"I'll talk to her, I promise. I'll make her promise not to tell him," Ellie assured him.
"Why would she listen to you!? You're the goddamn devil, as far she is concerned," Robert replied.
"I'll make her, I promise -,"
His hand crashed across Ellie's face, and Tate gasped, dropping the coffee cups. Her sister was not her friend. If anything, Ellie was an enemy. But she was also a woman. And she was pregnant. And her husband had just backhanded her. He grabbed Ellie's arm and lifted her off the bed, lifting his hand to hit her again.
"HEY!" Tate shouted, bursting through the door. They both turned and stared at her.
"Tatum!" Robert called out jovially, letting go of Ellie. "How was the coffee? Did you -,"
"Get the fuck away from my sister, you piece of shit!" Tate shouted, marching to stand at the foot of the bed.
"Tate, just go away, you don't under-," Ellie started, holding up a hand.
"Shut up," Tate and Robert both snapped in unison.
"You are not really a part of this family. Please leave," Robert asked in a frosty voice. Tate crossed her arms.
"You leave. I'm not going anywhere," she informed him.
"I am not going to ask you again."
"You've never hit someone who hits back, have you?"
"Don't push me."
"Please!" Ellie interrupted, surging to her feet. "Please, just stop! Leave her alone!"
"Excuse me!?" Robert looked shocked, staring down at his wife. Tate was shocked, too.
"Leave her alone! Get out, let me talk to my sister!" Ellie demanded.
He slapped her again, and Tate was on him in a second, no hesitation. He tried to grab her, and she shrieked, throwing a punch. She was pretty sure it landed near his ear. She wasn't exactly a street brawler. He turned away and she climbed onto his back, pulling at his hair and hitting him on the top of the head. Ellie started screaming. Robert spun in a circle, yelling at Tate to get off of him. When it was obvious that she had no intention of doing that, he rammed them back up against the wall. Pain shimmied down Tate's spine and she let him go, falling to her feet. He spun around and slapped her so hard, she was knocked to the ground. She scrambled to get away, backing in to a corner.
He hadn't made it two steps towards her when Jameson was on him, pinning him to the wall. Tate hadn't even noticed Jameson entering the room. He was by far the bigger man, with a much stronger physique – Robert couldn't move. Tate leapt to her feet, breathing hard, a hand pressed to her cheek. Jameson glanced at her.
"Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded.
"I'm fine. He hit her. Hard," she replied, gesturing to Ellie, who had her face in her hands again.
"What kind of piece of shit hits a woman? A pregnant woman?" Jameson asked in a soft voice, his eyes very cold. He had his forearm pressed against Robert's windpipe and the smaller man squirmed around.
"It's none of your business, she's my wife," he choked out.
"And Tatum is my business," Jameson growled, nodding his head at Tate.
"Please, we heard the way you talked to her last night – the slut probably probably liked getting slapped."
There was no hesitation; Jameson's fist instantly slammed across Robert's jaw, and Robert slumped to the ground. Tate hurried forward, staring down at the unconscious man. She winced; his jaw was probably broken. She finally glanced up at Jameson. He was breathing hard, his hands balled in to fists, and he was staring down at Robert with wild eyes. Tate stepped up close to him and pressed a hand to his chest, sliding it back and forth. The same move she used to calm Ang down. Jameson's eyes moved to hers. Stared at her.
This is not a game anymore.
Jameson left to go find Sanders, who was staying in a guest house. Tatum walked a practically sobbing Ellie back to her own room. They sat on the bed and she rubbed her sister's back, waited for her to calm down.
"How long has it been like this?" Tate whispered.
"Forever. Since we got married. During the honeymoon, he got mad at me, hit me. He had never done that before," Ellie sniffled.
Six years. Ellie had taken the abuse for six years. For the last six years, Tate had been begging men to push her around and call her dirty names. But never like that, not against her will. She sighed and wrapped her arms around her sister's shoulders – something she never thought she'd do.
"Leave him," she breathed. Ellie shook her head.
"I can't. I'm pregnant."
"There are lots of single moms out there."
"Daddy would be so angry. He picked him out for me."
"Fuck what Daddy says. Does he know he hits you?"
Silence.
Tate couldn't fucking believe it. Of course. Of course her father knew. Robert was a good old boy, from a good old family, so however he treated women was okay. While her father had never hit her mother, Tate had never seen him treat her with any kind of respect, either. Mrs. O'Shea was better seen, not heard. Its own kind of abuse. She handled it by popping pills and getting drunk. Ellie had married an abusive husband. Tate was fucking a sociopath.
We are all so fucked up.
"I can't leave him, Tatum," Ellie repeated, pulling away.
"Why? Why can't you?" Tate demanded.
"You don't know anything about us, about me. I have responsibilities. Where would I go, anyway?" she demanded. Her armor was suiting back up. Pretty soon, Tate would be shut out.
"Anywhere. Come with us, you can stay with me," Tate urged her. Ellie laughed.
"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm scarred for life by the things I heard last night from you two. I couldn't handle being in the same house while you pour hot candle wax on each other, or whatever," she joked. Tate almost laughed – it did sound like them.
"Please, Ellie," Tate whispered. There were footsteps up the stairs, two people going past the door.
"No. It'll be fine. He'll see the baby, and it'll be fine," Ellie said quickly and leapt to her feet, running for the door. Tate followed her out in to the hall, just in time to see Sanders and Jameson carrying Robert's moaning body down the hall.
"Where are you taking him?" Tate asked.
"The hospital. After they help him regain consciousness, I'm going kill him," Jameson said matter-o-factly. Ellie started crying again.
"I'm coming with you," Tate said before dashing in to her room and pulling on a pair of pants. They were suit pants, and looked at odds with her tank top, but she didn't care. She bustled Ellie out to her car and then drove them to the hospital, following Sanders the whole way.
Robert's jaw was, in fact, broken. Jameson didn't pull his punches, apparently. Ellie said he fell down the stairs. The hospital staff looked very unbelieving, probably due to the fact that Jameson stood behind everyone, staring everything down like a demon. He didn't even talk, had just dumped Robert in a wheel chair and then walked away. Sanders took care of everything, hustled off with Ellie and the nurses, leaving Tate alone with Satan.
"Are you okay?" he asked in a gruff voice. She glanced over at him. He was staring straight ahead, trying to burn a hole in the wall with his glare.
"I'm fine. Are you?" she replied.
"I'm not the one who got hit. Are you okay?" his voice was angry sounding.
"It wasn't even that hard, I'm fine," she insisted. He suddenly turned and grabbed her face, turning her left side towards him. She stumbled and pressed her hands against his waist.
"He hit you. I saw you go down. Don't tell me it wasn't hard," Jameson growled at her, his eyes raking over her face.
"It wasn't, really, I promise. It doesn't even hurt," she assured him.
"He's lucky he didn't leave a mark. God, I want to kill him," he breathed against her, his grip on her jaw almost painful. She pushed at him.
"You're about to leave a mark. Calm down," she tried to laugh.
"I'm allowed to. If any mother fucker ever touches you like that again ...," his voice trailed off. She lifted her eyes to him.
He's really upset about this.
"Jameson," she stated his name loudly. His eyes went to hers. "I'm okay. I'm a tough girl from the bad side of Boston, who also happens to be sleeping with a psychotic stock broker who has an amazing right hook. I'm not worried."
He chuckled and finally let her go, but didn't take his eyes away from her.
"I didn't exactly think the weekend would go this way. I wanted to see you squirm. Make you uncomfortable," he explained. She laughed.
"Mission accomplished, Mr. Kane."
"Did your father ever hit you?" he asked. She shook her head.
"No. He was strict and he was mean, but he never hit anybody," she answered.
"Is Ellie going to be okay?" Jameson continued. Tate shrugged.
"I'm beginning to think she never was; she's like obsessed with this thing between us," Tate replied, gesturing between the two of them. "You should have heard her in the kitchen this morning. And then she told me he's been doing this to her since they got married. She thinks the baby will stop him."