TATIANA: Book Three; The Trouble Sisters Saga Page 2

  Ryker shook his head with a mischievous wink. “Damn, buddy, talk about subtle. Not! And yes, the sheriff and his deputy aren’t whistling Dixie. Getting Tatiana away from her children and her women’s center is practically impossible to do. I keep telling her she is giving her sisters a bad reputation in that they spend half their time at the B n’ T and she only shows up when we drag her here.”

  Tatiana would have loved to join in the teasing repartee but her shyness overcame her. Particularly when the overwhelming DA sank onto the stool next to her. Inching closer to her father, she admitted that Zane Wilder made her nervous. The last time she’d seen him, he’d asked her if she would be willing to give him a tour of her woman’s center. She’d nominally agreed but couldn’t hide her concern. She’d told him that many of the women at the shelter had unhappy associations with law enforcement. It was only because her father and deputy sister were frequent visitors she’d been able to convince her wary clients that they didn’t have to be afraid of the impressive “lawmen.” She admitted that the tall district attorney might be a bridge too far, not necessarily for the women at the shelter, but for her.

  Now, as she forced herself to focus on getting out of her wet clothes and pulling on a pair of decent-looking slacks and a blouse, Tatiana’s thoughts strayed to the hideous incident three nights ago. She was still shocked at what had happened when she’d returned home from the B n’ T. When the divorce was granted, she’d tried to convince herself that she was finally rid of her former husband. Unfortunately, Arnold was determined to prove that she never would be free of him. He insisted that she secretly wanted him in her life and always would. He just needed to force her to admit she would always be his wife no matter what their legal status. He left suggestive notes for her in Max and Marcie’s backpacks when he took them for a required outing. And as much as she tried, Tatiana couldn’t ignore the signs in her house that he’d been there. The latest being her underwear drawer turned upside down on the floor, her lingerie scattered. When both Max and Marcie insisted they hadn’t done it, Tatiana knew with a sickening jolt that it was Arnold making a not-so-subtle point.

  Preparing to face the intimidating district attorney, Tatiana had a hard thought. Remembering her infuriated ex-husband claiming that she was “chasing after that big shot DA everyone says is hot for you,” Tatiana was shocked. She realized that Arnold must have seen or heard that Zane Wilder had been with her and her family at the B n’ T. When Arnold made the ugly accusation, she’d dismissed it as more of his pathological possessiveness that their divorce hadn’t been curtailed. But now she wondered. Dear God, was that rumor actually circulating in their gossipy town? Yanking her hair up into a damp ponytail, Tatiana glared at herself in the mirror. Pressing her lips together in a firm line, she determined that she was done being intimidated by men. By a sick, frightening former husband or a handsome, powerful district attorney. Who, along with his reputation as a politician on the move, was well known for being a man on the make.

  Chapter 2

  Zane Wilder studied the photographs on Tatiana’s desk. It wasn’t hard to see that the adorable little curly-haired girl and her younger brother were Max and Marcie, the two grandchildren Titus Trouble bragged about whenever he could. Gazing at the picture of Tatiana with her two photogenic children, he smiled, thinking how lucky her children were that they took after their beautiful mother. Turning to a photograph of the three Trouble sisters, he blew out an appreciative sigh. Talk about gorgeous women. There was a good reason that every able-bodied Sierra Vista man with an ounce of testosterone flowing in his veins was gaga over Sheriff Trouble’s extraordinary progeny.

  Tara, the oldest daughter, with her long, blonde hair and runway body was a guaranteed showstopper. It wasn’t surprising that it took Griffin Black, a compelling land developer and a showstopper in his own right, to capture the lissome beauty. Tanya, the youngest daughter and inimitable deputy sheriff, was as feisty as she was sexy. The pint-sized dynamo had managed to pack as many curves on her five-foot four-inch frame as her more statuesque sisters. But as lovely as Tara and Tanya were, it was the redheaded middle sister that caught Zane’s attention. As tall as her older sister, Tatiana sported the extravagant curves that embellished both of her sisters’ bodies. Her striking difference was the cloud of fiery red hair that cascaded in a flurry of untamed curls around her shoulders. Even when she tied it back in a ponytail or tried to harness it with clips and combs, wayward tendrils fought free, clinging lovingly around her slender neck and beautiful face.

  Zane admitted that what had touched him and drawn him to her and, indeed, turned him into a bit of a Tatiana stalker, was her shyness. Unlike her older sister, the outspoken editor of the Sierra Vista Gazette who took on any adversary personally or in print and cut them down to size with her acerbic wit, or the spirited, invincible deputy sheriff, Tatiana was quiet to the point of appearing aloof. But after watching her from a distance, Zane was convinced that beneath her cloak of quiet shyness was a woman as indomitable as her sisters. After all, it took passion and drive to create a woman’s shelter dedicated to helping abused women and their children escape from dangerous men. Especially in a city with traditional views about the roles of men and women, particularly husbands and wives.

  Like her sisters, Tatiana had carved out a role in the Southwestern town that was more like the frontier women of old than the current focus on what was considered proper behavior from its womenfolk. Without question, Zane surmised that the disdain all three Trouble sisters showed for deference to men and traditional gender roles was the direct result of their impressive father’s tutelage. Titus Theseus Trouble was the epitome of a strong man. Physically, he stood four inches over six feet and was blessed with a muscular physique the envy of men half his age. But to Zane, as physically imposing as he was, Titus’s true strength was his character. Straight shooter didn’t begin to describe the formidable sheriff. That he was taciturn to a fault made his pronouncements, when he made them, impossible to ignore or challenge.

  Long-held gossip declared that Titus threw his cheating, drug-addicted wife out of his life when Tanya was barely a year old. Rather than disparaging him for his actions, folks that had been there and knew only too well the escapades of the stunningly beautiful Mrs. Trouble were glad when the long-suffering sheriff declared he was through. Zane had seen enough of the divorce decree to know that the former Mrs. Trouble had ultimately done something to one of Titus’s young girls that caused him to divorce her. After all, he’d apparently tolerated her egregious infidelity and multiple addictions for five years and then, overnight, summarily dismissed her, never again allowing her within reach of his daughters.

  Given that the girls had grown up in a one-parent household and that the parent was as impressive a man as Titus Trouble, it wasn’t surprising that only Tatiana, the quiet sister, had been married. What was surprising to a lot of people, including Zane, was that she married Arnold Loomis. The son of one of Arizona’s political scions, Loomis had all the accoutrements to be a likely suitor for the beautiful young Sierra Vista native. Unfortunately, within his first year of marriage to the barely twenty-year-old Tatiana, the dashing reprobate had gambled his way through his family’s fortune and was forced to declare bankruptcy. Tatiana, now a mother, had finished her college degrees and became the primary breadwinner in the challenged household. As she grew stronger, more impressive, Arnold became more dissolute. Adding alcohol and designer drugs to his passion for high-stakes gambling, Arnold gained a stunning hundred pounds to his now-corpulent body. It wasn’t surprising to anyone who knew the mismatched couple that three months before the birth of her second child, Tatiana filed for divorce.

  Like others in the law enforcement arena, Zane knew that Titus Trouble made no secret of the fact that he despised his son-in-law and was only too glad when the marriage ended. Zane had heard rumors of Arnold’s frightening temper, flights of rage, and his striking out against friends and supposed foes. He constantly blamed his
former wife and her family for his compromised situation. The rumors flourished when Arnold demanded custody of their children. Fighting court order after court order, he insisted that his former wife was too busy creating her women’s center to take care of two young children, the oldest barely three. Given his record number of DUIs and emergency calls to the Loomis residence, the court dismissed his demands and gave full custody of Marcie and Max to their mother. Insisting that the court was strong-armed by his soon-to-be former father-in-law, Arnold went back to court and fought for financial maintenance, insisting that he’d supported Tatiana in her educational achievements and she should be forced to support him now. Again, the court threw out the suit and granted Tatiana an unqualified divorce. According to Arnold’s rage-filled tantrums, she added insult to injury when she changed her name back to Tatiana Trouble. To this day, Arnold Loomis insisted in myriad ways that his former wife’s family had stolen his children and poisoned his former wife against him.

  Glancing out the window at the frolicking children still playing in the plastic swimming pool, Zane had to remind himself that as carefree as they seemed, all of the children except for Tatiana’s two rascals were there because they and their mothers were fleeing abuse. Although he was well aware of the magnitude of the issue, Zane admitted he was surprised that Tatiana’s shelter apparently held a minimum of fifty women and their children at any one time. At some point, he planned to ask the founder of the shelter if their town was an outlier. Perhaps it had more abuse because of its historical acceptance of everyday violence. Hell, he thought with a grimace, look at the number of murders his office prosecuted. The surplus of guns in the majority of homes alone was worth noting. As was the escalating violence on its border with Mexico as impassioned foes took sides in the national battle of words and now actions.

  Zane smelled her compelling fragrance even before he heard the door close behind her. He turned and did his best to contain his response to the truly lovely woman. Confirming that she’d dressed in a hurry, she’d tied her still-damp hair up in a ponytail and allowed more than a few wayward curls to escape the elastic tie. If she’d intended to banish the image of her wet tee shirt and shorts plastered against her luscious body, the blouse and tailored slacks she chose merely confirmed that an armored bodysuit couldn’t have contained her abundant curves. That she didn’t have so much of a smear of lip gloss on her full lips underscored that her stunning natural beauty didn’t require makeup to shine through. But as always, it was her hesitation, the obvious straightening of her shoulders as if she needed to prepare herself to face him that tugged at Zane’s protective streak. A streak that under the best of circumstances was hard to contain but flared at the sight of her hesitant smile.

  Just as he was ready to try to reassure her that he wasn’t out to capture her and haul her off to his lion’s den, his phone vibrated. Glancing at the caller ID, he turned to her with a frown. “Please excuse me, Tatiana, I have to take this call.” He admitted he would have had to be brain dead not to see the relief that flashed across her expressive face. Barking into the phone, he made it clear to the ADA who was calling him that she better have a damn good reason for interrupting him. “Yes, what is it?” Listening to Chloe Richards explain that without prior notice, Governor Simpson had appeared at their office insisting he needed to speak with the district attorney immediately, Zane conceded that his assistant was justified in tracking him down. Indicating that he would be at his office as quickly as possible, he turned to the woman who was now smiling at him, her reprieve apparent. Deciding not to let her off easily, Zane turned his most compelling grin on her.

  “Clearly you are relieved that the big, bad, overbearing district attorney has been called away by pressing legal business. Although I think of a summons by our always excitable governor as a nuisance, not a command, it appears that said governor has landed on my doorstep.” Seeing what looked like a slight bruise on her cheek, Zane decided not to let up on her. “Don’t tell me those little hoodlums out there got rough with their leader?” At her fierce blush and murmured statement that she’d run into a door, he reached for her hand. Tugging her an inch closer to him, he shook his head as if in dismay. “Tell me, lovely lady, what’s it going to take for me to reassure you that my attentions are honorable?”

  Pulling her hand back, Tatiana stammered, “I . . . I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Wilder.” Tipping up her chin, she added tartly, “I presume that even you need to respond when the governor of the state appears on your doorstep.”

  Zane shot her a narrowed gaze at her testy response. Not masking the humor in his response, he said, “Well, well, so the lovely restrained Trouble sister occasionally strikes out—if ever so carefully.” At her frown, Zane laughed. “Please don’t misunderstand. I’m quite aware that I can be overbearing, even obnoxious if the mood strikes me. But it’s good to know that if I try hard enough I may be able to get a ‘rise’ out of you.” Letting his equivocal statement stand, he added, “And for the record, as I believe I told you earlier, the name’s Zane. ‘Mr. Wilder’ is much too formal for the relationship I’m hoping to cultivate with you.” Ignoring her startled reaction to his teasing assertion, he reached out and pinched her cheek, then said with a wink, “Good-bye, Tatiana. I hope to see you again very soon.”

  Striding down the sidewalk, Zane turned as he prepared to climb into his silver Bentley Continental GT convertible. He was more than a little pleased to see Tatiana’s shadow in the window confirming that she was watching him leave. Wanting her to know that he’d seen her surreptitious surveillance, he lifted his hand and gave her a jaunty wave. Painting a wide grin on his face, he hopped in the gleaming Bentley and peeled off with a resounding roar of his potent automobile.

  Chapter 3

  Mommy, Mommy, Look at me! I can swing higher than Marcie. Just ask Auntie Tara. She’ll tell you! I can go almost as high as Hunter, and he’s six!”

  Tatiana laughed as she rounded the corner of Tara’s house and joined her sister and the four children in the park-like yard. When Griffin had received custody of his six-year-old son and eleven-year-old daughter, he’d insisted that Tara move into his extraordinary home, formerly known as the Debussy mansion. Tara resisted at first, insisting that she need to stay in her much more modest house. But when it was clear that Griffin wouldn’t take no for an answer and the children seemed to want her there as much as he did, Tara conceded.

  Tatiana was thrilled when her sister gave in to her commanding lover. The backyard of the impressive grounds was a literal oasis for kids from two to seventy. A triple-level swimming pool, driving range, putting green, and tennis court provided hours of entertainment for the older children and adults. For his children and, Tatiana believed, for the children Griffin hoped to have with Tara, the master developer had created a kid-oriented yard that would be the envy of a high-end playground designer. To the sophisticated play sets outfitted with nets, hammocks, multiple climbers, and a double-sided slide, Griffin added a merry-go-round, swings, tunnels, and mini-caves.

  Griffin had also built a multi-level rock-climbing complex with three distinct levels of difficulty. Marcie and Hunter were fiercely trying to master the first level and beginning to eye the intermediate wall that Brooke was close to conquering. For months, only Griffin and Ryker, two former Special Ops high-fliers, were breezing up the expert wall. That was until a week ago, when Tara, Tatiana, and Tanya, a trio of accomplished athletic superstars, brought down the house at a pool party. To the delight of their proud father and the cheering Special Ops hotshots, they scampered up the expert wall, crowing in triumph when they hung upside down from the top rungs.

  Tatiana was especially gratified that Tara and Griffin had opened their spectacular home to the children of her clients as well as to her, Max, and Marcie. Many of the children at the Sanctuary came from exceedingly challenging circumstances. The mistreatment that was a given in their families often included child abuse as well as abuse of their battered mothers. Excursions to
the Black mansion became treasured days of fun for the shelter children and a break for their recovering mothers. But as Tatiana joined Marcie and Max and Tara’s future stepchildren, she was glad that today only her family was there. As much as she loved the center and as proud as she was that it was beginning to thrive, she admitted that she often felt drained, overwhelmed, and frankly exhausted.

  She gave in to her fatigue with a hard sigh as she sank onto the chase lounge beside Tara and gratefully accepted the glass of lemonade her sister foisted on her. Closing her eyes for a moment, she enjoyed the sheer pleasure of the beautiful day and the brief respite from the center. It didn’t help that in addition to her challenging work, her former husband’s assaults on her privacy were escalating. His incursions had become much more frequent and invasive. The overturned lingerie drawer had been the final straw. Until he’d broken into her home four nights ago and physically attacked her.

  Tatiana knew she should have immediately reported the attack to her father and sisters. But she didn’t. She knew how angry they would be at Arnold. She admitted that if they found out what had happened and that she hadn’t reported it, they would be furious . . . with her. Even as she wrestled with her unwillingness to reveal the abuse, she gave herself space. She knew the pattern of abuse better than anyone. God knows she’d studied it from every angle and was working with abused women on a daily basis, helping them come to grips with the insidious illness that had wreaked havoc on them and their lives. She also knew how hard it was for victims to deal with the shame that was a debilitating component of the scourge. She grimly acknowledged that she’d spent so much time denying that Arnold had abused her it was almost impossible to admit it now. Even though she knew at some subterranean level that until she did, she wouldn’t be free of Arnold.