TATIANA: Book Three; The Trouble Sisters Saga Page 10
“Three times in one year this woman called the police to her home. Each time that she pressed charges, her attacker’s lawyer managed to get the charges dropped. He convinced the legal system that in one instance her injuries were due to a fall and in another, persuaded the woman to withdraw her charges. The reason she is not telling you her story personally is because what you are seeing on the screen is an autopsy photograph taken by the medical examiner in the morgue.”
Tatiana allowed the silence to stand. “I’m telling you this story because not only did the social service industry, law enforcement, and a host of church and community organizations fail this woman, but the legal system did as well. Incidentally, her abuser and the man who ultimately murdered her was her husband of ten years and the father of their three children. The lawyer who ensured that her husband was never charged until he beat his wife to death apparently earned in the high six figures fighting the victim’s charges of abuse.”
Tatiana nodded to the tech in the back of the room. “Monroe, please, if you would, turn on the lights.” She waited for several long moments, looking down at her notes, then raised her head and looked out into the audience and said carefully, “The women you just saw are or were my clients. They represent a small portion of the women I have worked with over the last two years. I choose not to show you pictures of the other victims of domestic abuse, the children who live with these women. I prefer that you see the women, particularly the ones who can speak for themselves. But please know, in every instance where abuse happens and there are children in the house, the chances of them becoming victims or abusers themselves are virtually assured.”
She hesitated. “Just two days ago, my bright, five-year-old daughter who spends nearly as much time at the Sanctuary as I do asked me, ‘Momma, is it bad if daddies kiss their little girls, like a lot?’ Needless to say, I was concerned and pressed her, reminding her that she knew the difference between bad touch and good touch. My perspicacious five-year-old brushed that aside and replied, ‘Yeah, I know what you said, Momma, but I wasn’t sure if daddies can do bad touch.’ She added, with prompting from me, that her friend who was staying at the Sanctuary with her mother had told her that some of the daddies her momma knows are always trying to kiss her. She said her six-year-old friend doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t know how to make them stop. Suffice it to say that I spent the rest of the day dealing with the mother of my daughter’s friend, ultimately dismissing her from the Sanctuary for drug and alcohol abuse and ensuring that her children are now in the care of Child Protective Services.”
For the rest of her speech, Tatiana pointed to the scores of studies that had been done on domestic abuse. She drew on compelling statistics to confirm that the crime in all its iterations was much more common than usually thought. Indeed, according to the National Domestic Violence Hotline, one in four women—and one in seven men—have experienced severe physical abuse by a partner. With each example and each study she cited, she emphasized the legal implications. While her criticisms of the legal community were cogent and rigorously supported by reams of research, she made a point of including examples where the legal industry had shone. She called for increased punishment for abusers and ways for victims to negotiate the often-complicated process of reporting and seeking retribution for documented abuse. Specifically, she praised organizations like the Arizona Bar Association that were instituting symposia and continuing education credits for lawyers interested in learning more about their obligations in the challenging and growing crime of domestic abuse.
****
Zane had spent the morning on the lookout for her. He knew he’d challenged her the night before by stating unequivocally that they would be spending tonight together. Hell, he couldn’t have been clearer that while he was backing off for the moment, it was a respite, not a withdrawal. But this morning, he’d decided he would step aside, let her focus on her keynote address. Instead, he’d spent part of the morning ensuring that their night together would be extraordinary in every possible way. Now, glad that they’d avoided the utilitarian hotel room, he’d managed to confirm a three-room suite at a pricey Tanque Verde bed and breakfast outside of Tucson. He’d spent close to an hour ensuring that everything from the specific amenities in the suite to the food and alcohol options and the hot tub on the cliff-high deck met his fastidious requirements. When he was satisfied that he’d created an amatory ambiance worthy of the beautiful woman he was preparing to seduce, he went back to the conference.
By noon, it was obvious that Tatiana didn’t intend to participate in the conference until her 2:00 p.m. keynote address. While he was disappointed because he’d hoped to introduce her to the makers and shakers in their organization, Zane could understand her need for privacy. When she finally walked to the stage in the main conference room, he struggled to quiet his untoward reaction to her. He was always surprised that whenever he saw her he again noted how truly beautiful she was. And he admitted that her shyness, her seeming insecurity, never failed to stoke his well-developed protective compulsions. Before the opening dinner the night before, she’d stood in the doorway to the ballroom, hesitant to enter, looking uncertain, almost frightened. But seeing her mount the stage, he acknowledged a side of her that he’d suspected but until this moment had not seen.
The woman crossing the stage looked as beautiful as she had last night, but there was a calm assurance to her movements that spoke to confidence, not concern. When she turned to face the audience, she literally stole his breath. She was wearing a chic designer pantsuit that had to have come from an expensive boutique. The fitted jacket flared at her waist, emphasizing her righteous chest, slender waist, and curvy hips. The bright cobalt color underscored her magnificent hair that was caught up in a sophisticated twist with an emerald-studded comb. Fire-tinged tendrils curled enticingly around her face and neck, begging for his errant fingers to tug them free. But the pièce de résistance, in Zane’s mind, was her cropped, high-heeled patent leather boots that spoke to a daring side of her personality he definitely planned to explore.
He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t seek him out. He knew she’d spotted him as she took the stage. He stepped farther back, not wanting to compromise her confidence in any way. Within minutes, he found himself entranced, not by the beautiful woman who had thoroughly captured him but by a facet of her he’d surmised but hadn’t yet seen. It was the remarkably professional and accomplished woman who within minutes had thoroughly captured the exclusive and easily bored legal audience. At first, just as shocked as he was sure the rest of the audience was by the panoply of hideous pictures and first-hand accounts of the abused women on the screen, he found himself marveling at her extraordinary presentation. In a matter of minutes, she captured the audience and held them in her emotional and professional thrall for the next hour and a half until the insistent moderator, after the third attempt to end the Q and A, firmly wrapped the conclave to a close.
Zane stood back as a throng of attendees intent on asking questions swarmed her. He realized by seeing the pained expressions on a number of their faces they were sharing their personal experiences with her. Glancing at his watch for the fourth time, he realized that more than an hour had passed since she’d left the stage. The horde of people intent on getting next to her, if anything, had grown. Seeing the flash of fatigue flit across her expressive mien, he intervened.
“Excuse me, Ms. Trouble, as much as I hate to cut this remarkable interchange short, I remember you indicated you have a pressing engagement later today.”
At the disagreeing murmurs from the crowd surrounding her, Zane stepped toward her and grasped her arm, gratified by the relief that she didn’t try to hide. He spoke to the frowning group, calling the impromptu exchange to a halt. Keeping a protective hand on her elbow, he said, “It’s clear that our keynote speaker has opened a much-needed conversation for our organization. As a member of the association’s board of directors, I promise you that this is the first of what will be
many meetings on domestic abuse.”
Nodding to Tatiana as he pulled her closer to him, he appealed to the group. “On behalf of the board and our clearly engaged membership, please help me thank our remarkable speaker.”
As the spontaneous chorus of applause came to a halt, Zane took advantage of the moment. “And now, folks, please step aside and allow Ms. Trouble to escape to her next engagement.” He smiled down at her and without relinquishing his hold on her arm, gently eased her toward the elevator. Nudging her inside, he used his formidable size to block the entrance, ensuring that she would be alone on the elevator. As the door slid to a close, he murmured, “Thirty minutes max, the employee entrance on Elm Street.”
Twenty-five minutes later, there was a discreet knock on her door. Expecting Zane, Tatiana was surprised to see a liveried bellman at the door with a luggage cart. “Good afternoon, madam. District Attorney Wilder asked that I help you with your luggage and show you to the Elm Street entrance.”
Chapter 14
Following the bellman down a service hall behind the busy kitchen, Tatiana was struck by Zane’s shrewdness. She admitted that she’d dreaded waiting at the valet stand with him and then hopping into his expensive car. She was confident that image would be the one most remarked on by the conference attendees. She much preferred their memories of her to be her speech, not confirmation that she was the DA’s latest fling. Instead, because Zane apparently shared her concerns, he’d sent Francis to escort her to the side entrance. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight. She stumbled and might have tripped if Francis hadn’t grasped her arm. She gave herself a pass for her clumsiness. Zane’s convertible with its sleek leather interior was impressive, but it was the six-foot-four man leaning casually against it that threw off her equilibrium. His open-necked linen shirt revealing a tuft of wiry, gold-tipped hair and his impressive physique rippling with lean muscle were disconcerting enough. But it was the Gucci polarized aviator sunglasses shading his eyes that thoroughly disconcerted her.
Tatiana swallowed a nonexistent breath of air and didn’t resist when he grasped her arm and helped her into the humming vehicle. Taking her bag from Francis, he tossed it into the back seat and then palmed a bill into the grateful bellman’s hand.
Reaching for her own sunglasses from her purse, appreciating the barrier they provided, Tatiana leaned back in the leather seat and allowed him to secure her seat belt. She was glad that her lungs hadn’t completely shut down and she was able to snag a small breath. Once again, Zane made it clear that he valued her privacy as he took a circuitous exit away from the hotel. Neither one of them spoke for the first five minutes as Zane wound his way through the side streets of the slow-moving college town toward the interstate.
When they were driving farther away from the city and he turned off the freeway, Tatiana forced herself to ask, “Where are we going, Zane?”
He tossed her a grin and murmured, “As far away from the hotel as we can get. If not in miles, at least in viewpoint. In answer to your question, I found a small, out-of-the-way B&B that, at least in the abstract, seems perfect.”
She didn’t hide her surprise. “You haven’t been there before?”
“No, sweetheart, this is virgin territory for us both. I just hope the innkeeper wasn’t joshing me and that the place matches the description he gave me. In answer to your unasked question, yes, I purposefully chose a place where neither of us had been. It’s in the foothills of the Rincon Mountains near the Tanque Verde Falls.”
Tatiana blew out a relieved breath. She hadn’t realized how much it mattered to her that he wasn’t carting her off to one of the many haunts he’d shared with other women. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she admired his casual clothes and became even more conscious how unprepared she was for this “rendezvous,” as he’d called it. Feeling she had to explain why she was still wearing the cobalt suit she’d worn at the conference, she mumbled, “I didn’t have time to change.”
“You look extraordinary. I’m not sure if I will ever forget seeing you walk across the stage and turning to the audience, wearing that beautiful outfit.”
Not able to stop the words from escaping, she said simply, “It’s Tara’s.”
“Hmm, I think I may need to have a chat with my buddy, Griffin. If I didn’t know better, I would think he has her redheaded sister in his mind when he’s buying clothes for his woman. Trust me, he and Tara couldn’t have chosen a more perfect outfit. But then, given the remarkable presentation you gave, you deserved to look as sensational as you did.”
Glancing at his always-perfect-for-the-occasion attire, she hesitated. “I just have one more outfit from Tara and then I’m on to my shorts and tee shirt. I hope what I brought is okay for tonight. I . . . wasn’t sure what to bring.”
He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Whatever it is, if you are wearing it, it will be perfect. As will your shorts and tee shirt when you chose to wear them. As long as I can hose you down first . . . ”
Musing over her concerns about her clothes—make that Tara’s clothes—Zane wrestled with the incongruences of this remarkable woman. From the first time he’d met her, he’d been intrigued by her reticence, hell, her insecurities. Her shyness was the proverbial moth to the flame for an arrogant caretaker like himself. He’d seen that weird combination in other tough guys, particularly special operatives. There was something bred into him and other hard-hitting guys that made them think they could and should take care of things, including other people. It was the flip side of their arrogance, their belief that no one could run the world better than they could. But just as he’d seen this inclination in other powerful men, Griffin and Ryker for example—and he may as well throw in the toughest of them all, Titus Trouble—they all ended up with powerful, independent women. Women who ultimately acknowledged the lure of their arrogant men.
He’d thought that perhaps Tatiana was the exception to her powerful sisters. Although he’d always sensed a hard core, a strength he hadn’t yet unearthed. Seeing her in action today, he was blown away. Not only was she accomplished, extraordinarily so, but she was tough as nails. Christ, how many men did he know who could see what she saw on a daily basis and not only survive but thrive? And in the process, literally save lives. For the first time, he saw the Sanctuary for what it was. A fitting tribute to a passionately focused woman. A woman who was changing hideous lives for the better on a daily basis. But who never lost her gentle and, yes, shy exterior.
As the winding road became steeper and the sun hovered closer to the horizon, Zane was gratified to see an unassuming sign on a wooden stake pointing to the Tanque Verde B&B. Glancing up the twisting road, he was amazed to see a stunning, contemporary building seemingly hanging over the edge of a cliff.
“Hmm, maybe there is a God after all,” he murmured. When Tatiana lifted a questioning brow, he explained, “Remember, I reserved this place sight unseen, which is a stretch for a guy like me, who is convinced the sun wouldn’t rise in the east if I didn’t manage its appearance. Suffice it to say I’m taking a bit of a flyer here, particularly because I wanted this place to be spectacular. It’s as auspicious as I am confident our night together will be.”
****
Tatiana went from room to room, amazed. The freestanding structure looked like it was perched on the side of the cliff. She did her best to ignore what was clearly the master bedroom replete with a fireplace and the requisite king-sized, four-poster bed. Not wanting to dwell on the obvious purpose of the room, she hurried out the sliding glass doors and was surprised to find Zane on the deck, gazing out over the mountains. The deck alone provided all the amenities a couple could want for a glorious night celebrating each other. A party-sized hot tub, an outdoor fireplace, padded lounges and chairs, and what looked like a wine cellar ensured that if they wished, their night together could be enjoyed entirely under the stars. Seeing the relieved grin on Zane’s face, Tatiana realized how much he had wanted their “rende
zvous” to be perfect.
Squashing her fears and feelings of inadequacies, she allowed herself to look through his eyes. The eyes of a man who was accustomed to managing everything, to making it perfect. Gazing across the deck, she conceded he just might have achieved his goal. Feeling his looming presence beside her, she startled. His humorous, on-target suggestion caught her off guard, confirming that she looked as anxious as she felt. He reached for her arm and pulled her next to him. His eyes twinkling, he pinched her cheek, grinning when she gasped.
“Hey, you. How about you propel that luscious bod of yours into the bedroom and take a shower or a relaxing bubble bath? Do whatever the hell you need to do to see if you can get about eight layers of tension off you. And maybe haul out that third creation you filched from Tara. You’ve been hitting a thousand to date.”
****
Stripping off the cobalt suit, blouse, and boots that now looked hopelessly out of place in the cliff-top hideaway, Tatiana scurried into the shower. She was grateful that the owners apparently had a giant-sized water heater. After ten long, blessed moments under the steamy water, her body felt as though it was actually beginning to relax. Drying her hair, she let it fall free around her shoulders in a mass of fiery red and gold curls. With a sigh, she reached in her garment bag and took out the multicolored, iridescent lounging outfit that Tara and Tanya had insisted she wear. On the hanger it looked reasonably tame. Unfortunately, when she pulled on the gauzy pants, she realized they were tantalizingly close to transparent. The long-sleeved halter top, while at least lined, hugged her full breasts and bared her slender midriff. She quickly yanked her hair up into a twist secured by a sparkly comb, anything to tame the harem-girl appearance of the astonishing outfit. Refusing to look in the mirror again, knowing that it was this or her shorts and tee shirt, Tatiana forced herself to leave the comforting confines of the bedroom. On one hand, she was horrified at how risqué her outfit was—until she saw the expression on Zane’s face when he saw her. She admitted awed wasn’t too strong a word.