyone was a mistake.
Showing it to Archer Gray was something else entirely.