Chapter Twenty-Two
Tatum
“This is not up for discussion!” Lincoln yells from the bedroom and I laugh as I stomp away from him in a pair of shorts, pulling my diner t-shirt over my head. It’s actually quite admirable that after being shot and tased twice, the man still has balls left to challenge me.
“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, Lincoln Paul Archer, but you don’t get to tell me what to do. Not when we were together and definitely not now that we are split up.”
“Goddamn it!” he roars and I pick up my pace when I hear the pounding of his boots running after me. Ducking into the kitchen, I’m certain I have him beat but when we both enter the living room at the same time, I skid to a stop. With a huff, I turn back to the kitchen and pretend like I’m going back to the bedroom before I double back and book it for the front door. I’m almost there when I feel his arms wrap around my waist and lift me up in the air as I scream.
“I said no,” he growls, pinning my back to the wall and I grit my teeth.
“I don’t give a shit what you said.”
“Uh, morning, y’all,” Smith mutters, walking down the stairs with sleep still in his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“She’s trying to go into fucking work,” Lincoln snarls and I roll my eyes. It’s not like I’m walking into a lion’s den and besides, they could watch me there just as easily as they could here.
“Y’all can just sit in a corner booth and watch me there,” I say, trying to placate them.
Smith shakes his head. “It’s not a good idea, Darlin’.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Whichever one keeps you alive.” He walks into the kitchen and heads straight for the pot of coffee I made this morning.
“You want something to do, baby?” Lincoln asks and I narrow my eyes at him. “Why don’t you cook us some breakfast?”
“Oh, shit,” Smith whispers, turning to face us as I glare down at Lincoln. He probably expects me to whip a gun out of my waistband for that comment but sadly, none are within reach.
“Really? That’s your solution? Let’s get the little woman in the kitchen where she belongs?”
His eyes widen and he shakes his head as I pull my arm back and punch him in the adam’s apple. He releases me in an instant and I land on my feet as he stumbles back and coughs.
“Not your brightest idea, dude,” Smith mutters as he sits down at the dining room table and pulls out his phone as he smirks. “I’m gonna get Fuzz to grab some donuts for us.”
“Are you laughing at your own joke right now?”
He glances up at me, unable to hide his laughter. “What? It’s funny. Getting donuts is the perfect job for a cop.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper, rolling my eyes as he glances back down at the phone and sends the text. Glancing around the living room, I realize Lincoln is gone and I sigh.
“I think you hurt his ego.”
I turn to Smith. “His ego is fine. Have you ever been punched in the throat? That shit hurts.”
“Maybe he just realized that you are allowing us to keep you here because if you really wanted to leave, we’d both be unconscious and you’d be out the door.”
I put my finger over my lips and furrow my brow. “Shh. Don’t spill my secrets.”
“Why don’t you ease up on him? He’s just trying to protect you.”
I sigh, sinking into the seat across from him. “And going about it all wrong. Would you ever allow someone to pick you up and push you against a wall? Men tend to think they can pick women up and toss them around as long as they are protecting them. The only difference here is I’m perfectly capable of defending myself.”
“Well, shit,” Smith mutters, staring down at his coffee.
“If I promise to stop, will you stop punching me or tasing me?” Lincoln asks from behind me, his voice hoarse. I turn to him and nod.
“Include me in the conversation from now on instead of barking orders at me and yes, I will refrain from physically assaulting you.”
He nods, rubbing at his throat as he sits next to me and grabs my hand. “You can’t go into work. There are too many points of entry and it would be impossible for us to keep our eyes on you constantly.”
“I reiterate that I am perfectly capable of defending myself.”
He sighs, squeezing my hand. “Please do this for me, Tate. I would lose my mind if we lost you and I need you to work with me on this.”
“Okay,” I whisper, nodding at him and he smiles as he leans toward me. Just before his lips are about to touch mine, I put my hand up and shake my head.
“Still not together.”
He sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Stubborn ass woman.”
“Caveman,” I shoot back at him and he bares his teeth at me, making my pussy clench with need.
Oh, shit.
The doorbell rings and all three of us turn to stare at it for a second before Lincoln stands up.
“Expecting anyone?” he asks and I shake my head.
“Check the cameras,” he orders Smith and Smith digs his phone out of his pocket, flicking through a few camera angles.
“Whoever it was is already gone.”
I stand up and take a step toward the door before Lincoln grabs my arm and shakes his head.
“He just said no one is there,” I protest but he just shakes his head again.
“Go check all the windows and doors to make sure they’re locked. I did it an hour ago and they were all good. I’m keeping Tate with me,” he says over his shoulder, completely ignoring me. Smith stands up and walks into the kitchen as Lincoln pulls a gun out of his waistband. I reach under the table and grab the gun out of the holster bolted under the top. He glances over at me and rolls his eyes.
“All good,” Smith says, walking back into the living room and Lincoln nods, glancing back at me.
“Stand back.”
I roll my eyes as he unlocks the door and pulls it open. Just like Smith said, the porch is empty and something falls into the house as Lincoln pulls the door open further. He scoops it up before slamming the door shut again and locking both deadbolts.
“It’s got Tate’s name on it,” Smith says, ripping it out of Lincoln’s grip and I inspect it as he hands it to me. I suck in a breath as I peel it open. Inside is a photo of my mother and a blonde woman I don’t recognize. Frowning, I glance in the folder and spot a little piece of paper folded up at the bottom. I pull it out and unfold it.
You owe me a life.
My hands tremble and I suck in a breath as I meet Lincoln’s eyes before glancing back down at the photo in my hand. The photo is from years ago, my mother’s face bright and worry free in a way that I had never seen her and I turn to the blonde, searching my mind for a connection but I come up empty.
Lincoln steps forward, gently taking the note and photo from my hand before he glances down at them.
“Fuck,” he hisses after reading the note. As he hands them off to Smith, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close, giving me the comfort I need right now.