Page 89 of They All Own Me

"My knight in shining tactical gear?" I rest my head against his shoulder.

"More like your temporarily assigned security detail." He starts down the stairs, his movements careful. "Though I make these sweatpants look damn good."

"Can't argue with that." I say, feeling oddly safe despite everything.

Isaac carries me into the kitchen where Dom is looking through some papers and Connor's typing furiously on his laptop. Both their heads snap up as we enter.

"What the hell?" Connor pushes back from the table. "You shouldn't be up."

"She was trying to sneak downstairs by herself," Isaac explains, setting me gently in a chair.

Dom abandons his papers, coming over to examine the bruise blooming across my cheekbone. "How's the pain?"

"I'm fine." I wave them all away. "Just some bruises. Nothing worse than that time I tried kickboxing at the gym."

"This isn't a joke," Connor says, his jaw tight. "Those guys could have-"

"But they didn't." I cut him off. "Thanks to you three. Now can we please focus on more important things? Like feeding me?"

Twenty minutes later, Dom slides a plate in front of me with what I assume are meant to be pancakes. They're misshapen blobs, some burnt around the edges, others still gooey in the middle.

"They taste better than they look," Dom defends, crossing his muscular arms.

Connor sets down a plate of slightly charred toast. "At least I didn't set off the smoke alarm."

"Small victories." I smile as Issac places a steaming mug of coffee in front of me. The rich aroma makes my mouth water. "Now this, this I can work with."

"French roast," Issac says, taking the seat next to me. "None of that fancy vanilla shit."

I take a sip and nearly moan. "God, I've missed real coffee."

I cut into one of the less threatening-looking pancakes. "You know, these aren't half bad. Just... uniquely shaped."

"Uniquely shaped?" Connor snorts. "They look like a fucking toddler made them."

"Better than your toast," Dom shoots back. "Did you forget bread burns?"

"At least toast is supposed to be brown," Connor retorts. "Pancakes aren't supposed to be black."

I can't help but laugh. Here I am, eating the world's ugliest breakfast with three dangerous men who are bickering like brothers. The whole situation is absurd.

"What's so funny?" Issac asks, his green eyes curious.

"Nothing," I say, taking another bite. "Just thinking how this beats the hell out of protein shakes and kale smoothies."

"It certainly isn't a Tatum breakfast, but it'll do the job," Issac says behind a mouth full of toast.

I push my half-eaten pancakes around, my appetite suddenly gone. "So what happens with Thomas now?"

Connor's fingers stop typing, and he exchanges glances with Dom and Issac. Dom leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"One of our guys took him back to your house last night," Dom says. "Had a... conversation with him about keeping his mouth shut."

"A conversation?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Let's just say he was very persuasive," Isaac adds, his accent thickening. "Left some evidence around the house too. Won'tbe long before the cops show up asking questions about your disappearance."

"What kind of evidence?"

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