TARA (The Trouble Sisters Saga Book 2)

by Taylor Lee

  At the hoots of laughter and some applause from the charmed crowd, Black pinned a narrowed gaze on Tara and waited until the audience settled. “Not to put too fine a point on it, I couldn’t disagree more with your premise, Ms. Trouble. I am inordinately proud of the innovative developments I’ve created throughout the country. In virtually all cases, I took undeveloped land, often owned by wealthy individuals, and created residential and commercial developments that drastically raised the value of the land and dramatically changed the lives of the people who lived there.”

  Before he could continue, Tara broke in. “Is that how you view the pristine tribal lands that you ravaged to build commercial projects that corrupted their land and the very soul of their culture?”

  Black raised his chin and said disparagingly, “Again, I applaud your linguistic skills if not the accuracy of your research. And while I’m confident you and I could find things to disagree about for hours, if not days, I presume some of your colleagues have questions they’d like me to answer.” Apparently not quite ready to cede the floor, he added, “As to your misbegotten assertions about my treatment of tribal lands, my assistants will be pleased to give you the names of tribal leaders throughout the West who are grateful fans of my projects. Indeed, leaders who insist that the projects have radically changed their tribe’s lives for the better.” Nodding to the Asian woman beside him, he said, “My associate, Jia Yanlin, will provide you with their names and contact information.”

  Making it clear that he was done with her, Black turned to the group at large. “I have time for a few more questions, ladies and gentlemen. Know that if time permits, I’m also willing to schedule in-depth interviews and conversations.” A wry smile took over his expression and he said with an unrepentant wink, “I might even be willing to sit down with the impressive editor of the Sierra Vista Gazette as long as I’m outfitted with my trustiest athletic supporter and perhaps a suit or two of armor.”

  In the hoots of laughter and applause from her clearly besotted peers, Tara admitted that she’d been bested by a master. It was all the more unsettling in that he’d taken her down in an arena where she usually prevailed. Making an effort to leave as unobtrusively as possible, she was surprised when the man she knew was Black’s attorney approached her as she headed for her car.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Trouble. My name is Magnus Armstrong. I’m Mr. Black’s attorney and partner. I’m sorry if my boss came off as a little high-handed. But like you, he has strong opinions, particularly regarding his work. Do know that I’m pleased to answer any questions you have. Perhaps I can buy you a drink—”

  Tara interrupted him. “But of course. If your master is afraid to meet with me, why wouldn’t I be pleased to meet with one of his yes-men?”

  Armstrong laughed. “That’s not how I view myself, nor would I say that Mr. Black would be afraid to meet with you. Indeed, I can’t remember when that adjective was ever used to describe Griffin. Just know that he admires strong women and enjoys discussing important issues with them. Although, when possible, he prefers to avoid controversy.”

  Tara laughed aloud at the suave man’s ridiculous contentions. Turning up her nose, she said with a sneer, “I just bet that Mr. Black likes strong women as long as they came in pairs and are flat on their backs or, better yet, on their knees.” At Armstrong’s surprised start, she added, “You might want to tell your boss that in southern Arizona, small-town women judge men by the size of their balls, not by how expensive their clothes are or how many women they have in their harem.”

  Striding to her car, Tara didn’t bother to look back at the dumbfounded man staring after her. Certain that he was surprised at her untoward and tasteless assertions, she had a strong suspicion that his boss would be less than amused by her ballsy contentions. Indeed, she was certain that he would find her as unappealing and crude as his obvious paramour, Jia Yanlin, was beautiful and sophisticated. A fact Tara wished didn’t gnaw at her as much as it did.

  Chapter 4

  For the next several days, Tara buried herself in online research, preparing to write a series of articles on Shadow Peaks, the development that Black clearly intended to build in her county. She’d been surprised by his assertion that the projects he’d developed on tribal lands had been applauded by the native people living there. Certain that he was exaggerating, if not outright lying, she’d begun contacting tribal leaders in Arizona and other states where Black had worked. To her surprise, she discovered the Native American leaders she spoke with had mixed views regarding the intrepid developer. She wasn’t surprised to talk with leaders who were as antagonistic to Black’s ventures as she was. However, as he’d claimed, he had his fans as well. After the third chief she contacted who literally waxed poetically about how the arrogant developer had changed their lives for the better, Tara decided that she needed to do more research before she wrote the attack articles she’d intended.

  Leaving the fourth floor of the Justice Center where she’d met with cartographers hoping to get evidence of the damage that Black’s project posed to the land, Tara ducked into the elevator, carrying an armload of maps and other files she planned to study. Shoving into the crowded interior, she pressed against the wall, hoping to avoid the cliques of giggling secretaries heading for lunch. She kept her head down, not wanting to talk with any of the cheerful people who might recognize her and ask questions she didn’t want to answer. Already well known in the community as the editor of the Gazette and, probably more importantly, as one of the Trouble sisters, Tara had been surprised that the press conference in which she and Black clashed had become one of the most talked about fracases in their gossipy town.

  Caught up in the turmoil of her challenging thoughts, Tara nodded in response to the salutations from vaguely familiar people as the klatch of women prepared to exit on the cafeteria floor. Too late, she saw Griffin Black standing in the back corner of the elevator when she stepped back to allow them to pass. Flustered when he acknowledged her with an ironic lift of his brow, she attempted to flee with the parade of noisy women but couldn’t escape before the doors closed. Acknowledging that she was alone with her declared nemesis, Tara sucked in a deep breath, determined to ignore him. She’d managed to contain her fluttering emotions when there was a loud clanking sound. To her horror, the elevator car jerked up sharply and then with a gut-wrenching drop, slammed lower and came to a gear-grinding stop.

  Tara let out a surprised shriek and did her best to hang on to the stacks of files she was clutching. A bigger problem than her weighty cargo was the fact that Tara had spent most of her life terrified by small spaces. Even knowing what had caused her debilitating claustrophobia, it had taken her most of her life to find the courage to step into an elevator. It was only in the last two years that she’d forced herself to enter the scary boxes rather than trudge up and down five to ten flights of stairs. Fighting her surging panic, she dropped the files on the floor and began frantically punching the floor buttons—to no avail. To her horror, the emergency call button was equally non-responsive. Jerking her cell phone out of her purse, she tried to connect but couldn’t get a signal.

  Startled, she heard Black say from the back of the car, “Cell phones don’t work in elevators. I’m afraid we’ll have to wait for the building crew to repair the car.”

  Totally discombobulated by her intensifying terror, Tara fought to remember that she wasn’t alone. It was then that she acknowledged it was worse. Turning, she saw a frowning Griffin Black staring at her. Not caring that she must look like a raving maniac, she began pounding on the door and desperately pushing the call button. In seconds, the tall man was beside her. To her surprise, he reached for her shoulders and turned her toward him, forcing her to look at him. His voice was amazingly calm.

  “Hey there. It’s okay, relax. They’ll come soon to let us out. As busy as this building is, it’ll be minutes at the most—”

  She interrupted him with a frantic cry. “You don’t understand! I . . . I can’t .
. . breathe!” Jerking out of his grasp, she pounded against the doors and wailed, “I have to get out of here! Now! Oh God, please, no. This can’t be happening! Help me! I . . . I can’t breathe!” Shoving at his hands, she would have sunk to the floor if he hadn’t caught her. She knew she was hysterical, but she needed to make him understand. Trying to break free, she was shocked when he yanked her up hard against him.

  Stunned by the clearly panicked women, Griffin tightened his grip. Seeing her wide eyes and hearing her pitiful claims that she couldn’t breathe and had to get out of the sealed box, Griffin went into protector mode.

  Tugging her up next to him, he said quietly, “Listen to me, Tara. You are having a first-class panic attack. But I promise you, you can breathe and, moreover, you’re not alone. I’m right here beside you.”

  When she fought harder, torrents of tears coursing down her cheeks, he held her tighter and said in a firm voice, “Look at me, Tara. Now, sweetheart. Eyes on me. Now.”

  When she glanced up at him, obviously not believing him, he said firmly, “That’s the way, Tara. Now, I want you to take a breath.”

  “I . . . I can’t.” Her desperate words were lost in a flood of tears and incoherent sobs.

  “Yes you can, sweetheart. Listen, Tara, we’re going to do it together. When I say one, I want you to take a breath and inhale slowly to the count of five.” When she shook her head, frantically fighting against his hard grip, he said softly, “One, Tara. That’s right. Now, two, three . . . ” Shaking his head at her distraught gasps, he quietly insisted, “Uh-uh, baby. You can breathe. All you need to do is what I tell you. Do you understand?”

  She wildly shoved against him, sobbing hysterically. “I . . . can’t! Let go of me! I have to get out! I can’t breathe!”

  He held her tighter and was firm. “Uh-uh, sweetheart. I have you. I’m not going to let you go.” When she leaned into him, he murmured, “Now, Tara, to the count of five, I want you to breathe in and then hold it. You got that?”

  At her teary nod, he began counting slowly to five. When she obeyed him and held her breath, he praised her. “Good girl. Now we’re going to exhale to a count of five.” When she got to three and then began to fight him, he shook his head. “No, no, honey. You’re doing great. Now, breathe in slowly, then hold it. Good. Now, breathe out.”

  The car began to move after what he was sure seemed like a lifetime to the traumatized woman huddling in his arms but were minutes at most. It jerked up sharply, then started to coast down. At her panicked cry, he secured her tightly against him and said a silent prayer that the repair guys were on site. He allowed himself to breathe out a hard sigh when the elevator car picked up speed and then cruised to an easy stop on the first floor.

  Holding her beside him, he nodded to the frowning repairman standing in the doorway. “Thanks, buddy, you gave us a scare. What the hell happened?”

  The redheaded, bearded guy shrugged and said casually as he picked up his toolbox. “Damned if I know. This baby’s been acting up lately. We need to get some Otis techs in to give it a good once-over. It’s a pain in the ass when it keeps stopping between floors like that.”

  Griffin raised a brow. “I guess that’s one way to describe it.” Sheltering Tara against him, he pressed the door lock, ensuring that the doors didn’t close. Turning to her, he said softly, “How about I help you pick up these files. It looks like you have a few dozen hours of work to do.” Seeing the maps of the land he was developing, he added with an ironic smile, “On second thought, maybe we should just leave these here so you can’t figure out how to unmask me.”

  Still shaking, Tara did her best to untangle herself from his grip. Now that she was standing in the lobby of the familiar building, she was doubly mortified at her shattered state. Swiping at the moisture on her face, she prepared to try to explain her breakdown when she saw Magnus Armstrong and the stunning Jia Yanlin crossing the ornate lobby toward them. Seeing Armstrong’s surprised frown, she could only imagine how bad she looked. Allowing Black to load the files into her arms, she kept her gaze down and murmured, “Thanks. For . . . for everything.”

  She was gratified when he said nonchalantly as if she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself and would never be able to explain her hysterical behavior, “Don’t mention it. Glad I was here. It’s no fun being stuck in an elevator by yourself.”

  Determined to keep her head down and to get the hell as far away as she could from the imposing man, she was surprised when he tugged her arm, forcing her to look up at him. His eyes twinkling with suppressed laughter, he said in a low voice that she hoped his colleagues didn’t overhear, “By the way, I was glad to hear that as a southern Arizona, small-town woman, you think size matters.” He winked at her and added, “I agree.”

  ****

  Much later, after she’d raked herself over the coals, despairing that she could ever again face the arrogant man who now knew more about her than anyone but her family and various shrinks, she made her way to her father’s office. Her agony must have been inscribed on her face because without saying a word, Titus rose to his full height and ushered her into his office. Closing the door behind him, he said carefully, “I haven’t seen that look on your face for a long time, Tara.”

  Forcing herself to respond, she asked in a shaky voice, “What look might that be, Dad?” She snorted and then added in disgust, “Maybe that of a woman who just made a complete fool of herself in front of the worst possible person?”

  Urging her toward the sofa, Titus strode to the minibar and grabbed a bottle of Jameson and two glasses. Pouring a healthy portion in each of the glasses, he handed her one and then sank onto his high-backed leather chair. Raising his glass to her, he took a healthy sip, then answered her agonized question. “No, honey. It’s a look I had hoped never to see again: that of a terrified child who’s been frightened out of her skin.”

  Tara shook her head. “Jesus, Dad. I thought I’d worked my way through it. God knows how many hours I spent with Dr. Fullerton and how much money you shelled out to help me heal.” She shook her head, not hiding her despair. “And then, Dad, to lose it like I did with, of all people, Griffin Black.”

  ****

  Griffin looked up when Jia knocked softly, then stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Griffin, but you have a visitor.” With a questioning frown, she added, “And not just any visitor, but an impressive man in a uniform, no less.” Apparently trying for humor, she quipped, “What did you do, Griffin? Forget to put money in the meter?”

  Griffin laughed as he rose to his feet. “No, Jia. Can’t think of any crimes I’ve committed that I haven’t already paid for in spades.” Walking with her to the door, he opened it to see an imposing man who was indeed in uniform with the name “Sheriff Titus Trouble” inscribed on his name badge. Extending his hand, he shook the older man’s hand and said pleasantly, “Ah, Sheriff Trouble. Please come in.”

  Ushering the tall, dark-haired man into his private office, Griffin pointed to the armchairs beside the low occasional table. “Unless this is an official visit, I prefer to sit here.”

  As the sheriff sank onto one of the upholstered chairs, Griffin went to the bar and held up a bottle of Maker’s Mark. “Don’t know if you are a whiskey man, but I also have a decent scotch if you prefer.”

  “No, thank you. Maker’s Mark will do nicely.”

  Sitting down across from the serious-looking sheriff, Griffin raised his glass. “May I presume that this visit, as welcome as it is, doesn’t have to do with what your daughter has labeled my criminal rape of pristine land in the northern portion of your county?”

  At the sheriff’s curt nod, Griffin asserted blandly, “But that it does concern that impressive and bedeviling young woman who very appropriately goes by the name of Tara Trouble?”

  Chapter 5

  The stern sheriff settled back in his chair, then focused a narrow gaze on Griffin. “I know who you are, Mr.
Black.”

  Rather than take issue with his guest’s confrontational opening, Griffin merely nodded and said quizzically, “Hmm. Please continue.”

  Holding his gaze, the sheriff intoned, “You are a hard man, Mr. Black. A dangerous man. Not a man to trifle with. You have fought your way to the top of an almost impossible-to-reach peak.” He took a studied sip of his drink and added, “I’m impressed.”

  Griffin arched an ironic brow. “But?”

  Making it clear that he had a qualification, the sheriff asserted, “You are not above reproach.”

  Griffin shrugged. “Indeed.”

  As if he hadn’t spoken, the sheriff continued, “No doubt there are many unfortunate people cowering in your wake who made the mistake of trying to thwart you.”

  Again, Griffin nodded and chose not to refute the obvious. Instead, he merely said, “Agreed.”

  As if he wasn’t particularly interested in Griffin’s responses, the sheriff continued, his eyes narrowed in thoughtful contemplation. “While I’m certain you rarely look back or question your actions, as a man your senior in years, I can tell you that when you do look back, you’ll be surprised at the things that you wish you could change. For example, I blame myself for trying so hard to convince my former wife to stay with me that I nearly caused irreparable harm to my daughters. In retrospect, it was fortunate that my ex-wife ignored my pleas and left us before she could do permanent damage to my girls.”

  “But she did do damage?”

  “Yes, she did. Particularly to . . . ”

  When the frowning man hesitated, Griffin finished his sentence. “To your oldest daughter?”

  The sheriff met his gaze head on. “Yes.”

  Griffin leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. Then, facing the man across from him, he emitted a long sigh. “I’d like to interject, Sheriff Trouble, if I may?”