TITUS: Finale Novella; The Trouble Sisters Saga Page 5

  As he backed up against his limo, Powell snarled. “So help me God, Trouble, I’ll take you down if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Titus shot him a mirthless grin. “Let’s just say, Senator, you can try.” He poked the now-cowering man in his chest. “You need to understand, Senator, this is my house. In fact, it’s my town, my fucking county. I suggest you get the hell out of here and take that pitiful excuse for a man—your son—with you. Get him into the court-ordered treatment center and don’t come back.” He snorted derisively. “But knowing how deranged you both are, you’ll have him out of treatment in no time. All I can tell you is to keep him out of my jurisdiction. He’s in my cross hairs, where he’ll stay until I take him down for good.”

  Ignoring the fact that he was eight inches shorter than the looming sheriff, Powell managed to squeak out, “Are you threatening me, Sheriff Trouble?”

  Titus’s voice dropped several dangerous decibels lower. “No, Senator, I’m promising you.”

  Martin paled, then whirled on Rita. When she stepped back, he reared up. “Damn you, Rita, I’m tired of your insolence. You know very well I’m your most important client. Don’t test me, woman. I can ruin you with a single press interview. Now, for the last time, get in my limousine. We are leaving now.”

  Titus stepped next to Rita and held the infuriated man’s gaze. “As for Attorney Davidson going with you? That ain’t gonna happen, Senator. I’ll be seeing Rita home tonight.”

  Martin was shaking so hard, it was a wonder his skin held him together. His words were shrill. “Goddamn you, Rita. I’m ordering you to come with me. You work for me. I tell you what to do.”

  Rita spoke for the first time since Titus entered the fray. She allowed a grim smile to overtake her face and said coolly, “You know better than that, Martin. Do as Sheriff Trouble said. Take Justin to the court-ordered rehab center and get him the help he desperately needs.”

  When Martin flushed darker, Titus yanked open the limo door and physically backed the enraged man against the side of the sleek automobile. His voice was so dangerously low that even the infuriated senator looked frightened. Giving him a helpful shove, Titus pushed the blubbering man into the limo. As he prepared to slam the door in his face, Titus growled, “You heard Attorney Davidson, Senator. Git!”

  Chapter 7

  Rita yanked open the taxicab door and prepared to climb in. It didn’t help that her legs were shaking so hard she had to cling to the door to keep from falling. Certain she looked as unhinged as she felt, she addressed the startled driver, marveling she could speak somewhat coherently. “Take me to the Days Inn immediately! Please!”

  Titus’s voice behind her was calm, controlled. If she weren’t so upset, she might have appreciated his unruffled command and steady presence.

  “Hold up there, Danny. If Ms. Davidson decides that she wants to go to the Days Inn, I can’t think of a better guy to make sure she gets there safely. But truth be told, man, I’m hoping I can convince Attorney Davidson to come to my office and work through what has been a challenging day. Make that a hell of a challenging week for us both.”

  Lightly grasping her arm, Titus pulled the trembling woman next to him and murmured, “How about it, Rita? We gonna let that fucking asshole call the final quarter for this game we’ve been forced to play? How about I call an audible and you and I decide how it’s going to end?” When she didn’t answer, but leaned into him ever so slightly, he drawled, “Don’t know about you, Counselor, but I could go for a swig or three of the best booze I have. The only thing that would make it better is if you would share that fine whiskey with me.” When she didn’t answer but didn’t push him away, Titus took a chance and tossed a bill at the wide-eyed cabdriver. “Don’t worry, Danny, if Ms. Davidson decides later she wants to go to the motel, we’ll call you.”

  Keeping a firm grip on her arm, Titus led her through the precinct toward his private office. He called over his shoulder to the desk sergeant, who was regarding him as wide-eyed as the cab driver had, “Officer Michels, hold my calls unless it’s an emergency.”

  At the sergeant’s nod, Rita came to life. “I . . . I told Zane I would be at the motel. He and I need to talk.”

  “Yeah, Rita, you do. But so do you and I. I’ll let Zane know you’re with me.”

  As they got closer to his office, Rita began to reconsider her agreement to go with Titus. Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she acknowledged that she’d been so upset with Senator Powell, she’d forgotten how angry she was with the stern man holding her elbow—and that she’d even allowed him to convince her to come with him. Slowing down, she tried to release her arm.

  To her surprise, Titus tightened his grip. “What’s wrong, Rita?”

  “I . . . I don’t want to do this. I’m angry and upset. The last thing I want is to be with you. Besides, I told Zane that I would be at the motel . . . ”

  Expecting Titus to argue with her, she was surprised when he lightened his hold on her arm. Heaving a hard sigh, he said carefully, “Look, we’ve been through a hell of a week. A lot of what happened I’m not happy about—and some I’m definitely not proud of.” He reached for her chin and held it between his finger and thumb, forcing her to meet his frowning gaze. “But right now, more than anything, I want a strong shot or two of my best Bowmore. What would make that exponentially better is if you will join me.”

  Rita managed to free herself from his challenging hold. Breathing a hard sigh, she confessed, “I admit the single malt scotch sounds damn good to me. The part I’m having trouble with is you.”

  He gave a short laugh. “How about we focus on the scotch and then deal with you and me later?”

  Rita hesitated and then nodded in assent. The last thing she wanted to imply was that she couldn’t handle him, that she was vulnerable to his commanding presence. Unfortunately, she admitted that almost as much as the Bowmore, she wanted to lean into his muscular frame—and just for a moment, feel his arms around her. Maybe then she could somehow convince herself she was strong enough to resist his powerful presence. Which was a problematic conclusion given how her wayward body had reacted to his assertion that after they dealt with the booze, they would turn to “him and her.” Rather than give in to her convoluted emotions, she shook them off and marched toward his office, tossing him a sassy grin. “I hope you’ve laid in a good supply of Bowmore, Sheriff Trouble. I don’t know when I’ve been thirstier.”

  Titus started in surprise, then a sly smile quirked his lips at her Freudian slip. “Hmm, Counselor. I couldn’t have said it better myself. And, yes, in answer to your provocative challenge, I’m convinced I have enough Bowmore to address both of our needs.”

  When they entered his office, Titus shrugged out of his bomber jacket and hung it on the nearby hall tree. Nodding at her suit coat, he raised an inquiring brow. “How about it, Counselor, ready to let down a little, even get comfortable?” When she frowned, he teased her. “Or do you need that protective armor when you’re forced to spend time with me?”

  She knew that compared to his casual trousers and open-necked shirt, her expensive jacket, while stylish, looked affected. Slipping it off, she ignored his confirming nod at her chic, relatively low-necked blouse that made the most of her full bustline. Rather, she hung her suitcoat next to his much larger jacket and made a beeline for the nearest chair, making it clear that she wasn’t interested in his reaction to her clothes. It was bad enough she’d removed her jacket in response to his jibe about her need for protective armor to ward him off.

  Rita sank onto the chair in front of his desk, grateful that she’d been able to make it to his office and the chair under her own power. It had been questionable given her damning slip of the tongue that the astute sheriff had not only caught but amplified—assuring her that he had enough booze to handle whatever “issues” rose up to bite them in the ass. Speaking of which, she decided that while he’d made it clear that her ass was on his mind, it didn’t help her current obsessions tha
t as he filled their glasses with the promised scotch, Titus turned what could only be called his superlative ass to her. It also didn’t help that when he faced her, his muscular physique was as compelling from the front as from the back. As he strode toward her, the devilish twinkle in his flashing gray eyes compounded her untoward reactions to the confounding man.

  After she accepted the glass he proffered, he lifted his glass to hers in a salute, then settled behind his desk. Again he raised his glass and said with a wink, “Here’s to making a serious dent in that scotch we both claimed we needed.”

  Allowing herself to focus on the potent alcohol, Rita sought its calming power. To her relief, after several hearty swallows, she found that she could breathe somewhat normally.

  “Is it working?”

  When she looked up, startled, Titus added with a grin, “At least taking a little of the edge off?”

  Seeing the humor dancing in his slate-gray eyes, Rita forced herself to respond in kind. She shrugged. “A little. At least now you don’t look like a total arrogant asshole . . . just an asshole.”

  He laughed aloud and again raised his glass to her. “Hey, keep drinking. No telling how you’ll feel about me after another glass or two.”

  Rita hesitated, then acknowledged that what the alcohol had really done was allow her to connect with her latent fury. Her anger at her client, at the questionable legitimacy of the case she’d brought, and mostly at the narrow-lidded man studying her, was a simmering tsunami that had been building throughout the day. To deal with her rising agitation, she marched over to the bar and poured herself another couple inches of the intoxicating libation. Tossing it back, she glared at him. “Actually, I take that back. You still look like an arrogant asshole.” She leaned against the counter, then, not sure her escalating anger would allow her to stand, she resumed her seat. “To tell the truth, I can’t decide what I’m angrier about. The way you lied to me and compromised my professional career or made me look like a total idiot in front of the court and my former client.” Her lip trembled and she added, “Or the fact that you made fun of my pantsuits, implying that I look like an over-the-hill, uptight freak.”

  His eyes had widened at the beginning of her verbal assault, but by the time she finished, a hard frown creased his brow. Assuming he was angry with her, she was surprised when after a considering silence, he said, “How about we start with all the ways I supposedly trashed your expertise and compromised your reputation and your career. And, oh yeah, how and why I lied to you. After we’ve done that, perhaps then we can go to the pantsuit issue.”

  Rita didn’t know if he was making fun of her, but he shot that notion to hell when he said softly, “At that point, I trust you won’t mind addressing some of the things I’m angry about . . . ” He blew out an audible sigh. “However, in that I invited you to my lair, how about we start with your indictment?”

  She hesitated, then snapped, “Fine, I will. On that point, why did you invite me here? To ply me with alcohol or to tell me how disgusting I am?”

  “I invited you here to have a conversation. One that is important to us both.”

  “Like hell you did. A conversation implies that both people acknowledge they each have something of value to say. And are willing to listen to the other. What you really wanted to do is berate me . . . to tell me all the horrible things I did to you and Tanya.”

  He narrowed his gaze, then shrugged. “At base, you’re right. That is why I wanted you here. And to make it clear why I had to ‘lie’ to you.”

  “No, Sheriff, you did not have to lie to me. We both know that you did that to humiliate me. You wanted to set me up. My question is why?”

  When he shrugged cryptically, she sneered. “Because I wear pantsuits?”

  Titus laughed, then added bitterly, “Yeah, and because you were willing to go to court and charge me and my daughter with police brutality.”

  Feeling her fury rise, Rita bit out, “You know damn well that you could have told me in confidence about your UC. I know Zane would have. But I’m sure you persuaded him that he couldn’t trust me.”

  She was surprised when Titus agreed. “You’re right. Zane did want to bring you into the discussion, but I convinced him otherwise. Ultimately, he conceded that you would feel obligated to tell your client.”

  “What would have been wrong with that, Sheriff? Were you afraid I might convince my client that we shouldn’t bring the suit?” At his slight shrug, her anger spiked. “But that wouldn’t have served your purposes, would it? You wanted to take him down, didn’t you? The contemptible senator you despise. You wanted to defeat him, crush him. And in the process you wanted to humiliate me in front of the court and . . . my client.”

  Seeing his rising anger, she knew she’d challenged him at the nexus where his chauvinism and arrogance held court. With a dismissive snort, she piled on. “Now I get it. It’s bad enough that I’m an uppity woman. Not only that, but in your black-and-white worldview of right or wrong, legal or illegal, you wanted to punish me for having Martin Powell as a client. That’s what this is about, isn’t it, Titus?”

  Titus merely shrugged, then asked in a voice that was deceptively restrained, “On that point, Rita, I’m curious. How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Sleep at night. I would think it would be impossible to sleep given that you are wasting your considerable talents on one of the most despicable men who walked the earth.”

  Knowing he was right, at least regarding Powell’s perfidy, rather than argue with him about her representation of the senator, Rita refused to allow that her clients were any of his business. Instead, she went on the offensive, taunting him. “Why, I do believe the imperturbable sheriff is actually angry!”

  “Actually, Attorney Davidson, while you might think that I’m angry, I disagree. If you knew me better, you would know that I’m furious.”

  “My goodness, don’t tell me! Titus Trouble admitting to an emotion? A less than perfect one, at that?”

  “I don’t know, Counselor, in circumstances like these, anger appears to me to be the perfect emotion. You knew very well that neither I nor anyone in my office, including, for God’s sake, my daughter, beat that kid up—as much as any one of us would have liked to.”

  Conceding that she agreed with him, Rita twisted the knife. “So what if I did know you and your team were innocent? Even you will admit that our system of justice ensures that everyone deserves as good a defense as they can afford. It just so happens that Martin Powell can afford the best . . . me.”

  Titus’s lips thinned to a hard, white line. His voice shook with suppressed anger. “Tell me, Counselor, regarding sucking up to that pansy-assed senator, are you that hard up for rich clients or are the rumors true? That the senator has added you to his cock-sucking roster?”

  Rita leapt to her feet, choking on her righteous anger. “You . . . you arrogant son of a bitch!”

  Titus slowly rose and rounded his desk, coming within several feet of her. Even in her fury, Rita acknowledged the anger blazing in his eyes. “As for the fucking pantsuits, you’re right. I don’t know what makes me angrier. The fact that you let him dress you in expensive clothes or that he makes you cover your gorgeous ass.”

  Vibrating with anger, Rita clung to the back of her chair to keep from falling. She spit out each tremulous word. “How dare you? How . . . fucking . . . dare . . . you?” Grabbing every ounce of strength she had, she whirled and marched to the door.

  His voice was more compelling in that it was barely audible. “Where do you think you are going?”

  “What’s it to you? I’m leaving.”

  “No, you aren’t.” He moved several steps closer, capturing her in his icy glare. “I’ll tell you when this conversation is over. For now, Rita, sit your ass down.” Holding her gaze, he pointed to the chair.

  “You self-righteous asshole! You think you can tell me when I can or cannot leave? That I need your permission to get the hell out of here
?”

  His response could have cut through glass. “In a word, yes.”

  She whirled away from him and was almost at the door when he reached for her and hauled her up against him. Shoving at him, she spit out, “Damn you, Titus. I’m tired of you grabbing me.”

  Titus nodded, his expression tight with anger. “I agree. How about I do this instead.” Towering over her, he grasped both of her arms and shoved her back against the wall. Reaching for the office door, he yanked it closed, then turned the lock with an ominous click.

  Chapter 8

  Oh my God, what are you doing?”

  Pinning her thrashing body against the wall, Titus said in a gruff voice, “I said you weren’t free to leave. I’m making that clear.”

  Grasping both of her hands in one of his, he dragged them over her head and held them against the wall. Ignoring her attempt to break his hold, he laughed when she tried to twist free.

  Her voice was shrill, frantic. “Dammit! Let me go or . . . or . . . ”

  “Or what, Counselor? Are you going to take me to court? File another disgraceful lawsuit against me? Maybe try for police brutality a second time? Sorry, sweetheart. You oughta know by now that dog won’t hunt.” At her angry snarl, he muttered, “As for what I’m doing? To be specific, I’m going to do what I’ve intended to do for too damned long.” Ignoring her surprised gasp, he grasped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “To be specific, I’m going to kiss you.” Tugging at her puffy bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger, he pinched the corner of her mouth and added, “As for my other intentions, after thoroughly kissing you the way you’ve been begging to be kissed, I’m going to paddle this curvy ass of yours.” At her horrified startle, he reached down and smacked her butt hard, eliciting a sharp cry from her. “But then, there’s no reason I shouldn’t do both.”

  Making good on his threat, he slid his hand under her skirt. To his surprise, his fingers hit the lacy top of her thigh-high, sheer nylon stocking. He jerked back. “Holy Christ, woman, now you’ve done it!” Crouching in front of her, he lifted her skirt, revealing her sexy stockings. Holding her hips, he turned her toward his agitated gaze. Sucking in an audible breath, he stared at her toned thighs encased in a film of silk topped with a honeycomb of lace. Snapping at the silky triangle shielding her mons, he snorted. “And this is what you wear with these sex-kitten stockings? A fucking thong? And that’s it?”