Black Heart
Date: 2013-06-22 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal; Romance; Paranormal Romance; Contemporary Romance; Fantasy; Contemporary; Humor; Adult; Supernatural; Ghosts
Description: This is an alternate-cover edition for ASIN B00DJJJJLK. There was something seriously wrong with Marty. That was the only explanation that she could come up with. Why else would she feel this way for the biggest SOB in town? Granted, he was also the hottest man in town, but he was also arrogant, callous, and determined to drive her away even as he drove her crazy with his touch. She should just walk away from him and probably would if it wasn’t for this connection that she’d always had with him that kept making her want more with the one man that couldn’t give her anything more than heartache.

Black Heart: A Cursed Hearts Novel
by

R.L. Mathewson

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events described in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

Edited by Robert Stephens, Jodi Negri & R.L. Mathewson

Additional help came from: Gitte Doherty and Stephanie Shaw
e-book ISBN: 9780988573215

Black Heart: A Cursed Hearts Novel © R.L. Mathewson 2013.

All rights reserved.

Other Books by R.L. Mathewson

Neighbor from Hell Series:

Playing for Keeps

Perfection

Checkmate

Pyte/Sentinel Series:

Tall, Dark & Lonely

Without Regret

Tall, Dark & Heartless

Hollywood Hearts Series:

A Humble Heart

A Reclusive Heart

EMS Series:

Sudden Response

Acknowledgements

I would like to say thank you to everyone who has helped me over the years.

First and foremost, I would like to say a special thank you to Rhonda Valverde and the wonderful ladies at Vampireromancebooks.com. They were the first readers to actually give my books a chance and they helped guide me along the way. They’re a wonderful group of ladies and I miss our Friday night chats. This is also probably the best time to admit that I haven’t been able to hang out at the forum because I may have, um, lost my password and need that reset, lol.

Lieve……..

What can I say? Lieve was the first one to give me a slap upside the head and point out that editing in my books was severely lacking. She’s helped me edit, proofread and fix my technical mishaps over the last couple of years. She’s also helped me develop an unhealthy obsession with Belgian chocolate, but she’s also been very kind and helped me develop a writing style that makes what I love to do more enjoyable.

Thank you, Lieve.

Jenn Tabios Carrion, thank you for putting up with my crazy texts and phone calls and brainstorming this book with me. You helped me a great deal and I truly appreciate it. You’re the best!

This book is dedicated to my children, Kayley and Shane, my two favorite people in the world.

Glossary

About this book

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Epilogue

About the Author

About this Book

Although all of my books mean a great deal to me, this book has a special place in my heart. This book, or rather, the characters from this book were my first attempt at writing a novel. I don’t normally go into my personal life, but this book is very important to my family and this is why:

I started writing this book in 2008 as an escape from a horrible marriage. It was a bad situation for my two young children and myself and there didn’t seem to be any way out. Things were made worse by the fact that everyday I was in an insane amount of pain from a ruptured disc pressing down on my spine.

For months I was unable to fully stand, walk or even sit up without an excruciating amount of pain. It made matters worse and made it difficult to do much of anything. I’d wake up in the morning and struggle to take care of two young children, one an infant. My mother helped us when she could, but the responsibility of taking care of the children was still on me.

My days were hell, filled with pain and agony as I did my best to take care of my children. From the moment that they woke up until they went to bed I took care of them. Once they were in bed for the night, I was finally able to lie down with an ice pack, heating pad and pop some Advil. It made my already horrible situation even more depressing.

I wanted a way to make things better, but with severely limited funds, no car and living in constant pain, my choices were limited. My attempts to gain employment and further my education were destroyed pretty early on, leaving us dependent on our bad situation.

I didn’t want that life for my children, didn’t want it for myself so I started teaching myself anything and everything that I could in the hopes that I would be able to do something from home that would allow me to support my children on my own. I tried website design, looked into several online businesses, but nothing worked for me.

Feeling depressed and needing an escape more than ever, I started getting back into reading. When I was a kid I was probably the biggest bookworm in my school’s very long history, but that changed when I went to college. I started to read less and less and started focusing on other things.

Once I stared reading again, this time romance novels, I couldn’t stop. I loved them, more than I ever thought possible. I especially loved the ones with humor. A lot of books were great and made my days more tolerable. Unfortunately, a lot of books were also not so good and left me wondering how they were able to get published.

I remember sitting on the couch one day, my children were watching a movie and I was reading this really horrible book. I mean, it was awful, so much so that I had to stop ten pages in. I sat there wondering how in the hell that book got published. Somehow that thought propelled me into thinking that perhaps I could write a book.

At first I laughed it off. I’d tried to write a book several times years ago when I was still in college and had never been able to get past the first sentence. Back then writing a book had been pointless, but things had also been different back then. I had a job, was getting an education and had other things to do to keep myself busy.

Sitting on that couch while my kids watched another Disney movie I realized that I’d reached the point where I had absolutely nothing to lose. I remember standing up and taking the ten painful steps to my small desk only to have to turn right back around, shuffle and get my ice pack. By the time that I made it back to the couch I wanted nothing more than to lie down on the ice pack and try to numb the pain in my back, but I was done.

I turned back around, shuffled and eventually made it back to my desk where I sat down, powered up the computer that barely got attention and opened a word document. I had an idea in my head that I’d been toying with for years and decided to go for it.

I was surprised when the story began to write itself and I was even more surprised by how much I loved it. It gave me the distraction that I needed, gave me hope and most of all, it gave me something to look forward to.

Every morning I would get up around five and wrote until it was time to take care of the kids. Then I would work off and on during the day around their needs. Once I put them down to bed for the night I wrote until one, sometimes two in the morning. I kept up this hectic schedule for a few months until one day I was able to write the words, “The End.”

I was beyond thrilled, mostly because it was the best book ever written. I was pretty damn sure of this at the time. I could picture the book getting published, being made into a movie, the whole nine yards. Then a small problem occurred to me.

I didn’t know how to get a book published.

So, I started researching and what I found had me wanting to give up on the writing altogether. Getting published traditionally took an insane amount of work, patience and time. I really wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but I wanted my book, correction, the best book ever written, published. So I put off publishing it for a little while longer after deciding that I should read through my perfect book and tidy it up a bit so that when I sent it off to agents and publishers that it would look absolutely perfect for them.

I sat down and started to read. By the time that I made it all the way to the end, I was banging my head against the desk and groaning. The book sucked, absolutely sucked. I mean, it was godawful, looked like it had been written by two thirteen year old girls high on caffeine and pure sugar.

It didn’t take me long to figure out that no one would want to read this book never mind publish it, so it was with a heavy heart that I started deleting chapters. The only problem was that I loved the characters. Tristan and Marty had started my love for writing, had given me hope and had helped me in too many ways to count.

I didn’t want to say goodbye to them. So, I kept the first chapter, which is in this book and the last chapter and put them away in a file so that one day I could work on them again. After that I went on to write Tall, Dark & Lonely and A Humble Heart. I worked a lot harder on those books and by the time that I felt comfortable looking into publishing those books, I found an article about self-publishing.

I went on to publish a few books, taking a break every now and then to visit with Tristan and Marty. A few months ago when I decided to take a break to focus on my health, I decided to see what I could do with their book. They deserved a happy ending and I was determined to give it to them. The only problem was that I wasn’t sure what that happy ending was going to look like.

It took a lot of time, daydreaming, harassing friends and bugging the crap out of them, but finally one day everything just…..clicked. I knew what I wanted to do with their story. I started working and didn’t stop until it was done.

Once it was done, something still felt off……

They needed a better beginning. I tried to write a prologue a few times, but each and every time it felt forced and I hated it. I wasn’t going to do it, but my beta readers kept pushing for a beginning. Deciding that I’d rather just write one instead of getting slapped around by them cause they’re pretty damn vicious, I sat down and prepared to do just that. I wrote one. It sucked. I deleted it. Again.

I was just about to write an email to Jodi when I realized why nothing felt right. It’s because Tristan and Marty already had a beginning to their story. They were the very first words that I’d ever written. It was their beginning and I decided to use it. The only problem was that I deleted it years ago.

Or so I thought.

Years ago, when I’d experienced computer problems, I’d saved all my documents to a memory stick. Crossing my fingers, I hunted down those memory sticks and was amazed that Marty and Tristan’s original story was still there. The crappiest book ever written, lol.

I copied the prologue and set to work on it. It took me a whole day to fix this thing and while it doesn’t look like my writing style and there’s a chance that it will throw off a few readers, I decided to use it.

If you want, you can skip the prologue and it shouldn’t affect the story for you. I put it in the book because I felt that it deserved its place. They were the first words that I’d ever written for a book and in a way they gave me my start.

This book is part of a definite eight book series with a possibility of a ninth book. This story line will continue on. There are no cliffhangers here, well, there shouldn’t be.

On behalf of my children and myself, we hope that you enjoy Marty and Tristan’s story.

Mo shonuachar

Soulmate…..

Prologue

“I told you that we shouldn’t have brought him here!” the young woman sitting on the floor cried as she struggled to restrain the young boy in her arms.

“I’m sorry! I know that I should have listened to you, but I’m sick of not being able to go anywhere or do anything! I’m sick of this!” her husband yelled as he let go of his son’s legs. Without another word, he stood up and walked over to the window. Once again, leaving her to deal with their son alone.

Struggling not to lose it, she fought back the tears that she knew wouldn’t help as she looked down at her son. He’d stopped fighting, but he was still panicking. She knew the signs well by now. His eyes were squeezed shut and his body was tense.

*-*-*-*

He was trying to tear away from her, from the house, from everything, but he couldn’t free himself or even scream for help. His mother had him restrained on the floor and she was doing everything that she could to keep her hand over his mouth. She didn’t want his grandmother to hear him, to know that he’d had another “episode” as she liked to call it. When he felt her hold on him relax, he made his move, too desperate to get out of the house to care about what happened next.

“Ow! He bit me, Shaun!”

As soon as she released her hold on him, he was up and running down the hall towards the stairs. He tripped over something, but didn’t dare risk opening his eyes to see what it was. He used his hands to help guide his way. He fumbled with frames on the table that he’d seen barely a half an hour ago and was soon moving his hand along the wall.

As soon as he felt the banister he knew that he was almost there. All he needed was to get down the stairs and out the front door and then he’d be safe. Desperate to get out of the house, he started to run faster, too fast, down the stairs and tripped. He blindly reached out to grab onto the banister, but it was too late. He fell down the stairs, hitting what felt like every step until he landed on what felt like the hardwood floor in the front hall. Keeping his eyes tightly closed, he stood up on shaky legs and ran as fast as he could, praying that he was going the right way.

Stumbling forward, his legs suddenly gave out, sending him flying and slamming him face first into what felt like the thick leg of the mahogany end table that his grandmother kept by the front closet. He could feel hot liquid stream down his face, but he didn’t care. He needed to get out of the house. The pain was intense and any attempt to get up was immediately met with more pain and dizziness. He struggled until the only thing that he could do was rollover onto his back and pray that his grandmother finally followed through with her threat and threw him out.

*-*-*-*

“Oh my God, Tristan!” his mother cried, running down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“Julie, is he okay?”

“No, Mom, we need an ambulance! He’s bleeding everywhere!” Julie said, shaking Tristan’s small shoulders as she tried to wake him up, terrified that he’d finally killed himself.

“I called them twenty minutes ago when he started to go into hysterics,” her mother said as she joined her in kneeling over Tristan’s still body. “Honestly, Julie, there is something wrong with that boy. I told you that I didn’t want him in my house.”

Barely listening to her, Julie pulled her sweater off and placed it beneath Tristan’s head. A moment later, she reluctantly left his side and quickly made her way to the kitchen. She grabbed her purse and dumped the contents onto the floor. When she found the small business card that she’d thrown into her purse a few months ago, she grabbed her mother’s phone and dialed, praying that the damn doctor would listen to her this time and do something to help them.

“Dr. Myers, please,” she said as soon as she heard someone answer the phone.

“I’m sorry, but he’s with a patient right now. If you’d like to leave a mess-“

“I don’t care if he is with a patient!” Julie said, cutting the receptionist off.  “Tell him that Tristan McCree has had another panic attack. He’s knocked himself unconscious this time and we’re taking him to Province Hospital,” she rushed to explain, hanging up before the receptionist could argue or ask her any questions.

Feeling exhausted, she walked back to Tristan, praying that this would be the last time that they had to go through something like this. Honestly, she didn’t know how much more she could handle. Tristan was too much for her. She hadn’t been ready for him seven years ago when she was barely sixteen years old and discovered that she was pregnant and she wasn’t ready for him now. She just needed a break. She needed someone to fix him, or…..

She just needed something.

Tristan was still unconscious when the ambulance arrived. The Paramedics bandaged his head and stabilized his spine and were starting to load him onto a backboard when Julie realized that Shaun hadn’t come downstairs.

“I’ll be back in a minute. I just want to tell my husband that we’re going now. Please don’t leave without me,” Julie explained in a rush as she ran upstairs.

She found Shaun sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. “Hun, I have to go. Can you drive the car to Province Hospital? I’m going to ride with Tristan,” she explained quickly before turning around to leave, hoping to avoid another argument. “I’ll see you there soon.”

“No,” was his reply.

She quickly turned around and walked back up the stairs so that she didn’t have to yell. “You can’t go with us. They’ll only allow one of us to go with him. Baby, you have to drive there or I won’t have any way to get home.”

“I said no, because I’m not going. I’m done. He’s wrecking our lives. We can’t go anywhere with him! We’re stuck in our house when we’re not busting our asses off to pay all the medical bills he makes for us. For Christ’s sake, this is the first time we’ve came to your mother’s house in three years! I’m sick of this. He needs more help than we can give him. He needs to be in a psychiatric hospital! The doctors have been telling us that for three years now. You won’t do it, because you think it will make you a bad mother and right now I don’t fucking care! He needs help!”

“I don’t need this right now!” she screamed at him, almost pleading with him to just do it, to free them from this nightmare that Tristan brought into their lives.

Sighing heavily, Shaun got to his feet and went to her. “I’ll go this one last time, but only to make sure that he gets the help he needs and then I’m done. I can’t be his father anymore.”

Julie bit her lip as she looked away, hating herself for wanting nothing more than to walk away from Tristan and pretend that he’d never existed. Shaun was right. Something was wrong with Tristan, had always been wrong with him. She didn’t want to admit that her six-year-old son was disturbed, but maybe now she didn’t have a choice.

“Ma’am, we need to go!” one of the EMTs yelled.

Shaun cupped her chin and raised her gaze to his. He brushed her blonde hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. She couldn’t say anything to him. She just wanted to wrap her arms around him and pretend that only the two of them existed.

“Julie, he’s coming to!” her mother yelled, destroying all her hopes that she could forget this was happening.

Nodding, she stepped away from Shaun and slowly made her way back downstairs.

*-*-*-*

“Alright, on my count, one…two…three,” Tom counted off for his partner as they picked up the backboard holding the little boy. Without a word, they carried the child out of the house.

Tom watched as the little boy slowly opened his eyes. When he looked around, Tom assumed that the little boy was looking for his mother. As soon as the little boy’s gaze landed on the house, the violent tremors began.

“Whoa! Tom, hold up I think the kid is seizing,” Jeff said. In a well-practiced move, they placed the backboard on the ground and re-checked the little boy’s vitals.

“He’s having another panic attack,” the boy’s mother said flatly, sounding exhausted as she stood by them, making no moves to comfort the boy as he started to scream.

Tom looked at his partner and then back at the boy’s mother, pissed that she wasn’t helping. The kid needed his mother and she was just standing there, looking like she didn’t care. “Ma’am, it’s kind of chilly out here. Why don’t you wait in the ambulance and stay warm?”

With a slight nod, she walked over to the ambulance and climbed in the back. Shaking his head in disgust, Tom finished looking the little boy over, making sure that they hadn’t missed anything.

When he was done, he nodded towards the boy and without a word they picked up the backboard and headed towards the ambulance. They found his mother sitting on the tech bench. When they strapped the backboard to the stretcher, she finally looked at her son. She gave the boy what looked like a forced smile.

Tom watched as the little boy looked up at his mother and started to return her forced smile when an expression of pure terror spread over his face. In seconds, he was screaming, his eyes were squeezed shut, and he was tearing at the safety restraints that secured him to the board. He was just about free when Tom managed to grab a hold of him and restrain him on the board. “Jeff, get back here now!”

Tom tried to hold Tristan’s arms down, but he could barely manage it. He was shocked at how strong this six year old kid was. In matter of seconds, the little boy broke free and lunged for the door. Tom managed to grab the kid before he could jump out of the truck. He had the kid back on the board when the kid took him by surprise and kicked him in the groin.

“Get the kid!” Tom yelled when Jeff opened the back doors, in too much pain to move, never mind wrestle with the kid again.

Jeff barely managed to catch the kid when he jumped out of the ambulance. The boy was like a rabid animal, kicking and swinging his fists as he struggled to get free.

“Tom, grab the restraints and call the police! I can’t handle this kid!”

Still huddled on the floor of the ambulance, Tom struggled to stand up and when that didn’t work, he crawled to the front of the ambulance. He grabbed the portable radio. “Echo 14 in need of police assistance on scene. I repeat, echo 14 in need of police assistance.” Still gasping for air, he lowered the microphone and waited for a response.

“Echo 14, sending police assistance to 13 Derry Road. Is that correct?” dispatch returned.

“That’s correct.”

“Police are on their way, echo 14. Fire rescue is on its way as well.”

“I need a hand!” Jeff yelled.

Tom stood up and almost immediately doubled over from pain. He steadied himself by holding onto the back of the seat and shutting his eyes when the pain surged throughout his body and threatened to knock him back on his ass. After a minute the pain lessened and he was able to open his eyes. He quickly found his partner still wrestling with the kid at the back doors. Blood was trickling from Jeff’s nose and the kid was hanging from the back of the ambulance while Jeff held onto his legs. The only thing that he couldn’t see was the woman.

“Ma’am?” he said.

Nothing.

Muttering a few choice words, Tom climbed over the passenger seat and jumped out of the ambulance. He made his way to the backdoors in time to grab the little boy just as he was about to kick Jeff in the face.

“Gotcha!” Tom said. He pulled the kid away from the ambulance, ready for anything.

Halfway to the ground, he noticed something odd. The kid wasn’t fighting anymore. Thinking that it was a trick, he quickly pinned the kid’s arms against his body and held him on the ground. After a minute, the boy’s breathing became more relaxed.  He watched as the boy opened his eyes and looked around, seeming to avoid the direction of the ambulance and house at all costs.

What the hell?

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” the little boy suddenly said, sounding close to tears.

He looked down at the now upturned face of the little boy that he was holding. Looking into the kid’s bright green eyes he sensed overwhelming sadness, too much sadness for a kid this young. He felt lost looking into those eyes. All he could think about was the time that his son had broken his arm falling out of a tree and how much pain Denny had been in.

Having a good idea what the kid needed, he turned the boy around in his arms and hugged him as he stood up. The kid hugged him back and began to cry, his small body trembling as he held on tightly to him. Tom gently rubbed the boy’s back, trying to soothe him.

“It’s okay, buddy.” Tom repeated while walking away from the ambulance and headed for the road. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

*-*-*-*

Julie watched as the paramedic comforted her son. It was odd, she knew that she should be running over there and taking Tristan into her arms and comforting him, but she couldn’t seem to force herself to do it.  She felt a sense of peace from knowing that her son was being cared for and at the same time not having to be the one to do it. With a sense of relief, she turned around and walked into the house. Shaun greeted her at the door with a look of understanding. They didn’t need to say anything. They walked in the house and closed the door behind them.

They were done.

Chapter 1

23 Years Later………

“Tristan, is there anything that you’d like to discuss today?” Dr. Bryne asked, the words leaving his mouth with very little effort or thought, thanks to twenty years of practice. He settled back in his favorite faux brown leather chair and looked through the thick personnel file on his lap that he technically wasn’t supposed to have access to, but given the patient that he was dealing with, it had been agreed that a few rules needed to be broken.

After a moment of silence, he looked up from his notes to find the patient he’d been dying to get on his couch for years, lying on the couch across from him reading a book, obviously set on ignoring him once again. At least this time Tristan wasn’t just sitting there glaring at him. Even Dr. Bryne had to admit that had been a little unnerving, especially the way Tristan just sat there never saying a word or moving a muscle as he glared at him for the entire hour. Not that Dr. Bryne would ever admit this, but that one session had almost scared him off this case.

Almost.

“Tristan, this is your third appointment in the last week and a half and you have yet to participate in a conversation. I think it would be beneficial for you to talk about something that's bothering you,” he said, not really expecting much of a response as he returned his attention back to the thick file resting on his lap, not because he was afraid of another glaring match. He wasn’t, he decided, thankful that the file was so thick that it would probably take him the entire session to read through it, again, and give him a reason to focus on anything other than his patient.

“Can it be anything?” Tristan suddenly asked, surprising him. He hadn’t actually expected Tristan to say anything. Perhaps he was finally about to make some real progress with this stubborn patient. At least, he hoped that was the case.

For years, he’d been dying for a chance to get inside Tristan’s head. He hoped to help Tristan open up, get in touch with his feelings, and learn to express himself in a calm, productive manner. At the very least, he hoped to help Tristan to stop being such an asshole.

Tristan slowly replaced his bookmark and sat up as he considered the doctor. He opened his mouth and abruptly closed it. He shook his head slightly before he looked around the room, his gaze pausing on the large bay window behind the desk and then on the door that led to the waiting room.

The only two exits from the room.

“Now, you’re serious about anything that's bothering me?” Tristan asked, shooting another glance towards the door.

“Yes, of course. Please feel free to talk about anything that’s bothering you,” Dr. Bryne replied, feeling almost giddy at the prospect of finally getting this patient to open up about something, anything. He’d been dying to discover what made Tristan tick since the moment Tom had introduced him to his adopted son, his very pissed-off adopted son. Dr. Bryne knew without a doubt, that given a chance, he could fix Tristan. Now it looked like he was about to get it.

“I don’t even know where to start," Tristan said, rubbing his hands roughly down his face. “This is pretty serious, Dr. Bryne. I need to know that I have your complete confidence here, because what I have to say is pretty disturbing,” he explained before adding in a harsh whisper, “maybe too disturbing.”

This had to be the breakthrough that he’d been waiting for. It was a start at least, he decided as he slowly moved to the edge of his seat, placing the file on the table so that he could give Tristan his full attention.

“What would you like to talk about, Tristan?” Dr. Bryne asked in what he hoped was an encouraging tone and not one that betrayed his excitement.

Tristan looked down at his hands and, after a slight pause, shook his head. A moment later he looked up at the doctor, appearing stressed as he ran his hand through his carefully styled, short blonde hair, messing it up and making it look a little wild. “Doctor, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Go on,” he said quickly, yet encouragingly, not wanting Tristan to stop, not now, not after waiting all these years for this moment.

“I keep getting these uncontrollable urges to do bad things, but you have to understand that it’s not my fault. It’s the bunnies. They’re telling me to do them,” he whispered hoarsely, shooting nervous glances around the room as he spoke.

“Bunnies?” Dr. Bryne repeated slowly, sure that he'd misheard Tristan.

“Yes, pink bunnies.”

“Pink bunnies?”

“They just keep telling me to do these awful things,” Tristan whispered softly, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Tristan, what types of things have they told you to do? Has anyone been hurt?” Dr. Bryne asked, suddenly nervous and for good reason.

“I wish I could tell you no, but yes, people have been hurt. It’s really bad,” Tristan said, sounding a little panicked.

Dr. Bryne didn’t say a word as he sat there, shocked and admittedly more than a little frightened. Almost too afraid to find out what Tristan was about to reveal.

“Dr. Bryne, there have been beatings, vandalisms, and of course I can’t forget about the sacrifices. Pink bunnies require a lot of human sacrifices.”

Dr. Bryne slowly sat back in his chair as his head started to spin. He was frightened, more like terrified. Never in his twenty years of experience had he ever dealt with anything like this before.

“Dr. Bryne, they beat me,” Tristan confessed in a harsh whisper.

“Beat you?” he asked, his voice cracking as panic took over. He wasn’t ready for a patient like this. He should have listened to his wife when he’d had the chance and refused this case.

“The bunnies. They beat me silly when I don’t do what they want. They slap me around like a red headed stepchild. The spankings are awful. They leave little bunny paw prints all over my ass!” Tristan’s cold gaze locked on him as he explained, “Dr. Bryne, the reason I'm telling you this is because they want me to do something really bad right now and I thought that it was only right to warn you.”

Terrified, he ran his eyes ran over Tristan’s large frame. The man was huge, covered in solid muscle and unfortunately for him, a highly trained police officer. There was no way that he would be able to fight him off. Not to mention that he was pretty sure the man was currently armed. He slowly stood up and walked to his desk, careful to appear relaxed as he sat down. He needed to keep Tristan engaged until he could get help.

“What are they telling you to do?” he asked, feigning disinterest as he shot a discreet glance towards the door, calculating his chances of making it to the door before Tristan could stop him.

He had to admit that his chances weren’t very good.

Tristan stood up and walked over to the desk with a predatory gait. For a moment, Tristan simply stood in front of the desk as he stared down at the doctor, further unnerving him. “Doctor, it’s really bad. I'm afraid that……,” he trailed off hesitantly.

Dr. Bryne reached under his desk, slowly, and started to hit the panic button, repeatedly, hoping the damn thing actually worked. “Yes, Tristan?” he asked, his voice cracking as his body trembled.

“Dr. Bryne,” he said, becoming more serious with every passing second, “they’re telling me that I have to take a leak and to tell you that I don’t need therapy.”

Sensations of shock and relief spread throughout his body as his heart pounded in his chest, threatening to burst free as Tristan’s words slowly sank in. He took in a few deep breaths, trying to calm down from the biggest scare of his life, but it was difficult knowing exactly what the man in front of him was capable of doing.

“When I get back in a few minutes I’ll tell you what the clothes in my closet tell me to do late at night,” Tristan said dryly as he headed for the door.

Mildred, his secretary of ten years, came running in with a cell phone clutched tightly in her hand just as Tristan opened the door. When she spotted Tristan, she jumped back, hugging the phone tightly against her chest as she made sure to stay out of his path, making Tristan chuckle.

“Do you need anything, Doctor?” she asked hesitantly, shooting nervous glances at Tristan as he walked past her.

“Nothing, Mildred,…..wait, maybe some cold drinks,” Dr. Bryne mumbled absently as he wiped sweat off his face with a handkerchief, wondering if it was too early to retire.

*-*-*-*

When Tristan returned to the room a few minutes later, he noted that the doctor appeared to be more composed and ready to continue with the department-ordered bullshit that he would eventually find a way out of. He always did and this time would be no different. He’d have the good doctor signing him off to return to active duty soon enough. For now he was going to have to settle for screwing with the man’s head for his own entertainment.

Well, it had been entertaining while it lasted, he thought dryly as he dropped his weight back on the lumpy couch. If the man hadn’t been an old friend of his father’s, he would have already screwed him over and ended this bullshit his way a week ago.

“Tristan, that wasn’t funny.”

“I’m afraid it was, Doc.” Tristan sighed, wondering why he hadn’t just left when he’d had the chance.

“Fine, I see that you're still being stubborn, so I’ll pick the topic for our session,” Dr. Bryne said, sounding put out.

“Pick away, Doc,” Tristan said as he lay back down on the couch. This time he didn’t bother to pick up his book.

“Do you want to talk about the fire or the shooting?”

Tristan gave him a bored look. “Doc, I understand that while I’m out on medical leave that I’m required to meet with you twice a week so I’ll indulge you in this,” he said, not bothering to mention that Hank promised to keep his ass on medical leave permanently if he didn’t answer questions about the shooting.

“Okay…,” Dr. Bryne said encouragingly.

“I chased a known child molester into a house. I found two missing boys tied to a radiator. I shot the prick and earned a bullet in my shoulder when I jumped in front of one of the boys. I killed the bastard and then his accomplice set the house on fire. We got trapped upstairs where my brother found us and led us to safety,” Tristan explained in a bored tone, as he sat back up, trying to get more comfortable, but it was impossible with his shoulder throbbing. “And before you ask, yes, my brother brings it up every chance he gets and no, he won’t let me live it down.”

“Well, he did save your life,” Dr. Bryne mumbled.

“I heard that,” Tristan muttered, lips twitching as he gestured impatiently for the doctor to continue. “Move onto something else.”

“Do you want to talk about your personal life?” At that, Tristan cocked an eyebrow with a silent warning to move onto a different subject, but the doctor simply ignored it. Dr. Bryne sighed with obvious annoyance as he asked, “Are you seeing anyone?”

“I see plenty of people,” Tristan bit out, not liking where this conversation was heading.

“I meant, are you seeing anyone romantically?” he further explained with a touch of aggravation lacing his tone.

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about that?”

“No.”

“You don’t see a problem with that?”

Tristan’s eyes narrowed on the doctor. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Dr. Bryne answered without any hesitation.

“Why?” Tristan asked in a bored tone.

“I find it very odd that a twenty-nine year old man with your good looks and job has never in his life had a steady girlfriend, don’t you?”

Tristan sighed heavily. “My mother got to you, didn’t she?”

Dr. Bryne shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Of course she had. His mother was out to see him married and a daddy as soon as possible. No matter how many times he told her to drop it, the woman just would not give up.

“Of course not,” Dr. Bryne answered as he shifted his gaze to the left. The man was a bad liar, Tristan noted. It wasn’t surprising. The man couldn’t bluff worth a damn at cards either.

“Look, Doc, I’ve dated plenty of women. I just don’t like to think of any of them as a girlfriend.”

“Because it’s a sign of permanency? Do you fear commitment?”

“Just clingy women, Doc.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I’m not afraid of having a girlfriend. I just haven’t found one that I would enjoy spending any real amount of time with or consider bringing home to meet my parents.” It was complete bullshit, but Dr. Bryne seemed to buy it.

“Fine, let’s move onto something else.”

“Let’s.”

Dr. Bryne took a moment to look through his notes, pretending to look for something to discuss. Tristan sighed inwardly, knowing exactly what the doctor would bring up. The man was like a dog with a bone. “Well, it’s been almost twenty-four years since the incident at your biological grandmother’s house. Let’s talk about how you feel about that.”

“I feel fine,” he said with little emotion.

“I don’t think that you do. I think that it really bothers you and instead of coming in here prepared to talk about it, you leave it to me to set the direction of our sessions, hoping that I don’t talk about what’s really bothering you. I think that you can’t accept what happened. You’re hiding,” Dr. Bryne said, picking up the file and taking a pen out of his pocket.

“Are we really back to this again? Look, let me recap it for you, because I don’t want to sit here for the rest of the hour and go over every little detail with you or go in depth about ‘my feelings’. I was six years old at my grandmother’s house. I had a panic attack over something I can’t even remember and fell down the stairs. I tripped and hit my head against the wall, splitting my head open. I apparently freaked out on the way to the ambulance, probably from my concussion. My biological parents were pricks and decided they no longer wanted me. They signed me over to foster care where I stayed for only a couple of days, because my dad came and took me. He fostered me for two months and then he and my mom adopted me. That’s where I’ve been for the last twenty-four years, happy and healthy.”

“Are you?” He looked up from his folder to gage Tristan’s reaction.

“Making me come here is a huge waste of time,” Tristan pointed out, ignoring the doctor’s question since it was just bullshit. He was fine, more than fine no matter what anyone thought.

“I don’t think it is. You were in a highly traumatic situation, yet you act cool, distant about it,” Dr. Bryne noted, looking thoughtful as he watched Tristan for a reaction.

Tristan closed his eyes, biting back a few choice words as he reminded himself that he had to play nice if he wanted to get this bullshit over with and return to work.

"You’re afraid that if you answer me honestly that you’ll realize there are some serious issues that need to be discussed. Tell me about your previous injuries and the bruises they found on your body the last time that you saw your parents. Seventeen fractures, ninety-three stitches, bruised ribs all before the age of six. Does that sound normal to you?”

“I was an active kid. I don’t know how I got the bruises on my body that day, but no one touched me,” he bit out, hating the fact that the doctor kept bringing this bullshit up. The stubborn man had been trying to analyze him since he was a kid and it was annoying as hell.

“Don’t you find it odd that for the six years that you spent with your natural parents that you had all of those injuries and when you were adopted by Tom, he was the Paramedic that came to help you that day, correct? After he adopted you, the injuries went down considerably and you don’t find anything strange about that?”

“Doc, you know that my dad was the paramedic that helped me that day. You guys have been playing poker every week for the past thirty years. I don’t know what to tell you. I told you the truth and you don’t want to hear it. Yeah, my parents were shitty parents, but they never laid a hand on me,” Tristan said in a bored tone, wondering when the man would just move the fuck on.

“Tristan, how does that make you-” Dr. Bryne started to ask, only to be cut off by the sound of someone knocking on the office door as it was opened. Tristan’s father poked his head inside, still looking pretty much the same as he had that day Tristan met him twenty-four years earlier except for the addition of a few grey hairs and laugh lines. “Sorry, Leonard, but I promised the wife that we’d be home for dinner by six.”

Knowing that even Hank wouldn’t bitch about his mother’s request cutting into his therapy session, Tristan got to his feet and headed for the door. He wasn’t surprised when Dr. Bryne didn’t remind him that they still had over twenty minutes left. The man lived in fear of Tristan’s mother and for damn good reason.

Along with his brother and father, he would happily beat the shit out of anyone that ever made the mistake of making her unhappy.

“Tristan, why don’t you wait in the hall while I speak with your father for a minute,” Dr. Bryne said, probably hoping that bitching to his father would gain Tristan’s cooperation. It wouldn’t, but Tristan didn’t care enough to complain about it.

When his father grabbed his good arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze as if he really needed it, Tristan barely resisted the urge to shrug his hold off. “I’ll be right there,” his father said with that overly understanding smile that seemed to be reserved just for him.

His father was worried about him, but that wasn’t anything new. The man was always worried about him, but at least his father wasn’t as bad as his mother. God, that woman turned worrying into an art form. He was just glad that his father had been able to stop her from tagging along today. She’d only agreed to back off as long his father spoke with the doctor to make sure that he was really okay. If it meant keeping his mother from fretting over him, he’d agree to damn near anything.

He walked into the small hallway that led to the waiting room. Not really paying attention to anyone as he sat down and grabbed a National Geographic magazine. A few minutes later he looked up and noticed a pretty woman sitting across from him, watching him. She gave him a flirty smile that really didn’t interest him, but he was bored and willing to kill a few minutes while he waited for his father.

He was about to ask for her name when his father stepped into the room, looking less than pleased. “Pink bunnies, Tristan?”

Fuck, he really shouldn’t have signed that release form allowing his father to ask questions about his sessions. He looked back at the woman to find her giggling.

“Old Nam’ flashbacks,” Tristan explained, making her laugh harder and not really caring.

He stood up to leave when she reached out to stop him. “Wait,” she said, pressing something into his hand. “I’m Jessica and I would love to hear more about the pink bunnies,” she said coyly, giving him an appreciative look as she ran her eyes over his body.

He gave her a small, barely there nod, quickly forgetting about her as he headed for the exit, wondering if he was about to get another bullshit lecture about taking these mandatory sessions seriously. He followed his father to the old man's black pickup truck and climbed in.

Once they were on the back roads, his father decided that they needed to talk. “So, I hear that you’re not happy about attending therapy.”

Tristan shrugged his good shoulder. “You could say that.”

“That’s the requirement while you’re out on medical. There’s nothing anyone can do about it,” Tom reminded him and Tristan knew that it was pointless to argue, but he did it anyway.

“Hank could always sign off and let me return to light duty,” Tristan pointed out as he sank back against the seat, raising his knee against the door until the leg of his pants rose up and over the ankle holster attached to his leg, revealing his favorite handgun. He absently reached down and adjusted the holster before returning to his lazy position.

Tom sighed heavily. “You know Hank’s hands are tied on this one. He needs you back on duty, but you won’t be any good to anyone until that shoulder of yours is healed. You have two more weeks until you can go on light duty. Until then you’re going to have to suck it up and deal with your mother fussing over you and these therapy sessions.”

At Tristan’s grunt, he continued, “You know it’s your own fault that you’re stuck in therapy.”

“It’s not my fault the emergency room doctor is a fucking bleeding heart.”

“I know. I think he overreacted as well.”

An understatement.

If Tristan hadn’t decked the man, Tom would have and judging by the expression on Hank’s face at the time, he hadn't been too far behind. Once that recommendation was sent to Concord, Tristan’s fate had been sealed.

“Can’t believe he complained because I didn't cry over blowing that fucking maggot’s head off. It will be a cold day in hell when I cry over some child molester.”

“Well, it probably didn’t help when you broke the doctor's nose after he refused to pull his recommendation for therapy,” Tom said dryly.

Tristan’s lips twitched. “But it felt damn good.”

Chapter 2

Twenty minutes later they were pulling up to a large, two-story white colonial house, his first real home. Tristan slowly climbed out of the truck, wincing when the movement pulled at his wound. Before he could make a quiet escape and walk to his own home, two houses down, the front door of his parents’ house was thrown open and a short, yet very determined, woman rushed out. He swore softly as his mother quickly made her way over to him.

“How’s your shoulder today?” she asked, running an assessing eye over him, probably trying to determine how much babying she needed to dish out.

“Fine, Mom. I’m going to head home now. I’ll see you later,” he said, quickly giving her a one armed hug and a kiss on her forehead. The one thing he didn’t need right now was his mother fussing over him. He’d had enough of that over the past few weeks to last him a lifetime.

“That’s fine,” his mother said, giving him a kiss on the cheek and giving in a little too easily, instantly putting him on alert.

As Tristan pulled away, his gaze automatically shot across the street, looking for a beat up old yellow Volkswagen that belonged to the woman that he forced himself to pretend didn’t exist. It was there in the driveway. His heart sped up before he could force himself to look away.

“That reminds me, sweetie. Marty accidentally locked herself out. I told her that she could study in your old room until Hank came home. Why don’t you go upstairs and say hello? It’s been a while since you saw each other.”

“I guess I could do that,” he said, telling himself that it was okay, that it wouldn’t kill him to allow himself a moment with her, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed her, craved her and, although he’d never understood it, right now he didn’t want to fight it. Right now he was going to be a selfish bastard and steal a few moments with the woman who deserved better.

His mother smoothed down the collar of his shirt while he struggled against doing the right thing and walking away. “Well, you both moved on since high school and, by the time she’d started college, you were already finished and starting the academy. Sometimes it’s difficult to keep in touch.”

“I know, but I should go say hello. Her dad is my boss after all and I haven’t had a chance to say hello to her since I moved back into the neighborhood,” he said, bullshitting them or himself, he really didn’t give a damn.

“Tell her that dinner will be in two hours when Denny gets here.”

“Sure thing,” Tristan said as he walked towards the house, slowing his pace on the off chance that he’d change his mind like the thousand other times before and simply walk away from her.

As he took the front steps two at a time, he realized that something about this time was different.

There would be no turning away this time.

*-*-*-*

Tristan jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time, but somehow managed to force himself to slow down before he reached his old room. The door was open and he could see Marty sitting on his childhood bed among a pile of books, reading. He stepped into the room and leaned back against the doorframe, content to watch her for a few minutes until even that wasn’t enough, until he needed more than just to watch her from a distance.

“Hey, Marty,” he said quietly when he knew that he should have just walked away.

Startled, Marty let out an adorable squeal as she jumped back. Unfortunately the movement caused her to tilt to the side and fall off the bed. Cursing, he shoved away from the doorframe. His long strides quickly ate up the distance. Before she managed to hit the floor, he was there. He scooped her up into his arms, forcing himself to ignore just how good it felt to touch her, and quickly placed her safely back on the bed. Once she was settled in the middle of the small twin bed, he dropped his hands away from her as if the contact burned him, because it did, and stepped away.

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she pushed her long brown hair out of her face.

“No problem,” he said gruffly, moving away from the bed, hoping to put more distance between them so that he didn’t do something that he’d truly regret later. He moved to the other side of the room and dropped his large frame onto the oversized chair that his father had stuffed in the room a few years ago to keep it from ending up in a yard sale, hoping that he wouldn’t regret doing this later.

*-*-*-*

Marty nervously tapped a pen on her notebook as she frantically searched for something to say to the man that used to be her entire world. “I got locked out,” she blurted, most likely sounding like an idiot.

He gave her a barely there smile. “I heard.”

Not knowing what else to do and in no mood to make an ass out of herself, she began collecting her books. “I must be in your way. I’ll go downstairs and sit at the table.”

She had absolutely no idea how to talk or act around him anymore. It had been years since they’d spent any real time together. Once he’d started college, leaving her behind in high school, they’d quickly become strangers.

Now the only time she saw him was when she stopped by the police station, he came home to visit his parents, or she drove past his house and he was outside. Even then it was only polite nods and greetings. Well, except for that one time when he’d pulled her over for speeding. She was positive that he’d been amused when he gave her that speeding ticket, but she couldn’t tell with him anymore. He’d always acted like ice. Nothing could penetrate his cool exterior. Earning a true smile or laugh from him was like winning the lottery.

She inwardly sighed.

She really missed his laugh.

She really missed him.

“No, please stay. You’re not in my way,” he said softly. “Mom wanted me to tell you that dinner will be done in two hours.”

When she hesitated, he continued. “I also wanted to say hello. It’s been a while since we’ve talked,” he explained as he ran a hand absently over his shoulder. Her eyes followed the movement.

“I heard about what happened. I’m sorry. That must have been awful,” she said, relieved that she managed to talk about one of the worst nights of her life without crying.

She knew that he wouldn’t appreciate it, especially since he had no idea that she’d spent the entire night after he’d had emergency surgery holding his hand in ICU, crying and praying that he got another chance. She’d been too afraid to ask for more than Tristan pulling through the night, terrified that it would be asking too much and that she’d lose him, but now…..

Now she wished that she’d asked for more.

From the moment that she saw him sitting in Tom and Beth’s living room the day they’d picked him up from foster care, she’d felt connected to him. It wasn’t something she’d ever admitted to anyone, not even to Tristan when they were kids and he was her world. It was so strange, still was, but from that moment when she saw him, she’d felt a deep connection with him. Still did even if they hadn’t really spoken in years. It was strange and horrible at the same time.

She wished that she didn’t feel this way about him. She hated this draw to him, couldn’t explain it, and most days she fought against the heartache that being separated from him caused. She’d never hated this strange connection to him more than the day that she got the call from her father and was told that Tristan had been shot and might not make it through the night. Hated it because the impending loss felt powerful, too powerful and so damn familiar. It felt like she’d gone through it a hundred times before and one more time would have been one too many.

He merely shrugged off her comments. “It’s over.” Most men that she knew, including her father, would have taken that as a cue to tell her all about it with the typical embellishments added. Not Tristan. Even as a child he’d hated talking about himself or bringing any attention his way no matter the reason.

“Tell me about school,” he demanded softly. It seemed things really hadn’t changed. He’d always been interested in what she had to say even if the topic was crayons, dresses, or boys picking on her. He’d always been so sweet and patient with her. She didn’t entirely believe his reputation of being a cold bastard. He’d always been kind to her even when she’d acted like a brat.

“It’s going well,” she said quickly. She was really in no mood to talk about school since she was up to her eyeballs in reading just to finish her thesis. Her personal life was out as well since she didn’t really have one. The guy she'd kind of been seeing whenever she wasn’t too busy dumped her today via a text.

Could you dump someone that you hadn’t seen in over a month? She didn’t think so. After not seeing or hearing from someone in over, let’s say a week and a half, a break up should be a mutual understanding. But if Jonathan needed closure he had it now.

Then there was her professional life. The bar she’d worked at for the past year and a half fired her earlier today. The new manager was unhappy that she wouldn’t embrace his new managerial style like the rest of his “good” employees.

In other words, she’d refused to wear the skimpy halter top with “Joe’s Bar” written across her chest and “Come get some” stamped across the back of the skimpy shorts that went along with the shirt. After a five-minute standoff, she was given her last paycheck and a dirty look.

Thankfully nepotism was still alive and thriving. Her father, the Chief of the State Police in their area, decided to give her part of the job that she was supposed to start when she graduated, early. Since she was a few months shy of having her master’s degree in forensic criminology, she couldn’t very well start that job yet. So, her father was creating a position for her even though he swore up and down that it was needed. She was going to act as a personal assistant to one of the detectives. That way she would get more hands on experience. Whatever, she just hoped whoever it was didn’t expect her to fetch coffee.

Then there was driving home while begging her car not to die on her until she made it home. Someone up there must love her because the car didn’t die until she reached the driveway. She already knew the car was gone. The mechanic told her the next time the engine died that was it. To top off her day, she locked herself out of the house when she went to get the mail. Now, she wasn’t sure if seeing him after all these years was a good or bad point in her day.

He raised a brow expectantly. Apparently he desired more details. Things really hadn’t changed that much after all. He’d always wanted her to talk, more like demanded it. She could still remember when she was four years old following after him wherever he went, talking a mile a minute about anything and everything while he simply nodded.

She knew that he wasn’t nodding out of politeness or a way to placate a young child. Any time she stopped speaking he would stop whatever he was doing and look at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. She learned very early on that he hated complete silence. If she wasn’t speaking, he covered the silence with music or television for background noise. She missed those times with him.

Not once had he told her to go away or lost his patience with her. Even when his friends were around, she’d always been welcomed. He was her hero, the one she went to when she skinned her knees and the one she yelled for whenever she got stuck up in a tree. He always came for her. Always. He would quietly take care of her before placing a gentle kiss on her boo-boo.

Even as they grew older and he hit his teenage years, he was there for her. By then the connection that she’d felt with him had developed into a bit of a crush. He was handsome, quiet and easy going, well as long you didn’t get on his bad side. There hadn’t been a time when girls weren’t trying to hang off him, but he never seemed to notice them, never really seemed to care.

During her freshmen year in high school she remembered sitting back and watching as girls competed for his attention. He dated a few of them, once or twice, but never anything serious. He didn’t want any type of relationship and, from what she’d heard from Beth and Tom, he still didn’t.

Things had been very difficult for her when they started drifting apart. Even though he’d still lived across the street from her while he’d gone to college, their relationship was never the same. Eventually they became virtual strangers except for the occasional run in. It was weird sitting on his bed in his childhood room being asked to talk once again.

“I heard you’re working on your thesis this semester,” he said, the soft baritones of his voice managed to pull her out of her daze and back into a situation that would only end with her crying into her pillow later tonight.

*-*-*-*

He wanted her to talk, needed it badly. He was surprised how much it pained him to see her in his old room, sitting on his bed again. After all these years, he thought he'd grown immune to her and this goddamn connection that he felt with her. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, distancing himself from her and not a day went by that he didn’t think about her, but it was because he cared about her that he did it. He couldn’t drag her into his hell. Nobody deserved that, least of all her.

Over the years he’d told himself that as long as she was able to have a long happy life that’s all that mattered. Nothing on this earth would make him happier than knowing that Marty was safe, happy, and living the life that she deserved. As much as it pained him, he knew that he didn’t deserve to be in her life. She deserved more than a freak, and he would make sure that she got it, but for now he just wanted to sit here and listen to the soothing tones of her voice. Just one last time. That’s all it would be, he inwardly swore to himself and to her. Then he would once again walk away.

*-*-*-*

The problem was that she didn’t feel like talking about herself. For once she wanted to hear about him. She was sick of finding out everything about him from her father and friends. It was never enough to tell her the one thing that would make this distance tolerable. She wanted to know if he was happy.

Her eyes darted around the room, hoping to stumble upon something that would get him to talk. She nibbled on her bottom lip as she looked out the window towards her house, quickly coming up with something that she hoped would have him talking for a little while.

“How do you like your new house?” she asked, hoping that she didn’t sound too eager. Please don’t let her sound pathetic.

Tristan leaned against the side of the large chair as he eyed her pile of books. He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and pressed two fingers to the side of his temple, making his bicep bulge. Marty forced herself to look away from all that muscle and ignore the unbelievably sexy pose he was striking.

“Too big,” he said, sounding annoyed.

She nodded in agreement even as she bit back a smile. Truth was, the old Thompson place was the biggest house in Stanton. Over the past few years, only large families and a few residential programs had showed any interest in that house. She was surprised when she’d heard that he’d bought it. It was ridiculously large for a bachelor.

“Why did you buy it? If you don’t mind me asking,” she said, hoping to encourage him to continue talking.

He looked away before he muttered, “I couldn’t beat the price.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed even to herself. Had she really expected him to say that he’d bought the house because he wanted to be closer to her? She really was pathetic. They hadn’t spoken in years and here she was harboring fantasies that he missed her, even cared about her.

“I’d rather own my own home than deal with a possible rent hike or pain in the ass tenants and landlords.”

She nodded absently as she thumbed through her notebook. “That’s why I decided not to live at the dorm.”

“Yeah, dorm life can be pretty hectic,” he said distractedly.

Marty looked up at him and frowned. His jaw was clenched tightly shut and he seemed to be averting his eyes to the left. His posture had gone from sexy to ramrod stiff in the short time since she’d looked away from him. The backs of his knuckles were bleached bone white against the dark tan skin covering his now clenched hands.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concerned that his shoulder was troubling him.

“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ve gotta go.”

He stood up, moving slightly to the left as if he were avoiding something in front of him even though there was nothing even remotely close to him and headed for the door. She noted that his eyes were still avoiding looking anywhere to the left.

“O-okay, I guess I’ll see you around then,” she said, frowning as he practically stormed out of the room. A minute later she climbed off the bed to watch him walk across the street. Whatever they were giving him for pain wasn’t enough, she thought as she watched him walk stiffly towards his house.

Chapter 3

Tristan could feel several pairs of eyes watching him as he walked across the street. He knew without looking back that his mother was undoubtedly watching him as she tsked at him.

He had no idea what the woman wanted from him, never had. Truth was he loved her, more than he’d ever loved his birth mother. For as long as he could remember, he tried not to love her or even like her. He did his damndest to keep his new parents and older brother at a distance, but slowly they’d managed to make him love and accept them. Problem was that it felt wrong. He was a freak, a mistake. He used to feel like he was tricking them into loving him. Now he loved them more than anything and couldn’t imagine a life without them, which made him more careful around them. If they ever found out…..

A slight tremor ran up his back, letting him know that Marty was also watching him. He fought against the urge to look back even while wondering if he’d see her smiling at him or frowning. Probably frowning, he was a cold bastard after all. He knew the way he’d walked out on her just now was rude, but he hadn’t had much of a choice. He wouldn’t have been able to sit there any longer while enduring the screams.

“Hey! Look at me! I know you can see me!” the bastard who wouldn't shut the hell up demanded.

Tristan cringed inwardly, but on the outside he remained calm, cold and unaffected. A few seconds later the man screamed in frustration as he jumped in front of him, trying to block Tristan’s path. Tristan rubbed the back of his neck as he smoothly sidestepped the man and the metal pipe sticking out of his neck.

Tristan could have easily stepped through him and dealt with the sudden chilling effect that always accompanied that move, but he detested that sensation, always had. As calmly as he could, he walked straight for his front door, leaving the man trailing after him.

“Come on, don’t be a dick! All I want you to do is go to my house while my wife is away and grab some things out of the house before she finds them. I don’t want her to find out that I’ve been fucking her sister!” the man snapped.

Tristan shook his head in disgust. Why was he surprised? He really shouldn’t have been. The requests he received from the dead were never selfless. They either wanted help catching their killer, which as a detective, he really didn’t mind doing. Hell, it was the reason he took the job. He figured he’d put his abnormality to good use. Other than that, he received requests for revenge. He couldn’t even count the number of times ghosts begged him to kill on their behalf. Other times he was asked, no, more like ordered, to straighten out the shit the dead left behind. They wanted to make sure the relatives that they’d hated didn’t see a cent of their money, or they wanted to rub it in their spouse’s face that they screwed around. No one ever sought him out with an unselfish motive.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. Shayne had come to him eighteen years ago to help him as unbelievable as that sounded. Back then, he’d been an eleven year old kid, scared shitless and angry at everything and everyone. His parents were at their wits end, but unlike his birth parents they weren’t willing to give up on him. They did the opposite in fact.

His father started to refuse overtime so that he could spend more time with him. They went to ballgames, weekend trips to Boston, movies and just hung out. His mother bent over backwards to race home between classes so that she could be there when he got home from school everyday. She’d bake him cookies, play a game with him or help him with his homework before she had to race back to Reese College to teach her next class. Hell, even his brother Denny started dragging him along on his dates and, when any of his girlfriends bitched about having a little kid along, she was history.

It helped quite a bit at the time, but none of their good intentions fixed what was really wrong. During the day he was still harassed and assaulted by the dead. He’d learned after he was adopted how to act like nothing hurt or bothered him. By the time he was ten, he could sit in algebra class answering a question while he was being punched, kicked, and clawed by the dead who were pissed at being ignored by the only person that could see them. He’d also learned that the best way to keep his parents and teachers from asking about his bruises and cuts was to keep them covered. At night he’d figured out that sleeping under his bed made it more difficult for them to hurt him.

Nothing helped the rage building inside of him. He hated his life. Most of all he hated the fact that he was different and couldn’t tell anyone or he’d be taken from his family. He lived in constant fear that he would say or do something that would ruin everything. The only time he felt at ease was when Marty was around. She made him feel almost human. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop him from getting hurt and she’d been too young to confide in.

By the time Shayne came around, Tristan was a shell of his former self. For so long he’d acted like nothing mattered until it finally hadn’t. He didn’t think anything could be worse than being stalked by the dead. The night Shayne showed up proved that he didn’t know shit.

Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred that night to clue him into the hell that awaited him. He’d said goodnight to his parents. Then after scoffing down ice cream with Denny he went to his room. He was halfway under the bed when a cold hand clamped down around his ankle.

Tristan prepared himself for a fight as he was dragged out from under the bed. He didn’t have much time to react before he was pinned to the floor and his pajama bottoms were torn from his body. To this day he could still remember that raspy voice in his ear.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, boy,” the ghost had said, cruelly laughing while Tristan struggled against the urge to scream.

He’d never been more afraid in his life. Desperately he tried to free himself, but the man had been stronger. Tristan vomited the ice cream he’d just consumed all over the floor as the man rubbed against him. He sobbed quietly, knowing there was nothing he could do or say to escape. Yelling for help wouldn’t have done anything except bring him more shame and he’d had more than enough of that. Just when he’d accepted what was about to happen to him, Shayne arrived.

“Get your hands off the lad,” Shayne had said with a thick Irish brogue.

In seconds, Tristan was free to crawl back beneath the bed where he squeezed his eyes shut and desperately tried to stop crying. He listened as the men fought, praying that they would just leave him alone.

“Come on out, lad. He’s gone,” Shayne said calmly a few minutes later when the sounds of fighting and shouting suddenly stopped.

Tristan lay beneath the bed, trembling and terrified of what would happen to him if they got their hands on him again. “N-no.”

Shayne sighed heavily, “That’s fine, lad. I’ll just sit here and make sure that no else bothers ye tonight. When ye feel comfortable, ye come on out and I’ll tuck ye into bed.”

Tristan didn’t trust him so he stayed under the bed, quietly sobbing. He didn’t know how he was going to make it through another day, especially knowing that he could be hurt in other ways now. Beatings were one thing he’d come to accept, being molested was something that he would never be able to live with.

When morning came, he had no choice but to crawl out from under his bed. He wondered how many ghosts were in his room ready to pounce on him with their demands and hurt him when he couldn’t help them. To his complete shock, there was only one ghost in his room waiting for him.

From a glance he could tell there was something different about this one. Every ghost looked solid to him. So much so that sometimes he had to pay attention to the little things that gave them away like walking through things and not being able to touch anything, but him.

This man comfortably sat on the love seat in his room. He’d never seen a ghost able to handle their form well enough to manage that. Normally they fell through the couch. This man sat there studying the welts and bruises that covered Tristan with sympathetic green eyes that matched his own.

Shayne gave Tristan a friendly smile. “Good morning, lad.” He cocked his head to the side to study Tristan. “Everything’s fine. They’ll never hurt ye again,” he’d promised.

Tristan didn’t believe him, didn’t trust him so he did what he always did with ghosts. He ignored him. Shayne didn’t seem to take it personally. He remained by Tristan’s side day and night for several weeks before Tristan slowly began to trust him. Soon Tristan was sleeping in his bed without fear and his body for the first time in his life was free of cuts and bruises.

Not long after that, Tristan began to talk with Shayne, who’d explained that when he’d been alive he’d suffered the same curse as Tristan. He’d led a tormented life because of the curse and, as a result, led his life with a death wish thinking only in death would he be able to find peace. When death finally came at the ripe old age of thirty in a violent act, he was stunned to realize that he’d been cursed in death as well.

Now Shayne was bound to earth to live as a guardian of sorts. He could touch and move things when he chose without any difficulty, but he couldn’t be seen or heard by any living souls except by someone like Tristan. The only thing that changed for Shayne was his loss of human needs like food, water, and sleep. Other than that nothing had changed at all.

Shayne had been with Tristan ever since that first night. At first he’d stayed to protect Tristan until he was strong enough to protect himself. Over the years their bond had strengthened. Shayne went from being his protector and a second father to him to his best friend. Tristan didn’t know what he’d do without him. He was the only one who knew and accepted him for the freak that he was. Without Shayne he’d be lost or probably dead by now, by his own hand or someone else’s, he wasn’t sure.

“Listen, I’m just asking you to do me a little favor,” the man snapped.

“Fuck off,” Tristan said, walking past him to his front door and yanked it open. He rolled his eyes at the sounds of sex and god-awful porno music blasting.

He turned to shut the door and sighed when he spotted the persistent prick standing in his foyer. Tristan gestured to the door. “Get out.”

Pipe man folded his arms over his chest, defiantly. “No, I’m not going anywhere until you do what I want. If you don’t, I promise that I’ll make your life a living hell.”

Tristan shut the door and walked past the stubborn ghost towards the open double doors of the living room. He walked into the room and plopped himself down onto an oversized chair as he grabbed a remote to change the skin flick on the television.

“Hey, I was watching that!” Shayne protested as Tristan switched on the Xbox.

“You know how it ends. She fakes and he comes with his eyes closed while picturing some guy’s tight ass.”

Shayne scowled at him. “I don’t ask for much-“

Tristan cut him off with a chuckle, “Only for your own room, the twenty-four hour playboy channel, and you make me listen to Sinead O’Connor whenever you get homesick. That alone is too goddamn much!”

“Hey! She’s a very talented woman! She’s just misunderstood, that’s all!” Shayne snapped, throwing a pillow at Tristan’s head.

Tristan picked up the other wireless game controller and tossed it to Shayne. “Man up, bitch.”

Shayne threw him a dirty look before he turned his attention to the television. “You’re my bitch, lad, never forget that,” he said with a smirk.

“We'll see…..”

“Yeah, we’ll see, lad. By the end of this game ye’ll be good and spanked.”

“Ah, excuse me…hello?” the man with the pipe in his neck said as he stepped in front of the television.

“No, he didn’t,” Shayne said in disbelief and disgust. He cocked an eyebrow in Tristan’s direction. “Does he not know that I’ll bitch slap him into the next millennium for coming between me and kicking yer ass?”

Tristan sighed as he sat back in his chair. “Apparently not.”

“If you just do what I ask I'll leave you alone. Until then I’m staying,” the man swore.

“Yer not threatening my lad now, are ye?” Shayne asked with a hopeful glint in his eye, a look that Tristan knew all too well.

“Yes, he’ll do what I say or I’ll make his life a living hell,” the man said firmly. He turned a smug look on Tristan. “You know I can do it. Just look how I drove you away from that woman and I swear I’ll do it every time. You’ll never get laid again.”

Shayne’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ye met a woman at therapy? Don’t tell me ye plugged a nutso, lad.”

Tristan dropped his head back until he was looking up at the ceiling, and when that wasn’t enough to escape the bullshit that was his life, he closed his eyes. “They’re not all nuts that go there. Hell, I have to go there and I’m not crazy.”

“Well, ye do see and talk to dead people. Hell, ye live with one,” Shayne pointed out and Tristan didn’t need to look at Shayne to know that he had a sly grin on his face.

Without looking up, Tristan pointed a finger in Shayne’s direction. “Good point.”

“So….,” Shayne prompted.

Tristan looked up and muttered something.

“What’s that now, lad?”

“I said I was talking to Marty,” he grumbled louder.

Shayne’s whole face lit up. “Marty, ye say?”

Tristan rubbed both of his hands roughly over his face. “Don’t start that shit again. You know I can’t.”

“Why? Is yer wee willy not working?” Shayne asked with feigned innocence.

Tristan shot him a murderous glare. “First off, my willy isn’t wee and it works fine. You know that’s not the problem.”

“Ah,” Shayne said in understanding as he nodded solemnly. “Aye, I suppose I do understand.”

Tristan scoffed his agreement.

“I think he’s gay,” the man with the pipe commented.

“No, I’m-"

Shayne cut him off. “Aye, I’m afraid that has to be the case. That’s the only explanation for it. I’m afraid I’ve turned a blind eye to the signs for years.”

The denial that was on the tip of his tongue momentarily forgotten, Tristan narrowed his eyes on his friend. “What signs? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well,” Shayne drawled, making a show of studying his nails, “there’s yer first kiss, lad, talk about awkward. I could tell ye really didn’t want to kiss the lass.”

“Oh, you could tell that, could you?” Tristan asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “It probably had something to do with the fact that I didn’t want to kiss her and you knew that. I told you repeatedly that I didn’t like her, but noo,” he stretched out the last word, “you knew better. What was your reason for making me kiss her? Oh yeah, because back in your day it was normal to be brought to a whore when you were fifteen and, since you couldn’t hire one for me, you thought the school slut was just as good.”

Shayne smiled sheepishly. “She did like ye, lad.”

“She liked everything with a dick!” Tristan snapped. “And I told you that I didn’t like her!”

“Why are ye yelling at me? It’s not like I made ye kiss her,” Shayne muttered grumpily.

Tristan shot him a look of pure disbelief. “Didn’t make me kiss her? You shoved me into her!”

“It wasn’t that bad now, was it, lad? I mean she did give ye a go for yer money,” Shayne said almost defensively.

“She gave me mono,” Tristan said flatly.

Shayne looked thoughtful, “Well, there is that I suppose. Well then, what about yer first time, huh?”

“You got me decked and kicked in the balls!” Tristan snapped.

“I did?” Shayne asked in mock indignation with his hand pressed to his chest. “How was I supposed to know ye’d yell out some other lad’s name?”

“You yelled out another guy’s name during sex?” pipe man asked in disgust. “Here’s a clue, guy.  That does make you gay.”

Tristan glared, just glared at the man.

“Ah, go easy on the lad. At least he’s loyal.”

“What do you mean?” Tristan cautiously asked.

Shayne shrugged lazily. “Ye still moan that name when ye spend in the shower.”

Tristan’s mouth dropped open and then abruptly snapped shut. “You spy on me in the shower?”

He laughed. “Ah, lad, I don’t need to spy on ye. I can hear ye anytime, anywhere. We’re connected. Besides, ye moan the name really, really loudly.”

Pipe man waved a hand to get their attention. “Ah, hello, if you’re thinking of a dude in the shower that kind of makes you gay, too. Now that we have that solved,” he clapped his hands together, “let’s focus on me, shall we?”

But Tristan wasn’t done. “I didn’t call out another guy’s name and you know it!”

Shayne seemed to ponder that for a moment. “Oh, that’s right. I guess yer not gay.”

“Damn straight!”

“Yer just in love with Marty,” Shayne said with a shit-eating grin.

Chapter 4

“Denny, can you give me a hand with the dishes?” Beth asked as she moved to push her chair away from the table.

Denny pouted pathetically while he made a show of rubbing his flat stomach. “I wish I could, Mom. Really, I do, but after that third helping you shoved down my throat, I’m afraid that I just can’t seem to move.”

“I forced you, huh?” she asked with a tolerant smile.

“That’s the way I see it,” Denny said in agreement as he leaned back in his chair.

Beth looked at Tom expectantly.

“Sorry, hun, can’t move,” Tom said sheepishly.

Marty smiled at the two men as she stood up and picked up her plate and Denny’s. “I’ll help, Beth. We should really give these old timers a break.”

“I knew you loved me,” Denny said with a wink.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Marty said dryly as she helped clear the dishes. Since they were eating in the large kitchen, it wasn’t too difficult a task. Beth threw her a wink as the two of them worked together to clear the table.

Denny ran a hand over his short curly brown hair, trying to tame the untamable. “So, where’s my little brother and why the hell isn’t he here to see me?”

Tom sipped his beer. “I think he needed a break from your mother’s fussing.”

“I don’t fuss!” Beth argued.

Both men shared a knowing look.

“I don’t!”

Marty bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. When that didn’t work she turned away and became suddenly busy with scraping plates. Fussing and Beth went hand and hand. If she loved you, she fussed over you. Marty had learned that a long time ago.

When Marty had her appendix taken out when she was ten years old, Beth fussed over her like a mother hen. It took her father, Tom, Denny and Tristan to calm Beth down in the waiting room and stop her from attacking every nurse and doctor that made the mistake of walking through the waiting room. Beth took it as her responsibility to mother Marty after her own mother had abandoned her when Marty was six. Marty loved Beth like a mother and appreciated it, even those times when she went a tad overboard. Like the time Marty had her first period.

Beth decided to combine Tristan’s driving lesson with taking Marty to the pharmacy. Poor Tristan had no idea why his mother was damn near hyperventilating in the front seat or why Marty was cowering in the back seat. He discovered the source of her embarrassment when Beth dragged them both down the feminine product aisle and started handing Tristan boxes of tampons and pads all while asking Marty if she wanted scented or unscented, applicator or applicator free. Tristan choked on air as he dropped the boxes. He tossed his mother the keys and, without a word, walked out of the store and the five miles home. For the next two months Tristan had trouble making eye contact with her. Now poor Tristan was the subject of Beth’s focus, poor bastard.

“Well, sweetheart, you did try to give him a sponge bath,” Tom calmly pointed out while giving his wife a small sheepish smile.

“You what?” Denny nearly shouted.

Beth stood stubbornly in the kitchen with her hands on her hips, glaring at the men. “He’d been shot. He needed to be taken care of. Besides, he’s my baby. It’s not like I haven’t seen him naked before,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, twenty years ago you might have seen him naked. For Christ’s sakes, Mom, he’s a grown man. He was shot in the shoulder, not paralyzed. I doubt he appreciated the effort,” Denny said in clear disbelief. He shot a look at his father. “If I ever get bedridden you keep this woman and her sponges the hell away from me. Hire some busty blonde to tend to my wounds,” he said with a lecherous grin.

Tom just chuckled as Beth narrowed her eyes on her oldest son. “That’s nonsense. I would take better care of you.”

Denny shot his father a look of pure panic. “I’m serious.”

“Well,” Beth said with a sniff, “I don’t think that’s the problem anyway. Tristan appreciated me taking care of him.”

Tom raised an eyebrow at that. “Sweetheart, he barricaded himself in his bathroom and refused to come out until Hank and I dragged you and your sponges out of his house.”

At that, Denny started laughing. Beth folded her arms over her chest, glaring at him. “It’s not that funny.”

He held up a hand while he tried to catch his breath. “That’s not why I’m laughing. I think that was the night he called me up to suggest that we have you committed.”

Beth’s lips twitched despite herself. “Yes, well, it’s not my fault that my babies don’t appreciate me.”

“Oh, come on, Mom. You know that’s not true. You just have a tendency of overdoing it a bit.”

“No, I don’t!”

Tom chuckled softly. “Yeah, you kind of do.”

“Oh, give me one example.” When Tom opened his mouth to answer, she clarified, “That doesn’t involve me taking care of them while they’re sick.”

“That’s easy,” Denny said. “What about our love lives?”

“What about them?” Beth demanded.

Tom shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Ah, sweetie, you are kind of desperate to get them married and give you grandkids.”

She scoffed, “I am not.”

“Sweetheart, you signed Tristan up without his knowledge on ten different internet dating sites. Then you invited the ones who met your qualifications to a party where Tristan was the only guy.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip. “So?”

“So? So, why the hell didn’t you do that for me?” Denny demanded.

Beth ignored him. “I had to do something,” she said defensively.

“Something, huh?” Tom sighed, “Sweetie, you’ve been known to drag poor unsuspecting women across town and shove them in his direction.”

“Well,” she looked down at the floor for a moment, “I had to do something. He never asks anyone out. Never. And he’s never brought a girl home to meet us.”

Denny chuckled. “Mom, he doesn’t have to ask women out. They throw themselves at him. Have you not seen him? With his golden blonde hair, green eyes, perfect tan and chiseled good looks,” he looked at Marty and winked, “much like myself except for the eyes and hair of course, women are constantly after him. He doesn’t have to ask them out.”

“But, he never asks anyone out! And he only dates them a couple of times. He’s never even had a girlfriend,” Beth pointed out.

“Beth,” Tom said tightly in warning. His eyes flashed to Marty who was now focused on loading the dishwasher, afraid that Beth would direct her attention to her lack of a love life. Since that was the last thing that she needed at the moment, she decided that staying quiet and out of Beth’s radar was for the best, at least it was the best thing for her, Tristan was on his own.

Beth’s eyebrows shot up while Denny gave her a “duh” look. She mouthed Marty’s name and both men threw their hands up in frustration.

“Really, woman, where have you been?” Tom asked in disbelief.

“You know for a professor and a nosy mother, you’re really not that observant,” Denny said as he stood up and walked over to the counter to cut two large pieces of cake while Tom walked over to the fridge and poured two glasses of milk. The men sat down and ate their cake, leaving Beth to process the new information.

She looked at Marty, who was almost finished with the dishes and then back at the men with a calculating gleam in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

Denny shook his head as he looked at his father. “Perhaps we should reconsider having her committed.”

Tom sighed, “I’d have to agree. I’m surprised that she didn’t notice years ago and take matters into her own hands.”

Beth looked back at Marty who was done now with the dishes and smiled. “Hmm, interesting. I guess I overlooked a few things.”

“I’ll say,” Denny scoffed.

Marty frowned when she noticed three sets of eyes locked on her. “What? Did I spill something?” she asked, looking down at her clothes.

“Nothing’s wrong, kiddo. Why don’t you grab yourself a large piece of cake and have a seat,” Tom said with a smile.

Denny licked his fork clean. “While you’re up, could you get me a slice?”

“You’ve already had a slice,” Beth said.

“But..but…,” Denny sputtered, looking horrified.

“Besides, if you have another slice, I won’t be able to send half the cake over to Tristan with his dinner,” Beth explained as she raced around the kitchen to put a basket together.

“Fine. Get the food together and I’ll take it over. At least I know my brother won’t deny me more cake,” he said on a heavy sigh.

Beth smiled brightly at Marty, “Actually, I think Marty should bring the food over. By the time she finishes dropping off the food, her father might be home and then she can drag Hank over here for a bite.”

Marty eyed her suspiciously. For years Beth had stayed out of the rift between her and Tristan. She seemed to understand and accept that they’d grown apart. Marty was curious at the sudden change and really wished that she’d paid a little more attention to their conversation instead of focusing on the dishes and hoping that Beth wouldn’t turn her attention on her.

“Okay, I could do that,” she said hesitantly.

“Great!” Beth said brightly. “When you get back, you can have some cake.”

“If I don’t eat it first,” Denny muttered under his breath as his gaze zeroed in on the cake platter.

Beth dragged the picnic basket over to the fridge and started to load it with leftover fried chicken, potato salad, pot roast, corn on the cob, and fruit salad. Then she placed half the cake into a cake carrier and somehow fit that inside the basket as well.

“Here you go,” she said as she practically shoved the basket in Marty’s hands. Marty almost toppled over beneath the heavy weight.

“Ah, Mom, maybe I should carry it over for her?” Denny asked, looking concerned as he got to his feet. “That basket might be a little too heavy for her.”

“Nonsense, she’s a tough girl,” Beth said as she practically shoved Marty to the door.

“Sorry, Marty!” Denny yelled as she stumbled out of the house.

“Sorry about what?” she asked a second before the door was slammed shut in her face.

“Well, that was odd,” Marty mumbled as she shifted the large basket in her hands and headed for the sidewalk. A tingling sensation crawled up her spine, giving her little choice but to turn around. Her anxiety doubled when she spotted Beth standing in the window, beaming and giving her a thumbs up.

“Okay, weirder,” Marty said as she looked away and headed towards Tristan’s house. Beth was obviously up to something. What? She didn’t know, but it couldn’t be good.

*-*-*-*

Tristan ignored the two hens bitching in his living room and focused on the game.

“I’m telling ye, that’s not the best way to get this girl,” Shayne argued.

“Why the hell not? It always worked for me!” pipe man said defensively. “He’s good looking, so it should work.”

Tristan ground his teeth and focused on slaying some vampires. Shayne gestured towards him. “He can’t just go up to Marty and say, ‘Do ye wanna fuck or do I owe ye an apology?’ That’s a stupid line!”

Pipe man threw his hands up in irritation. “Why not? It works!”

Shayne grumbled something about dickheads as he picked up his controller and joined the game.

“Well, why not?” pipe man demanded, again.

“I already told ye, Patricia, Marty is a good girl. That shit won’t work on her.”

“I told you that my name is Patrick, not Patricia,” Patrick growled.

“Whatever, Patricia, until ye come up with something helpful, shush it,” Shayne said, beheading a demon.

Patrick tried to sit on the couch, but fell through. “Well, that sucks!”

Shayne and Tristan chuckled. “Yer just a spirit, lad. Ye can’t take any type of form or interact in this world.”

“But you can,” Patrick said accusingly.

“That’s because I’m not a spirit,” Shayne answered in a bored tone.

“What the hell are you then?” Patrick demanded as he stood up.

Shayne looked thoughtful for a moment. “I guess I’m what ye would call a shipper.”

“A shipper? You mean like UPS?” Patrick scoffed. “What the hell is that?” He held up a hand to stop Shayne from answering. “You know what? I don’t really care, because we’ve gotten way off the topic here.” He moved in front of television and once again blocked the game.

Tristan and Shayne groaned. “Now, where were we? Oh, that’s right. Do what I want or you will never experience a moment of peace again. I’ll also go spy on this Marty chick and watch her when she’s naked,” he added to piss Tristan off.

Tristan glared as he moved to go after him. “I will fucking-“

Shayne cut him off as he gestured for Tristan to sit back down. “No, he’s right, lad. We should help him,” he explained as he stood up and walked over to Patrick.

“That’s more like it,” Patrick agreed, grinning smugly in Tristan’s direction.

Shayne pressed a finger to his lips. “Just out of curiosity, Patricia. When ye were alive, where did ye think ye’d end up when ye died? Heaven or hell?”

Patrick shifted nervously. “I didn’t really think about it.”

“What do ye think, lad? Where do ye think he’ll go?” Shayne asked Tristan, never taking his eyes away from the man fidgeting nervously in front of them.

Tristan studied Patrick for a long moment. He noted the pipe in his neck and guessed that it hadn’t landed there by accident. “I’d say hell,” Tristan said with a shrug.

“What? No way! I’ve led a good life.”

Shayne shrugged. “Let’s see, shall we?” He placed a hand over Patrick’s heart.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Patrick asked. His eyes widened as a black light emanated from his chest.

“Well, I guess ye were right, lad,” Shayne murmured as they watched the darkness do its job.

“Wait, what are you do-“ Patrick started to ask only to disappear in a puff of black smoke before he could finish. The smoke quickly disappeared as if it had never been, taking all evidence of their unwanted guest along with it.

Tristan picked up the second controller and tossed it to Shayne. “Why the hell did you wait so long? He was really getting on my nerves.”

Shayne shrugged. “He entertained me for a bit there,” he explained unapologetically.

“Well, as long as you were entertained,” Tristan said dryly.

Shayne’s gaze shot towards the front door before he grinned that grin that made even Tristan nervous.

“What?” Tristan asked, not liking that gleam of anticipation in the man’s eyes.

Just as quickly as the smile came it was gone. Shayne cleared his throat. “Nothing, lad.” Then with a flick of his hand he sent Tristan’s can of soda tumbling off the arm of the chair, spilling its contents onto Tristan’s shirt.

Chapter 5

“What the hell, Shayne?” Tristan snapped as he jumped to his feet.

“Oh, so sorry. Ye might want to take that off,” Shayne said innocently as he gestured lazily to Tristan’s now soaked shirt.

Tristan shook his head in disgust. “Let me guess. It entertained you to do that.”

Shayne’s lips twitched. “Ye could say that.”

He shot Shayne a dirty look as he used his soaked tee shirt to dry his chest. Before Tristan could retaliate, a knock sounded at the door.

“Ye better get that, lad,” Shayne pointed out, his lips twitching in amusement.

Tristan shot him a glare before he tossed the shirt on the table and stormed off towards the door. Whoever was waiting started to pound on the door before he reached the hallway.

“Calm the hell down! I’m coming!” he yelled. He was in absolutely no mood for company. Between his mother’s constant nagging, Shayne’s fucking with his head, and being stuck on medical leave with nothing to do, he was pissed. Top that all off with seeing Marty today and being chased off by that prick and he was in the mood to kill someone. Well, unless it was a Girl Scout. He might let one of them live if they had some of those caramel cookies that he was addicted to.

The pounding started again. “Unreal,” he muttered as he unlocked the door and yanked it open. His brows shot up as he took in the sight of Marty struggling beneath the weight of his mother’s largest wicker picnic basket.

“A little help here would be nice,” she groaned as she stumbled to the side.

Tristan shook himself inwardly as he reached out and took the basket from her. Marty frowned at how easily he held the basket. She ran her hand through her hair to push it back as she looked up at him and she might have whimpered, just a little.

Her memories of his body did not do him justice, not even a little bit. She remembered that he’d always been lean and well built, but now he was….he was…..yummy. She took in his low hanging, loose fitting jeans that gave a good view of narrow hips and a dark happy trail that disappeared beneath the waistband. Her eyes slowly moved up over his washboard stomach and muscular chest covered with a light dusting of dark hair and a round Celtic tattoo on his right pec. Did she mention yummy? It should definitely be mentioned. Her eyes moved to a dark pink wound on his shoulder, down to his large biceps and the tribal tattoos that circled both arms. To top it all off was a golden tan that highlighted all that yumminess.

The man was a god.

Tristan couldn’t move as Marty ran hungry eyes over him. This was not happening. Surely she wasn’t checking him out. No, she was just curious about his wound. When her eyes fell on it a few seconds later, he was sure that was it.

“She wants ye,” Shayne whispered in his ear. “Yer totally in. Just flex a little muscle, big guy, and she’s yers.”

Tristan just barely caught himself before he told the man to fuck off. That’s all he needed was Marty thinking that he was crazy. That would just make his already fucked up life perfect.

Marty cleared her throat as she tenderly ran a finger below the still healing wound. At least she had enough sense not to touch it directly, unlike his family. It hurt like a bitch when anything touched it and they didn’t seem to grasp that, which in his book was pretty fucked up considering that two of them were licensed paramedics.

“Is that any better?”

“Some days are better than others. What are you doing here?” he asked, mentally kicking his own ass at how rude he sounded, but he couldn’t help but wonder why the woman that he’d been avoiding for years was suddenly showed up on his front step.

Marty sighed heavily. “I was just doing your mother a favor. Don’t worry, I won’t do it again.” She turned and started to leave only to come to an abrupt halt when she saw Beth and Tom pull to a stop in front of the house in Tom’s truck. Tom rolled down the window so that Beth could lean over and yell.

“I’m sorry, Marty. I have to make a run to the college to collect some….things. You know how much Tom hates for me to go there at night alone so he’s going to take me and then we’re going out for a while. We’d thought it would be fun. Oh, and Denny is leaving, too.”

Marty opened her mouth to ask for a ride into town, but was cut off by Beth. “Also, I just spoke with Hank. Your Dad isn’t going to be home until well after three in the morning. I’m not sure when we’re going to be home, probably really late.” She looked past Marty to Tristan.

“Sweetie, you don’t mind if Marty hangs out with you, do you?” Before Tristan could respond, his mother smiled brightly and continued. “Actually, since we’re all going to be out so late you might want to make up a room for her and let her stay with you. I know you wouldn’t turn the poor thing out and make her wait on her father’s front step all night.” If possible, she smiled even wider. “Great, I’m glad that’s all taken care of. Love you!” she yelled as she sat back and effectively ended the conversation, not that there had been much of one.

Tom closed the window while he mouthed what Marty and Tristan thought was “Sorry.” They stood there shocked while his parents drove away. Denny was close behind them in his SUV. He paused only long enough to shake with uncontrollable laughter and confirm their suspicions that they’d just been screwed over.

Marty pressed her palms against her eyes. “This cannot be happening.”

“What the hell was all that about?” Tristan asked as his eyes dropped to Marty’s, in his opinion, perfectly rounded ass. He managed to look up, appearing innocent by the time Marty turned around.

“I have a bad feeling that your mother,” she paused, swallowing hard, “is playing matchmaker.”

Tristan cursed as Shayne burst out laughing. “Oh, it took her long enough, didn’t it? I swear she’s the last one to notice.” He looked at Marty. “Well, maybe not the last.”

“Stop it,” Tristan snapped.

Marty looked startled. “I’m..I’ll…You know what? I’m sure if I put my mind to it I can figure out how to pick a lock.” She gestured to the basket. “Bon appetite and have a nice life,” she said, turning back around and walking away.

“Wait!” Tristan found himself saying, surprising the hell out of himself. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was…I was…just bitching about my wound. It’s itching like crazy.”

She paused, looking over her shoulder at him with a slight frown. “Oh.”

He stepped back away from the door and gestured for her to enter. “Come on in. I’ll give you the tour and show you where you can sleep.”

She rocked back on her heels as she considered it. “I don’t want to intrude, Tristan. I know how much you like to be alone.”

He scowled at that. “What do you mean?”

She just shook her head and shrugged as she said, “Nothing.”

“Are you coming in or not?” he snapped out of irritation, because for the first time in years he had no idea how to handle her.

She smiled sweetly at him. “When you put it that way, how can a girl resist? Oh, wait, probably like this,” she said, brightly, sending him a withering glare as she continued on to her father’s house.

“Yer ma’s gonna kick yer ass for this one, lad,” Shayne said as Tristan threw one last look of longing in Marty’s direction before he reluctantly closed the door.

Frustrated, Tristan rammed a hand through his hair. “I could care less,” he ground out as he took the basket into the kitchen and angrily put the food away. Any appetite he’d had was gone with having to watch her walk away, taking another chunk of his heart with her.

*-*-*-*

“What an asshole,” Marty muttered to herself as she carefully climbed up the trellis located next to her bedroom window. For the first time in years she was happy about the blinding security lights her father attached to the house since they made it possible to see what she was doing, as long as she squinted that is. Progress was slowed considerably as she was forced to constantly stop to detangle her clothes from thorns and splinters. Sadly, she was only five feet from the ground when the sky opened up and poured down on her.

Within seconds she was completely drenched and the trellis turned into a slippery challenge. She used her arm to push away the wet hair out of her face as she cursed Tristan under her breath. The jerk. Like she really wanted to spend the night alone with him. Puhlease. She wouldn’t go somewhere that she wasn’t wanted and he clearly wanted nothing to do with her.

In a matter of minutes she managed to climb to her window. She carefully twined her left arm in the trellis so that she could reach out with her other hand and try to open her window.

“Almost…almost…,” she mumbled to herself. A few seconds later, she discovered, unhappily, that her window was locked. Grumbling several words that would make even her father blush, she climbed down the slippery trellis. Halfway down her grip slipped. She fell the three feet to the ground, somehow landing on her backside in the wrecked flower garden, which now mostly consisted of watery mud.

“Goddamnit!” she yelled with her hands raised to the sky in frustration.

For the next two minutes, she struggled to climb out of the muddy mess. Every time she managed to pull a limb out it was met with a loud suction noise and then a large splatter as she slipped and landed back in the mud until she was completely covered from head to toe. Oh, her day officially sucked ass.

Finally, and with one less shoe, she managed to trudge through the large pools of water taking up residence on the front lawn and made it to the safety of the front porch where she huddled next to the front door. She turned her back to the wind and rain. She pulled her phone out and sighed with relief. At least some things were looking up. Her phone had somehow survived the mud bath.

She took a minute to figure out who she should call. Her father was definitely out of the question, at least for the moment. She didn’t want to ask him to come home to let her in since he was handling a double shift. Beth and Tom were definitely out. They would only come back so that Beth could find another way to stick her with Tristan.

With her luck, Beth would lock them up in her shed out back until they promised her marriage and grandchildren. Her friends were probably out as well. Half of them were at work at the moment and wouldn’t be able to leave. The other half were either studying or with their boyfriends. Unfortunately, that half didn’t own a car or would willingly cut into their time with their boyfriends to help her out. They kind of sucked.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she cursed herself out for losing the spare key a year ago. Why she hadn’t replaced it before it came to this, she didn’t know. Oh wait, yes she did, because she was an idiot. Within minutes she was shivering. She looked wistfully across the street. Damn Beth and her matchmaking ways. If not for that, she could be happily on the couch across the street, fighting with Denny over the last slice of cake. Instead she was going to freeze her ass off out here.

She glared in the direction of Tristan’s house. There was no way in hell that she was going back there begging to be allowed inside his house. She’d rather die out here and be found in the morning as a giant mud popsicle than beg him for anything. He wasn’t that kind boy from her childhood that she remembered. He was the cold bastard everyone accused him of being. Screw him. She wanted nothing from him.

Nothing.

*-*-*-*

“It’s pouring out there, lad,” Shayne said for the tenth time.

“Uh huh,” Tristan responded absently as he fought through a pack of demons to get to the next level.

“She’s probably freezing her wee ass off,” Shayne added.

“Probably,” Tristan agreed with a smirk.

“Maybe,” Shayne cleared his throat nervously, “Maybe ye should go out there and ask her to come back here.”

Tristan chuckled. “Like hell I will. She wanted to go and play burglar. I’m not about to go beg her to come here. If she wants to freeze her ass off, that’s her business.”

“That’s cold, lad,” Shayne said, sounding shocked and a little disappointed. Tristan didn’t know why. Shayne knew that he was a cold bastard after all. Hell, everyone knew it. Still…..

“Hey, I invited her in. She’s the one who decided my invitation was lacking and hauled ass out of here,” he said defensively.

“I know, but still……”

“Still, what?”

Shayne shrugged, “It’s Marty, lad.”

He closed his eyes and groaned. Leave it up to Shayne to get to the heart of the matter. Marty was out there alone, cold, and wet and could be hurt. Even after all these years the thought of her less than happy was enough to piss him off and get him off his ass.

Tristan paused the game and tossed the controller on the couch. “Don’t fuck with my character or I’ll put child blockers on the internet and put a halt to your free porn,” he warned.

Shayne flipped him off and mumbled a promise to sign Tristan up on every gay hookup site he could find if he came between him and his porn. Knowing that it wasn’t an idle threat, Tristan kept his mouth shut and walked to the door. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get Marty here, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to beg. If he had to throw her over his shoulder and carry her spoiled ass back here he would.

He grabbed his keys, a small black plastic box and slipped it into his back pocket, and headed out, not bothering with a shirt since it would just get wet anyway. Within seconds of walking outside he was completely soaked.

A minute later he was strolling up the short driveway towards an equally soaked and muddy Marty. She was sitting on the front stoop, shivering and looking seriously pissed.

“Couldn’t get in?” he stupidly asked.

She shrugged. “Yes, I could, but it’s so much nicer out here, don’t you think?”

He sighed heavily, wondering why he’d left his warm house for this shit. “Listen, I came to invite you back to my house.”

“No, thank you,” she bit out through clenched teeth.

That brought him up short. “You’d rather stay out here and freeze than come to my house?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” he asked, unable to hide his confusion.

She pushed her wet hair out of her face and shook her head. “Just go away, Tristan. I don't want anything to do with you.”

Instead of doing what she’d asked, he ground his teeth and stepped past her. He pulled the small black box from his back pocket and kneeled in front of the door. In less than a minute, he had the front door unlocked and opened.

“How did you do that?”

He completely ignored her as he walked off. Her words hurt more than anything. He wasn’t about to hang around and let her know just how much.

Chapter 6

“So, what exactly are my duties?” Marty asked her father for the hundredth time as they walked through the second security door that led to the back offices where his office was located as well as those belonging to the detectives and supervisors. It’s also where the evidence locker, files and the backup artillery were located.

Hank ran a hand over short hair that was more gray than brown these days. It was a nervous sign that Marty was well acquainted with. He always did it when he had to tell her something that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Like the time when he had to explain why she had boobs at eleven when none of the other girls did, what a period was, and her absolute favorite, the "sex talk" that left him hyperventilating.

Even in his late forties, her father was a well-respected and feared man. He was probably in the best shape of his life and he didn’t take shit from anyone. Tristan actually reminded her of him except that Tristan was a lot colder and seemed like he didn’t care about anything or anyone outside of his family.

He opened the door leading to the “pit”, the area where the offices were located. In the corner was a desk for her father’s secretary and in the middle of the large room were several desks for the uniformed officers to share and a coffee area in front of the break room. Along the far back wall were several more desks for the secretaries that served the entire station.

Hank waited for her to enter while he held the door open for her as he shifted the box he was carrying to his other arm. Marty had to shift the large box in her arms and the two bags hanging off her arms so that she could get through the door.

“Hey, Hank,” one of the uniformed officers said as he walked past them.

Marty looked around the pit and sighed with relief. Sunday was probably the best day for her to start her new job since most of the officers were on the road and there were no secretaries working today. Since it was her father’s day off, it would give her a chance to find out what was expected of her without constant interruption.

Hank stopped in front of an office and gave her what could only be described as a strained smile. “This is it,” he said with false cheerfulness.

Marty’s eyes narrowed first on his face, yeah, he was up to something, and then moved to the plaque on the door. She swore under her breath as she read the name, Detective Black.

“Ah, Dad?”

He unlocked the door and walked in. “Come in and get acquainted with your new office.” He moved to the side so that she could enter.

She walked into the office, which was surprisingly larger than her father's and a lot neater. To her right was a small sitting area with several comfortable looking chairs and a small coffee table, several filing cabinets lined the wall, a large plush couch lined the back wall and two large desks faced each other in the middle of the room. One of the desks held a few folders, obviously just tossed there while the other desk was clearly Tristan’s since it had a computer, pens and folders. “Wow…”

“This office was meant for two detectives, but since our budget only affords us three detectives on payroll, Tristan got his own office,” Hank said as he shifted his eyes nervously away from Marty.

“So,” she placed her box on the empty desk, “was this the office the person you hired for my position last year used?”

Hank shifted guiltily. “Maybe, I don’t remember,” he lied.

“Uh huh.” She walked past her father and closed the door halfway. “Dad, you told me that the guy you hired last year left screaming and crying after a week of being here. Did Tristan have anything to do with that?”

He visibly winced as he ran a hand over his hair, again. “Who’s to say what happened? I personally thought the guy was a bit skittish. He wasn’t my first choice, but then again with our small budget we can’t be too picky,” he explained, giving her a sheepish smile.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Dad, did you tell Tristan that he was going to have to share this office?”

Once again, he smoothed down his hair. “Well, I told him that as soon as we could find someone to fill the position that he would have to share the office. You know how tough it is to compete with the FBI and CIA when it comes to money and benefits.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “We’re lucky we were able to steal you away.”

She sighed heavily, “Dad, you know that I’ve always wanted to work here.”

“I’m very proud of you, sweetie. I can’t wait until you’re done with your thesis and it’s official.”

“Until then….,” she prompted.

He shifted uncomfortably. “Until then, I’m going to need you to help with paperwork, phone calls, and research. It’s not quite a secretary job and not quite what you’re going to be doing when you start your regular job here, but we need the help and you need the money.”

She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked around the spacious office. “But this will be my office permanently?”

“Yes.”

“What if Tristan doesn’t want to share the office when he comes back from medical leave?” She was relieved that she would at least have the office for a while before she was forced to work with him.

He shrugged. “There’s no choice. Neither of you can work in the pit. There aren’t enough desks and there’s no privacy. The files you both work on are confidential. He’ll have to suck it up.”

“Who will have to suck what up?” a familiar deep voice asked from behind her, sending a tingling awareness down her spine and making her breath catch.

It was just so wrong that she reacted this way to him, so damn wrong.

*-*-*-*

It felt good to be back, he reflected as he made his way through the station. After almost a month of being away he was more than ready to be back.  He had to admit that he’d been more than a little surprised when Hank called him last night.

All week he’d expected Hank to come over and rip him a new one for allowing his precious daughter to be caught in the rain. When the call came last night, he was prepared to have his ass chewed out. What he hadn’t been prepared for was Hank telling him that he could come back to work on light duty early.

Being stuck in his office most of the time normally wouldn’t have been fine with him, but after a month of cleaning, reorganizing, and Shayne’s porn marathons, he was desperate to get the hell out of the house even if that meant pushing papers for a while. Not that he was really going to listen to Hank. He never had and probably never would. His personnel file wasn’t three inches thick for nothing after all.

He never thought he’d be so happy to ditch his tee shirt and jeans in favor of a shirt and tie, but here he was feeling like he was whole again in his tie, shirt and gun. It felt so good to be back.

As he walked through the station, he half listened to good wishes and welcome backs as he avoided slaps to the shoulder. All he wanted to do was retreat to his office and sit at his desk for a moment. He needed to feel useful again. Too much time on the hands of a man like him was not a good idea after all. With that in mind, he quickened his pace.

He entered the pit and immediately frowned when he saw that his office door was open. Everyone knew that he hated anyone in his office. It had taken a while, but he had everyone here trained not to enter unless they knocked and even then it better be important.

“There’s no choice. Neither of you can work in the pit. There aren’t enough desks and there’s no privacy. The files you both work on are confidential. He’ll have to suck it up.” Tristan heard as he neared his office.

“Who will have to suck what up?” he asked, already having a good idea what they were talking about. He leaned against the doorframe and took in Hank’s guilty expression. He watched as the man ran a hand over his hair. Great, Hank was up to something. There was no mistaking that sign.

His eyes shifted to Marty. She looked defiant. Interesting. He watched her for a moment as she hauled two oversized bags onto the empty desk and placed them next to a box. Then she grabbed the box and bags out of Hank’s hands as the man looked nervously between the two of them.

“Morning, Hank. What’s going on?” Tristan asked casually.

He watched as Hank noticeably swallowed and then forced a smile.

“It’s good to have you back, Tristan.”

“Uh huh, what’s going on?” Tristan looked pointedly at the boxes, forcing himself not to look at the woman that every fiber of him craved.

Hank gestured for Tristan to follow him. “Let’s go and talk in my office about what duties you’re allowed to perform while on light duty.”

Tristan threw one last look at the shit covering the extra desk before he nodded. “Sure.” This should be interesting.

*-*-*-*

Marty kept her back to the men until they left the room. Then her shoulders sagged. She couldn’t remember ever being this nervous before. It was still odd feeling this way around Tristan. He used to be the one person in her life that she felt comfortable around. She could be herself around him and never have to worry about him judging her or expecting anything from her other than for her to be herself.

Now her nerves were rattled just by the mere mention of his name. This was not good. If they were going to work in the same office, she needed to get over this and soon. She frowned in the direction of the door. Her father was so going to pay for not telling her that Tristan was coming back today. He’d led her to believe she’d have several weeks before she’d have to deal with Tristan.

“No fucking way!” Tristan yelled, startling her and making her drop the book she’d been holding. As she knelt down to pick it up, Tristan stormed back into the office.

Without a word, he picked up one of her boxes and hurried out of the room. After a short surprised pause, she followed after him. He dropped the box off in the secretary’s area and stormed back past her to their office.

“Oh no, you don’t,” she muttered as she grabbed the box and returned to the office to find his arms loaded with the rest of her bags.

“Get out,” he snapped.

“No, this is my office, too,” she said, placing her box back on the desk. She reached for the bags in his arms only to have him jerk them away from her.

“Listen, I don’t have time to babysit you. I’m sure the secretaries will play nicely with you and make you feel like a big girl with an important job,” he said mockingly, “but I don’t have time for this.” He headed for the door only to find Hank shutting it behind him.

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose as he gestured towards the small sitting area. “Sit, both of you,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument.

With one last glare at each other, they put down their loads and sat down in opposite chairs with Hank sitting in the middle. The older man sat back, regarding them both for a long moment. Tristan and Marty glared at each other over the small coffee table, neither one backing down.

Finally Hank cut through the thick silence. “Here’s the scoop for both of you.” They stopped glaring at each other to glare at Hank.

He looked at Tristan. “Marty has applied for and been hired as the Criminal Forensic Specialist for our region. She will not be acting in her position until after she finishes her thesis and receives her diploma.” When Tristan opened his mouth to argue, Hank held up a hand to stop him. “Which will be very soon. Until then she will be acting as your assistant.”

“I don’t need or want an assistant,” he said through clenched teeth.

Hank shrugged. “Too bad. You’ve got one. She’s also going to be helping with other functions and she will be observing you when you conduct interviews. Also, you’ll let her shadow you on cases. She has experience from an internship that she did with the FBI last year, but she needs to learn how we do things around here. Since you’re my lead detective, you’re going to take her under your wing.”

“No.”

“This isn’t up for discussion, Tristan. With your education and abilities you are the most qualified person in this department to show her the ropes.”

Tristan laughed without humor. “No offense, Hank, but I’m not much of a babysitter and I don’t want the job.”

“Then get the hell out of here. You’ll go back on full medical.” He gestured to Marty. “She’s the only reason that I’ve decided to bring you back before you passed medical.”

He left Tristan to think it over, turning his attention to Marty. “You will work Tristan’s shifts. His doctors and physical therapist tell me that his arm and shoulder are not at full use yet. I need you to take over his typing, help him with any of his office needs, drive him to appointments and anywhere else he needs to go.”

“I can drive, Hank,” Tristan cut in.

Hank merely shook his head, “You’re not currently covered to come back. Right now you’re not allowed to drive. So, Marty will do that for you until the doctors say otherwise, which means that you are not going to be responding to any calls since she is not an officer.”

Tristan cursed inventively at that piece of news as Marty cleared her throat. “So, basically I’m his chauffer and assistant?”

Hank nodded. “Among other things. We can’t afford to be down by one detective and his injury isn’t so extensive that I would request another detective to come here only to ask him to leave in a matter of weeks. So, since I have other things that I need you to do and I need him back, I’m going to combine your workloads so that I have my lead detective back full time, you get your training, and I get some help.”

Marty looked thoughtful as she took it all in. Hank turned his attention back to Tristan, who looked ready to kill someone. “You’re to go to all of your appointments. If I find out that you missed one single physical therapy, doctor’s, or therapist session, then you will be back on full medical,” Hank promised.

Tristan ground his jaw, but nodded. He didn’t like this one bit, but he would suck it up if it meant that he was working again.

“Good. Now, I expect you both back here bright and early tomorrow morning ready to work,” Hank said, sounding completely pleased with himself as he stood up and left the room.

Marty looked up to find Tristan glaring at her. “Well, it’s good to know that you’ll never have to lift a finger as long as nepotism is still alive and thriving,” Tristan bit out coldly as he stood to leave.

She scoffed. “Yeah, you would know.”

Tristan paused by the door. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Marty turned in her chair to face him. “Like you don’t know.”

He closed the door behind him and folded his arms across his chest. “Why don’t you enlighten me since you seem to know it all.”

“Fine,” she said, pushing to her feet. She walked over to the desk and leaned back against it, never taking her eyes away from him. “How do you think you got this job?”

“Because I’ve earned it.”

She chuckled with forced humor. “Puhlease.”

He took a menacing step towards her. “Listen, sweetheart, I’ve been busting my ass since I was fourteen taking summer and evening courses. I had my first bachelors degree by eighteen and my masters by twenty-one. I graduated in the top position at the academy and had the highest scores. I’ve earned my place on the SWAT team and I’ve earned this, baby, so don’t try insinuating anything else.”

She hadn't known all that, but that wasn’t going to slow her down. She knew that she was given this part of her job and first dibs at her new position because of her father, but having it thrown in her face by him was not happening. So of course, she had to keep pushing him.

“You don’t find it odd that you’re only twenty-nine, but you’re in charge of two detectives? One of them is fifteen years older than you and has been on the job longer? And you have your own office?”

He took several more steps until she found him nose to nose with her, but she wouldn’t back off. If she did he would know that he could push her around and she wasn’t having that.

“You don’t know shit. I’m lead detective because I have the highest rate of solved cases, the most education, and I put more hours in than the two other detectives combined. I also have my own office, Princess, as you will soon find out, because I am, without any regret, the biggest asshole you will ever meet. I give you a week before you go begging Daddy for a new desk.”

She squared her shoulders even though inside she was trembling. From his anger? She didn’t think so, and she most certainly didn’t want to examine the reasons any further. “I give you a week before you give up and go back to full medical. If you think you’re going to push me around like everyone else, then you have another thing coming. So, you better cut the shit and stop trying to push me or I’ll push back until you leave here crying for your mommy to lick your wounds, Mama’s boy.”

Oh….crap. Perhaps she’d went just a tad too far with the “mama’s boy” comment judging by the homicidal glare he was sending her. She opened her mouth to backtrack when he leaned in, placing his mouth next to her ear.

“Better get a change of panties and a box of tissues, sweetheart, because you’ll be leaving here in the same fashion as your predecessor,” he whispered harshly in her ear, sending a tremor throughout her body that had nothing to do with fear.

Chapter 7

You can do this, she repeated in her head as she walked through the station on Monday morning. Her arms were filled with boxes of pastries and donuts, making walking through the pit difficult. She’d picked them up on a whim on her way into work. She thought it would be a nice gesture on her first day, but she was also nervous, very nervous and when she was nervous, she ate. Usually when she got this nervous she snacked away on her favorite fruit, but she ran out of apples over the weekend and hadn’t had a chance to go to the market to get more. She really should have bought more. The idea of working with Tristan was enough to give her an aneurism.

She really hoped that he'd calmed down by now. When he’d stormed out of the office yesterday after their little spat, she had a feeling that she’d just stepped into hell. Unfortunately that feeling only increased overnight. Now she was on the verge of hyperventilating. Maybe an apple fritter would calm him down? She could only hope. If they did she was running out and buying ten dozen for him. She’d do anything to keep that side of Tristan hidden from her.

For years she’d heard people bitch and whine about him. Never once had she truly believed any of it. It was just gossip, she'd thought. That is until the past couple of run-ins she’d had with him changed her mind. Now she had to wonder how he’d managed to keep that side of him hidden from her all those years ago. The man truly was the biggest prick that everyone claimed him to be and she was stuck with him.

Just great.

“Good morning, Marty!” Rosemary, her father’s secretary, said cheerfully as Marty entered the pit. She didn’t know much about the woman other than she was a busybody. The older woman came around her desk and walked towards her.

“Oh, aren’t you a sweetheart! Here let me give you a hand with all of that,” she said. Her “hand” was gesturing Marty towards the break room and standing back while Marty struggled to place the boxes down without dropping any of them.

Marty stepped back as the woman began searching through the bags. “Oh, the boys will love you for this!” she said as she helped herself to several pastries.

“I’m glad. Um, listen is Detective Black in yet?” she asked, trying not to sound nervous, but failing miserably.

Rosemary tsked around a mouthful of bear claw. “I still cannot believe that your father did that to you. I told him that he should keep Detective Black on medical leave and give the rest of us a break, but would he listen? No,” she said, sounding absolutely disgusted as she shoved another bite of pastry in her mouth.

“And now you’re stuck with him, you poor thing,” she said, shooting Marty a look of pity before she turned her attention back to the pastry boxes. “I think your father should at least assign a uniformed officer to drive him around. There’s really no need for you to be stuck with him all the time. Not when you have so much to do.”

“I don’t mind,” Marty responded, wondering again what exactly she was supposed to do. She had a vague idea, but she’d feel more comfortable knowing exactly what was expected of her. “Did my father leave instructions for me?” she asked, knowing that her father wouldn’t be around today or tomorrow to show her. He was going to be stuck in conferences for the next couple of days up in Manchester.

Rosemary studied her for a moment. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Well, not all the details,” she admitted with a shrug.

“Hmmmmm.” Rosemary looked back towards the door and then at her. “Well, I believe you’re taking your turn to watch over the administrative phones while the secretaries take their lunch. You also need to log in some reports that came in over the weekend into the computer. It’s really not that bad. That is, when you’re not with Detective Black,” the woman explained as she smiled sweetly at Marty.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Marty agreed.

Rosemary’s smile brightened considerably. “Good, um, your turn to watch over the phones is at eleven-thirty and goes to…I believe one.”

“Okay,” Marty agreed, not afraid of a little work even if it was boring.

“I’m so excited that you’re here with us, Marty!”

“I just bet you are,” Tristan drawled from the doorway.

Rosemary’s smile disappeared and was soon replaced by a scowl. “Good morning, Detective Black,” Rosemary said tightly.

Tristan ignored her. He had only eyes for Marty. “Are you ready or do you need a nap before we get to work?”

“I’m ready,” Marty said evenly.

“Good, we have a call,” he said before he turned around and walked away, obviously expecting her to follow.

She was sorely tempted to make him wait, but she couldn’t do that. Technically he was her superior. Damn it. So, she found herself throwing one last look of longing at the pastries, knowing that she would be forced to skip breakfast since there was no way that she could drive and eat at the same. Well, there was, but Tristan made her nervous enough.

*-*-*-*

“I’m supposed to be driving,” Marty said through clenched teeth as Tristan cut through traffic with the emergency lights flaring and sirens blaring. “And we’re not supposed to be responding to any calls,” she said, holding onto the sides of her seat with a death grip.

“Uh huh, that’s nice,” Tristan said absently. Obviously he wasn’t going to listen to her father. She wondered not for the first time, if her time with him was going to be pointless.

“Detective Black, what’s your ETA?” the dispatcher asked over the radio.

He shut down the lights and siren as he pulled into what appeared to be a quiet middleclass neighborhood. “I’m less than a minute out. Do you still have the boy on the line?” he asked into the CB radio handset.

“Yes, he said he’s hiding in his sister’s room, in the closet. He also said that he doesn’t think that he can keep the baby quiet any longer and they’re getting closer to his location. He also reports that his older sister stopped screaming a minute ago.”

“Tell him to stay where he is. I’m coming in.”

“Received, Detective Black. I also have two patrol cars heading to your location.”

“Received,” Tristan said as he pulled over and parked the car.

Marty shifted nervously in her seat as she watched him pull on a bulletproof vest and grab a shotgun.

“W-what do you want me to do?” she asked, trying to stay calm.

“Stay here and out of my way,” he said without looking at her as he climbed out of the car, staying low. He ducked as he ran towards a small one-story brick house. He gestured for curious neighbors to return to their homes. Marty watched as he carefully peeked into side windows and then the front windows.

“Detective Black, the baby is starting to cry. The little boy can hear the men running towards them now,” the dispatcher announced, making Marty even more nervous.

She watched as Tristan kicked open the front door and ducked inside the house. Her stomach clenched into tight knots as she watched him disappear. A minute later the quiet neighborhood was disturbed by a series of gunshots.

*-*-*-*

Tristan slowly walked into the house. A small noise to his right caught his attention. He looked down to find a teenage girl bound and gagged with duct tape, cowering on the floor. Never taking his eyes away from the doorways, he wound his arm around the girl's waist. Clenching his jaw tightly against the pain in his shoulder, he carried her to a small closet in the living room and quietly shut the door.

He heard several large men running along the hallway to his left and the sounds of a baby screaming. “Where is it?” one of the men demanded.

“You said this house was supposed to be empty, asshole!”

“Hey, I didn’t know the girl was staying home sick!”

“Shut the fuck up and find that baby! I don't care if you have to throw it into the dryer, just shut it the fuck up!”

Tristan swore under his breath. Damn it, he couldn’t just sneak up on them. If they got their hands on those kids, he was screwed. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the hall and raised the shotgun at two men wearing stained handkerchiefs over the bottom half of their faces.

“Police, drop your weapons, now!” he ordered.

Both men’s eyes widened as their trembling hands automatically rose towards the ceiling.

“Put your weapons down!”

The men flinched and that’s when all hell broke out. Their fingers tightened on the triggers, releasing several shots into the ceiling. The men nervously dropped their weapons and themselves to the ground, but the guns continued to go off a few more times barely missing Tristan’s shoulder and leg. Realizing that the triggers had locked, Tristan swore as he jumped out of the way of the faulty guns all while keeping his aim on the two cowering men on the floor.

“We didn’t mean it!” the balding one screamed.

“Shut the fuck up before I put you in a dryer, you piece of shit,” Tristan said as he carefully retrieved the hair trigger weapons and cuffed the men. He found two knives and another gun on each of the men. He pulled the men into the living room where he cuffed their wrists behind their backs and their legs together, because he was in no fucking mood for any more bullshit today. After they were secured, he walked through the house, making sure there weren’t any more surprises waiting for him. Once he was certain that there weren’t, he shifted his attention to finding the children.

“Hey, buddy, it’s the police. It’s okay, you can come out now,” he said over the sounds of the screaming baby. Tristan walked into a pink room covered in boy band posters and headed straight for the double white closet doors. He set the safety on his shotgun and set it aside.

He lightly knocked on the closet door. “Hey, buddy, this is Detective Black. Are you ready to come out yet?”

“H-how do I know you’re really a police officer?”

Tristan went down on his haunches in front of the double doors. “Well, I guess you have me there. What if I show you my badge? Will that work?” he asked softly, trying not to frighten the poor kid anymore than he already was.

The baby still screamed as the boy considered it. “I guess,” was his response after a short pause.

Tristan pulled his badge off his belt and slipped it beneath the door. A few seconds later the door tentatively opened and a little boy in pajamas, who couldn’t have been older than ten years old, crawled out on his knees barely able to hold the screaming baby boy in his arms.

The boy sniffled as he struggled to stand up. Tristan reached out slowly and took the baby into his arms, not wanting to frighten the boy. The baby continued to cry, but Tristan didn’t care. He was so relieved the kids were safe and unharmed.

“I-I tried to get him to be quiet, but he’s hungry.”

“You did a great job, buddy,” Tristan said as he cradled the baby in one arm and took the little boy’s hand in the other. He gave the little boy’s hand a reassuring squeeze as they walked into the hallway.

*-*-*-*

Marty watched the house nervously as she tried to comfort the very distraught mother, who’d come home to a nightmare barely ten minutes ago. “My babies!” the woman cried. “I just left to pick up their medication! How could this happen?”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Marty said soothingly, giving the woman’s shoulder what she hoped was a comforting squeeze.

The woman shook as they watched several police officers drag two cuffed men out of the house. They appeared unharmed, which meant…..oh no, Tristan was shot. Marty forced herself not to panic. He was fine. He had to be.

“Are you okay?” the woman suddenly asked, making her realize that she was trembling as well.

Marty forced herself to smile. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Seconds later a teenage girl and a young boy ran out of the house and straight for their mother. “Mommy!” the little boy cried.

Marty dropped her arm from around the mother’s shoulders and watched with a small smile as the woman ran to her children. She covered their faces in kisses as she hugged the life out of them. After a moment, Marty’s gaze returned to the front door. She watched as several officers came and went, but there was no sign of Tristan.

“Where’s your brother?” the woman asked through sobs.

“He’s in there.” The little boy pointed towards the house as his face squished up. “He pooped! The officers are in there arguing over who has to change him.”

That startled a laugh out of the little boy’s mother. “I guess I should go in there.”

An officer standing nearby held up a hand to stop her. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m going to have to ask you to stay out here.”

“But, my baby-“

“The detective has it covered, ma’am,” the officer explained with an understanding smile.

Marty nervously licked her lips. “So, Detective Black is-“

“He’s fine, ma’am,” the officer said.

“The gunshots?” she asked, forcing herself to remain calm.

“The perps' guns went off when they surrendered. No one was hurt.” As the officer spoke, Marty felt herself relax against the squad car.

“There he is, Mommy! There’s the officer who saved us!” the little boy cried.

Marty watched as Tristan strolled out of the house with a baby in his arms. The baby was suckling a bottle while looking up at Tristan adoringly. Tristan kissed the baby on the head and rubbed his back. Marty was a little taken aback. She’d never in her life seen a man who looked more comfortable with a baby in his arms than Tristan did. He looked like he was made to be a father. It sent a weird rush through her body that she quickly squashed. This was not the time or man to have those feelings about.

“Thank you so much!” the woman said as she took the baby into her arms.

Tristan gently rubbed the baby’s head. “You’re very welcome.” He smiled down at the little boy and gently clasped his small shoulder. “Your son did a good job, ma’am. He kept the baby calm and did a great job by calling 911.”

Tristan noticed the daughter looked upset so he added, “Your daughter also kept the boys safe by not informing the men that they were in the house. That ultimately gave your son the opportunity to call for help.”

The woman put an arm around her daughter and gave her a hug. “How did they get in?”

Tristan absently rubbed his injured shoulder. “It seems they busted in through the basement. After my men get what they need, they’re going to attach a better lock for you, ma’am.”

“Thank you for everything, Detective,” the woman said through tears.

Tristan ruffled the young boy’s hair again. “You’re welcome.”

“Ah, lad, yer hurt again,” Shayne said a moment after he popped onto the scene.  “I can see the pain in yer eyes, lad. Ye need to get that looked at.”

Tristan couldn’t agree more. His shoulder was on fire from dragging those men into the living room. He wasn’t too surprised that Shayne had abandoned his Gilligan's Island marathon to come to him. He could sense when Tristan needed help. For some reason they were connected, always had been.

With a forced smile, he excused himself, leaving Marty to follow after him. Without a word, he tore off his body armor. He climbed into the passenger seat and waited for Marty. After a slight pause, she climbed in and adjusted the seat by sliding it forward several inches until she could reach the pedals.

She delicately cleared her throat. “Where to?”

Chapter 8

“Detective Black, stop squirming!” Janice snapped as she mauled his shoulder. Tristan buried his face in his office couch and gritted his teeth.

“Gad, that looks like it hurts,” Shayne said.

“Of course it hurts! I’ve got Attila the Hun trying to give me a massage!” Tristan snapped, uncaring at the moment that he was talking to Shayne in front of Janice, the masseuse from hell, and Marty.

Janice's hands stilled. “There’s no need to insult me.”

“Bullshit!” Tristan snapped. “Who the hell taught you how to give a massage? Freddy Kruger? For fuck’s sake, Janice, cut your goddamn nails!” he snapped the last part as she commenced with her backrub.

He wasn’t kidding about her nails. What kind of masseuse had inch long nails with flowers painted all over them? They kept digging into his skin, sending more fire straight into his injury.

“I don’t know, lad, maybe ye shouldn’t keep pissing her off. It looks like she’s being rougher,” Shayne said nervously.

“Ah, Janice?” Marty piped in from her desk.

“What?” Janice asked, not stopping in her assault, ah, massage.

“You’re leaving scratch marks on his scar tissue,” Marty tried to point out quietly.

“What?” Tristan demanded.

Janice squirmed. “Sorry. I have a big date tonight and well,….you know,” she said with a shrug. “I got my nails done this morning.” She placed her fists on her hips and said defensively, “Hey, I did you a favor by coming here today. It’s supposed to be my day off!”

Tristan struggled to push himself up, but thanks to her massage, his shoulder and arm were on fire and useless at the moment. Janice moved to continue the massage, but Marty stopped her.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she said. Janice rolled her eyes before she caught the murderous glare Tristan was sending her way. Then she stepped back and noticeably swallowed. Smart girl.

“Ah, I think a gentle rubdown with warming lotion will take care of everything.” She grabbed a tube of lotion from her bag and approached Tristan, hesitantly.

“Ah, lad, I’ve seen this scene hundreds of times in horror movies. This is the part where she skins ye alive and makes a dress out of it. If I were ye, I’d run,” Shayne said, sounding amused.

Tristan threw him a glare as Janice slowly approached him. He opened his mouth to tell her where she could put those fake nails when Marty surprised him by snatching the tube of lotion away from her.

“Hey!” Janice cried.

“I’ll do it,” Marty surprised the hell out of him by saying.

Janice nibbled her lip nervously as she looked from Marty to Tristan. Finally she sighed. “Fine, but someone owes me a hundred and fifty dollars for this visit.”

At that, Tristan managed to push himself up, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and arm. Janice yelped and jumped back, grabbing her bag and headed for the door. “You know what? On second thought forget about it!”

He was still going after her when a small warm hand pressed against his bare chest. It stunned him enough to halt his pursuit and allowed Marty to gently press him back.

“Sit at the desk. It will make it easier for me,” she said as she squeezed some lotion in her hand.

The idea of Marty running her hands over his body sent a very different fire through him. A thousand past fantasies raced through his head, all of them making him break out into a sweat.

“That’s not necessary,” he finally managed to say.

Instead of listening to him like anyone else would have done, she shook her head and gently pushed him towards his chair. Not sure what else to do, Tristan threw Shayne a pleading look.

“Sorry, lad. I’d let her if I were ye. I’d do it myself, but I’m not yer bitch,” Shayne said with a wink.

Tristan discreetly flipped him off, earning a chuckle. “Good luck, lad. I’m off,” Shayne said before he faded out of the office.

“I don’t want to hurt you, so let me know if I’m being too rough, okay?” Marty said as she gently touched his shoulder.

He groaned as she began to carefully massage his shoulder. Her hands stilled immediately. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, it felt good,” he said, feeling like a moron.

“Okay,” she said as she returned to massaging his shoulder.

Tristan tried to focus on something else, anything else as her hands moved over his shoulder, back, chest and down his arm. Her hands felt so good on him. He soon found himself closing his eyes and just enjoying it.

*-*-*-*

Marty forced herself to relax as she ran her hands over his body. Well, not his entire body, unfortunately, but enough to fulfill several of her old schoolgirl fantasies.

Over the years she’d given a guy or two a massage, but they hadn’t felt this good to touch. Granted, Tristan had his shirt off and those guys hadn't. She was amazed at how hard his muscles felt beneath her touch, but still smooth. It was nice. This was nice. She smiled when she realized that she was getting paid for this. Yeah, this was such a hardship running her hands over the hard muscular body of the best looking guy in town.

Poor her.

She couldn’t help herself as she slowed her movements down so that she could enjoy exploring his body, at least, the areas that she was allowed to touch. He was so warm and firm. She ran her hands over his biceps, smiling as his muscles quivered beneath her touch and then moved her hand over his chest and nearly moaned as his small flat nipple hardened. Was it supposed to do that?

As she massaged his body, she took advantage of his eyes being closed to further examine his tattoo and wound. The tattoo on his chest was darker than she’d originally thought and was sexy as hell. She enjoyed running her fingers over that. Apparently he did too if his groans and moans were any indication.

Her eyes moved to the scar on his shoulder. The one on the back was larger than the one on the front. She realized after a moment that it was the exit wound. It must have hurt. Well, of course it hurt, she thought, feeling like an idiot, he’d been shot. She skimmed her fingers over the angry pink skin and frowned at the light scratches Janice had created with her fake nails. Anger surged through her knowing that someone had added to his pain. Before she could stop herself, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder.

*-*-*-*

Tristan gripped the edge of the desk until he feared that his fingers would snap off when he felt her warm soft lips press against his shoulder. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his raging hormones. The last thing either one of them needed was him jumping her. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He could really go for it, but he was pretty sure that she might get upset.

“What was that for?” he somehow managed to ask. Although truth be told he had no idea if it came out as a coherent sentence since his mind was still focused on the things that he wanted to do with her mouth.

He felt her warm breath tickle his ear. Oh, shit……

“For all those times you used to kiss me better. Remember?”

He chuckled softly as his body turned to putty beneath her touch. “How could I ever forget? You were my own personal stalker.”

She playfully slapped him on his good shoulder. “I was not a stalker!”

“Yes, you were!” He chuckled harder as he remembered how diligent she’d been about following him everywhere. If his father hadn’t attached locks on the bathroom doors, she would have followed him in there as well.

“Hey, I wasn’t half as bad as the girls who used to follow you around when we were in school,” she said defensively as she continued to rub his back. She felt him further relax as they reminisced about the good old days, the days where she got to spend every waking moment with him and felt whole.

She really missed those days.

He groaned loudly. “Don’t remind me. I still have nightmares of giggling girls with acne and braces chasing me down and trying to steal a kiss.” He gave her a mock shudder that earned a soft chuckle.

“See,” she teased, “I wasn’t that bad. I only demanded kisses when I had a boo boo.”

“That’s true, except for all those extra kisses that you demanded for all of your invisible injuries.”

She sighed dramatically. “I was a sneaky one.”

“Yes, you were,” he chuckled in agreement. She loved the sound of his laughter, absolutely adored it.

“I still remember the last time you gave me a kiss,” she said, smiling at the memory of her first real kiss.

“Really?” he asked, stunned that she did. He remembered the last time, but for completely different reasons.

“Uh huh,” she said, stopping her massage to squeeze a little more lotion in her hands. Tristan’s eyes closed as he enjoyed her ministrations.

“How could I ever forget the kiss that made my life a living hell?”

*-*-*-*

His eyes shot open. “What?”

She exhaled slowly. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

His brows creased in confusion. “Refresh my memory.” Obviously his memory wasn’t as good as he’d thought, because that kiss always brought a smile to his face whenever he thought about it.

“Okay, let’s see. It was at the high school bonfire after the dance. You were a senior and I was nothing but a lowly freshman. To my shock and your date’s horror, you gave me a ride to the dance and even danced with me a few times,” she said absently as she rubbed his back and chest.

Tristan’s hands clenched tightly on the desk. It was the first and only school dance that he’d ever attended and it had nothing to do with his date, whoever the hell it had been. He went for one reason and one reason only. He wanted to dance with Marty. More to the point, he wanted to hold her in his arms. He remembered ignoring his date. She’d been bitchy, but that’s all he remembered about her.

“After the dance, the three of us walked to the bonfire where your date, Karen Manor, a junior, bitched and threw a few hissy fits, because she wanted you to send me away.”

“And I didn’t,” he said softly, because that night he’d decided to test the waters to see if he could handle more with Marty and handle giving in to what he felt for her. Unfortunately for his date, she’d just been a decoy, an excuse to attend the dance and spend time with Marty without any pressure or her father killing him.

“No,” she sighed, “You were always so sweet and protective of me. You said you weren’t going to leave me to fend for myself around a bunch of drunk jocks.”

He nodded. That was part of the reason. Even at fifteen she’d been stunning. He hadn't been the only one to notice how beautiful she was. But the real reason had been quite simple. After spending three hours holding Marty in his arms and dancing to horrible music, he’d decided that he was going to give in to the overwhelming need to finally make her his.

“So, there we were. The two of us sipping sodas and hanging out near the fire. Karen was with Matt Cabal a few feet away trying to make you jealous.” He didn’t remember anything about that moment other than sitting with Marty and using the cool night air as an excuse to wrap his arm around her.

“Anyway, some genius decided to throw a beer bottle into the fire. It shattered against one of the logs and a small sliver of glass slashed my cheek.”

Tristan carefully pushed back in his chair and stood up, moving away from her. He didn’t want to be near her when she finished the story. There was no doubt in his mind that she would be able to feel the tremors shooting through his body at the mere memory of what happened next.

“Are you okay?” she asked, frowning.

“Yeah.” He pulled on his shirt and tie. After a small pause she continued.

“Anyway, after you punched the boy for hurting me, even though it was an accident, you walked back to me and pressed a kiss to the cut…and missed, kissing me full on the mouth. It sent your date into hysterics and for the next year and a half her little friends and she went out of their way to torment me.”

He hadn’t missed. Not even by a millimeter. He’d meant to kiss her. If she hadn’t stepped back, stunned, he would have continued that one perfect kiss. He remembered that he was about to pull her back into his arms when the spirit of a child walked up to him, reminding him of why it could never be. It was that night when he’d decided that he had to do the right thing by her and push her away. It was also the night the weird dreams started.

Not that he could really call them dreams. They were more like flickers of scenes that played through his head while he slept. They were never long enough for him to get a good picture of what was happening, but he sensed that they were about her, about them. Although they happened infrequently, they were still enough to wake him up in the middle of the night, sweating and panting. Every time he woke up feeling heartache so deep that he actually thought he’d die, wished for it actually. He’d do anything to avoid experiencing that type of soul crushing pain.

Whenever he experienced one of those flickers of a dream, he had to fight the urge to leap out of bed and go to her. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her until the pain stopped, but he couldn’t. He was a freak and she deserved so much better than him. He’d realized that years ago when he’d pushed her away for her own good.

Same as now.

With feigned arrogance, he shrugged. “Sorry about that, but I guess some things never change.” When she looked up from wiping her hands clean with a paper towel, looking confused, he continued. “Your dad’s still making me let you tag along,” he said, knowing that it would hurt her enough to push her away. It was a lie and it killed him to say it. Not once in their childhood had anyone forced him to let her tag along or made him be nice to her. They’d never needed to do that. Even back then she’d been special to him.

He watched with an emotionless expression as his words had the desired effect. Her eyes teared up as she stared back at him. Still, he made no moves to correct the lie or comfort her even though it was tearing him apart inside.

“You’re lying,” she said evenly. “No one ever made you be nice to me.”

He simply shrugged as he adjusted the gun in his side holster.

“You really are an asshole, aren’t you?”

He met her eyes and answered without any hesitation, “Yes.”

Chapter 9

Tristan chanced glances up at Marty every now and then while they worked. As far as he could tell she hadn’t looked up at all. He’d finally managed to push her away for good. No wonder he felt like shit. That and his shoulder was fucking killing him. He had a pretty good idea that he’d torn something this morning, but at the moment he really didn’t care.

A knock sounded at the door. “What?” he snapped.

Rosemary walked into the office, carefully staying away from Tristan’s side of the room. She looked at Marty expectantly as she set a huge bouquet of baby pink roses in front of her.

“What are these?” Marty asked as she reached for the card.

“I don’t know. There wasn’t a name inside the card. It was just addressed to you and said congratulations on your new job.”

Marty’s hand stilled on the card.

“You read her card?” Tristan asked, his tone thoughtful and cool. It was the tone that everyone around here knew meant that he was pissed, really pissed.

Rosemary licked her lips nervously. “I had to find out who they were for,” she explained, trying to act innocent, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Well, I’m guessing that the person delivering them could have told you who they belonged to or the fact that her name’s on the envelope should have been a clue.”

“Oh,” Rosemary said with a nervous chuckle. “I didn’t realize that.”

“Uh huh,” Tristan said, not believing one word of bullshit coming out of her mouth. She was one of the biggest gossips and troublemakers in the office and if she’d had her way, he would have been fired a long time ago.

“It’s okay,” Marty said with a forced smile.

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s fine. Really,” Marty said tightly, shooting him a look that clearly told him to let it go.

Tristan rolled his eyes before looking back at Rosemary. “Anything else?”

“It’s eleven-thirty,” she said, looking at Marty as if that was supposed to mean something.

“And….” Tristan prompted.

She looked imploringly at Marty as she shifted anxiously, obviously expecting Marty to somehow save her.

Marty looked up from her work and sent the woman an apologetic smile. Then she looked back at the clock and sighed. “I guess it’s my turn.”

“Um, yes,” Rosemary said, nervously licking her lips.

“Turn for what?” Tristan demanded.

“Nothing much,” Rosemary answered quickly, too quickly.

Marty began gathering her things. “To cover the phones and finish the paperwork from this weekend.”

Rosemary’s face turned bright red as she tried to back out of the room, but Tristan held up a hand to stop her. “Whoa, what’s this?”

“It’s nothing. It’s just the things that Hank wanted her to do,” Rosemary hastily explained.

Tristan gestured to the computer. “She’s already doing what Hank wanted her to do.”

Rosemary cleared her throat and made one last attempt to save her ass. “He thought that she could help out with daily reports.”

“Bullshit,” Tristan snapped.

Marty’s brows arched up in surprise. “Tristan, what is your problem?”

He ignored her as he continued to glare at Rosemary. “Get the hell out of my office.”

The woman just about tripped over her own two feet trying to flee the room while Marty glared at him. “You didn’t have to be so mean to her. What is your problem?”

“Nothing except for the fact that she was trying to unload her workload on you. Daily reports are her job.”

“What about the phone?” Marty asked, nibbling on her bottom lip.

He shrugged. “It goes to voicemail for a half hour during her lunch break if no one else answers it. It’s not the emergency line, Marty. She just didn’t want to have to deal with returning phone calls when she got back from lunch.”

Marty looked at the door where Rosemary had just exited and frowned. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. You have to be careful. While you’re here in this weird little position you’re going to have her and a few others trying to unload their work on you. She tries to do it to all the new secretaries. Just check with me before you agree to do anything and you’ll be fine.”

“Thank you.”

He pushed away from the desk and stood up. “Don’t thank me. I’m just covering my own ass.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she mumbled to herself.

His jaw clenched as realization hit him. The one person who used to trust and like him now hated him along with everyone else. He was now truly alone in this world. There would never be another person that he could be himself around or feel free with. He had his family. They loved him and he loved them, but they would never, could never, handle the real him. The one person who came close now hated him. Their easy going friendship was good and dead, because he’d killed it.

Even though their friendship had ended years ago, his heart felt like it was being squeezed in his chest. Why the hell did doing the right thing have to hurt so damn much? It was the right thing to do. He was sure of it. He knew his future. For the rest of his life he would be sought out by restless spirits. That wasn’t something that he wanted to have to endure on top of acting oblivious to it in private. He needed his alone time at home to deal with it. No woman, especially Marty, could ever be part of his life.

He walked over to the window and leaned against the wall, staring out into the bright afternoon. For several minutes he watched the playground across the street as the elementary school children had their morning recess. It was one of his favorite times of the day. It always made him feel better to watch them. Their carefree smiling faces always did that for him, but not today. He looked over his shoulder to see Marty working at her computer.

This wasn’t going to work. He could not work with her in the same station for the rest of his life. Even knowing they’d only be sharing an office for a few weeks was killing him. Years ago he’d accepted the fact that she’d move on and marry someone else one day, but did he really want to be around to see it? No. He didn’t want to see her with another man, didn’t want to see her stomach round with another man’s child. It would be too much even for a cold bastard like him to handle.

He cleared his throat. “I think maybe we should find you a desk in the pit,” he said, knowing even that wouldn’t be enough to make him stay. It might be enough to keep him sane until he got a transfer and was able to sell his house.

She didn’t even look up when she answered. “No.”

“What do you mean by ‘no’?”

She shook her head slightly, never taking her eyes away from the computer screen. “This is my office.”

“No, this is my office.”

At that she finally looked up. “No, this is our office. It will remain our office even after I officially start my new job.”

“Says who?” Tristan asked, feeling his temper flaring. This could not be happening.

“My father. Half of this office was meant for my position. I thought you knew that,” she said, looking back at her screen.

For a moment he couldn’t talk, couldn’t move. Then finally after what seemed like an eternity he was able to manage a coherent sentence, “Oh, fuck no.”

*-*-*-*

“Well, this is fun,” Shayne said wryly from his position on the couch. He laid his head back, sighing and then looked back up again to glance at Marty and Tristan, who were still glaring at each other over their desks.

“Ye’d think after two weeks that this would get old,” he shook his head, “but it hasn’t.” Tristan ignored him as he usually did during their daily standoffs.

After another scowl in his direction, Marty returned her attention back to her work. He took advantage of the moment by looking her over. His lips twitched into an appreciative grin as he took in her conservative, but sexy black blouse that showed a hint of cleavage and hugged her breasts the way that his hands itched to. He groaned inwardly when he thought about the short black skirt and heels that she wore today. Was she trying to kill him?

“Tell me something,” he said, clearing his throat, “how exactly are you supposed to catch me today if you’re wearing heels?”

Her glare shot right back at him as she opened her bottom desk drawer and pulled out a pair of tennis shoes. Tristan couldn’t help but chuckle. “Do you really think that you’ll be able to change your shoes fast enough to catch me today?”

For the past two weeks he’d greatly enjoyed messing with her. It was so much fun to watch her get pissed. Her cute eyebrows would draw up together, her eyes would narrow on him while her lips pursed up and she made a little sound of frustration. It might be sick to purposely piss her off for his own enjoyment but….what the hell.

He really couldn’t remember having more fun at work. There was last year when he ran off the previous occupant of that desk, but that was completely different. He hadn’t enjoyed fucking with him, well, yeah he had, but his reasons had been simple then. He’d just wanted the little whiner out of his office. With Marty though, he was really enjoying the challenge.

“Are you going to send me to a strip club to pick up your lunch again?” she bit back.

He chuckled deeply at the memory. Since she was supposed to be his assistant, thanks to Hank, Tristan decided to see how far he could push her. He heard the Fluffy Bunny had good ribs, not that he’d ever go to one of those places much to Shayne’s dismay, but he thought it would be funny to send Marty there to pick up his lunch.

She came back an hour later glaring at him through slits. Without a word, she dropped a huge paper bag in front of him and stormed off. The ribs were dry as hell and tasted like leather, but he’d sat there smiling while he ate them.

“Or are you going to trick me into getting out of the car again and then ditch me on the side of the road, leaving me to hike back to the office?”

“I came back for you!” he said, laughing harder.

*-*-*-*

Marty watched him laugh, forcing herself not to smile. She really loved it when he smiled or laughed. It reminded her of the time they used to spend together when they were closer than any two people could be without having sex. If his little pranks made him happy, then she’d let him have them. They really didn’t bother her that much since it made him smile and of course she always got back at him.

Like with the ribs.

The girls in the kitchen did her a favor by giving her three-day-old ribs and fries that she may have poured salt on, and soured coleslaw, but he ate it all up just to rub it in her face. He paid for it later, she mused with an inner smile, remembering the two bottles of antacid that he’d drank.

“You snuck through the woods and scared the hell out of me! I thought you were a bear, you jerk!” She still couldn’t believe that he’d been able to sneak up on her like that. He had his arms around her waist and growled in her ear before she knew what was happening. She may have screamed…a little.

*-*-*-*

“Ah, good times,” he mused with a chuckle. He really loved working with her, which he really shouldn’t. She couldn’t stay, but until she left he didn’t see why he couldn’t have a little fun. There was no harm in that.

Someone knocked at the door, making Tristan sigh. It was time to get back to work. Of course that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t consider the next trick he’d play on her. There was always the interrogation room. He chuckled at the memory of her pacing the room while glaring daggers at the one-way mirror where she knew that he was watching her.

Granted, she hadn’t known that he had half the force in there with him drinking soda, eating chips and pizza while they watched her rant and rave about what an asshole he was and what she was going to do to him when she got out. It really was better than watching a game, the guys agreed. Hell, even Hank pulled up a seat and a slice as he watched the show.

“Come in,” he said.

Stacey, a uniformed officer in her early thirties, opened the door and walked in, holding a large pile of dull yellow letter sized envelopes. Tristan walked over and took them from her. He’d been waiting all morning for them. As she pulled back her hand, she ran her fingers suggestively over his.

“Thank you,” he said absently, hoping it would be enough to send her on her way. He hated dealing with her. She always came on too strong and wouldn’t take the hint that he wasn’t interested. She knew that she was beautiful and any guy here would be happy to have her. The problem was that more than half the guys already had and he wasn’t interested in joining their ranks.

If that wasn’t enough to keep him from asking her out, the fact that he felt like he was cheating on Marty anytime he so much as looked in the direction of another woman was. He couldn’t explain it, but he’d never been attracted to another woman. A few times he’d forced himself to try, but they’d all ended with failure and left him feeling like a cheating asshole for simply taking a woman out to dinner.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Detective?” she practically purred.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Marty watching this little scene intently. Interesting. Maybe he should play on it to piss her off. She looked really cute when she was jealous and jealous she was. He didn’t have any doubts on that account. She wanted him, but not as much as he wanted her. That was simply impossible.

He would never purposely hurt her. Jealousy was a bitch that messed with your mind and tore at your heart. He knew that all too well since she made him crazy with jealousy about a hundred times a day. That was another reason she had to go.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you, Officer.” He purposely didn’t say her name, knowing that any familiarity would only encourage her.

Her smile slipped, but she still managed to send him an inviting look before she left the office. Tristan tossed the pile of envelopes on his desk and sat down.

Marty cleared her throat delicately. “She was pretty,” she said, then felt really stupid. What was wrong with her? She only said and did stupid things around him. She cringed at how that just sounded.

He looked up with a knowing expression and grinned. “Jealous?”

Yes! “No,” she scoffed.

The bastard just chuckled as he opened the envelopes and pulled out thick stacks of paper.

“What are those?” she asked, well, more like demanded. She was a bossy little thing he’d come to realize over the last couple of weeks.

Tristan sighed. This was really going to set her off on one of her little rants. “The files of the missing girls from Massachusetts, Vermont and a few towns south of here.”

“What? I thought we were going to look at those together?” She was already pushing away from her desk before the last word was out of her mouth.

Again, he sighed. “Marty, I don’t have to do anything. This is just a hunch I’m playing out, nothing official. Therefore, I do not have to include my little stalker in it,” he answered her evenly as he spread out the files, preparing to create a database from them. He could have seen the files online, but he always preferred to see the pictures and field notes on paper even if they were just copies.

“I’m helping,” she stated, not asked.

“No.”

“You still can’t type that well with your left hand. You need me,” she pointed out, sounding so damn smug that it took everything that he had to bite back a smile. She was definitely a bossy and manipulative little thing.

“I can type fine. Besides, I’ll be doing most of the work at home.”

*-*-*-*

As she watched him organize the files something in her snapped. She was sick of his highhanded ways and keeping her from doing her job. It was time that she put her foot down.

“I’m helping,” she said firmly. “I was not hired simply to drive you around, pick up your food, and put up with your bullshit, Tristan. This is part of my job and I’m going to do it. Now you can just suck it up, because you do not have a choice in the matter.”

His hand stilled on the file he was moving as he looked up and met her glare. Perhaps she’d gone a tad too far. Yeah, definitely too far this time. He dropped the file on the desk and sat back in his chair, never taking his eyes off her.

“I don’t have a choice?” he asked, cocking an arrogant brow in her direction.

She straightened her spine and shoulders. “No.”

For a long moment he didn’t say anything, making her even more nervous. Just when she was about to make a hasty retreat he spoke.

“Fine.”

“I’m glad we have an understanding.” She couldn’t resist rubbing it in as she walked around the desk to look at the folders, trying to hide how surprised she was that he gave in so easily.

“Oh, we have an understanding, all right,” he said as his hand clamped around her wrist when she tried to pick up a folder.

She swallowed. “I’m helping,” she reminded him quietly.

“Yes, you are. But I need the files over here,” he patiently explained, that calm tone alone sent shivers down her spine and warning signals off in her head.

“Okay, let me get my chair,” she said, trying to pull her hand away.

“No need. There isn’t enough room over here for two chairs,” he explained. Marty looked pointedly at the large space behind his desk.

He ignored her and, with a slight tug, had her stumbling onto his lap. Her response was instantaneous if not a bit embarrassing. She yelped and jumped only to have his arm snake around her waist and bring her back down on his lap.

Her hands shot out to grip the desk as he shifted the chair forward, trapping her between the desk and his large body.

“Ah, that’s better. Now let’s see what we’ve got here, shall we?” he asked in a casual tone.

“I-I can do this from my desk,” she mumbled.

He sighed. “There isn’t enough room at your desk for both of us, Marty. Would you please focus? I’d like to get some work done if you don’t mind,” he said casually, but she could hear the humor in his tone and that pissed her off.

“Fine. Let’s get to work,” she said, purposely shifting in his lap. His reaction was rather pleasing. He sucked in a breath and tensed beneath her. A moment later she rethought the move when she felt him harden beneath her bottom. She swallowed as he continued to grow. Were all men this big? she had to wonder.

She could practically feel his smug smile when he realized that she could feel him. The bastard. Deciding that she wasn’t going to be intimidated, she opened her mouth to egg him on, which of course she knew was stupid, but it really couldn’t be helped.

“Tristan, do you mind?”

“Mind what?”

“Do you mind shifting? You have a small tube of chapstick or something in your pocket that’s poking me.” Maybe she shouldn’t have emphasized small. Guys were kind of sensitive about that sort of thing, right?

Chapter 10

“Oh, lord!” Shayne said between large bouts of laughter. “I knew there was a reason why I liked the lass!”

Tristan’s jaw clenched as he watched his friend laugh so hard that he fell right off the couch. “Small tube of chapstick!” Shayne repeated, taking obvious delight in his humiliation.

He turned his glare to Marty’s back. She was tense on his lap as she shifted through the files. If she wanted to play that game, it was more than fine with him.

He gripped her waist, picked her up, and placed her more firmly on his lap. Her gasp was reward enough, almost. He leaned forward so that his stomach was pressed gently against her back and his mouth was next to her ear.

“Is that better?” he whispered.

God, yes! “That’s fine,” she said with a shrug as if having his erection nestled firmly against her bottom didn’t bother her. Damn, she should win an Emmy for this little performance.

“Fine, huh? My small tube of chapstick isn’t bothering you anymore?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

“No, I can’t even feel it anymore.”

Why that little……..oh, she was good. There was no doubt in his mind that she could feel how excited he was. Fine.

Game on.

He tightened his grip around her waist as he subtly rocked his hips under her bottom as he adjusted her again. She gasped and was that a moan?

“I’m glad that it’s not bothering you. Let’s get to work,” he said, resting his chin on her shoulder so that he could see the files as they went through them.

“O-okay,” was Marty’s response.

She was in way over her head here.

*-*-*-*

Tristan noticed that Shayne had stopped laughing.

“Oh, that….that’s just not right. I don’t want to see this,” Shayne said with a mock shudder. With that he popped out of the room. Good riddance, Tristan thought as he fought against the urge to shift or rock against her, again.

For the next twenty minutes they worked in silence, skimming files and stacking them in order. Tristan seemed relaxed as they worked while Marty was inwardly panicking. Over twenty minutes and the damn thing beneath her bottom hadn’t ceased its poking! All of her movements were awkward as she tried not to shift in any way no matter how tempting it was.

“Can I ask you a question?” Tristan asked, caressing her neck with his warm breath.

That depends. “Sure,” she said in a bored tone.

“Why are you dressed up today?” he asked, hoping the answer was because she wanted to dress up for him. He liked the sexy way she’d pinned her long hair back into a lazy bun that left several long strands dangling over her neck, the sexy little business dress, and let’s not forget the long legs and high heels. He could definitely picture those heels digging into his ass while he slid in and out of her.

“I’m not dressed any differently than normal,” she lied.

The hand on her stomach gently caressed her as he ran two fingers from his other hand over the almost nonexistent sleeve on her arm. “Yes, you are.”

With a slight shrug she decided to answer him and end the games, hoping he’d stop distracting her with his touches and caresses. She was seriously wondering why there was a need for Viagra if men were able to keep it up for over a half hour.

“I have a date after work and I didn’t think that I would have time to run home and change.”

She felt him go completely still against her. The hand on her stomach tightened almost possessively. “Oh? And who do you have a date with?” his voice was deceptively calm while on the inside he was already contemplating killing the son of a bitch.

“No one you know.”

“Try me. I know a lot of people. It’s my job after all.”

She sighed, “It’s a guy I met with my friends at a bar the other night.”

“Does this guy have a name?”

“Roger.”

“Roger what?” he demanded.

Another annoyed sigh, “Roger Arnold.”

He chuckled darkly behind her. “You got all dressed up to go out with Roger Arnold?”

No, it was for Tristan, but she’d used the date as an excuse to dress up for work today. “Yes.”

“You must like him a great deal to dress up like this,” he said, his tone laced with acid. “Do you like him a lot then, Marty?”

She adjusted uncomfortably and moved to get off his lap, but he held her prisoner where she was. “I think we should just focus on work. This is too personal.”

“How is it too personal for two old friends to chat? Or even for two co-workers who share an office to discuss their plans for the evening?” His tone was hard and dangerous, sending shivers down her spine. This wasn’t going to end well for her. For some strange reason she felt as though she’d finally pushed him too far.

When she didn’t answer he continued. “So you don’t feel like talking?”

She shook her head.

“Then can I ask a question?”

“I guess,” she said quietly.

He carefully flicked a dangling strand of her hair. “You did your hair up like this for him?”

No. “Yes.”

“Uh huh…I see….” He ran his nose over her neck and inhaled. “And this lotion you used. What is it? Blackberries and vanilla?” She nodded. “You used it for him?”

No. “Yes.”

Both of his large hands spanned her stomach and tenderly caressed the area. “And this blouse that’s been driving me crazy all day, that was for him, too?” he punctuated the question by pressing a soft kiss against her neck.

What did he ask? It took her a moment to think through her lust induced fog to figure out what he’d just asked her. Oh, that’s right. “Yes.”

He flattened his hands on her stomach and moved them purposely down and over her hips and then down her legs until they were cupping her knees.

“And the skirt? Was that for him as well?” he asked as he leaned back in the chair, taking her with him until she was practically draped over him. His hands slid up and cupped her thighs while his mouth gently sucked on her neck.

She closed her eyes and licked her lips as he kissed, sucked and licked her neck. They were both panting heavily, but he refused to give her any quarter from his sensual attack. He adjusted his legs until they were suddenly between both of hers and then widened them, opening her legs wider. The action pushed her skirt all the way up to her hips, but she barely noticed. His mouth felt so good on her skin.

He knew that he should stop, but he couldn’t. She had no business going out with any guy while he was alive. She was his! Fuck doing the right thing. Where had that ever gotten him? He wanted her and he was sick of torturing himself so that she could waste her time on losers who didn't deserve to breathe the same air as her. She was his. He’d always known that and he was done with pretending that she wasn’t.

“What color panties did you wear for him?” he whispered against her ear then sucked on the lobe, earning a low moan.

“Black.” For you, she thought.

“Mmm,” he moaned against her skin while his tongue made a wet trail back to the spot on her neck where he’d been suckling her and continued. He shifted in the chair and widened her legs further. His hands slowly moved up her thighs, hooking his fingers in her skirt and tugging it up a few more inches. One hand remained behind while the other moved up her stomach and traced her ribs until it slid up and cupped her breast the same time that his other hand dipped between her legs. He cupped her through her panties.

“Oh, God…,” she choked out a moan, unable to stop herself.

Tristan broke out in a sweat as his fingers traced her damp panties. So many nights of fantasizing about touching her. He pressed a reverent kiss to her neck while one finger snaked beneath her panties and pulled them aside. He was glad that he couldn’t see what he’d revealed, afraid he’d embarrass himself.

Not that he had much experience with women. He didn’t and shouldn’t know how to navigate her body this way, but something about touching her this way made him feel as though he’d done it a hundred times before. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the connection he felt with her or years of fantasies, but he knew, just knew, what she liked and what she didn’t.

Without having to ask, he knew that she hated having her nipples teased with his teeth. It reminded her of rough fabric and turned her off quickly. She loved it when he used his tongue on her and he knew that if he did it just right that she would come a hell of a lot faster and harder. He also knew that she hated having her feet touched or any teasing touches on the side of stomach during sex, because it would make her giggle. He also knew what it would do to her if he focused solely on her clit. She’d thrash under his mouth, screaming at him to fuck her even as she threatened to kill him if he even thought about stopping.

It should worry him that he knew what she liked in bed, but he didn’t care. He’d already decided that he was going to use this knowledge to his advantage and enjoy every second of it. His fingers pinched her hard nipple through the material as he teased her bare slit with his fingers. She was so goddamn wet that he had to grit his teeth as pleasure shot through his painful erection.

“So wet….so beautiful…,” he mumbled against her skin.

He sucked harder on her neck as he slid a finger inside her. She gave an inarticulate cry as he entered her. It was loud, too loud. With his other hand, he covered her mouth. She moaned and licked his hand as he added another finger to his slow torturous assault.

Marty cried against his hand, begging him to go faster, but he stubbornly maintained his pace. It was too much for her. Every nerve in her body was on fire and this slow pace was killing her. He was going to make her come painfully if he kept it up. Unable to stand it any longer, she flexed her hips against his hand and, as a result, his erection.

Her skirt rode up until it was above her hips, leaving her barely covered bottom pressed intimately against him. Every thrust of her body enveloped his erection in a firm caress, a familiar caress that had pleasure and relief soaring throughout her body as she gave in and enjoyed his touch.

“That’s it, baby, keep doing that,” Tristan moaned against her neck as he rubbed himself against her in time with the thrust of his fingers. He wasn’t going to come like this. Correction, he wasn’t going to allow himself to come like this. The first time he came with her, he would be buried deep inside her body. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to enjoy it.

He could feel her body tighten around his fingers. She was close, he knew it instinctively. Using the hand covering her mouth, he moved her face to the side and covered her lips with his own. This was no first date peck or even a buildup. This was intense and carnal as they deepened the kiss the instant their lips met. Their tongues fought for dominance as Tristan quickened his thrusts.

His now free hand cupped and squeezed her breast as she came undone. “Say it!” he demanded. “I want to hear it,” he demanded harshly against her lips.

“Tristan…oh, Tristan!” she moaned into his mouth, pleasing him to no end as she rode his fingers hard, damn near breaking them off.

He pulled back from the kiss, leaving her panting against him as he ran his tongue over her neck, smiling when she shivered. He moved his mouth next to her ear.

“You might have dressed like this for him, but never forget that it was my name that you moaned as you fucked my fingers.”

Chapter 11

Marty glared at him as she angrily fixed her skirt. Somehow he’d managed to break through her lust filled craze and brought reality crashing down on them with that one little statement. He’d just given her the most erotic experience of her life, only to stomp on it when it was over.

Holding her glare, he slowly brought the fingers that he’d just used to pleasure her to his mouth and sucked them clean, groaning loudly as he did it, much to her embarrassment.

“You’re an asshole!”

He smiled charmingly up at her from his lazy position in his chair. “Yes, but an asshole that you want.”

She crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “It was a moment of weakness, nothing more.”

Tristan scoffed. “That moment damn near broke my fingers off.”

Heat scorched her cheeks as memories of her behavior shot through her head. She was never going to live down her behavior and, judging by the expression on his face, he had no intentions of ever letting her forget.

“Asshole,” she muttered.

He sighed as he stretched in his chair. “That’s really getting old, baby.”

“Don’t call me that!”

He shrugged. “So, what am I ordering out for tonight? Chinese food, pizza, subs?”

She eyed him warily. “Ordering out for what?”

“Supper. If we’re going to spend all night in my bed, then I’m going to need sustenance,” he said charmingly, damn him.

Startled, her mouth dropped open. “You really are arrogant, aren’t you?”

“Only when it comes to you.”

“This,” she gestured wildly between them, “was a mistake. A momentary lapse of judgment. Nothing more. I have a date tonight with a really nice guy and I intend to forget all about this and go have a nice time with him!”

Tristan scratched the top of his head in a bored fashion, ignoring everything she’d just said. “Should I just order or do you want me to wait until you come over to decide?”

She laughed. She really couldn’t help it. The man was beyond conceited. “What makes you think that I’m coming over to your house tonight? I just told you that I have a date.”

He sighed heavily as he looked up at the clock on the wall above her desk. “What time is this date of yours supposed to pick you up?”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously. “Are you planning on waiting around for him?”

He shook his head as he stood up to organize the files and place them into his briefcase. Marty’s eyes briefly dropped to his lap and sighed with relief when she didn’t see his erection straining against his pants.

“I’m heading home now, but I just wanted to have a rough idea of what time I should expect you.”

She opened her mouth and then shut it, searching for the right words. Had he always been this conceited? She didn’t remember him being this way when they were younger. She remembered that he’d always acted indifferently towards the girls throwing themselves at him. At least, she thought he had.

“I told you,” she pressed a hand to her forehead, hoping it would be enough to fight off the headache that she was sure was coming, “I’m going out with Roger tonight. If you must know he’ll be here in an hour to pick me up. Then I’ll be with him for the rest of the night.”

“Uh huh, sure,” he said as he shut down his computer. “So, I’ll see you around, what….six?”

“I’m not coming over! What on earth makes you think that I’m going to be there when I have a date?”

He smiled knowingly at her. “You’ll be there and, as far as your date is concerned, I can guarantee you right now that isn’t going to happen tonight,” he promised with such conviction that she knew that he was up to something.

“What are you planning on doing?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just know that your date isn’t going to take you out tonight, not when he realizes that you belong to me.”

“Belong to you?” she repeated dumbly. Then she laughed coldly. “You are an arrogant son of a bitch! I do not belong to you or any other man!” A partial lie considering that she’d always felt like she belonged to him in some strange way, but right now was not the time to think about that.

“What we did was a mistake and it will never ever happen again! And I will not be coming to your house tonight. I can guarantee that right now!”

He ignored her little outburst and grabbed his briefcase. He headed for the door only to pause in front of her. For a moment she thought that he was going to kiss her and try to convince her of his claim, which she was forty percent sure that she’d be able to resist. Instead, and much to her surprise, he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss against her neck.

“I’ll be counting the minutes,” he said with the sexiest grin she’d ever seen as he walked out, leaving her dazed.

No matter what she’d said, she wanted nothing more than to go home with him and live out every single fantasy that she’d had over the past fourteen years, but she refused to feed his ego. She really didn’t want to go on this date, never had, but she’d let her friends push her into it. It had been the only way to shut them up at the time.

Besides, Roger seemed nice and harmless enough. It was supposed to be dinner and a movie, but she’d already decided that she was going to cut their date short after dinner. If she couldn’t be with Tristan, she’d rather be alone, which was the problem that she’d always had when it came to men. She’d never been attracted to them and had no real interests in dating.

She’d had a few boyfriends over the years, but when all was said and done they’d never been anything more than friends that she’d hung out with a few times. It didn’t matter what she did to convince herself otherwise, she was in love with Tristan and no other man would ever take his place. That didn’t mean that she was going to be a bitch and stand Roger up. She’d agreed to the date so she’d go, but she already knew that nothing would ever come of it.

Deciding the best thing for her to do was to go through with the date, she pulled out her small handheld compact and fixed her makeup. Her hair surprisingly looked good considering what they'd just done. When she was finished, she sat down and focused on her work while she waited for six o’clock to roll around. The time went by quickly and before she knew it there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she said as she grabbed her purse and shut down her computer.

“Hi, I hope I’m not too early.”

Marty smiled. “No, I just finished.” She turned to face him. He was cute in a boy next-door kind of way where Tristan had panty-melting good looks. He was tall, but not as tall as Tristan. Just as she was silently reprimanding her brain for making unwarranted comparisons, she noted his frown of displeasure.

“What?” she asked, looking down at her blouse, wondering if she’d spilled something.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck while shaking his head in disbelief or disgust, she really wasn’t sure at the moment.

“Just a bit of advice, don’t screw around with another guy the same night that you have a date.”

“What?”

They could tell those things?

Was she wearing a sign or something?

He gestured to her neck. “Looks like whoever it was wanted to make sure everyone knew that you were spoken for.” He put his hands up in surrender and stepped back. “My loss,” he sighed. “Have a good night.” With that he left her standing there with a feeling of absolute dread.

Slowly, or so it seemed in her mind, but in reality she was probably moving fast enough to scare the hell out of the Road Runner, she dumped her purse on the desk and found her mirror. Taking a deep breath, she opened it and angled it towards her neck and stared at the large and obviously fresh hickey on her neck.

“That little…son of……asshole….I’m…..I’m……argh!”

*-*-*-*

“Why are ye grinning like an idiot?” Shayne asked, never looking away from the television where a low budget seventies porn was playing.

Tristan hummed happily as he towel dried his hair and chest. He probably should have finished drying off before he pulled on his jeans, but he’d been too damn anxious to wait.

Marty was coming over, he thought, grinning like a fool and not really caring.

“No reason,” he replied happily as he walked through the living room and headed towards the kitchen.

Shayne, surprisingly followed after him, shutting off his porn, which he only did under dire emergencies or because Tristan’s mother was visiting. He followed Tristan into the kitchen, saying nothing as Tristan looked through the drawer full of take out menus.

“Are we ordering out tonight?” Shayne asked. In all the years he’d watched over the lad, he’d never once seen him this happy. The closest he’d ever come was when Marty was around.

“Yes, Marty’s coming over.”

His brows flew up at that bit of news. “Ye have a date with Marty?” He didn’t try to hide his surprise. Tristan had been in love with the girl for years and never once, to his aggravation, had the lad acted on it.

Tristan shifted uncomfortably. “Not a date so much as her coming over here to kill me.”

“What?”

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat loudly, “might have done something to um, piss her off enough to come here and kick my ass.”

“I think I should sit down for this,” Shayne said as he stumbled over to the kitchen table and sat down on the chair. He gestured for Tristan to continue even though he was sure this wasn’t going to be good and might end up with Hank coming after the lad with a shotgun.

“Do you think she’ll want Chinese?” Tristan asked, making a piss poor attempt to distract Shayne.

“Lad,” that one word was laced with warning, a tone that had always worked on Tristan. Where his natural father hadn’t given a flying fuck about him, he had three men who eagerly took over the job.

Tom, his real dad as far as he was concerned, was protective. He’d been the first person to show Tristan unconditional love. He’d also taught him how to fish, ride a bike, and everything and anything about the medical field.

Hank had immediately taken Tristan under his wing at the ripe old age of six. He’d quickly became one of his best friends. He’d taught Tristan how to protect himself and when it was appropriate to throw a punch and when to walk away. He’d always introduced Tristan as his boy and, when Tom was around, he referred to him as “our” boy, earning curious looks.

Shayne had taught Tristan how to trust. He was also the more motherly of the three men, which was a sharp contrast to his tough Irish persona. When Tristan broke his arm when he’d been fifteen, during a football game, it had been Shayne running around the field screaming like a banshee as Tristan was loaded into the ambulance. It was also Shayne who, for the next two weeks, haunted the hell out of the linebacker who’d broken his arm. He was fiercely protective, but he could also be one of the sternest men in his life, like now.

“What. Did. Ye. Do?”

As big a pervert as Shayne was when it came to porn and women, Tristan had no doubt whatsoever as to what his reaction would be when he found out what Tristan did to Marty. Shayne believed in treating a lady with respect even if she was a whore. Considering how much Shayne liked Marty, Tristan was going to be in deep shit.

“I, uh, that is, we may have fooled around a bit after you left,” he said quickly.

Shayne’s scowl swiftly turned into a grin. “Finally. It’s about time the two of ye stopped acting like idiots.” After a moment, his happiness turned into confusion. “I don’t see how messing around would upset her…...ye didn’t hurt her, did ye, lad?”

“No, but I may have um, inadvertently guaranteed that her date was not going to, um,” he cleared his throat, “want to take her out.”

“She had a date?” Shayne asked, sounding even more confused.

Tristan returned his gaze to a menu and nodded.

“I don’t understand. What did ye do? Did ye wait around and explain to the other lad that ye were seeing Marty?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well, what the hell did ye do?” Shayne snapped, clearly aggravated.

Tristan mumbled his response.

“What?”

“I marked her.”

For a moment Shayne was too stunned to respond. “Ye marked her, lad? Like with a pen?”

Tristan chuckled. “You could say that I laid my claim with a kiss.”

“Oh, ye sly bastard,” Shayne said, smirking. “I’d love to see the face of the poor bastard when he spotted that.”

“It would be pretty hard to miss,” Tristan said, chuckling.

The doorbell chime echoed throughout the house. Tristan’s grin widened. “Showtime,” he said, pushing away from the counter. The doorbell then began to ring continuously as if it was being held down, which it probably was. Then the pounding joined in, followed by her screaming threats.

“Tristan Black, you open this door right now before I break it down!” she yelled. “I am going to kick your ass!”

Chapter 12

Tristan casually leaned against the doorframe while he smiled warmly at her as if this was a pleasant visit. She inwardly scoffed at that.

This was an ass kicking!

“Why, Marty, what a surprise to see you here,” he drawled as he studied his nails. “Didn’t you have a date?”

“You,” that one word seethed with uncontrollable rage, “bastard.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “Me? What did I do?”

“You….You……” She had to take a deep calming breath just to get the words out. “You gave me a,” she paused to look around, making sure that no one was within earshot and hissed, “a hickey!”

“I did?” he asked, looking thoughtful. “You’d think I’d remember something like that.” Then he shrugged as if it was no big thing.

“You marked me, you prick!”

He frowned at her. “Are you sure? Because I really can’t recall doing that.”

Her hands clenched by her sides as she prayed for patience or a baseball bat to beat his ass with, either would be welcomed at the moment. She tilted her head to the side to expose the mark. Not that she really needed to do that since no one else had seemed to be able to miss it, much to her embarrassment.

“Oh yeah, so I did. Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. No, he sounded and looked smug, very smug.

“Everyone at work saw it!” she snapped. Damn if that didn’t make him look even smugger. “Some of them asked if I had a run in with a vacuum!”

At that he laughed.

Laughed!

“It’s not funny!”

He laughed harder.

“It’s not!”

Sighing, he reached out and ran a finger over his mark. “Come on, it doesn’t look that bad.”

*-*-*-*

It did. It really did. There was no way that Hank was going to be happy about this.

She stood there fuming, looking so damn upset that he couldn’t help but feel a little bad about what he’d done. Not that he regretted ruining her date, because she was his and really, by this point, she should have realized that, but about embarrassing her at work. He reached out to take her hand in his only to have her pull it out of his reach.

“Look, I know you’re pissed. Why don’t you come in here and we’ll talk it over and order some food. Then if you’re still angry, you can kick my ass, okay?” he suggested with a hint of a smile, praying like hell that he could fix this. He wanted to spend the night holding her in his arms, not fighting over petty bullshit.

Marty eyed him for a moment before her scowl disappeared and a sunny smile took over her features, making him understandably nervous. “That sounds great. Let’s go,” she said, seeming pleased as she stepped past him and walked inside.

Well, that was easy. A little too easy. He’d expected to have to beg, apologize, and ultimately chase her down and drag her back. Ignoring every instinct in his body that was shouting for him to run for the hills, he stepped back and closed the door.

The lock clicked just as he was shoved against the door and his arms were swiftly brought behind his back. He heard and felt the handcuffs before it registered in his mind that he was seriously fucked. Damn, he forgot about Hank teaching her how to take down an unsuspecting criminal when she was five, you know, just in case she happened to come across one on the playground.

*-*-*-*

Tristan turned around to face her, grinning. “Is that all you have for me, baby?”

“That and more,” she promised with a pleased tone that let him know that she truly thought she’d won. She really should have known better than that by now.

He shook his head, sighing. “I’m really disappointed in you, baby.”

“Are you going to continue to call me that?” she asked in a bored tone.

One eyebrow arched up in challenge. “Are you going to take these cuffs off?”

“No.”

“Then yes.”

She watched him as he carefully moved to sit on the floor. “If you’re going to handcuff a man,” he paused to shoot her a look of warning, “and you better not be thinking about handcuffing any other men.”

She rolled her eyes at his assumption that they were together. “Make sure that he isn’t a cop with a shitload of extra handcuff keys lying around the house.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said with a shrug.

He frowned up at her when his butt hit the floor. Even as he spoke he bent his legs to loop his arms under them to bring his hands in front. Now she couldn’t very well allow that.

“What doesn’t matter?” he asked, the last word leaving his mouth in the same instant that she lowered herself onto his lap, straddling him and effectively trapping his arms behind his back.

She pushed him down, knowing that with his arms behind his back like this that he wouldn’t be able to stop her, or at least, not easily. He landed with a thud. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m not going to give you a chance to retrieve a key until I’m done with you.”

*-*-*-*

Tristan took a moment to consider his predicament while his eyes ran over her spread legs, at the skirt that was hiked up, the hard nipples that were straining against her blouse up to the face of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He felt his lips curve into an appreciative grin. He could think of a hell of a lot worse situations to be in than lying beneath the woman that he loved.

“Do your worst, baby. I’m all yours.”

Marty returned his grin, which made him a tad uneasy, but not enough to roll her off of him and end this game. “Oh, you can count on it.”

“Ah, lad, I know this is generally a good start to a porn and all, but I have a really bad feeling about this,” Shayne said, looking both amused and nervous at the same time.

Tristan rolled his hips suggestively beneath her and watched as her eyes glazed over. “The only thing I can count on with you like this is getting hard.”

Nothing on earth could have shocked him more than her grinding down against him as she leaned down until their lips were barely a few centimeters apart. “That’s exactly what I want.”

All thoughts of acting unaffected shot out of his head at that declaration. He leaned up and captured her lips with his own. She eagerly returned the kiss while she continued to grind against him. He swallowed her moans of pleasure as his hips rolled up to meet hers. The pain in his shoulder from having his hands cuffed behind his back was forgotten as was the pain from having their combined weights pressing the cuffs into his skin. All that mattered was the woman on top of him.

“I need you, Tristan,” she whispered against his mouth, breaking the last strand of resistance that he’d been holding onto.

“You have me. I’m yours,” he promised, because he was, always had been and he’d been a fucking moron to fight this hold she had over him.

She stopped kissing him and moved back just far enough away so that she could look at him as she asked, “No matter what?”

There was no hesitation whatsoever. “No matter what, Marty. I’m yours, always have been.”

For a moment she looked like she was going to cry and he definitely did not want that. He leaned up and captured her lips again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She met him stroke for stroke as her hands roamed through his hair, over his neck, shoulders and chest.

She gently pushed him back down and broke away to trail kisses down his chin. Tristan was as a helpless as a newborn babe beneath her touch. He watched through hooded eyes as she licked and kissed her way down his body.

“Do you like this?”

“Yes,” he groaned as he imagined her hands and mouth on another part of him. That thought was quickly replaced with one that had him grinding his teeth and trying to bite back his temper before he did and said something stupid to wreck this.

As she reached the waistband of his pants he couldn’t stop jealousy from taking over and asked, “Have you done this before?”

*-*-*-*

“This?” she asked, pulling back slightly before she followed the happy trail that disappeared beneath his jeans with her tongue. “No, I haven’t done this with a man before.”

“So…,” he sucked in a breath as she ran a curious hand over the bulge in his pants. “You haven’t,” gasp, “had a man inside of you before.”

She looked up with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Well, only Bob, but I haven’t been with him in a while.” She had been meaning to pick up batteries for her Battery Operated Boyfriend months ago, but had never gotten around to it.

Rage shot through him at the thought of another man touching her. “He doesn’t touch you again.” His eyes locked on hers as he snarled out, “I’ll fucking kill him if he touches you ever again. You’re mine!”

She looked down so that he couldn’t see the pleased expression on her face. Really, she shouldn’t be this happy that a man was acting this way, but she was, probably because it was Tristan and it meant that she wasn’t the only one suffering from this thing between them. This was the man she’d loved her whole life. Then a thought occurred to her that wiped away her smile.

As she cupped him through his pants with one hand and undid his pants with the other, she asked in a nonchalant tone, “And have you had many women?”

Tristan opened his mouth to answer when Shayne’s loud bark of laughter distracted him letting him know that he was still close by.

“Not unless ye count yer left hand, lad!” More laughter. “And I don’t think that lass that ye almost lost yer virginity to counts since she shoved ye away once ye moaned Marty’s name.” He sounded thoughtful when he continued. “Of course, ye probably should have held off saying that until after ye were inside of her. Ah, live and learn.”

He wasn’t about to admit that to Marty. Not after he’d found out that some other man had been with her. How pathetic would he look being a twenty-nine year old virgin? Nothing on this earth was going to drag those fucking words from his mouth.

Nothing.

What was he going to tell her if she asked why? That it felt wrong, like cheating to even consider it after that one mistake? Oh yeah, he’d come off as pathetic, deranged, and a stalker if he admitted that he couldn’t bring himself to touch another woman, knowing that it would never be as good as being with her. He wasn’t an idiot after all.

“Not many,” he answered somewhat truthfully, ignoring Shayne as the bastard laughed his off in the other room.

“Good,” Marty said, sounding pleased. She pulled down his zipper as he struggled to sit up. He wanted to see her expression and he wasn’t disappointed. She stared wide-eyed as she freed his erection. Blinked and then blinked again.

“Better than Bob?” he asked, instantly cringing. What the hell was wrong with him reminding her of another man at this moment?

“Much better,” she answered in a reverent tone, sounding awed.

After throwing one last look of longing at his cock, she yanked his pants off, leaving him buck naked, handcuffed and lying on the floor, which simply begged the question, “What now?”

Marty answered his question by running her hands over his legs and stomach. His erection jumped with each pass as if it were begging for her touch. Finally, with a shaky hand, she wrapped her fingers around him and squeezed.

A broken moan escaped Tristan’s mouth as she ran a tentative hand down his length.

“I want to take you in my mouth,” she announced suddenly as if she couldn't help herself. His eyes shot open. Was she trying to kill him? “Can you stand?” she asked as she released him.

Could he stand? Hell yeah, he could stand! He’d do whatever she wanted short of murder if she took him in her mouth. Ah, who the hell was he kidding? He’d kill for her in a heartbeat.

Deciding time was of the essence here and this was no time to try to be suave, he moved onto his side and struggled to stand up, ignoring the pain he was causing his still healing shoulder even when he felt something pop. Marty was giggling at his eagerness as he stood up, panting with his erection proudly displayed.

She smiled sheepishly at him as she stood and placed a soft warm hand on his chest. “Against the wall would probably be best,” she explained in a sexy little whisper that had him biting back a groan.

Tristan backed up until his back hit the door with the doorknob pressing against his lower back. Deciding that wasn’t going to work, he moved to the right just to the side of the door.

“Will this do?” he asked breathlessly.

She smiled sweetly at him as she slowly dropped to her knees, kissing and licking her way down his stomach. “Perfect,” she whispered. Her breath felt like a warm kiss on his cock.

Just when he didn’t think that he could take anymore, she ran her hot wet tongue from the base of his cock all the way to the tip.

“Holy shit!” he groaned loudly, unable to stop himself.

He felt Marty smile against him. She licked him again, this time running her tongue over his balls before running it back up to the tip. He watched her as she hesitantly took the head into her mouth and then suckled.

The only thing he could do was moan. It took a few minutes before he realized that he wasn’t the only one moaning. He could feel her moans vibrate through him as she ran her mouth over him. From the expression on her face he could tell that she was just as turned on as he was.

He licked his lips, wishing that it was her pussy. “I want to taste you, too,” he panted, hungry for another taste of her.

Marty took him deeper, seeming to think it over. He watched as she pushed one hand beneath the waistband of her skirt. A moment later she moaned even louder. He had to grit his teeth from coming then and there as she touched herself.

“Need,” he swallowed, “to taste you, baby.”

She pulled her hand out and raised it with a slight hesitation. Before she could make a decision one way or the other, Tristan leaned over and captured those glistening fingers in his mouth, sucking loudly. His tongue ran over her fingers as he greedily suckled them, desperate for her taste. She tasted like honey and he wanted more.

“Baby,” he growled, “lay back on the floor and spread your legs. I want to lick you clean.”

Marty moaned louder, but didn’t stop moving her mouth over him. She ran her hands up his legs to caress his ass and pull him forward. His hips thrust on their own, sending a surge of pleasure that was both oddly familiar and intense through his body. He wanted more, but he wasn’t sure that he could control himself. It took every ounce of willpower he had left, which wasn’t much, to stop him from doing it again. He didn’t want to hurt her.

She stopped and pulled away with a sly smile at the same moment that his mind registered a cool breeze on his back. “Did you really mean it?”

“What?” he asked in a daze.

“That you were mine no matter what?”

Words failed him so he nodded. She slowly stood up, running her hands up his chest as she stretched up to kiss him. Just when their lips were about to meet, she used her hands on his chest to shove him backwards.

Instead of hitting the wall like he’d expected, he stumbled back into nothing on the wrong side of the door.

What the hell?

Marty winked at him, “Consider this payback, baby.” With that she shut and locked the door, leaving him painfully aroused and confused as hell.

That is until his mind registered that it was nighttime and instead of it being dark, everything seemed to be lit up. The front of his house was bright, really bright with odd flashes of red and blue.

Slowly, he turned around to face whatever was left of Marty’s revenge and groaned as he spotted five cruisers with their lights flashing, three ambulances, two fire department SUV’s and about twenty or so cops, firefighters, EMT’s, and onlookers.

Denny stepped forward with a camcorder in his hand as he laughed his ass off. With the other hand he wiped tears from his eyes.

“Oh, this is so going on the website,” he announced, grinning hugely.

Tristan closed his eyes and dropped his head back, hitting the door. Then he did it again and again. Oh, he was going to enjoy his revenge.

“Nice cuffs, Black!” one of the men yelled.

“Glad to know that you’re happy to see us, Black!” another man yelled. Tristan didn’t have to look down to know that he was still hard as a rock. It seemed that nothing was going to dampen his need for Marty, not the frigid February air or even public humiliation. Damn if she hadn’t gotten him good with this one.

“Ah, there she goes!” Denny said, pointing to what Tristan already knew was Marty running towards her house.

Tristan stepped around the corner of his house and watched as Marty ran away. She seemed to sense him watching her, because in the next instant she did the stupidest thing any woman could have possibly done at that moment.

She taunted him.

He watched through narrowed slits as Marty paused her little run to throw him a wink and blow him a kiss. That was it. Her ass was about to become permanently red.

Tristan took two menacing steps towards her before he felt a hard tug on his cuffs. Marty yelped and ran off towards the safety of her father’s house while Denny did his best to drag him back. Tristan ignored the pain in his shoulder and tried to take off running after her only to be tackled to the hard frost covered ground by his brother.

He looked up in time to see the front door that Marty had just escaped through slam shut. Oh, she was going to pay for this shit. There was no fucking way that he was turning a blind eye to this one.

Chapter 13

“Are you even listening to me, Marty?”

Marty scanned the bar one more time before she returned her attention to Melissa, who’d been crying for the past hour over her boyfriend. Well, he was probably her ex-boyfriend now that she’d caught him making out with her boss yesterday.

“She’s not listening to any of us!” Diane cried, causing several people sitting near them to turn around and frown at them.

Marty’s cheeks heated as she tried to duck low in her seat. How in the heck had she allowed three of her friends to convince her that this was a good idea? She didn’t want to be here. It felt kind of seedy being in a bar at noon. Granted, it was Sunday and there was a game on the flat screen, but still. Anyway, she’d been perfectly happy hiding in her room…with the door locked….and the window locked, before they’d begged her to come out.

Happy.

“I cannot believe it’s over! I loved him!” Angie sobbed into a small pile of crinkled cocktail napkins.

Oh, that’s right. She came out because three of her friends got dumped, within a twenty-four hour period and they’d guilt tripped her into coming. Since they’d all been dumped they were looking to her for support. Why? She had no idea. She’d never really had a boyfriend. Granted, Tristan broke her heart and had been driving her crazy over the past couple of weeks, but that didn’t make her an expert.

She really didn’t fit in for this girl’s night out, or rather day, and had explained that to them several times. Why they didn’t just seek each other for comfort, she didn’t know.

For the past hour they’d been taking turns telling her what was wrong, what happened, and how wonderful their love had been. She just sat there sipping her beer, nodding every now and then, admittedly not really listening. It was the same damn drama every couple of weeks.

“Marty, do you think I should give him another chance?”

“Huh?”

Diane scoffed at her. “I asked if you think that I should give Billy another chance?”

“Who’s Billy?” she asked before she could stop herself and then foolishly added, “I thought his name was James.”

Diane scoffed at her. “James was two weeks ago! You are so insensitive to bring him up! You know how much he meant to me!”

Right, Marty thought. The pizza delivery guy who’d dumped her, because she’d sent too many text messages in one day, or rather in one hour. Again, who the hell was Billy?

“It’s not really her fault,” Melissa said, giving Marty a pitying look. What the heck did she have to be pitied about?

Angie picked up the conversation with a pained sigh. “She’s never been in love like us.”

Now all three of them were looking at her like she was pathetic, which only irritated her.

“First off,” she held up a finger, “I have dated, a lot. I just know when it’s just dating and nothing serious,” she said pointedly.

“What are you saying?” Angie demanded. “I loved Eric!”

“Uh huh, and how long did you date him?” she asked, sick of playing this game every couple of weeks. Maybe if she pissed them off, they wouldn’t invite her anymore. One could hope.

“Three weeks! Three of the best weeks of my entire life!”

“My point exactly. You were just dating. Nothing more. Have you guys ever thought that maybe the reason so many guys dump you is because you get too serious way too soon?” she asked.

The three of them shared a look before scoffing. “No, we’re just very lovable. We know true love when we see it,” Melissa insisted.

“Uh huh, have you ever found it odd that the three of you find true love on a weekly basis?”

“Gawd, you’re so insensitive!”

Marty just barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. This was pathetic. No, not having anything better to do than come here and listen to this nonsense was pathetic. Maybe she needed a hobby?

“She’s just bitter because no real men want her. She goes after losers,” Melissa snapped, drawing Marty away from her musings.

“I’m sorry. What's this now?” Marty asked, sure that she'd misheard her.

“You know exactly what I said. You haven’t really dated. Don’t think we haven’t noticed. You only agree to go out with guys you know that you’re not interested in.”

Marty waved a hand impatiently to get them to focus. “What’s this about no real men wanting me?”

Instead of answering her, they all gaped at her, well, a few inches past her shoulder to the right.

“What about me?” a familiar deep voice asked right next to her freaking ear!

Oh no, the man she’d been avoiding since Friday night had found her. This could not be good. Not at all. She’d publically humiliated him. Actually, according to the web hits, it was more like globally humiliated him. Looked like it was her turn to become a web sensation.

She turned her head slowly, too frightened to force this moment. She would not cry or scream or run and scream and cry for her daddy. She would not! Mostly because he wasn’t cuffed and naked this time and he would most definitely catch her. Still……

Before she could entertain any real escape plans he was kissing her. Tristan Black was kissing her! In public! Like he had every right in the world to do it no less. She moaned against his lips and nearly whimpered when he pulled away.

“Did you miss me, baby?”

“Er…”

“I just wanted to return these,” he said as he made a show of reaching into his pocket. Oh no, he wouldn’t do that would he….he did! He placed the silver handcuffs in the middle of table. It seemed like the entire bar went quiet except for the occasional gasp.

“Next time it’s my turn,” he said with a wink before he stood up and strolled out of the bar.

Her face burned as every pair of eyes moved between her and the cuffs. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

Shit.

“You slut!” her three friends said in unison. It would have been funny if she wasn’t sure that was the new consensus in the bar.

*-*-*-*

“Oh, lad, ye really shouldn’t have done that to her,” Shayne said from the passenger seat of his truck.

Tristan kept his eyes locked on the front door of the bar as he drove away. If he knew Marty, and he was pretty sure that he knew her better than anyone else, she’d be storming out that door to kick his ass any minute now.

“Ye need to go back in there and apologize, maybe tell the people in there that ye were joking,” Shayne said.

“Not happening,” Tristan said distractedly.

“Lad, if ye don’t fix this I…I think whatever chances ye had with the lass will be good and buried. Are ye ready to finally be rid of her forever?”

He gave a casual shrug that he wasn’t feeling and said, “It’s going to happen sooner or later. Might as well get it over with now.” Before the words were out of his mouth, his stomach gave a violent twist at the idea of never seeing Marty again.

She aggravated him, pissed him off, got on his last nerve, but he’d be damned if she didn’t make him smile, laugh and made him glad to be alive. Without her, his life was going to amount to absolutely nothing.

He shifted in his seat as he pressed on the gas. “I need a drink.”

Chapter 14

“Tristan, I have to be honest. I’m a little surprised to see you here today,” Dr. Bryne said, picking up a pen and a legal pad. He watched as Tristan added a sugar packet to his coffee and pulled out a large apple fritter from a small white pastry bag. “Well, besides having breakfast in my office that is.”

“Didn’t we have an appointment?” Tristan asked as he took a bite out of his fritter, careful not to spill any of the apple filling on his tie or shirt.

“No.”

“Are you sure? I could have sworn that we had a meeting first thing this morning,” Tristan said in a thoughtful tone as he added another packet of sugar to his coffee.

Dr. Bryne narrowed his eyes on Tristan. “You know that we didn’t have a meeting. The fact that you told my eight o’clock appointment to sit down and shut up when he complained about you taking his time slot, because you said and I quote, ‘the voices in my head are taking over and it's every man for himself’ lets me know that you’re well aware that we didn’t have an appointment.”

Tristan’s lips twitched as Dr. Bryne continued to glare at him. “Oh, come on, Doc! You know that you’re happy to see me.”

“Tristan,” he sighed. “You’ve been skipping our appointments for the last couple of weeks even though it’s a condition for returning to work. Then out of the blue you storm in here and scare the hell out of all of my patients and secretary and you expect me to be happy about this?”

“Yes,” Tristan simply said. “So, what do you want to talk about, Doc?” Tristan asked as he sipped his coffee. He hoped this damn meeting went as planned. He needed it to go well.

“Well, since you’re here and all I guess we could talk about a certain video that made its way onto the internet this weekend,” Dr. Bryne said casually, too casually.

Tristan tried not to wince at the reminder of that video. “That was nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

Tristan sighed as he put down his coffee and leaned back against the leather couch. “It was just someone getting back at me for being me.”

“Meaning?”

He shrugged. “I’m an asshole, plain and simple.”

“That doesn’t seem to bother you.”

Tristan pursed his lips, thinking it over. “It’s a character flaw.”

“I see,” Dr. Bryne said and Tristan could tell the man was struggling not to smile.

“I’m glad that you do.”

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something, but since you've been skipping our sessions lately I haven’t had the chance.”

Tristan rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I’ve been busy with the voices in my head and all. Plus those damn pink bunnies are really demanding.”

Dr. Bryne gave him a stern look, but continued. “I wanted to ask how things were working out with Marty. I know that the two of you used be childhood friends and drifted apart for a while there. It must be nice catching up after all this time.”

Well, that was unexpected. “It’s fine,” he answered quickly. He hadn’t come here to talk about Marty. Hell, he’d spent most of the night working and trying to forget about her. Not that it actually worked, but at least he got a lot of work done.

“Is there something in particular that you wanted to talk about, Tristan?”

“Well, I was wondering if you would sign off on my sheet so that I could be released from medical.”

Dr. Bryne frowned. “From what I’ve been told, you’re already working as if you’re off medical. You’re driving, responding to calls and making arrests. Why do you suddenly care about a piece of paper?”

“Careful, lad. He’s a tricky bastard,” Shayne said from his spot behind Dr. Bryne’s desk. Tristan’s gaze automatically shot to Shayne. Dr. Bryne followed the movement and frowned.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” Tristan said as he turned his attention back to the doctor. “Now, about that signature. You’re right. I have been working, however, as long as I have that medical restriction hanging over my head, I have to bring Marty along and that’s putting her in danger.”

“So, don’t do anything dangerous.”

Tristan barely stopped himself from swearing. He took a calming breath before he continued. “That’s not really a choice for me, Doc. We’re not a very large department and as a supervisor I have to respond to a lot of regular calls.”

“I see.”

Tristan sure as hell hoped that he did. If he could get off medical, he would only have to worry about dealing with Marty in their office. He’d stick around until she got serious with another guy. Then he’d leave and never come back. He would never chance seeing her married to another man. It would destroy him.

“Were you able to get your doctor to sign off on your shoulder?”

“Yes, they signed off last week.” Mostly because they wanted to make sure that they never had to see him again. The terms may have been along the lines of him never ever returning there even if he was dying. It was an easy promise to make. So what if he now had to drive two hours to the nearest medical office if he needed an exam? It was well worth it.

“Okay, then let’s talk about the shooting. How does it make you feel now?”

His eyes shot to Shayne in question. He had to tread carefully and with Shayne reading through his file behind the good doctor’s back he had the upper hand. He hadn’t missed Shayne's soft chuckles over the past couple of minutes either.

Shayne’s face scrunched up in distaste. “Well, that’s…that’s just not right.”

Tristan forced himself to remain seated and not walk over there and tear the file away from Shayne so that he could read it for himself. No doubt the man was just fucking with his head.

“Tristan?” Dr. Bryne said, drawing his attention.

Oh, that’s right.

He cleared his throat pointedly. “You wanted to know how I feel about the shooting?” he asked loudly, hoping Shayne would stop laughing his ass off and give him the information that he needed.

“He has no problem with yer outlook on the shooting, lad. He has other concerns about ye, so just answer honestly,” Shayne said without looking up from file.

What? That wasn’t right. He was only supposed to be here about the shooting. What else could there be? He was a freaking paragon of sanity and good sense, goddammit! Okay, granted he was having a powerful spirit sneak a peek at his file, but that was neither here nor there.

“I don’t feel much about the shooting, Doc, except regret for those boys. They’re the ones who are going to have a tough time getting their lives back to normal and accepting what happened to them. If you want to know if I feel any pity or remorse over killing that prick, the answer is no. I don’t. It was a clean kill and a necessary one,” he said, using the same tone he used when talking to the prosecutor.

Dr. Bryne nodded solemnly as he wrote something down on the legal pad resting on his lap. Tristan shot a look at Shayne, but Shayne was already on it. He leaned over the doctor’s shoulder and chuckled.

“He’s just writing a reminder to pick up milk, lad,” Shayne said as he returned to the desk. Almost immediately he began chuckling. Tristan’s hands clenched and unclenched. What he wouldn’t give to see that damn file.

“So, Doc, do you think that you could sign the release?” Tristan asked, trying to get the man to focus on the task at hand.

Dr. Bryne sighed heavily. “No, I think you could really benefit from some more therapy.”

That was it. Tristan shot off the couch. “What the hell does that mean?”

Dr. Bryne jumped back in his chair, almost falling over. He cleared his throat. “Hank thought you could benefit from….um….”

“Just say it!” Tristan snapped.

“Ah, lad….” Shayne said, trying to get his attention.

Tristan being Tristan, he ignored him. Once his temper snapped, there was usually no hauling it in.

“I’m sick of this bullshit. You and I both know that there is nothing wrong with me. I’m not losing sleep over that prick and I’m ready to go back to work. The only reason to hold me back is if you felt that I was traumatized from that shooting and we both know that I would not hesitate to pull the trigger again if it was necessary.”

“Lad, it’s not that. It’s-“

Tristan rammed his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have patience for this shit or the time it takes out of my schedule to come here and play touchy feely, Doc. So, do us both a favor and sign me off so that I can do my fucking job!”

“H-Hank thought you could use some anger therapy,” Dr. Bryne stuttered.

Well…..hell.

He shot a glare at Shayne who was glaring right back. “Next time shut the fuck up, lad, so I can tell ye that they think ye have an anger problem, ye dumb bastard!”

“Oh,” Tristan said, frowning. He thought it over for a minute before asking, “My temper’s not that bad, is it?”

His question was met with twin expressions of utter disbelief.

“It’s not,” he bit out.

Dr. Bryne carefully got to his feet and walked over to his desk. He frowned down at Tristan’s open file. Then shook his head as if he was shaking away a thought and picked up an appointment card and wrote something on the back. He walked over to Tristan and handed him the card, careful not to get too close to him.

“I’m not going to require you to come to anymore one on one sessions,” he said, sounding relieved, really relieved. “But, I am going to recommend that you finish five anger management group meetings. They meet twice every day. I suggest that you take advantage of this opportunity and work on your anger.”

Tristan snatched the card away and stormed off towards the door, forgetting his coffee. “This is bullshit! I have the fucking patience of a saint!” He slammed the door behind him and faced the waiting room where several very frightened patients noticeably cowered.

“Do I look like I have a fucking anger problem?”

As one they shook their heads.

“That’s what I thought.”

Chapter 15

“Are you coming in?” Hank asked as he threw the cruiser in park.

Marty held up a finger to let him know that she’d be in there in a minute. In the meantime she was on hold with her cell phone provider. Thanks to Tristan’s little antics yesterday, she was forced to change her phone number or continue to deal with phone calls every other minute from people that she didn't know asking questions about her and Tristan or guys that wanted a chance at getting between her legs.

So, now she was forced to pay forty dollars to change her number. Forty bucks she was determined to make Tristan pay. This was his fault after all. If she’d known this was how he was going to treat her after all those years of friendship, she would have stuck with ignoring him. That orgasm was so not worth this bullshit or those damn dreams that she’d been having since Friday. Well, maybe a little of it. She closed her eyes and groaned.

She needed to get her act together and get over the jerk. One would think that after all these years she’d be over him, but no of course not. If anything she loved the bastard more now. Love just plain sucked and was so not worth it. She’d just stick with Bob and chocolate from now on.

Ten minutes later and forty bucks poorer, she walked into Betty Lou’s Coffee and Pastry shop and stepped in line. Her father was already seated at one of the small booths on the other side of the large coffee shop and was talking with the “boys”. Hopefully he was still unaware of her weekend activities.

She was not looking forward to his temper when he found out about her involvement in Tristan’s internet debut. It had been stupid and childish, but something in her had snapped after Tristan had toyed with her. After years of being ignored only to be used and treated like crap when he finally deigned to acknowledge her existence had set her off. She'd finally had enough and did something she’d regretted almost immediately, but it was either follow through with her rash decision or take a chance on a man that would probably shove her away once he was done with her.

She forced herself to calm down and focus on buying an apple fritter and a hot chocolate. That would make her morning better. She just needed her apple fritter and cocoa and everything would be okay. A few minutes later she was waiting for a rather chatty woman to grab her coffee and get the hell out of her way. There was only one fritter left and it was hers!

Just as she was opening her mouth to ask the woman in front of her to move aside so that she could place her order, a large man wearing a dark suit stepped in front of her.

What the hell?

“Hey, there’s a line, buddy!” she snapped, not even caring enough to be polite about it. She needed her delicious fritter or she was pretty sure that she would kill someone.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, sweetheart,” a familiar voice said. It didn’t take her long to figure out who the bastard that had cut in front of her was.

“Tristan Black,” she bit out through clenched teeth, “move your ass!”

He looked over his shoulder and snorted, but didn’t say anything else as he returned his attention back to the cashier.

“I’ll take a hot chocolate and a coffee roll-“

“It’s our last one, Detective. I know that you usually get two,” the woman said in a flirty tone that had Marty’s teeth grinding together.

“Okay, then I’ll also take the last apple fritter, Jen,” Tristan said, earning a gasp from Marty.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” Marty bit out.

Tristan turned around and crossed his arms over his chest while he leaned back against the counter. “I’m sorry, did you want that?” he asked with mock innocence.

She narrowed her eyes on him. The bastard knew that anything with apples was her weakness.

“Yes,” she practically hissed.

He nodded, looking thoughtful before he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Too. Bad.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek before pulling away, leaving her shocked and ready to kick his ass.

“Thanks, Jen,” Tristan said as he dropped a five dollar bill on the counter. He grabbed the two small bags and large hot chocolate and headed for the door.

She closed her eyes and counted to ten. She would not go after him and kick his ass. She would not go out there and jump on his back and take him down with a chokehold. She would not go out there and kick him in the balls and take his fritter and run off laughing. She would not-

“Can I help you?”

Marty’s eyes flew open in time to catch the nervous expression on the cashier’s face. She took a cleansing breath and then another.

“Yes, can I have a hot chocolate and do you have any fritters left in back?” she asked, sounding pathetically hopeful.

“Sorry, the only thing we have left are bran muffins and I think we just ran out of hot cocoa.”

Marty sighed miserably. “Of course you did.”

*-*-*-*

“Ye really shouldn’t have done that, lad,” Shayne said as Tristan finished off the last bite of that unbelievably delicious apple fritter. Something about Marty wanting it made it ten times more delicious. He took a healthy sip of his cocoa as he looked over the notes he’d made over the weekend.

“She had it coming,” he simply said.

“Tristan, ye need to either stop being an ass and man up and be with the lass or leave her the hell alone. Stop torturing her. It’s not fair.”

His eyes snapped up at that. “It’s not fair, is it?” he bit out coldly. “It’s not fair? What the fuck do you know about fair?” he demanded as he stood up, sending his chair slamming back into the wall. “This isn’t my ideal situation. Do you think this is easy on me? I’m the one that can’t be with her. I’m-“

“No one said that ye couldn’t be with her, lad. Ye made that foolish decision on yer own years ago,” Shayne said softly.

Tristan glared at Shayne as he said, “Foolish?”

“Aye, foolish! Ye love that lass!” Shayne yelled, which was surprising, because Shayne never raised his voice to him. He’d always handled Tristan with a patient smile and a calm tone. “Yer a fucking fool to turn yer back on her! All ye care about is her rejecting yer dumb ass when she discovers what ye are instead of giving her a chance. Why don’t ye think about her for once-“

“She’s all I ever think of!”

“Yer putting her through hell! She loves ye and ye know it! Stop playing these games and grow some balls!”

“Fuck you!” Tristan roared as he kicked the chair across the room, slamming it into the side of a metal filing cabinet and putting a very noticeable dent into it.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Tristan’s gaze flew to the door. Marty walked in and dropped her purse on the desk. She gave his hot chocolate a dirty look before sitting down at her desk.

“Tell her!”

He shook his head.

"Fine! Have it yer way then, lad," Shayne said before he disappeared.

“What?” Marty asked.

“Nothing,” he snapped.

She shook her head in disgust as she placed her purse in the bottom desk drawer and placed her jacket on the back of her chair before sitting down. Without another word to him, she logged onto her computer.

With a tired sigh, he pulled his chair back to his desk and sat down. He grabbed the small pile of folders in his inbox that required his attention. These were the arrests made over the weekend. The ones on top were the arrests made the night before and the ones that required his immediate attention.

He grabbed the top one as he took a sip of his hot cocoa.

"You're such a bitch!" a woman's shrill voice suddenly announced, making him jump and spill some of the hot chocolate on his leg.

"Shit," he gasped as the hot liquid seeped through his pants and onto his leg. He quickly placed his drink back on top of his desk. He grabbed a handful of napkins and pressed them against his leg.

Marty muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Serves you right," but otherwise didn't acknowledge him in any way.

"Me? You're the bitch!" another woman screamed.

Tristan was just about to get up and see what the hell was going on out in the pit when two young women literally stumbled into his office through the wall. He barely bit back a groan. He did not need this today, especially with Shayne off somewhere pouting.

He wasn't about to summon Shayne to deal with these two, knowing that it would just invite another lecture about Marty. That subject was closed. Any possibility of him taking a chance with her had been squashed when she’d shoved his naked ass out of his own house.

"You got us killed, you ho bag!" the peroxide blonde said as she shoved the brunette back. The brunette stumbled back several feet before coming to a stop in the middle of Tristan's desk.

"I'm the ho? You're the one that slept with that creepy security guy!" the brunette announced with her hands firmly planted on her, torn pink leather covered, hips.

"I thought he was part of the band!" the blonde shrieked as she threw herself at the brunette. They both went flying through his computer and onto the ground where they proceeded with the saddest and loudest catfight he'd ever witnessed.

Tristan sat back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face and sighed. This was going to be a long day.

*-*-*-*

"At least I didn't die ten pounds overweight!"

"I may be ten pounds overweight, but at least it's not all in my ass like in some people that I won't mention!"

A loud outraged gasp was followed by the sounds of another catfight. Tristan didn't bother looking away from his computer screen as he reached into his bottom desk drawer and pulled out a value-sized bottle of fast acting aspirin. He popped three pills into his mouth and chased them down with the now cold hot chocolate.

He returned his attention to the database that he’d made over the weekend for the missing girls from the past twenty-two years. Based on the files he’d been able to dismiss thirty of the missing cases. That left over fifty cases that fell into a pattern that, at first looked like nothing more than coincidences, but after putting them into the database and mapping them they looked anything but coincidental.

All the women on his list were grabbed within two miles of a restaurant or a restaurant supply company. It wasn't until a month ago that these cases had caught his eye. At first he hadn't thought much about them since all the kidnappings occurred in the busy sections of each town or city where most restaurants were located.

The fact that not all of the kidnap victims were associated with any of the restaurants either as employees or customers was another problem for his theory as well as the fact that none of the women fit any type of pattern. They were all different ages, body shapes, ethnic backgrounds and came from different financial backgrounds. Any other investigator would have just looked at the cases and said that they had nothing in common. He almost had, as well, if it hadn't been for one little detail.

The restaurants and supply stores were all high-class establishments. The kidnappings all occurred well away from fast food joints or Mom and Pop establishments. All the kidnappings also occurred on the back roads leading to or away from the restaurants and supply stores.

He knew that it was a long shot and he could very well be wrong, but he had a nagging feeling about these cases that he couldn't let go. Until he had some kind of physical evidence like a video, prints, witnesses or even a body, he couldn't push for a task force or even issue a warning. All he had right now was a database and a hunch. Hell, there wasn't even a pattern to help him figure out where the kidnapper would strike next.

What he wouldn't give for a spirit to come harass him at two in the morning over this case. For a month now he'd been waiting for just that, but so far nothing. It wasn't surprising, but it definitely wasn't good news. Since he doubted that all these women had run away like some of the investigators claimed or were being held somewhere still alive, some for several years, he was left with only one conclusion.

They'd all suffered greatly before they’d died and welcomed the peaceful release from their bodies. On one hand, he was happy that their spirits didn't suffer further torment by wandering the earth. On the other hand, if even one of them had contacted him, he would have been able to end this a long time ago. Then again, for all he knew they could be stuck where they’d died, unable to let go.

"Bitch!"

"No, you're the bitch!" the airhead twins argued as his head started to pound.  "Ask him. He’ll tell you!" she said, gesturing to him.

Tristan just barely bit back his groan. They'd been too busy bitch slapping each other to even notice him and he'd hoped it stayed that way.

"You know if he could see us that he'd totally want me, right?" the brunette said as she fluffed her blood caked hair back. They stood behind Marty, watching him.

The blonde snorted. "He can see us and he was totally checking out my girls," she said as she made a show of adjusting her breasts and winked at him, making him cringe.

"Nah ah!" the brunette said.

"Yeah, because when we were arguing over whether my text messaging and fixing my makeup while I was driving or all those cars going the wrong way on the highway was the reason we crashed, he muttered that we should win the Darwin Award."

"You mean we're going to win something?" the brunette asked, practically jumping up and down.

"Totally!"

As the dead women suddenly rushed him, he promised all kinds of revenge on Shayne, starting with cancelling the porn channel.

Chapter 16

"I'm going home," she announced as she stood up and collected her things.

"Don't care," Tristan said and she just barely stopped herself from throwing her stapler at his head.

All day she'd been forced to put up with his surly attitude. Now she was more than ready to call it a night. If she’d thought he'd been an asshole before, she'd been dead wrong. Today he'd redefined the term asshole. Today she couldn't wait to get the hell away from him. Today.....

Today he broke her heart.

All day she’d waited and hoped to see a glimmer of the Tristan that she loved, but he never showed up. Instead, she had to deal with this jerk that either ignored her or snapped at her. Several times she was forced to leave the office and hide out in the bathroom to calm down before she did something completely stupid like cry.

She loved him so much and she hated him for it. She didn’t want to feel this way about him, never had, but she couldn’t help it. Being in love with Tristan felt natural, right and the other day when she’d been in his arms she’d felt whole for the first time in her life. She wanted to be with him, needed to be with him, but that was never going to happen.

At least one thing was clear.

She couldn't keep doing this. As much as she wanted to work in this department, and with her father before he retired, she just couldn't. She couldn't come in day after day and pretend that seeing him and being near him wasn't killing her. She just couldn't keep doing this and, as soon as she had her degree, she would start sending out her resume and hopefully she'd find something far away so that she could move on with her life and forget about him.

Who the hell was she trying to kid? She'd never be able to forget about Tristan Black. At least she'd be able to put some space between them and give her broken heart a chance to mend and finally move on.

She’d just reached the door when someone knocked. Ignoring Tristan's muttered, yet colorful, curse, she opened the door to find Rosemary standing in the doorway wearing what could only be described as a complacent smile on her face.

"Detective Black, Hank would like a word with you," she said, making everything in Marty go still.

Oh no........

Somehow between work and Tristan's attitude she'd forgotten all about her father and the likelihood that he would find out about everything that had transpired over the weekend. Well, not everything, but he sure as hell would find out about Tristan being shoved out of his house, aroused and naked as well as Tristan's little announcement at the bar.

This was bad, very bad. She needed to speak with her father first and calm him down before he spoke to Tristan. Hell, she hadn't been this nervous since she’d crashed her father's truck back in high school. If she was this anxious, she couldn't imagine how nervous Tristan must be. It was his ass on the line after all. Maybe she should talk to him before she spoke to her father, to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. Her father was an intimidating man after all, and had scared off more guys than she could count. She needed to handle this before things got out of hand and-

"Tell him that I'll be right there," Tristan said, standing up and grabbing a file before heading to the door, looking calm and relaxed.

"Your father would like to speak with you as well," Rosemary added before she walked away.

Marty stepped in front of the door, blocking it. "Maybe you should let me talk to my father first."

"It's not necessary," Tristan said, gesturing for her to go.

"Not necessary?" she repeated, dumbfounded. "It's very necessary. The man is going to be pissed."

Tristan merely shrugged as he somehow managed to get her out of the office. He stepped past her and headed towards her father's office. She followed after him, feeling the eyes of everyone in the pit watching her. She really wasn't looking forward to this. In fact, she’d planned on speaking with her father about everything over lunch at his favorite pizza shop. She would have explained everything and, if that failed, she would have begged her father to stay out of it and let her handle things. Unfortunately for Tristan, she'd worked through lunch and obviously missed a golden opportunity, because her father was about to kill him.

"Have a seat," her father said tightly when they walked into his office.

With a sense of doom, she did just that. This was so wrong. She was in her twenties and she should be beyond this, but apparently she was a wimp.

"I need to speak with you, Hank," Tristan said, getting to the point. On behalf of the butterflies in her stomach she could have kissed the man, but she quickly reminded herself that was what got them into this situation in the first place.

"What do you have?" Hank asked, sighing heavily as he held out his hand for the file in Tristan's hand.

"It might not be anything," Tristan said, handing over the file before taking the seat next to hers.

"But you don't think so," Hank said, opening the file.

"No, I think all the cases are connected," Tristan said, leaning back in his chair and looking relaxed while she sat there trying not to fidget. "If you'll look over my notes, you'll see that all fifty-eight of the women I've selected for this were last seen near restaurant supply stores or high class restaurants."

"How far back does this go?" Hank asked, dropping his gaze to the folder.

"Twenty-two years."

"No bodies?" Hank asked as he continued to look over Tristan's notes.

"No, and not one of them has been seen since. No calls, letters, or sightings."

"Have you contacted the detectives on these cases?"

"Yes."

"And?"

Tristan ran a hand through his neatly combed hair, sighing heavily. "They have no new leads and they don't have the manpower to look into this."

"Neither do we," Hank said with real regret in his tone. "We're backed up as it is, Tristan."

"My main focus is on my cases, Hank, but I really think this deserves some attention as well."

Hank nodded as he closed the file and handed it back to Tristan. "Just make sure that you don't fall behind. Let me know if you find anything that we can use."

Tristan took the file back, not looking all that surprised, she noticed. "What did you need to talk to us about, Hank?" Tristan asked casually with absolutely no fear as he met her father's gaze head on.

"You're not meeting the requirements of our agreement," her father said, surprising her. She couldn't help but sag a little in relief that she wasn't about to get chewed out in front of Tristan. It also meant that she could still speak to her father about everything. She didn't want him hearing about what happened from someone else. She wasn't a child and had no plans of trying to hide what happened from her father or lying about it. It was just a little awkward talking to her father about what happened. She doubted many people eagerly spoke to their parents about their sexual escapades.

"I've been cleared medically," Tristan pointed out.

"Yes," Hank said, sighing as he picked up a clipboard and looked it over. "You do realize that I'm not buying this bullshit sign off, right?" he asked, looking up to meet Tristan's eyes and she could have sworn her father looked amused.

"They signed off, Hank. That's all that's required for me to return back to work," Tristan pointed out, still holding her father's gaze.

"Uh huh, care to tell me how they went from suggesting extending light duty as well as physical therapy and hinting at the need for a second surgery one day and the next signing you off and repeatedly stating in your file that you didn't need to go back there ever again?"

"The miracle of modern science," Tristan said with a straight face as she struggled not to smile.

"Then explain why they stated several times that if you have any further problems that you should be seen, but by someone else? In fact, they went as far as to attach the contact information for fifty other doctors. Now why do you think they did that?" Hank asked as he leaned back in his chair, studying Tristan.

The corner of Tristan's lips twitched, but he said nothing. Finally her father sighed heavily as he ran his hands down his face. "You may have gotten out of the medical requirements, but you still need to complete your therapy sessions before I can release you from medical," Hank pointed out.

Tristan's lips pressed into a firm line at that announcement. "I did the required therapy," he said evenly.

Hank shrugged. "You have more."

"You can't do that," Tristan said, sounding pissed.

"Yes, I can," her father said without any hesitation. "You will complete the group therapy sessions before you’ll be allowed to resume the rest of your duties," her father said and she just barely stopped herself from pointing out that he already had when her father's gaze shifted to her. "And you will start doing the job you were hired for or I'm going to have to let you go until you get your degree."

"W-what?" she asked, a little more than stunned. "I have been doing my job."

"No, you haven't. You were hired to type, but he's been doing his own typing," Hank said, gesturing lazily to Tristan. "You were also hired to drive him, but again, he's been doing that. If you can't do your job, Marty, then I'm afraid that I'm going to have to let you go."

She’d just bought a new car. Well, new to her, to anyone else it was an overpriced piece of crap, but it got her from point A to point B and back so she was happy. If he fired her, she wouldn't have money to pay for her insurance, gas, her phone, or anything for that matter. She'd have to dip into her savings and she didn't want to do that since it meant that she'd have to put off getting her independence for a while longer.

If she lost this job she'd have to take another dead-end minimum wage job and she could not afford to do that. She needed this job. If she lost it maybe she could-

"She is doing her job," Tristan said, shocking the ever-living hell out of her. She'd expected him to agree with Hank that she wasn't doing her job so that he could finally get rid of her.  "She's created a more efficient database, making it easier to put in information and cutting down half the time needed for paperwork. She's very efficient and works fast, Hank. I think it would be a waste of her talents if you didn't put her in the secretary pool so that she could help the rest of the department," he said casually while she sat there simmering.

That sneaky son of a bi-

"She already has a job," Hank said with a long-suffering sigh. "She's supposed to be your assistant right now."

Tristan shrugged. "I don't need an assistant."

"That's too bad, because you've got one," Hank said firmly as he leveled a hard look on both of them. "I don't know what's going on here and I don't care. I need you released from medical-"

"I would be if you didn't impose this bullshit on me," Tristan said, cutting her father off. "I did what was required by the Department and I should be back at full status and we both know it. Making me go to group therapy is asinine, Hank. I don't need it or have a problem."

"You don't think so?" her father mused, looking amused for some godforsaken reason.

"No," Tristan said evenly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"Hmm," her father made the noncommittal sound as he studied Tristan. "Perhaps we should ask Marty what she thinks. If I'm wrong and she agrees with you, then I'll take away the requirement."

Almost immediately she had two sets of eyes focused on her, one looking amused while the other was glaring a silent warning. Well, this was interesting. Why exactly did her father think that he needed more therapy, correction, group therapy? More importantly, why he thought that she was qualified to voice an opinion on the matter was beyond her. Her focus wasn't on clinical psychology, but on criminal and for all his faults Tristan was not a criminal.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Your answer won’t affect your job one way or the other," her father promised, but the look in Tristan's angry emerald eyes told a completely different story. If she agreed with her father, Tristan would make her life a living hell.

Perhaps she should tactfully excuse herself from this one. Working with him was hard enough. She didn't want to make things worse. She needed this job and Tristan lived for the job. Maybe it would be best if-

"Do you think that Tristan has an anger management problem?" her father asked, leaving her speechless.

Did she think that Tristan had an anger management problem? For a moment she actually considered having her father committed for asking something that would be crystal clear to a blind man. The man had a short fuse and a temper that would scare the devil.

Then again, it really wasn't her place and she shouldn't get involved. She opened her mouth to explain exactly that when she caught Tristan's eyes and watched as he mouthed the words, "Don't even think about it."

So, of course she did what she thought was right.

"Why yes, yes, I believe that he does have a bit of an anger problem," she said sweetly as she did her best to appear innocent.

Her father smiled triumphantly as Tristan let out a very low, but sexy growl that promised all sorts of revenge, but she didn't care. This opportunity to put Tristan in his place was just too good to pass up. Right now he could make her life a living hell and it would be well worth it.

"There you have it. I suggest that you get started on your sessions. There's a time limit on this and luckily enough for you there's a meeting tonight," her father said as he handed her a piece of paper.

She took it, frowning. "What's this?" she asked, looking down at the paper, noting the letterhead from the community center with a list of times and room numbers.

"That would be the schedule for his group meetings. Your new job is to drive him there at least once a day for the next two weeks," he said in a tone that she knew better than to argue with.

Still.....

"How exactly do you suggest I go about forcing someone into a car who has at least six inches and a hundred pounds on me?" she asked, genuinely curious. Was he going to let her carry a stun gun or something? Otherwise she really didn't see this little plan of his working.

"He'll go," her father said with a shrug as he stood up.

"Or what?" Tristan asked evenly as he too got to his feet. She couldn't help but wonder the same thing as she stood up and moved to leave.

"Or else you’ll go back on full medical until you complete all of your therapy sessions," her father said before looking at her.

"Do you want to speak with me?" she asked, glad that she sounded so damn casual about the whole thing. She'd never been comfortable talking to her dad about boys, never mind sex.

Then again, her father had been just as nervous as her if not more so during their little chat about the birds and the bees. It hadn’t mattered how uncomfortable the whole thing made him, he’d always taken his responsibility to talk with her about sex seriously. Granted, she couldn't remember one single conversation about sex that hadn’t ended with him hyperventilating and needing a few aspirin or a six-pack of beer.  When it came time for the woman talk though he’d pushed that responsibility off onto Beth after the rather frightening hour and a half of questions she’d thrown at him. He'd tried to answer every single one of them as best as he could, but even she could tell at nine years old that he’d been in over his head.

"Only if you feel there's something you want to talk to me about," Hank said as he looked pointedly at Tristan.

Was there? She followed her father's gaze and wasn't too surprised to find Tristan watching her. If they hadn't screwed each other over, she might have said maybe, but the man clearly didn’t want to be with her and she'd have to be a moron to keep missing the signs.

"No, there's nothing to talk about," she said as she turned to leave, wishing that wasn't the case. She also wished that she wasn't in love with a man who haunted her dreams and couldn’t care less about her.

Chapter 17

"Wow, what a bitch," the blonde airhead, as he now thought of her, said as Marty stormed past him and snatched the keys out of his hand.

She hit the button on the keychain to unlock the car and climbed in, but not before throwing him a look that dared him to bitch about her driving. He bit his tongue as he walked around the car and made his way to the passenger side. Unfortunately, he was forced to walk through the two dead, annoying women and received a shock of cold dread that surged through his body and into his bones before it abruptly disappeared.

He hated that feeling. It was pure terror, crawling down his spine and he'd always despised it, especially when he’d been a child. When he was a toddler, he would cry inconsolably for hours after the unpleasant experience while his birth parents were left frustrated and clueless on how to calm him down. It hadn’t helped matters that they'd barely been out of high school when they’d had him. Their story was typical, but the results weren't.

They weren't ready to handle a kid, never mind a kid like him. He couldn't imagine dealing with a young child who cried for hours on end, would freak out over everything, flip out if he went anywhere near cemeteries, nursing homes, or hospitals. If that wasn't bad enough, he was constantly getting hurt. Living with him must have been stressful and he couldn't say that he blamed his parents for what they’d done.

"Hey, shouldn't you be helping us?" the brunette demanded as she tried to climb in the car only to discover that her foot went right through the floor.

"What the hell?" the blond gasped.

He of course sighed with satisfaction as he got comfortable in his seat. Driving provided him with a much needed break. It was the reason why he’d always loved going for long drives. It was the one place where he could find some peace. The only spirit that could accompany him was Shayne, but then again, the man wasn't really a spirit.

"I need to make a quick stop before we go deal with your anger issues," Marty said distractedly as she pulled out of the parking lot.

"I don't have anger issues," Tristan bit out tightly.

"Uh huh, then what would you call it?" she asked, shooting him a curious look before she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the busy street.

He pursed his lips up in thought before he said, "Expressing my displeasure with everything and everyone in an efficient manner."

"By scaring the living hell out of everyone?" she asked in disbelief.

"It is the most efficient way," he mused, chuckling when she rolled her eyes, but he didn't miss the little smile that she tried to hide as she looked away.

"Where are we going?" he asked, wondering if this bullshit Hank threw at them at the last minute had ruined her plans for the night. It actually made him feel kind of bad, until he wondered if she had a date planned for tonight. Then he didn't feel so bad about wrecking her plans. She shouldn't be seeing any other guys when she was-

She wasn't his and she never would be, he reminded himself. The reminder that she would never be his made his chest ache. Was he really supposed to live without this woman? he wondered as he studied her. She was beautiful, smart, funny as hell, and made him happy.

Could he really live without her?

Allowing her into his life would be a risk, a risk that he wasn't sure he was ready for, but if he didn't risk everything he would lose her. Having her in his life would mean being more careful and never allowing his guard down when she was around. What if she moved in or they got married? He'd have to be careful twenty-four seven about what he said or how he acted so that she didn't catch him talking to Shayne or any spirit that decided to track his ass down.

Granted, it would be a lot of work, but he'd done it before when he’d lived with his family. It had been stressful to keep up the pretense of being normal for his family and, as much as he loved them, it had been a huge weight off his shoulders when he finally moved out on his own and could let his guard down. Could he do it again for Marty?

Yes, he could, he suddenly realized. For her, he would do anything. It would be a lot of work and he wouldn't be allowed to fully relax when she was around, but it would be worth it. If he could have Marty in his life and not have to watch as some other asshole took his place, he would gladly do whatever it took. He'd work his ass off for the rest of his life to make her happy if she gave him the chance.

"Why are you smiling?" Marty asked as she parked the car.

He couldn't help but smile. Up until this point he'd never allowed himself to hope for anything more with her. Even this weekend when things had gotten out of control, he hadn't truly allowed himself to think that he could have her. He'd always feared that he'd somehow give himself away, but as long as he was careful, really fucking careful, he should be able to pull this off. He'd do anything so that he didn't have to live without her. He wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her and hold her as he told her how much he loved her, how he'd always loved her, but now wasn't the time.

She was angry at him and probably for good reason. He may have been an asshole over the past couple of weeks. There would probably be groveling involved when he convinced her to give him a chance and he didn't want to do that in a-

"What are we doing here?" he asked, looking around the parking lot only to discover to his horror that they were at a mini mall.

Marty sighed heavily as she grabbed her small black purse and opened her door. "I'm starving and you're buying me dinner."

He looked at his watch and shrugged. They had a good forty-five minutes before he had to go to the meeting and convince the therapist that it would be in his best interest to sign off on his sheet and pretend that he met the new requirements. Hopefully it would only take ten minutes out of his night so that he could focus on Marty, because no matter what, she would be his before this night was over.

"What are you in the mood for?" he asked as he joined her in front of his car. Before she could drop his keys in her purse, he deftly snatched them and pocketed them, pointedly ignoring her adorable murderous glare. She really was rather pretty when she was contemplating manslaughter, he mused as he took her hand into his and led her over to Jason's BBQ Shack without waiting for an answer.

Not that he really needed one. Marty loved BBQ, always had and probably always would. When they were kids she'd show up at his house within five minutes of the grill being started, ready to dig in. It hadn’t mattered if she’d already eaten, was grounded, playing, or was in the middle of eating with her father, if Marty smelled BBQ she came running. He secretly suspected that his parents made sure to fire up the grill several times a week during good weather just to give Marty and her father an excuse to come over and enjoy a home cooked meal with them.

Hank was a great father and a hell of a man, but he sucked at cooking so he left that particular chore on Marty's shoulders when she was barely big enough to reach the cabinets without that aid of a chair. Of course, his mother sent over casseroles and invited them over for practically every meal, but Hank was a stubborn man and hated charity. He'd accept a few meals a week to give Marty a break and because honestly, her cooking skills had been severely limited when she’d first started out. Still, the man was determined to make a real home for Marty and that meant the two of them eating alone like a family most of the time.

"What are you doing?" Marty asked as she tried to pull her hand away, but he refused to release it. It felt good to hold her hand and now that he'd decided that he wasn't going to let her go, he realized that there was no longer any reason to deny himself what he wanted.

"Holding your hand. What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked as they passed the old-fashioned ice cream shop that he decided they'd hit after they ate to see if Marty still had a weak spot for peanut butter cup sundaes to sweeten her up for the talk that they needed to have later.

"Why?"

"Why wouldn't I hold your hand?" he asked, looking down at her as he reached out and opened the door to the small barbeque restaurant for her.

"Because I hate you?" she asked, trying to pull her hand away.

"Uh huh," he said, letting her hand go and gesturing for her to precede him into the small restaurant.

"Why did you say that like I was kidding?" she asked, pausing to let an elderly couple carrying trays full of food pass them as they made their way to the small dining area.

"Because you were," he said, taking her hand back into his as they moved to step into the mercifully short line.

"No, I assure you that I really do hate you. In fact, I'm kind of hoping that the therapist takes one look at you and recommends shock therapy or perhaps a straitjacket." She pursed her lips up in thought and shrugged. "Then again, I wouldn't be opposed to a lobotomy if he really felt that was necessary."

"That's very generous of you," he drawled absently as he looked past the middle-aged couple in front of them. He watched as an elderly woman with her hair pulled back into a severe bun and was wearing a pair of no-nonsense thick black squared frame eyeglasses, a scowl that looked both permanent and painful, and a off-white nightgown that covered her from mid-neck to the very tops of her feet, berated a man in his mid-thirties with thinning brown hair that watched the cashier with a little too much interest.

"Is this how I raised you?" the woman demanded as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the man as he shifted, obviously anxious for the family in front of him to finish up with their order and get out of his way.

"I don't understand why you do these things, Francis," the elderly woman snapped as a little boy unknowingly ran through her on his way to the bathroom. "I cannot believe this is how you want to live your life. You're lucky that I'm dead, young man, or I would take you over my knee and give you the spanking that you deserve!"

As Tristan placed his hands on Marty's shoulders and shifted her to the side, he idly wondered just how long the woman had been haunting this man. Obviously she felt that he needed looking after and Tristan couldn't agree more.

"What are you doing?" Marty demanded as she shoved his hands aside and tried to move back in line.

He pressed a quick kiss to her stunned lips before he gave her another gentle push aside, risking bodily harm for getting between her and barbecue food. "Either get the hell out of here, Marty, or duck," he said softly as he unsnapped his holster and placed his hand on the butt of his weapon.

"Francis McDonald, you listen to me right now!" the woman snapped, getting good and mad as she stepped in front of him and tried to stop him. "You haul your butt down to the police station and turn yourself in this instant! I swear to God that if you don't, I will haunt you for the rest of your life! If you so much as take one cent from these people, I will slap you silly the moment you die for all this nonsense!"

The man stepped through her as the family ahead of him finally got their order and headed for their table. Tristan watched as the man reached into his jacket as he approached the cashier. She opened her mouth to greet the next customer when her eyes widened in terror.

"Tristan?" Marty said behind him, sounding nervous and making him wish that he could pull her into his arms and protect her from this, but he was already moving.

He pushed the couple in front of him aside, pulled his weapon free and aimed it between the shoulders of the man standing in front of him. "Francis McDonald, put your weapon on the floor slowly and step away," he said in a hard tone of authority that usually worked for him.

Francis, noticeably startled, slowly looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened in shock when he spotted Tristan. For a moment, he stood there, frozen in fear.

"See? Didn't I tell you that you would get caught one day?" the woman demanded. "But would you listen to me? No, you just had to do things your own way."

"Put your weapon down, now!" Tristan shouted.

The man nodded once as he did just that, keeping his eyes locked on Tristan the entire time. As he slowly stood up, he glanced at the exit.

"Don't even think about it, asshole. Turn around and place your hands on the counter," Tristan said, stepping forward as he kept his gun aimed on him.

"You better not resist arrest this time, mister," the elderly woman haunting his suspect said with a stern expression that she no doubt thought would be obeyed.

Tristan didn't even know the man and he knew what the bastard was going to do. Before Tristan could reach for his cuffs, Francis turned and bolted for the door. With a muttered curse, Tristan quickly holstered his weapon and went after him. Five feet from the door, Tristan managed to tackle him, sending them both sliding across the polished black and white tiled floor. Tristan's left shoulder slammed into the doorway of the double door entrance, sending sharp pain through his shoulder and down his arm. He was barely aware of Marty screaming his name as he wrestled with the bastard struggling to get away.

Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Tristan forced the suspect onto his stomach and yanked both of his arms behind his back and cuffed him. His shoulder was in agony and the bastard wouldn't stop trying to get away. What the hell was wrong with this douche bag? Tristan wondered as he stood up, stumbling slightly from the pain. Francis took that as the signal to get to his feet and try to make a run for it with both his arms handcuffed behind his back.

"Think again, asshole," Tristan said as he reached out with his good hand and grabbed the short chain of the handcuffs and yanked Francis back.

"You have the right to remain silent," he said, shooting a pointed look at the elderly woman standing next to them when she opened her mouth to start in on the bastard again. The perp couldn't hear her, but Tristan sure as hell could and his patience had shot out the window three minutes ago when the prick had screwed his shoulder up.

She looked surprised, but smartly nodded and kept her mouth shut as Tristan finished reading the man his rights. Tristan picked up the gun on the floor before he hauled Francis out of the restaurant. Biting back a grimace of pain, Tristan placed the suspect in the back of his car. He slammed the car door shut and signaled to a black and white as it pulled into the parking lot with its lights flashing to take care of the perp for him before he returned to the restaurant.

As he walked into the restaurant he found Marty talking to a few children who looked upset. She'd turned into a very kind woman, he thought as he walked up to the counter, noting the three very nervous employees.

"C-c-c-can I h-help you, officer?" the teenager with pink striped hair asked.

"Ice," he said through clenched teeth.

"Ice?" she repeated, sounding confused as she shot her co-workers a questioning look.

"Yes, ice and lots of it," he said as the pain doubled, almost dropping him to his knees. What a fucked up night. It really couldn't get any worse, he thought as he watched the three anxious employees stumble over each other as they tried to fill his order.

"See! I told you we'd find him!"

"No, I told you! Besides, I'm the one who found him."

"You're such a liar!"

"You're such a slut!"

"Takes one to know one!"

The bimbo twins had found him, he realized with a groan. This really was not his night.

Chapter 18

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine," Tristan said distractedly as he opened his car door and carefully climbed out.

With a sigh, she pulled the keys out of the ignition, grabbed her purse and did the same. She was more than ready to put this whole bizarre day behind her. Her day had started with harassing phone calls, Tristan stealing her much needed apple fritter and dealing with his asshole ways. It hadn't exactly been a pleasant experience. If that wasn't bad enough he decided to end the day by confusing her and acting like he wanted her.

That is until all hell broke loose at her favorite barbeque restaurant. She still couldn't figure out how Tristan not only knew who the guy was from just a look at the man's back, but also knew what he was up to. The whole thing had been scary and admittedly impressive. Tristan had moved with the confidence of a man twice his age and even when it was more than obvious to everyone that he was injured, he still did his job and kept them all safe. It also didn't hurt that the whole thing made him look incredibly sexy and she hadn’t been the only one who’d thought so.

While he'd pointedly ignored the paramedics’ demands that he be seen at the hospital, every single woman there and a few she was pretty sure weren't so single, fussed over him and offered to make him a homemade meal as a thank you. A few of the more forward women had leaned in and whispered something in his ear that seemed to annoy him, which somewhat appeased her since she had a pretty good idea what they were offering him.

She hated not being able to fuss over him and comfort him. She really hated watching other women do it, but she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. He'd made it very clear that he didn't care about her. He wanted her that much was obvious, but he really didn't care for her. She knew that wouldn't bother some women enough to keep them from giving into years of fantasies, but she just couldn't make love to a man who didn't give a damn about anyone, including her.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning at seven-thirty," she said as she turned to make the short walk home. Since he couldn't make it to tonight’s group therapy session, her father had decided that he would attend the meeting in the morning or he shouldn't bother showing up to work until he was cleared to return to full duty.

"Why don't you come inside?" he suggested, surprising her.

"Why?" she asked, not bothering to hide the suspicion from her tone.

"Because I think we need to have a talk," he said, gesturing for her to come with him.

She let out a tired sigh as she shook her head. "Sorry, but I'm really not in the mood for a lecture tonight or whatever it is that you have planned," she said, once again heading towards her house, but she didn't get very far.

"We're not putting this off any longer," Tristan said as he took her hand and gave it a gentle pull in the direction of his house.

"Putting off what any longer?" she asked, wondering exactly what he planned on yelling at her about now. Was he pissed that she hadn’t run out of the restaurant when he’d told her to? Or maybe he was going to try bullying her into vacating their office. Then again, he might just want to take this opportunity to tell her that he didn't care what Hank said, he wouldn't be following any of the rules. If it was the latter then they really didn't need to have this talk, because she’d already figured out that he was going to make her life a living hell and do everything that he could to get her fired.

"We need to talk about-"

"Is that....is that porno music?" she asked, cutting him off and frowning as she tried to make out the music coming from the other side of his front door.

"No," he said through what looked like a painfully clenched jaw. "I keep the television on to make burglars think that someone's home," he explained tightly as he dropped her hand and pulled out his keys.

"I see," she said, doing her best to hide her smile. "By making them think that someone is enjoying some alone time?" she asked sweetly as he glowered down at her.

"No."

"If you say so.........," she said with a shrug that clearly stated that she didn't believe him.

"I don't watch that shit," he said a little loudly as he opened the front door with a lot more noise than she thought was really necessary. Before she could tease him again the music abruptly changed to the theme from Gilligan's Island.

He sent her a triumphant grin as he closed the door behind them and walked down the hall, pausing only long enough to send a rather odd glare at something in the empty living room. Okay, that was a little weird, she thought as she reluctantly followed after him.

"Do you mind telling me what you need to talk to me about so that I can get on with the rest of my night and maybe get something to eat?" she asked as she followed him into the obscenely large kitchen. It really was too big for a bachelor.

"We can eat while we talk," he said, opening the freezer door and pulling out a white container overflowing with ice cubes. He placed the container on the counter, uncaring that ice went flying as he grabbed a kitchen towel and began filling it with ice.

"It's been a long day, Tristan. Any chance that we can just get to the point?" she asked with a tired sigh as she walked over to the counter and took over the chore of filling the cloth with ice.

"You don't want to eat first?" Tristan asked, sounding a bit nervous.

What exactly did he have to be nervous about, she wondered as he gave her what appeared to be a hopeful smile. Whatever it was, Tristan clearly wanted to put it off for a while.  Who would have ever thought the day would come when Tristan Black was nervous about anything? She certainly hadn't. He wanted to put off whatever it was that he wanted to talk about so of course she decided that she was rather anxious to hear it now.

"No, I think we should talk about it now," she said, biting back another smile as he opened his mouth only to shut it abruptly.

"Well?" she asked, cocking an expectant brow.

He cleared his throat, obviously trying to stall for time as he focused all of his attention on unbuttoning his shirt. "I could fire up the grill," he offered, trying to use her love for barbecue against her.

"No, that's fine. I'd rather hear what you have to say," she said with a little sigh as she gently pushed his hand away and finished unbuttoning his shirt for him. Once she was done, she pulled the shirt out of his pants and moved to push the shirt off when she spotted an angry bruise poking out from beneath the edge of his shirt.

"Oh my god, Tristan" she said, while quickly, yet carefully, removing his shirt so that she could see the extent of the damage.

A large bruise that looked fresh started just above the left side of his chest and went all the way up to his shoulder. She wasn't a medical professional or anything, but it looked painful and definitely like something that should be looked at by a doctor. He winced as she helped him remove his shirt off his left arm, but other than that he didn't complain, not that she actually expected him to. This was Tristan Black after all.

"You need to go to the hospital," she said, moving behind him to see the extent of the damage. She was glad that he was looking the other way so that he didn't see her cringe. Both sides were pretty bruised, but the top of his shoulder and back clearly got the worst of it.

"Not necessary," he said, grabbing the ice pack and placing it against his chest.

"It's very necessary, Tristan. You really hurt yourself," she said as she considered calling his father and brother so they could take a look at it and if needed, drag him off to the hospital.

"It's fine, Marty," he said, walking over to the refrigerator. He placed his homemade ice pack on top of the fridge and opened the door. "You want a beer or a Coke?"

"Nothing," she told him. "I want you to go the hospital and get that thing checked out."

What if he’d really damaged his arm? He could have torn something or aggravated his still healing wound. Ignoring it wasn't an option, but apparently that's exactly what Tristan planned on doing.

"Coke it is," he said, grabbing two Cokes with his right hand and placing them on the counter. He managed to open his Coke with his right hand before he grabbed the ice pack and placed it back against his chest. Then as if to prove that he really wasn't hurt, he picked up his soda with his left hand and proceeded to drink it while she glared at him.

"Get your butt back in the car, Tristan. We're going to the hospital," she said, deciding that she'd see if she could manage to get him there by herself before she called in the big guns.

"No," he simply said as he walked past her. He placed his soda on the table and pulled out a chair, trying to hide his grimace as he sat down.

"I'm not kidding, Tristan. Get your butt in that car, now," she said firmly, hoping that would be enough to get him to move his ass. Apparently it wasn't, because he only chuckled as he leaned back in his chair, careful of his shoulder.

"Or what?" he asked with a slow sexy smile that made her mouth go dry and made it difficult to think, never mind do what needed to be done.

"If you don't want barbeque, then we could always order in," Tristan suggested, giving her the distraction that she needed.

"We're not ordering in, Tristan," she said with a sigh as she unzipped her purse and grabbed her phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling your father and brother, because clearly I'm in over my head here and you're an idiot. I'm going to call them and let them drag you to the hosp-hey!" she gasped as he plucked the phone out of her hands and placed it in his pocket.

"Give that back," she said, holding her hand out expectantly.

"Sorry. Can't do that, Marty," he said, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed over his impressive chest.

"You're going to the hospital," she informed him as she considered the odds of being able to steal the phone away from him.

"No, I'm not so let it go," he warned with a hard glint in his eyes. It was the same look he’d used to get when he was a child and someone mentioned a hospital to him.

"Please tell me that you're not still afraid of hospitals," she said with a heavy sigh.

"I'm not afraid of anything," he said evenly. "I'm just not going to waste my time going for something that a little ice and a few aspirins can handle."

"Okay, sure whatever," she said, having had more than enough for one day. If he was going to be stubborn then that was fine with her. She had better things to do with her time than to waste it by arguing. "I'm going home. See you in the morning," she said, moving to walk out of the kitchen when he stepped in front of her and blocked her path.

"We need to talk, Marty," he said, once again looking nervous.

She shook her head as she moved to step around him. "Whatever it is will have to wait until tomorrow."

"It can't," he said, moving to block her, again.

"It can," she said, managing to step past him and once she did she kept going.

"Marty, wait!" he said, following after her. "We really need to talk."

"No, we don't. What we need to do is stop playing these games. You don't want to work with me and that's fine, because we won't be working together for much longer anyway," she said, reaching for the door, but once again Tristan managed to cut her off.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded as he maneuvered her away from the door.

"As soon as I get my degree, I'm going to be looking for a job far away from here. So as you can see there's no need to give me a pointless lecture or try to drive me off. Consider the message well received, Tristan. I'll be out of your hair in a matter of months," she said, forcing herself to sound firm when grief slammed into her at the thought of never seeing him again.

"You're leaving?" he asked in a hollow voice.

"Yes," she snapped as she moved past him and once again reached for the door, more than ready to end this conversation and go home and enjoy a hot bubble bath with a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream while she did her best to forget that this day ever happened.

"Marty, you can't leave."

She snorted at that. "Watch me."

He placed his hand on the door just as she managed to open it and slammed it shut. "We really have to talk."

"No, we don't," she said, trying to open the door, but he was clearly a heck of a lot stronger than her. "Let me go, Tristan."

"Never."

"Why the hell not?" she snapped, whirling around to face him. She was sick of his games, sick of the way he made her feel and most of all she was sick of being in love with him. She wished she had never-

"Because I'm in love with you." The words rushed out of his mouth, clearly taking them both by surprise.

He looked stunned by the admission, which probably matched her own expression, but she was also pissed. Something snapped, something she'd held back all these years and once she opened her mouth she couldn't hold it back any longer.

"You love me?" she demanded, moving closer to him.

"Yes?" he said, making it sound like a question and further pissing her off.

"Did you love me all those years ago when you shoved me aside and pretended that I didn't exist?" she demanded, getting in his face.

"Yes," he said, swallowing nervously as he shot an anxious look around the large foyer as if someone or something would come and save him from this conversation.

"So all these years while you treated me like I was nothing and no one, it was just an act?" she asked, her voice getting louder with each word.

"Yes," he said, looking back down at her for a brief second before he started looking around again and taking her irritation to a whole new level.

"Silly me, because when you acted like I didn't exist and then started to treat me like crap when we were forced to work together, I just assumed that you hated me. But of course I should have known that all the crap you put me through was just your way of declaring your undying love for me," she snapped, her tone thick with sarcasm.

Tristan winced as he admitted, "Something like that."

"Something like that?" she repeated with disgust. He really had to be kidding her. She narrowed her eyes on him as she glared up at him. "I'm through with these games, Tristan, and I'm through with-"

You, she thought as Tristan took her mouth in a kiss that robbed her of the ability to speak until all she was left with was the overwhelming need to hold onto him and never let him go.

Chapter 19

He hadn’t meant to kiss her. They needed to talk about so many things, but the moment she’d started her rant, he knew that she would never listen to anything he had to say.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. He took her mouth possessively, showing her that she belonged to him. She was his. Always had been and always would be. To his utter delight she met him stroke for stroke. She kissed him like a woman starved. Her hands fisted in his hair, holding him prisoner in their embrace.

Marty gasped into his mouth when she felt his hands cup her bottom, lifting her off her feet. Her legs instantly wrapped around his waist. He used his hold on her bottom to grind her against the painful erection that was trying to break through his pants to get to her. They moaned as she tightened her hold around his waist.

Without breaking their kiss, he moved towards the stairs. They were halfway up the stairs when he broke away from her mouth to press kisses along her jaw and down her neck. She dropped her head back, giving him more access as her eyes closed in ecstasy.

She hadn’t realized they’d moved until she was gently laid down onto a soft bed. Tristan continued to kiss his way down her body as his hands pushed her jacket off. He only stopped kissing her long enough to pull her shirt and bra off and then he was back on her within seconds.

They shouldn’t be doing this. There were so many problems between them. They needed to talk them over and see if there was any way to work things out between them, but she couldn’t force herself to stop. Nothing had ever felt as good as Tristan Black’s mouth on her. She wanted more. She needed more. She’d never felt so desperate to have a man before. When his mouth closed over her nipple, that need exploded.

While Tristan suckled her breast, his hand squeezed and played with the other one. She began running her fingers through his hair, urging him on. It didn’t take much for him to get the hint. He devoured her breast, licking and suckling it as she moaned and panted.

Tristan moved away from her nipple and began to hungrily lick the rest of the breast. He moved to the next breast and practically devoured it, making the ache between her legs throb.

A soft curse grabbed her attention just as her mind registered the loss of Tristan’s mouth. She looked up to find Tristan absently rubbing a hand over his injured shoulder as he skimmed his fingers over her breast. Realizing that he was still in pain was like a bucket of ice being poured over her, effectively pulling her out of her sexual haze and giving way to common sense.

No matter how badly she wanted this, he was hurt. She just couldn’t do anything to cause him any more pain, even unintentionally. So she backed away from his touch as she desperately tried to convince herself that it was for the best.

*-*-*-*

"We shouldn't be doing this, Tristan. For that matter, you should be in a hospital.”

Tristan stopped rubbing his chest to move closer to her. "I'm fine, sweetheart. It's just a little sore. That's all," he said soothingly, which was somewhat true. It also hurt like a bitch, but he wasn't about to tell her that and wreck this moment. They’d waited too long and wasted too much time to get here and nothing and no one was going to wreck this for them.

Marty shook her head stubbornly. The action cascaded her gorgeous brown hair around her face, making her even more beautiful. Tristan leaned down and traced a line from her navel to her right breast with his tongue, earning a small gasp from Marty as she trembled.

"If I feel any pain we'll stop, okay?" he said, knowing there was nothing on this earth that would stop him from having her. Not after almost losing her for good.

"You promise?" she asked on a soft moan and he knew that he had her.

"I promise," he said, flicking his tongue over one very hard nipple.

He moved back up her body and pressed a kiss against the corner of her mouth, making her breaths come quicker. “I’m going to make this good for you. I swear it,” he swore. Before she could respond, he was yanking her shoes, pants and panties off.

She suddenly realized that she was naked, naked in front of Tristan Black who was still practically dressed. She moved to cover herself only to find her hands suddenly pinned down by her sides. She watched nervously as Tristan looked her over and realized that she was afraid that he’d be disappointed with what he saw.

“You’re so beautiful….so beautiful….” he murmured reverently as he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss against her stomach.

Marty choked back a sob as he continued to press soft kisses against her stomach. She’d never seen a look of such devotion and love on anyone’s face before and the fact that it was for her shocked and amazed her. Tristan quickly broke through her thoughts with the first lick, damn near making her jump off the bed.

*-*-*-*

He couldn’t believe they were doing this. Years of fantasies didn’t even come close to the real thing. She was so beautiful, so responsive, so his. He nearly came in his pants when he saw those neatly trimmed bronze curls between her legs. He fought for control as he pressed a soft kiss to the curls and then because he really couldn’t help himself he ran his tongue over her slit. Her hips bucked, almost throwing him off. He released her hands and grabbed her hips, keeping her pinned to the bed. There was no getting away from him now.

Twenty-nine years old was too old to lose his virginity, he decided as he greedily licked her. There was no finesse or skills involved in this, much to his shame. This was pure unadulterated hunger and he was ravenous.

Never in his life had he tasted anything sweeter than Marty’s juices. He greedily lapped her up, barely aware that her legs had opened wider to give him more access or that she was gripping his hair and screaming his name.

He suckled her little firm nub between his lips and flicked his tongue against it, somehow knowing that she would love it before he licked her thoroughly and dragged his tongue down to her core. He was on automatic when he flicked his tongue around her core before he slid it inside her slowly, making her moan. He thrust his tongue inside of her the way he wanted to with his cock. He swirled it around and retreated only to do it again. The walls around her core began to tighten around his tongue. He did it again and again until he heard Marty’s scream and felt her walls tremble around his tongue. Still he didn’t stop. Not until Marty was trying to drag him away by his hair and he was close to exploding in his pants.

Tristan wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before moving up her body. He kissed and licked his way up until he was once again kissing Marty’s beautiful mouth. She kissed him desperately as her hands roamed over his back. He pressed his hips between her legs and thrust firmly, desperate for the motion.

“Please, Tristan,” she sobbed against his mouth as she pushed up to meet his thrusts.

Still kissing her, he raised up and with one hand, freed himself and tried to push his pants down, but his damn left arm wasn't co-operating. Marty helped as best she could, shoving his pants down with her hands and feet until his pants were pooled around his knees. Her legs wrapped around his waist as she pulled him down towards her seconds later.

Nervousness surfaced as he positioned himself at her core. His entire body shook with excitement as he tried to force his mind away from what they were about to do. It didn’t matter that it felt like the most natural thing in the world for him to do, he couldn’t get past the fact that he’d never actually done this before. He was going to make love to Marty for the first time in his life and he was going to be horrible.

He pressed another kiss to her lips before pulling away. “I’m really sorry,” he said, panting hard as he fought for control. The tip of his erection was now at her hot wet entrance. Shit. He wasn’t going to last very long.

“Why?” she asked as she writhed beneath him, demanding he do more than just hover over her.

Through clenched teeth he said, “This isn’t going to be very good.”

He watched as confusion slowly broke through her lust. “Why?” she asked in a daze.

He took a deep breath and pulled back slightly. “Because you’re my first,” he announced as he thrust forward.

*-*-*-*

Marty gasped as he slid inside of her. He was so large and thick. She felt like she was being ripped in half. She couldn’t believe what he’d just said. He was a virgin? She never would have guessed, especially after he’d just given her three rather intense orgasms. At the moment the burning sensation and feeling like she was being torn to shreds took her mind away from the initial shock.

She dug her fingers into his back as he pushed in further. He kissed her neck. “You are so tight,” he said, sounding pained. All she could do was nod, afraid that any real attempt to answer him would turn into screams of pain. Bob had not prepared her for Tristan. Compared to Tristan, Bob was the size of a toothpick.

“Am I hurting you?”

She opened her mouth to lie to him, but instead a sob broke free. She didn’t want to hurt him. She loved him. No matter how much he pissed her off, she loved him. Always had and always would.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Tristan said as he moved to pull out of her, but she held him right where he was. It might hurt now, but she knew without question that it would get better in time…hopefully soon.

“Just give me a minute to get used to you,” she whispered as she shifted beneath him. She felt so unbelievably full and he wasn’t even in her all the way. That thought was a bit frightening so she pushed it aside for the moment.

“Let me pull out,” Tristan said and she could tell from his expression that was the last thing that he wanted to do, but he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Tell me,” she pleaded. She needed to hear it, needed to focus on something other than the pain. She assumed using Bob would take away any discomfort of losing her virginity. Boy, had she been wrong.

“I love you, Marty. I always have,” he said confidently. He kissed her then, slowly, passionately, making her body melt beneath his. Still he didn't move.

The burning sensation was almost completely gone now, replaced by pure need, something that her body understood and her mind welcomed like an old friend with open arms. She needed him to move soon or she was going to scream in desperation for the pleasure that she knew was waiting for her. She rolled her hips, forcing him in another inch. He hissed, but didn’t move.

After a long moment, he shook his head and moved to pull out. “No, there’s something wrong. I hurt you. I’m sorry, baby. I’m really sorry.”

“Oh, no you don’t!”

There was no way that she was letting him leave her now. Not when he had her wet and aching.

“Baby-oh, fuck!” he closed his eyes as Marty forced him in the rest of the way by shifting her legs and hips up suddenly in a move that had his dick threatening to explode. She watched as he gasped for air. He licked his lips as he looked down at her. His hips moved slightly, causing them both to groan.

“I…I……” She couldn’t help smiling up at him. Tristan Black, one of the most feared, respected and arrogant men in town was at a loss for words. No one would ever believe her, not that she planned on sharing this moment with anyone.

“Shh, just move. I feel better,” she said soothingly.

He stubbornly shook his head. “No, I hurt you,” he said, gasping. She could tell that this was killing him. It made her love him even more. Any other man would have probably just reassured her that it was okay and proceeded, but Tristan cared. He really did love her.

“It’s supposed to happen the first time,” she said with a shy smile. She noted seconds later that he’d gone utterly still. Beautiful green eyes stared down at her in shock.

“I’m your first?” he asked in a tone of disbelief.

“Yes! Now move!” she cried out, not caring how desperate she sounded. Thank God he did just that. She didn’t want to have to kill him after all.

He took her lips in another hungry kiss as he pulled back out and thrust back in, driving her crazy. He kept his thrusts even and slow. She could feel his entire body tremble with the effort it took to maintain control. She appreciated the sentiment, but she didn’t want control. She wanted Tristan. She wanted to see him snap and release everything he’d been holding back.

“You feel so good, Tristan,” she practically purred as she teasingly ran her fingers over his back. He groaned long and loud as his thrusts became a bit unsteady. He stared down at her, watching her hungrily as he moved inside of her.

She needed him to lose control and she knew of only one way to do that. She had to taunt him. She cupped the back of his head and pulled him down so she could press a kiss against his neck, earning a sexy growl.

Marty pressed another kiss right beneath his ear and suckled the skin, making him lose a little more control, but not enough.

“I’ve dreamed of you fucking me for years, Tristan,” she whispered into his ear, making him buck hard into her. “I’ve dreamed of sucking your cock, licking you from your balls to the tip and back again. I’ve dreamed of you bending me over and-“

Her words were cut off by a loud roar as he began to pound into her, hard and quick. It took everything she had to hold onto him as her hips thrust up to meet his. He took her mouth again in a hungry kiss, thrusting his tongue in her mouth with more control.

She wanted to scream, “Yes!” and probably did by the way he grunted. She felt her body tighten around his as her orgasm built inside her. She became wild beneath him, kissing him and clawing at him, desperate for what waited for her. When her orgasm finally broke, she threw her head back and screamed his name.

Tristan stilled above her. After a sight pause he threw his head back and groaned, long and loud. He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head forward, panting. “Marty….oh….God….Marty!” He groaned loudly before he took a deep breath and brushed his lips over hers.

She couldn’t help but smile as she weakly said, “That was so good, Tristan.”

He raised himself up to look down at her, looking confused and very sexy. “What do you mean ‘was’? We’re not done yet.”

“What……” Her eyes widened as she felt him move inside of her.

“Nope,” he said with a pleased grin. “Definitely not done.” He swallowed her whimper with his mouth as her took her again.

*-*-*-*

An hour after she cried, begged and threatened to kill him, Marty’s head finally hit the pillow. He took her four times. Four times! Every time got better and better, if that was even possible. She didn’t count the blowjobs she gave him to buy herself some sleep. Naturally he felt the need to reciprocate those times in the shower with his mouth and fingers. Now she was sore, spent and pretty sure that she’d used up a lifetime of orgasms with him tonight. She closed her eyes and sighed contently.

A moment later she tensed when she felt him curl up behind her. He chuckled softly in her ear. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll give you a rest. It’s just after ten now so in about oh,…three hours I’ll wake you up again.”

She whimpered.

Another chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you get some sleep. We have to be at work in the morning.”

"You're not supposed to go to work," she mumbled. "You have to go to a meeting."

He sighed heavily near her ear. "I'd rather go to work."

"Tristan, don't you think that you should take some time off? Your shoulder really should get looked at," she said around a yawn as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder as he sighed. "How about this? If it hurts tomorrow I'll go home early and use up my vacation time."

Knowing that was probably the best she would get from him, she nodded her agreement. With that settled she closed her eyes, ready for some much needed sleep.

She’d never been happier to have to go to work in her life. She was so tired. There was no doubt in her mind that if they didn’t have work in the morning that he wouldn’t let her rest. She felt his arm snake around her waist and snuggled back against his chest, closing her eyes with a pleased smile.

When his hand began to wander down her stomach, she made a grab for it.

“What are you doing?”

“Just repositioning my hand for comfort,” he said innocently.

Grudgingly, she released his hand and closed her eyes. A few seconds later her eyes flew open as a loud gasp escaped her lips. He ran his finger over her clit, teasing it again and again. Her damn traitorous body began to respond even as her brain sent out urgent messages that it was time to sleep.

Oh, God…..he was going to kill her with sex.

He kissed her neck and she stupidly gave him access. He kissed and licked her neck just the way that he knew she liked it. Damn him. She felt herself becoming wet again as his finger glided through her slit and slid inside of her. She whimpered when he pulled his finger away from her, but then moaned loudly as he slid into her from behind.

"After this I'll let you get some sleep." She noticed that he didn't say, "I promise”, but at the moment she really was in no position to argue. It felt too good to complain.

*-*-*-*

Marty closed her eyes, wincing as the floorboards beneath the carpet creaked softly. Slowly, she looked over her shoulder and almost sighed with relief when she spotted Tristan lying undisturbed and most importantly, still asleep on his bed. Her eyes shot to the alarm clock. It was barely one o'clock in the morning. After the marathon of love making, not to mention what he went through today, he should be out cold until morning.

She should be sleeping, too, but she could no longer ignore the call of nature. Carefully, she padded across the bedroom carpet to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She paused for another moment before locking the door. Marty had no doubt that he could burst through the door if he wanted to, but it made her feel safer this way.

After relieving herself, washing her face, and cringing at the sight of her hair she opened the door and whimpered.

"Morning, baby," Tristan drawled, giving her a sexy lopsided smile.

Another whimper may have escaped her as her gaze dropped down his body only to shoot back up in alarm. He couldn't be.....

Oh, but he was. She gasped as he reached out and pulled her to him. The hard erection she’d glimpsed only a few seconds ago jerked against her stomach.

"I was just using the bathroom. I-I'd like some sleep now," she mumbled pathetically.

He chuckled softly against the crook of her neck. "I'll get you back in bed. Don't worry about it," he said as he lifted her up and once again her legs wrapped around him. This time he pressed her against the wall and entered her hard with one thrust, earning a whimper or a moan from her. She really wasn't sure which.

*-*-*-*

"Shit," Marty whispered harshly as she overfilled her glass with water. The excess water pooled on the counter before running over the side and onto the tiled floor. Marty quickly downed her second glass of water before she grabbed a few paper towels. Once the last drop of water was gone, she knelt down on the floor and frantically tried to wipe up the mess so that she could go back to sleep before he woke up again.

She was so tired....so damn tired and sore. She was sore in places she hadn’t even known existed until today. As soon as she cleaned up this mess she was going back to bed to-

"Thirsty?"

"Oh, no," Marty whimpered, too afraid to look back. She didn't need to since she already knew that it was him. Two warm hands gripped her hips and held her in place as he slowly penetrated her.

This was not happening. It couldn't be. It had to be humanly impossible for a man to get this many erections in a twenty-four hour period. It couldn't be healthy for him. She knew that it wasn't healthy for her, but once again her body betrayed her.

By morning she was going to need a vacation just to catch up on sleep.

*-*-*-*

Marty yawned and turned over onto her back just as a warm heavy weight settled on top of her. Her eyes flew open just as Tristan slid inside of her.

"B-b-but I was only turning over. I was still sleeping!" she protested weakly as he rolled his hips against hers.

He pressed a kiss to her lips. "Last time. I promise," he said with such an innocent expression that she almost believed him.

*-*-*-*

"Baby, wake up." A pause. "Marty, it's time to wake up," Tristan said, giving her a little shake.

Marty came awake with a start. When she saw him, she practically flew off the bed. The entire time she refused to turn her back on him. She held out her hand in a stopping motion towards him when he moved to go to her.

"Just stay away from me, Tristan Black," she warned as she backed up towards the bathroom.

Tristan shook his head in disbelief as he watched Marty turn and practically run to the bathroom. She slammed the door shut and seconds later locked it.

"What's wrong with her?" Shayne asked, materializing next to him.

He shrugged as he fixed his tie. "No idea. I'm guessing she's not a morning person."

Shayne snorted as they listened while Marty threatened a very vital part of Tristan's anatomy. "Guess not, lad."

Chapter 20

"You and I need to talk," Tristan said quietly as he threw his bathroom door one last look of longing. He wanted to take Marty back into his bed and hold her, but they had to move their asses if they were going to make it to the therapy session early enough for him to explain to the therapist that it would be in his best interest to sign Tristan's paper and forget all about Hank's request.

"Ye don't have to thank me, lad," Shayne said, grinning hugely. "I was happy to help."

For a moment, Tristan could only stare at him, sure that he’d misheard. "You call that help?" he demanded in a harsh whisper.

Shayne nodded firmly, still grinning as he let out a happy little sigh. "Ye finally got the lass right where ye want her."

"And you really think you had something to do with that?" Tristan asked in a low whisper as he kept an eye on the door.

"Of course I did, lad," Shayne said, gesturing to the rumpled sheets. "Ye really didn't think that ye managed to get her in bed with yer skills, now did ye?"

When Tristan only glared, Shayne let out an exaggerated sigh as he gave Tristan a pitying look. "That really is sad, lad. Just sad," he said, shaking his head in sympathy.

"Say goodbye to your porn, you betraying bastard," he hissed, grinning hugely when Shayne's jaw dropped.

"But that entertains me!"

Tristan merely shrugged as he adjusted his tie.

"It's educational!" Shayne protested.

Tristan chuckled as he grabbed his weapon off the bureau and attached it to his belt, wincing when a muscle in his arm protested, but he ignored it. He had too much shit to do and he wasn't about to let Hank put him back on full medical.

"Consider it gone," Tristan said as he checked his hair in the mirror.

Shayne let out a heartfelt sigh. "I didn't want to have to tell ye this, lad, but ye’ve left me no choice. I'm afraid that I need to watch porn at least eight hours a day or I'll die."

"Uh huh," Tristan said absently as he attached a holster to his ankle.

"It's true, lad. I have a medical condition. I didn't tell ye, because I didn't want to worry ye, lad," Shayne said with nod as if he truly thought this bullshit was believable.

"Do you know what you left me with yesterday when you pulled your disappearing act?" Tristan asked, nervously glancing around the room when he suddenly remembered the bimbo twins.

"I already took care of the lasses, lad," Shayne said, reading his mind, not literally, of course. After all these years together it wasn't too difficult to figure out what the other one was thinking.

"Not soon enough," he said, looking at his watch. They needed to move their asses now if Marty was going to have a chance to go home and change into some clean clothes.

"Well, ye were being a bit of an ass yesterday, lad. So really, ye can't blame me for that disappearing act," Shayne explained sheepishly.

"And I bet you were so upset that you just had to rush home and get a dose of porn to help settle your nerves," he drawled as he turned around and leaned back, resting his hip against the bureau while he waited for Marty.

"That's it exactly, lad," Shayne readily agreed.

Tristan couldn't help but chuckle. "You're pathetic."

"I really am and if ye get rid of my porn, I'll be too weak to help keep the lifeless lasses away from ye," Shayne rushed to explain when they both knew that Tristan would never get rid of the man's porn.

"Just make sure to keep that shit off the television when Marty's around," he said when the bathroom door suddenly opened.

She paused in the doorway as she wrapped a large baby blue towel around herself. "Who are you talking to?" she asked, frowning as she looked around the room.

"No one," Tristan said quickly, inwardly groaning when she cocked a disbelieving brow in his direction.

"Real smooth, lad," Shayne drawled with an eye roll.

He barely stopped himself from flipping Shayne off as he walked over to Marty, who he might add looked incredibly sexy wrapped up in one of his towels.

"Good morning," he said softly as he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, hoping she'd forget that she heard him talking to himself. If this was going to work, and he was going to damn well make sure that it did, he was going to have to be a hell of a lot more careful when he was around her.

Thankfully she took pity on him and dropped it. "I have to go home and change," she said, moving towards her discarded clothes from the night before, but not before she gave him a proper good morning kiss that left him hard and more than ready to continue with last night's activities.

"We have to go to work," she said around a yawn as she stepped away from him and quickly dressed.

He held back a groan of frustration as he forced himself to stay right where he was, but it was damn difficult, especially when she dropped her towel. There was no rush after all. They'd go to work and then tonight he would take her out for dinner. Then they would spend the rest of the night making up for all the years he'd stupidly wasted.

"We have to get going or we'll be late for your meeting," she said as she pulled her shoes on.

"There's no rush, sweetheart. They’ll probably just sign me off when they realize that I don’t really have an anger problem," he said, grabbing his keys and noting twin looks of disbelief.

"I don't!" he snapped, feeling insulted.

When Shayne and Marty both rolled their eyes at that announcement, he decided that a little clarification obviously was in order. "I don't have a fucking anger management problem!"

*-*-*-*

"Hello, Detective Black, my name is Elizabeth. I'm so happy that you were able to make it today," a woman a few inches taller than Marty, rail thin with glasses and a pixie cut, said in a syrupy sweet tone better used on small children than on a six foot-two man packed with muscle who was carrying a gun and was here for some help with his anger issues.

A muscle in Tristan's jaw did a little bounce as he did his best to reign in his temper. Well, Marty assumed that's what he was doing since he looked furious and hadn't yelled at the woman, yet. A few seconds later, his scowl disappeared and was replaced by a charming smile that actually frightened her a little. The man was up to something and she was very much afraid that he was going to bring her down with him.

"Elizabeth, it's very nice to meet you," he said charmingly as he shook Elizabeth's hand.

"I'm very excited to have you join our group, Detective," Elizabeth said in that same tone and Marty had to admit that it was really starting to become a tad annoying.

"Elizabeth, I was actually hoping that you could do me a favor and sign this release," Tristan said smoothly as he handed her a piece of paper.

"I'm sorry, Detective, but I'm under strict orders not to do that," she said with a shrug and a smile as she handed the paper back to Tristan.

"I see," Tristan murmured, sounding thoughtful as he folded the paper and placed it in his jacket pocket. "And you're positive that you can't sign this?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said, adding an upbeat tone to her answer.

"Very well," Tristan said, smiling as he gestured for her to lead the way into the room set up for the meeting. Elizabeth looked pleased as she did just that.

"I'll be ten minutes," Tristan said, pausing at the door.

"The meeting lasts for an hour," Marty pointed out, frowning as she looked down at the flier in her hand to make sure that she hadn't messed up the time. Nope, the meetings were an hour long, which was probably a good thing since it would give her some time to figure out what the hell happened between yesterday morning when she was ready to kill the jerk and this morning when she screaming his name at the top of her lungs as he took her from behind.

"Ten minutes," he said firmly before he closed the door behind him and left her sitting on one of the hard plastic chairs lining the hallway wall of the community center and wondering what she should do.

He said he loved her and heaven help her, but she believed him. That didn't explain why he'd kept her out of his life for all those years or why he treated her the way he had over the past couple of weeks. Until he was able to explain a few things to her, they were going to take things slow. Well, slow but with sex since there was no way she was going to deny herself that pleasure.

She still couldn't believe that he’d been a virgin. That was definitely another thing that he was going to have to explain. She knew why she had held off for so long. She hadn't wanted to make a mistake or end up with a kid before she was ready. Her friends couldn't understand and honestly she didn't care. This was her choice, her life, and she hadn't wanted to sleep with any of the guys she'd dated.

If she was going to be honest with herself, she'd admit that the real reason that she’d held off for so long was Tristan. She'd been in love with him her whole life and when she dated a man she had a rather nasty habit of comparing him to the Tristan that she used to know. She’d also felt as though she were cheating on Tristan and no matter how many times she told herself that she was being irrational, she couldn’t shake the feeling that being with another man was wrong. It didn’t hurt that none of the men she’d gone out with made her feel special or protected, not the way he used to make her feel.

That brought up another interesting question, just how long was Tristan going to be able to keep this up with her? When was he going to suddenly get tired and irritated with her and push her away again? She already knew that if he tried to push her away that he wouldn't get another chance. This was it. She'd given herself to him and it would be hard enough to deal with the aftermath if he decided that he just didn't want her. She wasn't about to put herself through hell and turn into one of those women who constantly took some guy who treated her badly back over and over again. This was a one shot deal and she was going to make sure that he knew that.

"Ready?" Tristan suddenly asked, startling her.

"You've only been in there for five minutes," she said, glancing down at her watch. "What are you doing out here?" she asked, frowning as she looked past him at the closed door. Was that crying she heard?

"Elizabeth realized that I really don't need therapy and decided to sign off on my sheet," Tristan said as he took her hand into his and gave it a gentle tug, pulling her to her feet.

"She signed off? I thought she said that she couldn't do that," she murmured distractedly as Tristan put his arm around her.

"Mmmhmm, I guess she realized that I really didn't need therapy," he said with a shrug as he continued to guide her towards the front door.

She heard a door slam open behind her and realized that she did indeed hear crying. She looked over her shoulder just as Elizabeth hurried their way, wiping frantically at the tears that were streaming down her face.

"You're a bad man, Detective Black!" she cried out in that annoying voice of hers as she hurried past them and practically ran out of the building.

"Why am I such a loser?" a man yelled as he raced past them, burying his face in his hands as he sobbed hysterically. She looked up at Tristan who smiled down at her, acting as if a man hadn't just run past him screaming and crying at the top of his lungs.

"What was that about?" she asked with forced casualness as yet another man ran past them, this time sobbing into his phone. When he spotted Tristan, he stumbled to a halt and just as suddenly turned around and ran the other way.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Tristan said with a straight face and heaven help her, but it took everything she had not to smile.

"Why don't we stop by the coffee shop and grab breakfast?" he suggested as he held the door open for her.

"You're not going to tell me what just happened, are you?" she asked with a sigh.

"I really think it would be for the best if we pretended that this never happened."

"It's probably for the best," she agreed on a sigh. There were some things that she really didn't want to know and how Tristan scared the hell out of a room full of people with anger problems was definitely one of them.

Chapter 21

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Shayne grumbled as Tristan pointedly ignored him and focused on the woman sitting across from him.

Was he smiling like an idiot? Probably. But he just didn't care. For the first time in his life, he was happy and it was all thanks to the woman trying to work as she tried even harder not to smile. He watched as she chewed on her bottom lip, clearly trying to hold back a beautiful smile.  He wondered if she was as happy as he was.

Probably not.

For years he'd been living in his own personal hell as he struggled to stay away from her. Every day was worse than the last and if he caught a glimpse of her, it was like having his heart ripped to shreds. Now that was all over. She was his and he planned on doing whatever it took to keep it that way. Now that he knew what it felt like to make love to the woman he loved, hold her and simply be with her, he wasn't about to let her go.

The other aspect of his existence was going to be a slight problem, but he was done with letting it rule his life. She was his life now. She was all he ever wanted, ever hoped for and he wasn't willing to live without her. Now that she was his, he couldn't help but feel regret for all those years he'd wasted. They could have been together. They could be married now, have a family of their own, but he'd pushed her away. He would never do that again.

"Stop," Marty said, her lips tugging up into a pleased little smile even as she did her best to focus on her work.

"Stop what?" he asked, smiling as he watched her.

"Making me gag, lad," Shayne offered helpfully, but Tristan ignored him as he continued to gaze at Marty.

"Watching me work," she said, trying to sound firm, but he wasn't buying it.

"Sorry," he said, chuckling as he forced himself to focus back on his work, but not before he glanced at his watch.

They'd been working all morning and he still had a ton of shit to do, but they needed to take a lunch break soon so that he could look into a few things since he promised Hank that his investigation into the disappearing women wouldn't interfere with his other cases. If he was going to get anything done, he was going to have to do it during his lunch breaks and after work. He'd bring Marty along with him if she wanted to tag along.

He'd make it quick so that he could focus on her, but in the back of his mind he had to wonder if he was making a mistake. Instead of taking her along to investigate fancy restaurants, perhaps he should focus on taking her to one, but this was important, he reminded himself. When this was over, and he prayed that this would end soon, he'd more than make it up to her.

"Do you feel like joining me on a working lunch?" he asked, chancing a look up to find Marty watching him as she thought it over.

"Will there be an actual lunch during this working lunch?" she asked teasingly.

"I think I can manage that," he said with a wink.

"Okay," she said with a sweet smile as she returned her attention back to her work and making him rethink his plan to work through lunch. Perhaps he should take her back to his place for a quick-

A hard knock on their office door interrupted that rather intriguing thought, but that was fine since he knew that they had tonight, and if he had a say about it, every night after that.

"Yes?" he said, not bothering to look up from his paperwork.

"Detective Black?"

He looked up to see Jonathan, a seasoned patrolman, standing in the doorway, holding a folder in his hands.

"Detective Black, I have an arrest that you might want to look at," Jonathan said, reminding Tristan that he needed to focus when he was at work and keep his mind off of all the things that he wanted to, and would, do to Marty.

With a nod, Tristan stood and took the folder from Jonathan. "What do you have for me?" he asked as he opened the folder and looked it over.

"Twenty year old kid got kicked out of college, came home, and decided that he was going to raise a little hell," Jonathan explained as he folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the doorframe.

"Looks like he had a hell of a night," Tristan murmured as he looked over the list of complaints against the kid, vandalism, assault, resisting arrest, trespassing, possession of a narcotic, and sexual assault on a young woman.

Well, it looked like he was going to have to work through lunch to clear this up. It also meant that he was going to have to put in a few more hours into the investigation of the missing women than he’d planned. Hopefully, he’d be able to cover the five restaurants and restaurant supply stores that he had on his list tonight and still have time to spend with Marty.

Tomorrow he'd have to start the tedious chore of calling the rest of the restaurants and supply stores since he wouldn't have the time or the resources to go visit every one of them. He couldn't officially ask for help from any of the other jurisdictions, but if any of the people he spoke with over the phone raised any red flags, he’d call in a few favors.

"His mother wants to talk to you," Jonathan said, drawing his attention back to the bullshit that he had to take care of now.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, not really caring as he looked over the kid's past arrests, DUI, assault, and theft.

"Yeah, she's claiming this was all a big misunderstanding. She's already managed to talk Ralph out of pressing charges for the damage the kid did to the bar as long as the kid pays for all the repairs and never sets foot in there again."

"Is she harassing this young woman as well?" Tristan asked, his mood turning sour at the thought of the young woman that was sexually assaulted being harassed by the perp's mother.

Jonathan let out a snort of disgust. "She tried, but I placed the young woman in McGill's office along with her parents."

"Good," Tristan murmured as he continued to look over the kid's file. He wasn't surprised to see that the kid managed to get out of most of his past charges, no doubt with his mother's help. Justin Erickson had only been ordered to do a total of forty hours of community service and to cover the damages. Whoever this kid's mother was, she was definitely working her ass off to keep her kid out of prison.

She probably thought that she was doing Justin a favor. She wasn't. If anything she was making it worse for everyone and setting herself up for heartache when the kid went too far and even she couldn't help him.

"Has he lawyered up yet?" Tristan asked, taking another quick look at the list of charges.

"No, I don't think the mom can afford it," Jonathan said. "The kid doesn't have a job and she's supporting him on a secretary's salary."

"He ask us to supply him with a lawyer yet?" Tristan asked as he handed Marty the file, already knowing that she was eager to see what they had.

She had a good work ethic and was very thorough. Now that he'd decided that he was going to keep her in his life, he actually realized that having her around the department was a good thing. If she tried to leave, he'd just follow after her. Some people might call it stalking, but he'd rather refer to it as keeping what was his and making sure that no other asshole went near her. Now he just had to figure out how to make sure that she wanted to stay with him since he did have a tendency of being an asshole and driving people away.

"No," Jonathan said, shaking his head. "But he also isn't talking. I think he's expecting his mother to get him out of this."

"Probably," Tristan agreed with a tired sigh as he grabbed a legal pad and a pen off his desk.

"I'll go move him to room five, Detective," Jonathan said, sending Marty a nod before he left.

"Guess you'll be sending me out to pick up lunch," Marty said, noticeably fighting back a yawn.

"Looks that way," he agreed, reaching over to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

He opened his mouth to ask her about going along with him tonight, but she looked so damn tired. If she didn't get some rest soon she'd be too tired to make love tonight. Since he was pretty sure that he'd die if he didn't make love to her tonight that meant that he was going to have to drop her off at home, his home of course, and suggest that she take a nap. He nearly swore when the idea of Marty, naked and lying in his bed, had his cock twitching.

"Do you mind if I grab a cup of coffee before I join you?"

"No, that's fine, baby. Take your time," he said, leaning in and giving her a quick kiss simply because he could.

When he moved to step away, she leaned up and gave him a quick, playful kiss, before handing the file back to him and heading for the door. "I just need two minutes," she said, sending him a sweetly shy smile.

"You got it," he murmured distractedly as he watched her go.

"Excuse me? Detective?" a vaguely familiar woman in her late forties, who looked tired, but was trying not to show it as she forced a smile and stepped into the doorway, said.

"Can I help you?" he asked, as he wracked his brain, trying to figure out where he knew her from.

"Yes," she said, looking oddly relieved. "My son is Justin Erickson and I believe there's been a misunderstanding," she said, sounding hopeful as she tried to hide the fact that her hands were shaking.

Tristan nearly groaned when he realized that this woman was his suspect's mother. He already had too much shit to work on today and didn't need to add this woman's bullshit attempts to get her son out of trouble added to the list.

"If you could have a seat in the waiting area," Tristan said, stepping out of his office and giving the woman no other choice but to back up as he gestured towards the small sitting area by the doors, "I'll be happy to speak with you as soon as I get a chance."

"B-but, if you could just give me five minutes of your time, Detective, I'm sure that I can help clear this up," she said, almost desperately and he couldn't help but feel bad for the woman. That is until she turned slightly to the right and the sunlight steaming in from the windows hit her in just the right way.

It felt like a physical blow as recognition him, hard. For a moment he could only stare at the woman in front of him. There were strands of grey shooting through her blonde hair now and the blue eyes he used to remember as vivid and bright were now dull and tired, but it was her.

"Detective?" she said, drawing his attention to the fact that he was standing there staring at her.

He gave himself a mental shake as he forced himself to focus. "Why don't we speak in my office?" he asked, turning around and opened his office door, thankful to have something to distract him, even for a moment.

With a grateful smile, she did just that. Tristan was just about to close the office door when he spotted Marty with a large coffee mug in her hand, heading towards the back rooms. For a moment he considered letting her go, but then he realized that he needed her, probably more than ever.

"Marty, could you come here for a moment?" he asked, grabbing her attention just as she was about to walk through the door to the back rooms.

"Of course," Marty said with a polite smile when she spotted Mrs. Erickson standing next to him.

He waited until Marty walked into the room, throwing him a questioning look. As he shut the door and took a deep breath, he prayed that he would be able to get through this without screaming at this woman for all the bullshit she'd put him through, the way she’d pulled away from him, made it more than obvious that he wasn't worth her love and protection, or even a comforting shoulder to cry on when the pain was too much and he was terrified. But none of that mattered now, he reminded himself as he forced himself to relax and sit down so that he could do his job.

"You wanted to speak with me?" he asked, getting to the matter at hand so he could get this woman out of his hair and back out of his life.

"Why don't you tell him what the little bastard did to your arm?" a man that he didn't recognize demanded as he stepped through the wall. Tristan watched as the ghost walked over and stood over the woman that Tristan would gladly walk away from.

"Ever since his father died, Justin has had problems accepting his loss," Mrs. Erickson started as the man dressed in an old Red Sox tee shirt and grey sweatpants shot the woman a look of disbelief.

"Are you fucking kidding me with this?" the man demanded, leaning down to get in the woman's face, but of course she couldn’t see him. "I've been dead for ten goddamn years! And before that he was a spoiled little brat!"

"Does he have a juvenile record?" Tristan asked, already having a good idea that he did.

The man stood up with a snort as the woman's eyes shifted away from him. "Nothing serious," she mumbled.

"Nothing serious?" the man repeated in disbelief. "Attacking his teacher and setting her house on fire isn't serious?"

Mrs. Erickson licked her lips anxiously as she sat forward and sent him and Marty an imploring look. "You have to understand. It's been really hard for Justin. He's had a tough childhood."

"Tough childhood? You do everything for the little bastard, but wipe his ass!" the man snapped, throwing his hands up in disgust as he walked away and began pacing back and forth through the desks.

"Do you have any other children, Mrs. Erickson?" Tristan asked, unable to help himself.

She looked right at him as she said, "No, he's an only child."

Chapter 22

"No, he's an only child," the perp’s mother answered seconds before Tristan's jaw clenched tightly shut and the cold expression that Marty was now familiar with took over.

"Is there anything that you'd like to tell me about the charges against your son?" Tristan asked in a flat tone as he kept a level look on the woman that seemed to unnerve her a bit.

"Just that I know that my son didn't do any of those things. He's a very good boy," she rushed to explain.

With a sigh, Tristan stood up. "He's a twenty year old man, Mrs. Erickson and unless you were there I'm afraid that I can't help you," he said, already heading for the door.

"But, he doesn't deserve this!" the woman snapped as she got to her feet to follow Tristan.

Tristan simply ignored her and kept walking away, but instead of walking towards the holding rooms, he walked towards Hank’s office. Before he reached the door, Hank walked out, frowning when he saw Tristan.

"Is everything okay?" her father asked.

Tristan shook his head, surprising Marty, but he shocked her a second later when he handed the file over to Hank. "Have someone else handle this."

"Why?" Hank asked, but Tristan obviously wasn't planning on sticking around to explain it to him.

"Read the suspect's mother's maiden name," was all Tristan said before he walked past her, acting as if he didn't see her or even care that she was there.

"Son of a bitch!" she heard her father snap and, as much as she would have loved to ask her father what was going on, she had to deal with another problem.

"Detective, I just need ten minutes of your time," the suspect's mother said, stepping in front of Tristan and cutting him off.

"You can't have it," Tristan said, moving to step past the woman, but she was too determined to get her way to notice that Tristan was seconds away from tearing off her head.

"We're talking about my son's future here. I think the least you could do-"

"I'm off the case. If you have any questions, you'll have to speak with the chief," Tristan said, moving once again to step past her and when Mrs. Erickson went to stop him this time, he simply ignored her and kept walking until he was in his office and the door slammed shut behind him.

Marty ignored Mrs. Erickson as her expression turned determined and she moved to go after Tristan, but she didn't make it two feet before her father went after her.

"Let him cool down," Hank said, handing her the suspect's file.

"But,-"

"Just let him cool down for now," Hank said, gesturing for her to go to his office. "Let him sort through this on his own," he said quietly as he walked past her. Before she could ask him what was going on, the suspect's mother was begging Hank to speak with her.

As much as she wanted to go to Tristan, her father was right. He obviously needed time to calm down. When the time came and he needed her, he would go to her.

At least, Marty hoped he would.

*-*-*-*

"I thought we were past this, lad," Shayne said as Tristan forced his eyes to remain on the file in front of him, ignoring his phone as it continued to ring.

"Do ye want to talk about it, lad?" Shayne asked as he pulled up a chair at the kitchen table. Tristan didn't need to look up to know that Shayne was watching him with pity.

He didn't need pity. He needed to work and he couldn't do that with Shayne hanging around, watching him like he was going to lose it. He wasn't. Today might not have been the best day of his life, but he'd already moved on. He was over it and didn't need a fucking sitter.

"Everything's fine, Shayne," he said, hoping the man would take him at his word and leave him alone so that he could work through the rest of the files. He was more than halfway done and he'd like to finish them before he called it a night.

"If everything's fine, then why aren't ye with Marty?"

"Because I have work to do," Tristan said, gesturing to the large stacks of files covering the small kitchen table.

"Last time I checked, lad, she was supposed to work with ye so why isn't she here?"

"She needed some rest," Tristan said, absently as he sorted through the files.

"That doesn't sound like Marty," Shayne mused.

"It wasn't her choice to make," Tristan said, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to stay focused and not think about the hurt look Marty shot him when he’d walked past her without saying a word to her.

He knew that she wanted to know what happened. He should have said something to her, but he just couldn't talk about it, hadn’t wanted to talk about it. There was already enough bullshit in his life without dredging up the past.

"Why are ye pushing her away?" Shayne asked softly.

"I'm not pushing her away," Tristan said, praying that Marty realized that, since the last thing that he wanted to do was lose her. He loved her, wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but this just wasn't something that he wanted to talk about.

Right now he needed some space and he knew that he was already fucking this up, but he couldn't help it. He didn't want to deal with anyone at the moment, even Marty. It was because he loved her that he was pulling away from her right now. She was going to have to deal with enough bullshit to be with him, he didn't need to add to it with something that shouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things, but it did. Today was just another reminder of how truly fucked up his life was.

"Lad, I-"

"Just drop it, Shayne," Tristan said on a tired sigh as he rubbed his hands down his face, wishing this day would end.

The sound of the front doorbell echoed throughout the house, letting him know that his day was far from over. He glanced at Shayne to find the man shrugging.

"Who is it?" Tristan asked even as he stood up to go send whoever it was away. On a good day he hated having anyone over, forcing him to keep putting on a show, and today definitely was not a good day. He just wanted to get through the rest of the files, grab a beer, relax and forget everything that happened once he’d made the mistake of leaving his bed this morning. Why hadn't he just called in sick and spent the day in bed with Marty?

"Tristan?" Denny called out as Tristan walked into the foyer, just in time to see his brother let himself in. When Denny spotted Tristan coming down the hall, he sighed with irritation as he gestured lazily behind him. "Where the hell have you been? Dinner's almost done."

"I'm not hungry," Tristan said, gesturing for his brother to leave.

"And if I cared that might mean something to me, but sadly it doesn't," Denny said with a shrug as he gestured for Tristan to move his ass. When Tristan opened his mouth to politely tell his brother to fuck off, he was cut off.

"You haven't come to dinner in more than a month and a half, which means that I've been left to deal with Mom's henpecking," he explained before stressing, "alone."

Tristan couldn't help but inwardly cringe on his brother's behalf. Their mother could try the patience of a saint with the way that she babied them, but at least when they were both there it divided her attention and made it somewhat tolerable. He'd have to make it up to his brother, but not tonight.

"Tonight's not good, Denny. I'm working on a case," he said, once again gesturing for his brother to leave when the bastard had to go and say the one thing that would get him to move his ass and willingly put up with his mother's nagging.

"Marty's there and mom started to interrogate her when I left."

*-*-*-*

"Your children are going to be so cute," Beth said on a happy sigh that almost made Marty choke on the sip of water she’d mistakenly taken to buy herself some time during Beth's rapid-fire interrogation that had started the second she’d walked into the kitchen.

"Don't you think their babies are going to be cute, sweetheart?" Beth asked Tom, smiling dreamily as she kept her eyes on Marty. The pleased expression on Beth’s face actually terrified her.

She shot a beseeching look to her father only to find the man shrugging off her silent cry for help as he took a sip of his beer. It didn't exactly surprise her that her father wasn't coming to her defense since he knew better. Marty could only imagine what Beth would do if he made the mistake of setting her straight. She'd spend the rest of the night focused on him, arguing and questioning the man to death. Still, it would have been a sweet gesture if he’d sacrificed himself for her. Not that she’d actually expected him to, but it would have been nice all the same.

"Adorable," Tom said, earning a glare from her. He mouthed "Sorry", gave her a shrug, and took a sip of his beer as his attention went right back to the Yankees game playing on the small television sitting on the long counter and easily ignoring the inquisition that refused to end.

"Tristan's house is perfect for a large family," Beth noted as she worried her bottom lip, no doubt trying to decide which room would be appropriate for a nursery.

"We're just dating," Marty felt obligated to point out even though she wasn't really sure that was even true any longer.

She wasn't a hundred percent positive, but she was pretty sure that she'd been given the kiss-off earlier. It was actually a really depressing thought and if her father hadn't wrestled that pint of Ben and Jerry's away from her and practically dragged her here, she would still be in her room preparing for the heartache that she was afraid was coming. The only reason that she hadn't made her escape yet was because she knew that Tristan wouldn't be here.

When Denny announced that he was going to get Tristan, she felt a momentary spark of panic, but it was quickly extinguished when she reminded herself that Tristan was stubborn and would probably get out of this. From what she’d heard, he hadn't come over for dinner for close to two months, but that was understandable since he worked long hours and didn't usually have time to indulge his mother.

Lucky bastard.

As much as she loved Beth, and she did, she really did, she just knew that she wouldn't be able to deal with Beth like this for the rest of the night. When she did this type of thing to Denny it amused her, but the way the woman was sizing her up, almost as if she were trying to figure out how many grandbabies Marty would be able to give her, she was actually terrifying her just a tad. It also made everything worse.

The only man she’d ever loved was pushing her away and she had absolutely no idea what she should do or say to stop him. It had never bothered her before if a relationship ended, mostly because she never really cared. None of the men she'd dated before ever made her feel the way that Tristan did, but most importantly, she hadn't fallen for them the way she had when she first laid eyes on Tristan. She was in love with him and wanted to fall asleep every night in his arms and wake up with him every morning and that would probably never happen now.

Tristan didn't let anyone get close to him, not even his own family and why she thought that she was special was beyond her. She’d learned over the last couple of months that she was anything but special to Tristan. For all she knew he'd slept with her just to scratch an itch and now history was repeating itself. All those years ago he’d hurt her by suddenly dropping out of her life and now he was probably doing it again, she realized as panic finally set in.

"Marty?" Beth said, drawing her attention. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"Fine," she lied, pasting a smile that she didn't feel at the moment on her face and praying that Beth took pity on her and let the subject of her and Tristan drop.

"You look a little pale, sweetheart," Beth noted, frowning as she looked Marty over.

Marty started to tell her that she was fine again, but she just couldn't do it. She wasn't fine. Nothing about this was fine. Her stomach was twisted up into knots as she waited for Tristan to break her heart and she couldn't help but wonder why.

Why was she waiting around and leaving it all up to him? She wasn't a kid anymore, too afraid to say something and find out that it was because of something that she’d said or did that chased him off. If he wanted to end things, then he'd damn well better tell her to her face this time, she decided as she turned around to hunt the bastard down. She'd rather have her heart shattered quickly than to deal with this gut wrenching uncertainty for a minute longer.

"Marty?" her father called after her.

"I'm fine, Dad. There's just something that I need to do," she said, not bothering to look back as she stormed out of the kitchen and headed for the living room, more than ready to kick Tristan's ass if that's what she needed to do in order to get answers. If it turned out that he was walking away from her again, she'd accept it. She'd end things this time, making sure that he didn't know just how badly he'd hurt her and this time she would be the one walking away.

Only she wouldn't be coming back.

Chapter 23

"Oh.......shit," Denny and Shayne groaned as the three of them watched Marty storm out of his parents' house, looking furious. When she spotted Tristan, her eyes narrowed dangerously and her movements became clipped as she headed straight for him.

"You," Marty said, pointing a finger at him for emphasis, "and I are going to have a talk."

"We'll talk later," Tristan said with a resigned sigh as he moved to make his way to his parents' house, in no way ready to talk about the bullshit that went down today when Marty stepped into his path, blocking him.

"No, I think now's a good time, don't you?" she asked, arms folded over her chest as she looked up at him, cocking a well-trimmed brow in clear challenge.

"And I think that we'll talk about this later," he said, moving to step around her when her next words made everything in him go still.

"If you walk away again, Tristan, that's it. I'm done," she warned and he knew by the determined look on her face that she meant it. There would be no second chances with her. If he didn't talk to her about something that he'd rather never think about again, she would walk away and destroy him.

"I don't know what's going on," Denny said, confirming Tristan’s suspicions that neither Hank nor Marty had talked about what happened earlier, "but can't this wait until after dinner?"

"No, it can't," Marty said firmly. Her eyes pleaded with him not to fuck this up.

"I don't want to lose you, Marty," he said softly, praying that she backed off.

"Then don't," she said, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes and he knew that the choice was no longer his to make. It didn't matter that this wasn't something that he wanted to do. He'd fucked up and hurt Marty again and that wasn't something that he could live with any longer.

He reached out and took her beautiful face into his hands, tenderly wiping the tears away with the pads of his thumbs as he leaned in and brushed his lips against her trembling ones. "Okay," he said softly. "Let's go talk."

"Wait a minute!" Denny said, sounding desperate and for good reason. "Just come and eat dinner with us and then you can go talk afterwards."

"You're on your own," Tristan said with a shrug as he dropped his hands away from Marty's face and took her hand into his.

"You betraying son of a bitch!" Denny snapped, shooting an anxious glance towards his truck.

"You'll never make it," Tristan pointed out as he headed across the street with Marty.

"There's only one way to find out," he heard Denny say as he headed towards his house with Marty.

"Denny Black! Where do you think you're going?" he heard his mother demand and he probably would have laughed his ass off at his brother if he wasn't dreading this conversation.

"Do you mind if we go for a walk instead?" Marty asked and as much as he would love to say yes and buy himself a little more time, he couldn't. If she needed to talk then he'd rather just get it over with.

"Not right now," he said, heading for his house.

Once they were inside she got right to the point. "Do you want to end this?"

"No," he said with absolutely no hesitation.

He didn't want to end this. He didn't want to lose her and be forced to live without her ever again. Right now he wanted to make up for lost time and make every minute count. He sure as hell didn't want to waste any of those precious minutes talking about bullshit that was best left in the past.

She studied him for a moment before she nodded firmly, obviously accepting his answer. "Okay," she said, sounding relieved as she abruptly turned and headed up the stairs to the second floor.

"Where are you going?" he asked, admittedly confused. "I thought that you wanted to talk."

"I do," she said, shrugging as she shot him a look over her shoulder, slowing her pace. "But only when you're ready to talk, Tristan. I'm not going to force you to do something that you don’t want to do, but I needed to know where we stood."

When he could only stand there staring at her, probably like an idiot, she turned right back around and headed upstairs, disappearing around the corner and leaving him more confused than he'd ever felt before.

"Shayne?" he said quietly, knowing that he was probably close by.

"Aye, lad?" Shayne asked, materializing right next to him.

"Is this a trap?" he had to ask.

"I'm not sure," Shayne admitted, sounding unsure, which wasn't exactly comforting at the moment. "Maybe ye should make a run for it, lad."

Tristan turned a glare on the man. "How exactly is that helpful?" he demanded in a harsh whisper as his eyes darted back to the top of the staircase to make sure that they were still alone.

"That's all I have right now, lad," Shayne admitted sheepishly.

"It's not very helpful," Tristan said, slowly exhaling as he considered his options.

"It is what it is, lad," Shayne said with a shrug.

"Well, it isn't much," Tristan said, deciding that he'd rather get this over with. He didn't want to do this, but he'd hurt her and he'd do anything that he could to make things better.

He forced himself to walk up the stairs as dread filled him.

"Don't let me fuck this up," he prayed as he walked towards his room.

He didn't see her as he walked into his room. As he was turning around to leave he spotted her shoes on the floor. A few feet away from those he spotted her nylons and a few feet away from those he spotted her pinstriped skirt lying in the doorway of his bathroom. More than a little curious, he followed the trail of clothing and pushed the bathroom door open as his eyes followed the rest of the trail to the foot of his tub where the trail ended with her bra.

He looked up and couldn't help but groan when he spotted Marty surrounded by bubbles in his tub as she absently twirled a pair of lacy pink panties on her finger. When she saw him, she gave him a teasing smile as she sent the panties flying in his direction with a simple flick of her hand. He caught them as he leaned back against the doorframe.

"I thought you wanted to talk," he said, wondering just how much she was going to want to know and if he could give it to her.

"Not unless you do," she said with a shake of her head as she leaned back against the tiled wall and closed her eyes.

"I don't," he admitted softly.

"Then we won't talk," she simply said.

"Then what do you want to do?" he asked, wondering where they were supposed to go from here. Thankfully, Marty had an idea.

"You could start by getting me a beer," she said in a teasing tone that relaxed something deep inside of him.

"A beer?" he repeated, wondering how he managed to win over a woman that he clearly didn't deserve.

"Mmmmhmmmm, ice cold," she said with a cute little sigh as she settled more comfortably into the tub.

"I think I can handle that."

*-*-*-*

"Help me, please!" a woman cried, startling Marty wide-awake.

She frantically looked around the large bathroom, but didn't see anything. After a moment she nervously laughed it off even as she strained her ears for a television or a radio, anything to explain the fluttering in her chest and the tiny hairs standing at attention on the back of her neck.

After a moment she shook it off. She'd obviously been dreaming, she told herself, feeling foolish. She laid back in the tub and just started to relax when she heard movement in the bedroom.

"Tristan?" she said, wondering what was wrong with her and why she was reacting so strongly to a dream.

"Sorry it took so long. Mom called and wanted to know if we wanted her to bring over some food," he said, chuckling while he walked into the room, carrying two longneck bottles of beer as self-preservation kicked in and made her forget all about the strange dream.

"You told her no, right?" she asked, already moving to climb out of the tub and make a run for it just in case. She really didn't think that she could take anymore of Beth's meddling tonight.

"I did," he said, sighing as he handed her a beer. "It took a while and my father's help to get her to listen," he explained as he pulled his holster off his belt and placed it on the counter.

"So, she's not coming here?" Marty clarified, knowing the woman would probably embarrass the living hell out of them with more questions and suggestions.

"No, but you should probably know that Denny tried screwing us over by sending her over here so that he could make his escape," he said, chuckling as he toed off his shoes.

"That rat bastard," she muttered, twisting the cap off her beer and taking a small sip.

"Yes, he is," Tristan agreed with a grin as he yanked off his shirt and revealed an incredible chest, but that's not what had Marty hungrily licking her lips. It was that smile of his, that bad boy-relaxed-make-her-blood-boil smile of his. He didn't smile nearly enough, but she was glad that the stressed expression that he wore earlier was gone. As she watched him remove his pants, she couldn't help but wonder if that smile was because of her.

"We won't have to worry about anyone bothering us for a while," Tristan murmured absently as he moved to place his pants on the counter, but after a slight hesitation and a nervous look, he placed his pants on the floor by the tub. It was a little odd, but nothing worth mentioning.

"Why?" she asked, wondering if he truly knew his mother at all. If Beth was determined to come over here, then she was damn well going to-

"They'll be busy for a while helping Denny," Tristan said offhandedly as he pulled his underwear down and raised the temperature of the room by a good ten degrees.

"What happened to Denny?" she somehow managed to ask as her eyes ate up every last inch of him.  The man truly was magnificent. She wanted to run her hands over his muscles, kiss his scars better and trace his tattoos with her tongue.

"A freak accident," Tristan said, sounding unconcerned as he grabbed his beer and walked over to the bathtub. With a smile, he took a sip of his beer as he gestured lazily for her to move forward.

"Is he okay?" she asked, worrying her bottom lip as she moved forward, noticing for the first time that the water was barely lukewarm. Just how long had she dozed off for? she wondered when Tristan climbed in behind her and hissed as he sat down.

"I guess I was gone longer than I thought," Tristan said as he wrapped an arm around her waist and gently pulled her back against him.

"You were gone?" she asked, carefully setting her beer on the side of the tub.

"Mmmhmm," he said, taking a sip of his beer as she enjoyed the feel of him against her back. She could lay in his arms forever.

"Did they call you to help Denny?" she asked, placing her arms over his where it rested across her stomach.

He chuckled as he pressed as a kiss against her neck. "No, his unfortunate accident happened while I was over there getting something out of my old room," he explained.

"You left to get something out of your old room?" she asked, hoping that she didn't sound as hurt as she felt.

"I only left to get something for you, baby. I would have been quicker, but Denny saw me sneak inside the house and decided to try and sell my ass down the river to distract Mom."

As curious as she was about what he had for her, she was even more curious about Denny. "Tristan?"

"Hmm?" he asked, placing his beer on the side of the tub next to hers before reaching down for his pants.

"What happened to Denny?"

"Nothing important," Tristan murmured as he searched around for something. "He just suddenly found himself tied up."

"Tied up?" she asked, feeling her lips twitch as she leaned her head back and to the side so that she could look up at him.

"Well, maybe handcuffed and hanging out the window would be a better description," he said, planting a quick kiss against her lips before shifting to look over the side of the tub to see what he was doing.

She laughed as she turned in his arms so that she could lay her head against his chest, careful of his shoulder. "Please tell me that you didn't really do that to poor Denny."

"Had to," he mumbled as he continued his search.

"And why is that?"

"Because," he said, turning his attention back to her as he picked up her left hand and slid something on her finger, "he was keeping me from you and I didn't want to spend one more minute on this earth without you, Marty. Marry me?"

For a moment she could only stare at the beautiful diamond ring on her finger. It took her a second before she could remember where she’d seen this ring before. It was the ring his grandmother left him when he was fifteen. She'd been a child the last time she saw it, but she'd dreamed of wearing it one day and now she was.

"I know that I've screwed up in the past and that I'm probably rushing this, Marty, but I just can't stomach the idea of going one more day without making you mine," he said as he entwined their fingers together. "Please give me a chance."

This was insane, she told herself as she looked down at the ring on her finger. They hadn't dated and they'd only been together for a day, two tops, but what was even crazier was the fact that she wanted to say yes, more like scream it. He couldn't be serious, she thought as she looked up and met his eyes and just like that she knew that he was dead serious and she was lost.

"I don't want to waste another minute, Marty," he said softly as he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. "Say yes."

"Are you still going to be an asshole?" she asked, desperately trying to buy some time to think clearly.

"Yes," he said with absolutely no hesitation, "but you can kick my ass if I step out of line."

"Marriage is forever," she stupidly pointed out as she felt something close to panic claw at her chest.

"And that's how long I plan on loving you, Marty," he said as he leaned in and kissed her.

“B-but I haven’t even told you that I love you yet!”

He chuckled as he brushed his lips against hers. “I don’t need to hear it.”

“Damn you’re cocky,” she sighed against his lips, loving the way his lips felt against hers as they curled up.

“Yes, but you love me anyway.”

With a soft groan, she admitted it. “I do love you, Tristan, even if you piss me off.”

“Then that’s all that matters, Marty,” he said before deepening the kiss.

There was so much that they needed to talk about, so much that she didn't know about this man.  Her parents had rushed into marriage and the results had been disastrous. They'd barely known each other and only found out too late that they had nothing in common and no future. She didn't want that and she sure as hell didn't want the man that she loved hating her one day.

Saying yes to him would be foolish and she was not a foolish person.

Chapter 24

One month later.......

"I really don't see why yer so angry," Shayne mused as he leaned back in the overstuffed recliner that he’d demanded Tristan buy for him so that he could watch Gilligan's Island in comfort.

Breathe in. Breathe out, Tristan told himself as he clenched and unclenched his hands, struggling against the urge to strangle his friend.

"It's hardly my fault that Marty is pissed at ye, lad," Shayne pointed out with a shrug as he focused on some lame ass 80's monster movie.

"She's. Not. Pissed. At. Me," Tristan bit out through clenched teeth.

Shayne sighed heavily as he shook his head, shooting Tristan a pitying look. "Lad, when are ye gonna learn that when a woman is screaming at ye that yer in deep shit?"

He had to close his eyes and take a deep breath before he answered, truly afraid that he'd do something that he'd regret....eventually.

"For the last time," he said tightly, opening his eyes, "she wasn't screaming at me."

"I could hear her all the way down here, lad. She sounded pretty pissed if ye ask me."

"She wasn't screaming at me, you asshole! She was screaming my name!" Tristan snapped.

"Yes," Shayne agreed slowly as if he were speaking with a small, confused child, "as she yelled at ye, lad. I'm thinking that after a month of her screaming at ye like that, that ye'd finally get the hint and move on. Ye really should take the hint, lad. It's kind of pathetic at this point."

"For the last time," he ground out, "my wife wasn't screaming at me because she was mad at me, you jackass! She was screaming my name while I was making love to her!"

Shayne frowned up at him. "And ye actually stopped just to come down here and tell me that?"

"No, what I came down here to tell you was that another one slipped by you," Tristan said tightly as he jerked a thumb in the direction of the dumb dead bastard who actually had the balls to ask if he could take over Tristan's body so that he could "Get some of that."

Up until that point, Tristan had been able to ignore the bastard's presence, but the moment the man had laid his hands on him to try and take over, which wasn't possible, he lost it. The ice-cold pain and anguish that seeped into his skin made it difficult to focus on anything other than getting the bastard out of the room and away from Marty. When she managed to ask him why he'd stopped, he was forced to tell her that he heard something downstairs, again.

If it wasn't for their family's tendency to let themselves in and make themselves at home, she'd probably think that he was crazy every time he abruptly left the room when they were sleeping, making love, talking, or taking a shower. He really needed to have another talk with them, but right now he was more concerned by the fact that over the past month spirits had been getting by Shayne left and right and bugging the shit out of him.

When he saw the spirit throw a look of longing towards the stairs, he shook his head, once. That's all it took to keep the man from going to play peeping tom on Marty. If he so much as looked in the direction of the stairs, Tristan was going to bring the bastard down to his knees, again.

While he normally didn't bother with spirits and left the handling and sorting to Shayne that didn't mean that he couldn't do his own damage. There was a reason after all that he could see, touch and communicate with them. Whatever Shayne was, he was, but the human version. He couldn't do as much as Shayne for that reason, but he could do enough to keep them in line when he needed to control them. The problem with trying to control them was that it meant that he had to touch them and he fucking hated touching them.

"I'm not sure how they keep getting past me," Shayne said with a put out sigh as he got to his feet.

"Maybe because you're too busy pouting to do your job," Tristan snapped, tired of this bullshit.

"No, that's not the reason," Shayne said, sounding thoughtful as he looked the spirit over. "I'm more than capable of pouting and doing my job. I'm talented like that," he said, earning a few muttered curses from Tristan as he stepped up to the ghost who looked like he'd been hit by a car. The tire tracks across his back only went to confirm that suspicion.

"Ye shouldn't have gotten near me lad here without me knowing," he said as he curiously watched the nervous man.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the man said, shifting anxiously. "The only thing that I know was that one minute I was taking my after dinner walk and the next I was getting pulled into a bedroom while this incredibly hot woman got on her knees and-"

"Well," Shayne said, quickly cutting the man off when Tristan took a threatening step towards him, "I can see that yer not going to be helpful, so this is where we say goodbye," Shayne quickly explained as he laid his hands on the dead man's chest. A beautiful white light spread over his chest, sending warmth and feelings of love through the room seconds before the man simply disappeared.

"What the hell is going on, Shayne?" Tristan asked as he rammed his fingers through his hair out of frustration.

Whatever was going on was seriously fucking with his life. He'd always attracted spirits, but this past month was fucking ridiculous. Normally he could still lead a semi-normal, productive life, only having to deal with spirits when Shayne was otherwise occupied, but something had changed over the past month. He couldn't remember the last time that he got a full night of sleep, never mind took a piss without an audience.

Everywhere he went, they followed. It was even worse when he was with Marty, which was often. He felt like such an asshole. Thanks to him, she wasn't getting much sleep either. Every time spirts woke him up, he managed to startle her awake. He'd apologize for waking her up and she'd shrug it off like it was no big deal, but he knew that the multiple wakeups a night were taking their toll on her.

She was exhausted.

Granted, she was also putting in a lot of hours at work plus a few hours each night trying to figure out where all the missing women had disappeared. Mostly she was exhausted because of this damn spirit invasion that didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon. Every night when she fell into an exhausted sleep in his arms, he prayed that they'd give him a damn break, at least for one night, but they never did.

Every night for the past month he woke up to find himself being attacked or screamed at and, each and every time that happened, he ended up waking Marty. It hadn’t mattered if he was holding her in his arms or managed to put some space between them before he fell asleep, he couldn't manage to handle the nighttime visits without scaring the hell out of her. He tried everything he could to help her fall back asleep, but once she was awake, that was it.

He considered sleeping on the couch, but that would only send the wrong message to his wife. They'd only been married for a month and opting to sleep on the couch instead of with her in their bed would cause a lot of bullshit problems that he'd rather avoid. He was in love with his wife and he didn't want her to ever have a reason to question that. So, instead of leaving her to sleep, he tried other ways to help make things better for her.

Sometimes he held her, drew a bath for her or they'd grab the files of the missing women and look through them, hoping to find something that they'd missed. So far they hadn't found any leads. They were still investigating restaurants and restaurant supply stores, but they were going nowhere.

The only time that she seemed to get any sleep was when he was driving. It only took a matter of seconds for Marty to doze off and once she was out she slept so damn peacefully that most mornings he drove around instead of going straight to the office. As long as he drove, she slept so he made damn sure that he drove as long as he could. Thankfully his position allowed him that luxury, but it couldn't keep him on the road indefinitely.

He usually reported back to the office by nine after he drove around, patrolling the town and making calls. By the time he shut the engine down, her eyes would be open and she'd be throwing him a grateful smile as she grabbed her bag and opened her door. For the next eight or so hours she'd struggle to stay awake while she worked, but the second that he turned on the car to take her home, she was fast asleep. He usually managed to drive for an hour or two before he took her home.

Once they were home, she kept herself busy with cooking, cleaning and working. When he suggested that she get some sleep or offered to help her, she'd give him a playful shove and tell him that everything was fine. Things weren't fine. They were far from fine.

His wife wasn't happy and it was his fault. He'd rushed her into marrying him, too afraid that he'd fuck up and lose her for good. If things didn't change, and soon, he was afraid that he was going to lose her anyway.

One thing was certain, he wasn't going to lose her lying down. He knew what his life would be like without her, empty, and he wasn't about to go back to that. Not without a fight. He was going to take her away from everything and give her a real honeymoon. He should have done that right after they’d eloped, but they'd both wanted to focus on this case and Marty wanted to be able to start her new position without any delays.

She was set to graduate and officially start her job in a month. Everything had taken longer than expected because of work, getting married, and a few problems with her advisors, but the end was finally in sight. He'd already spoken to Hank and put in for a vacation so that he could surprise Marty with a real honeymoon as her graduation present. He knew that she'd be pissed to have to put off her new job for a little while longer, but they needed this.

He needed this.

He desperately needed some time alone with his wife. He wanted to take her away from all this bullshit and prove to her that she hadn't made a mistake by marrying him. Marty needed to know that he loved her, worshipped her, and would move heaven and earth to make her happy.

In order to do that, he had to get rid of all the bullshit and distractions in their lives. She deserved all of his attention and he was going to damn well give it to her even if it killed him. It was definitely going to make him broke.

It took some time, research and using Shayne's talents, but he found an exclusive resort on a small island in the Bahamas that was untouched by death. Before the resort was built fifteen years ago, the island had been untouched by humans. It had just been another small pretty island among hundreds of small pretty islands until a few contractors decided to build a resort. Since its creation, not one single human had died on the island.

He'd checked.

Repeatedly.

The airline tickets, private boat to take them to the island and the cost of the rooms and meal package was going to wipe out his entire nest egg and that should piss him off, but surprisingly he didn't care. For the first time in his life, he was going to be a normal guy and he couldn't wait.

He couldn't wait to hold his wife's hand without worrying about coming up with some fucked up excuse why he had to drop her hand, cross the street unnecessarily, or having to stop whatever he was doing and kiss her, well, that one he didn't mind, because he was hoping to go unnoticed by a spirit that just happened to be too close for his comfort. He was really looking forward to being able to get some uninterrupted sleep, using the john without an audience, and being able to tell his wife that he loved her before he made love to her without some bitter woman scoffing, ranting and raving that he was a lying sack of shit.

It was going to be two weeks of heaven with Marty and he couldn't wa-

"What the hell is that sound?" Shayne demanded for what was probably the tenth time in the past week and drawing Tristan's attention right back to where it should be.

"Don't know. Don't care," Tristan said, turning his back on his frowning friend. He started to head up the stairs to his wife whom he'd love to make love to for the rest of the night, but actually found himself hoping that she was asleep. She really needed her rest. "Just keep them off my ass for the rest of the night."

Chapter 25

Tristan was hiding something from her.

Actually, she was pretty sure that he was hiding several things from her and, if she wasn’t so damn tired, she’d probably be really pissed off, but right now she couldn’t quite find the energy to pick a fight with him. She could barely find the energy to reach down and grab the comforter and pull it over her.

After several failed attempts, a few groans and whimpers, she gave up and settled for curling up on her side and closing her eyes only to open them a split second later and shoot a nervous look around the dimly lit room when she thought she heard a noise. She didn’t see anything, but…….

Biting her lip, she quickly leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed a fistful of the thick comforter that had been kicked off the bed when she’d tumbled onto the bed with Tristan after their shower. Throwing one last wary glance around the suddenly too quiet room, she dropped back on the bed, yanking the comforter over her in the process.

Her grip on the comforter tightened as she pulled it up to her chin, her eyes darting to the left when the sounds of softly spoken whispers reached her ears. Swallowing hard, she squeezed her eyes shut and yanked the comforter over her head all while telling herself that she wasn’t scared. She wasn’t. It was late, she was tired and everyone knew that sleeping with a comforter pulled over your head was the best way to sleep.

Within minutes the air trapped beneath the comforter became stifling, but she ignored it along with her suddenly parched throat and the pounding of her heart as she strained her ears to listen for any sounds that would let her know that she wasn’t alone.

She opened her mouth to call out for Tristan, but thought better of it and settled for curling up into a tight ball instead, careful not to dislodge the protective comforter from her body.

She couldn’t call Tristan, because he’d probably have her committed. Not that she could blame him. She was hearing voices after all, she thought unhappily as she held her breath, hoping that whatever it was would just go away and leave her alone. But, she knew that it wouldn’t.

It didn’t matter if she ignored the voices or tried to flee the room, they followed her, screamed at her and cried, breaking her heart and terrifying her at the same time. She didn’t know what to do or how much longer she was going to be able to keep this up. To be honest, she was surprised that she’d been able to keep it up this long. She’d thought by now that Tristan would have picked up on her strange behavior and asked what was going on.

Then again, it wasn’t as though she responded to the voices or was acting crazy so maybe she shouldn’t be too surprised that he hadn’t noticed that anything was wrong. As far as Tristan was concerned, she was just having a little trouble going to sleep. He didn’t know that she was probably going crazy.

As the whispering became louder, she wondered how she was going to explain this one to Tristan. She could lie to him and tell him that she was freezing, but that would only end with him cranking up the heat and her struggling not to pass out from heat exhaustion. Then again, she could try playing it off like she was being playful, but that would just end with them making love all night.

Not that making love to her husband all night was an unpleasant thought. It wasn’t. If the circumstances were different, the idea of spending the night between the sheets with Tristan until the alarm forced them apart would have sent shivers of anticipation through her instead of making her feel like she was going to be sick.

She couldn’t do this any longer. She just couldn’t. Since the voices started haunting her, she’d lost too much sleep to be healthy, lost weight, her nerves were fried and, for the past week, she hadn’t been able to hold anything down. The only time she’d managed to get any sleep was when Tristan drove her to work, but most mornings that wasn’t nearly enough to help get her through her day. It was only thanks to her frayed nerves and the fear of experiencing more of those heart-wrenching dreams that kept her from falling asleep at work.

Every time she felt her eyes begin to close she forced them open and if that didn’t work, the voices that would suddenly scream in her ear usually did the trick. Once the voices started, they usually didn’t stop. The only time that she could escape them was if she was in a car or another voice, a man’s voice that from what she could tell so far was obsessed with Gilligan’s Island, porn, and harassing Tristan, which was odd, appeared.

Then again, was there really anything about this situation that was normal?

She was married to a man that had spent more than a decade pretending that he didn’t know she’d existed and then made her life a living hell once he was forced to acknowledge her. Tristan was an equal opportunity asshole, she thought with a small smile that quickly disappeared with a grimace as her stomach chose that moment to perform somersaults.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut and willed her too sensitive stomach to calm down. There was no way that she was going to leave the safety of her comforter when she knew that something in the dark was waiting for her.

As her stomach began to settle, she couldn’t help but will a certain voice with an Irish brogue to come to her rescue and yes, sadly enough she did think of that voice as a protector of sorts. He seemed to be able to handle the voices and make them go away. In her book that made the man’s voice a godsend. The only problem was that he normally didn’t come around unless Tristan was with her.

She should be comforted by the fact that her hallucinations liked Tristan, but oddly enough she wasn’t. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was going crazy and wouldn’t be able to hide it for very much longer. No doubt by this time next week she’d be fitted for a straight jacket while Tristan filed for divorce. Her stomach rolled violently with the thought of never seeing Tristan again.

This wasn’t right. After everything they’d been through, they deserved a better ending than this. They deserved a real chance. They should get a chance to celebrate anniversaries, have babies and grow old together, but none of those things were going to happen now.

When Tristan had finally managed to convince her to take a chance on him, mostly by exhausting her with sex until the point where she would have done or said anything to get some rest, she’d been afraid that Tristan would quickly regret marrying her and leave her. Never in a million years would she have ever thought that she would be the reason why things ended.

She loved him so much and it killed her to hide this from him, but what choice did she have? Whether Tristan decided to stay with her or not, she’d already made her own decision about their marriage. She was going to leave him. It would be the hardest thing that she’d ever done, but if Tristan tried to be noble and stick it out with her, she would be forced to do what was right.

She knew from her studies and internships what most likely waited for her. If she didn’t spend the rest of her life in and out of institutions then she’d live her life completely dependent on pills and therapy, hoping, hell, praying that she didn’t have another setback. It wasn’t an ideal life. She knew that a lot of people with mental illness managed to lead somewhat productive lives and that she’d most likely figure out how to do that with time and help, but she just couldn’t put Tristan through that.

If he stayed with her, they would always be waiting for the day when her medication no longer worked or her problem escalated to the point that medication no longer helped her. It wasn’t the kind of life that she wanted for Tristan. She wanted him to have a real chance at happiness and if he stayed with her, he would never get that chance.

How sad was it that she wished that those tests she’d taken when the voices first started had come back differently? she wondered with a choked sob. At least a tumor or a blockage would have explained why this was suddenly happening to her. It would have also been a lot easier to tell Tristan.

She would have been terrified to tell him, but she would have been more terrified by the news and would have needed him. He always made her feel better and she knew that once he found out that she was losing it that he would do everything that he could to make her feel better. Just the thought of Tristan’s arms wrapped around her as he whispered in her ear that everything was going to be okay had her reconsidering holding off on telling him until she received an official diagnosis.

Maybe she should-

Any thoughts of confiding in Tristan evaporated when a rough, callused hand that definitely was not Tristan’s, suddenly clamped down tightly around her ankle. It was also at that point that she realized that perhaps she wasn’t crazy after all.

*-*-*-*

“Are ye sure that ye can’t hear that?” Shayne demanded, letting Tristan know that the night of bullshit was far from over.

With a resigned sigh, he turned around and headed back downstairs. If he was going to be forced to hear Shayne bitch, then he was going to do it with an ice cold beer and leftover pizza. Hopefully Marty would be able to fall asleep in the meantime.

He’d go check on her in a little while and if she was asleep, he’d leave her alone. He’d get some work done and then crash on the couch. He hated to do it, but she really needed some sleep and if she asked, he’d tell her that he’d fallen asleep by accident. It was a pretty believable lie since he was barely getting an hour of sleep a night, but he couldn’t completely blame the spirits for that.

Those damn dreams on the other hand….

They were driving him out of his fucking mind.  Every time he fell asleep those damn dreams tormented him, making his heart ache and leaving him with a sense of loss and longing that left him on edge all day. On more than one occasion he’d actually found himself in the bathroom, vomiting, the sense of grief too much to bear.

“Let it go, Shayne,” he said as he strolled past Shayne and made his way to the kitchen.

“It’s a quick thumping sound,” Shayne said, obviously set on bugging the shit out of him so he simply tuned him out as he grabbed a beer and the aluminum foil covered plate of pizza left over from dinner and headed for the living room, hoping that Shayne would be too focused on his little noise obsession to notice.

“This is bugging the shit out of me,” Shayne whined as he followed after him.

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Tristan said dryly as he placed his food on the coffee table and sat down on the couch.

“I know that I’ve heard it before, but I just can’t remember where,” Shayne said as though Tristan cared.

He didn’t, so he focused on the stack of folders in front of him.

“I can’t believe that ye can’t hear it,” Shayne grumbled.

“Believe it,” Tristan said absently, taking a sip of his beer.

“Ye know, lad, I’m beginning to think that ye don’t care,” Shayne said with a putout sigh.

“That’s probably because I don’t”

“That hurts, lad. I’m being tortured by a phantom sound and ye-“

“Don’t care,” Tristan said, cutting him off.

“Ye’d care if ye had to listen to this damn thumping day and night,” Shayne said and Tristan didn’t need to look up from the folder on his lap to know that the man was pouting.

“Stop being such a baby and man up,” he said, barely looking up from the file in front of him as he reached for his beer.

“I’m not being a baby! I………..,” Shayne’s words trailed off before he let out a chuckle. “I’m a fucking idiot, lad.”

“Agreed,” Tristan murmured, all of his attention on the latest kidnapping case.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Shayne with a satisfied sigh.

“Uh huh.”

“Ye don’t want to know what that sound is?” Shayne asked, sounding amused.

“Not really,” Tristan said, frowning down at the detective’s field notes and trying to decipher scribble.

“Then maybe I shouldn’t tell ye.”

“Then don’t.”

“It involves Marty,” Shayne said after a slight pause, grabbing Tristan’s attention in a big way.

“What about her?” Tristan asked, looking up, folder forgotten as all of his attention went to his grinning friend.

“Looks like ye got a babe on the lass,” Shayne announced proudly seconds before his own words seemed to sink in and when they did, his pleased expression turned horrified.

Tristan was too stunned to respond at first, but when Shayne let out a vile curse and suddenly disappeared, he found himself frozen on the spot.

Marty was pregnant?

He was having a little difficulty processing that thought when the screams for help started.

Chapter 26

“Open the fucking door!” Tristan shouted, panic taking over as Marty’s screams for help abruptly stopped and the sounds of men fighting grew louder.

“Marty!” he shouted, slamming his bad shoulder into the bedroom door, barely aware of the sharp pain shooting down his shoulder and into the tips of his fingers.

After a few more failed attempts, he swore as he stepped back and slammed his foot in the door. The door gave way after two kicks. Before the door had the chance to bounce off the wall, Tristan was making his way inside and ready to kill whoever had broken into his house with his bare hands.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Tristan bit out in disgust when he spotted Shayne fighting with the spirit of a large man by the bed.

He shook his head in disgust as he looked around the room for his wife. When he spotted her in the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet, looking pale, he wanted to kick his own ass for not taking better care of her. She was running herself ragged and it was starting to take its toll on her. She couldn’t keep going like this, not with a baby on the way.

A baby…….

They were having a baby. It didn’t seem real, not at all. Only a month ago he was prepared to step back and allow her to go on with her life and now they were bringing a child into this world and starting a family. He honestly didn’t know what to think about that. It didn’t seem possible that someone like him could be this blessed.

The only thing that he was certain of was that it was past time that he took better care of his wife. After shooting one last glance at Shayne as the man took the intruding spirit down with an impressive chokehold, Tristan moved to go help Marty.

“Baby, are you-“

His words were cut off when a large man stepped in front of him and struck him in the chest, sending him flying across the room before he could get a good look at the bastard’s face or react. The air was forced from his lungs as his back slammed into the wall, his bad shoulder connecting with the edge of the windowsill as his head slammed back into the wall with a sickening crack.

“Tristan!” he heard Marty scream as he fell to the floor, the plush carpet doing little to protect his battered body.

His vision blacked out as he struggled to get to his feet. It took several attempts before he could manage it. His legs gave out on him several times before he accepted the fact that he couldn’t walk, but he didn’t let that stop him from going to his wife.

Squinting, he moved forward, crawling as he struggled to remain conscious. He couldn’t see anything so he moved towards the sounds of Marty’s cries. Someone had her, was hurting her and he was helpless to do anything to stop them so he did the only thing that he could think of before he lost consciousness.

“Protect……..her, Shayne.”

*-*-*-*

“Tristan!” Marty screamed, watching helplessly as Tristan dropped to the ground. She moved to help him when the voice that she’d come to think of as her protector spoke, drawing her attention to a large and very handsome man with short black hair and killer green eyes. Then again, all the men in the room, seven the last time she counted, were handsome with jet black hair and killer green eyes and no doubt related.

“Was that really necessary?” the familiar voice demanded with a put out sigh as he moved to Tristan’s side.

“Aye,” the large man, who’d wrapped her up in a sheet and carried her into the bathroom only moments earlier, replied flatly.

When Marty tried to walk past the man to go to Tristan, she was surprised that he didn’t try to stop her. She learned the reason for that barely a split second later when four of the large men who’d been leaning against the wall suddenly vanished only to reappear by Tristan’s side before she could blink.

“Oh, come on now, lads!” the man who’d been looking Tristan over snapped as two of the men grabbed him by his arms and yanked him to his feet and away from Tristan.

“Bring them downstairs.”

“Wait!” Marty said as she rushed to go to Tristan, desperate to make sure that he was okay. Before she could reach him, two of the men reached down, grabbed him by the arms and disappeared, leaving her stumbling forward as her heart skipped a beat and she forgot how to breathe. The rest of the men quickly followed until she found herself alone.

“When you’re ready, we’ll be downstairs waiting for you, Macha,” the large man who’d helped her to bathroom said softly from behind her, making her realize that she wasn’t as alone as she’d thought.

“That’s not my name,” she found herself saying as her mind struggled to grasp what just happened.

“Everything will be okay, Macha,” he promised softly with a sympathetic smile that struck her as vaguely familiar.

She wanted to point out that everything had been fine before he’d showed up, but at that moment her stomach decided that everything definitely was not okay.

*-*-*-*

“What’s she doing?” Liam asked as Quinn materialized in the kitchen, his glare never leaving Tristan who sat slumped forward in the kitchen chair with his hands cuffed behind his back.

“Still getting sick,” Quinn said with a sneer of disgust. Shayne knew that if they’d still been human that Quinn would have been joining Marty. He’d always had a weak stomach, something they used to taunt and tease him about constantly. It was a pity that he couldn’t use that against Quinn right now, Shayne thought with a sigh.

“Find something to settle her stomach,” Liam ordered as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the counter.

“What were those things that she liked the last time she was pregnant?” Declean asked as he moved into the kitchen.

“Apples?” Finn suggested with a frown as he moved to join his brother in the search for something that would settle Marty’s stomach.

Aidan nodded as he joined them. “Aye, the lass has always been partial to apples.”

Fergus shook his head as he left Shayne’s side to help with the search. “She doesn’t like the green ones, lads, unless they’re the sweet ones.”

Shayne rolled his eyes as he pulled up a chair next to Tristan, who was still unconscious, and said, “She can’t stomach raw apples when she’s pregnant. They have to be cooked.”

The brothers stopped mid-search to look his way.

“Are ye sure?” Fergus asked, frowning.

“Aye. Don’t ye remember the last time that she was pregnant? We had to take turns stealing pastries from the baker after Tadgh was killed,” he reminded them. In retrospect, that was probably a bad idea considering the fact that he’d broken their agreement after that incident and helped Tadgh, again….and again…..and this last time would make three times he’d helped Tadgh since he’d promised not to.

“You mean when we were all forced to watch Macha die from a broken heart……..again?” Liam asked, his glare moving from Tristan to him.

“He tricked me this last time,” Shayne bit out, which was true.

Tadgh had tricked them all into believing that he’d finally had enough and was going to leave Macha alone and give her the peace that she rightly deserved, but he’d lied. He’d led them all to believe that he needed time and space to get through finally letting her go and they’d all foolishly given it to him. Not that they’d quite believed him.

They’d kept a guard on Macha’s soul as best as they could and when they’d felt that she was ready to be born again they’d followed her soul. Once she’d successfully made it into the unborn fetus, they’d searched for Tadgh. They expected him to try and follow after her, but they never found him. For a couple of years they’d watched over Macha until they felt that the likelihood of Tadgh trying anything was slim.

The last time they’d checked on her, she’d been three years old. They all loved her and agreed that the temptation to interfere in her life and protect her was too much. To be honest, none of them had been able to stomach the idea of seeing her with someone else. She belonged with Tadgh. The problem was this goddamn curse that kept them all trapped in this never-ending cycle of bullshit.

Somehow they managed to walk away from Macha, wishing her the best and praying that Tadgh wouldn’t do something stupid like torturing himself by watching over her. Shayne couldn’t imagine being forced to watch over his soul mate and not being able to touch her, take care of her, and having to be forced to watch as another man took his place. Then again, he avoided his soul mate like the plague, so he really didn’t have to worry about torturing himself. Tadgh on the other hand….

Couldn’t stay away from Macha and they should have realized that their younger brother would have found a way to get past them. Shayne still wasn’t sure how Tadgh managed to pull it off without any of them finding out. It was only by pure luck that Shayne had discovered Tadgh living across the street from Macha all those years ago.

He still couldn’t believe how fucking stupid Tadgh had been to do it. What the hell had he been thinking? He knew what waited for him and he still did it, uncaring about the hell that he was going to put himself through. Eleven years without any type of protection or buffer from spirits too desperate for the lives that they’d lost to care about what they put a young child through was a dangerous way to live. To be honest, Shayne was still surprised that Tadgh hadn’t been killed or found himself locked up in a mental hospital by then.

“I’ll go get her some apple pastries,” Declean offered, stepping away from the counter to do just that.

“She’s partial to apple fritters,” Shayne suggested absently as a thought occurred to him. Then with a sigh and a muttered, “I’ll be right back,” he left the room.

When he materialized in Tristan’s room a few seconds later, he wasn’t entirely surprised to find Marty dressed, armed, and seriously pissed off. He wasn’t even surprised when she raised the large gun in his direction and aimed it directly where his heart had once beat.

What did surprise him, and apparently Marty as well if her high-pitched squeal was any indication, was the bloodied spirit of a man stumbling through her bedroom wall.

With a muttered, “Oh, shit,” Marty swung the gun in the direction of the spirit.

“Oh, my God! Don’t shoot!” the man cried, throwing his hands up into the air as he stumbled back away from Marty and making Shayne shake his head in disgust.

“Yer already dead, ye dumb bastard!” he snapped at the man as he turned his attention back to Marty, who he noted was turning an interesting shade of green.

“Don’t….d……don’t mo-“ she struggled to get out.

“Move?” Shayne finished for her with a helpless shrug.

He really wasn’t too shocked when she opened her mouth, definitely to tell him to fuck off, but instead clamped a hand over her mouth, muttered, “Oh, shit,” and ran to the bathroom. With a sigh, he followed her.

As Marty struggled to keep the gun aimed on him as she lost what was left of her dinner, he couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long time since he’d had the chance to spend any real time with her. Granted, having a gun aimed at his balls while her dinner made a second appearance probably wouldn’t qualify as quality time to most people, but he’d gladly take it.

He missed the nights they used to spend by the fire, long after everyone else had fallen asleep, talking and laughing while they pretended that everything would work out. If it hadn’t been for Tadgh, he probably would have made her his own. Their union wouldn’t have been based on romantic love, happily ever after and all that bullshit, but one of respect and friendship. There was no doubt in his mind that he never would have made her as happy as Tadgh could, but he would have kept her safe. Considering everything that had happened, maybe he should have done just that.

Chapter 27

“Stay where you are,” Marty said as she struggled to keep the gun aimed on the man in front of her when all she wanted to do was lie down, close her eyes and curl up into a ball in Tristan’s arms until the nausea and dizziness went away so that she could pretend that none of this had ever happened.

“How are ye feeling, lass?” the man asked softly, acting unconcerned about the gun currently aimed at his family jewels and probably for good reason, Marty realized.

“And if I shot you…..” she prompted, already having a good idea what the answer would be.

“It wouldn’t affect me at all, lass,” he said with a careless shrug.

With a sigh, she lowered the gun, noting that he didn’t seem to care one way or the other that the gun was no longer aimed on him, further confirming her suspicions. The man could disappear, move through walls and God only knew what else, so it didn’t exactly take a genius to figure out that her one and only weapon would be useless against him.

“Where’s my husband?” she asked, trying to mask her fear for Tristan.

She still couldn’t get over the sight of him being thrown across the room and slamming into the wall like that. He shouldn’t have been able to move after that, but somehow he’d managed to crawl towards her before he passed out. He had to be okay, he had to be, she told herself as she tried to remain calm.

“He’s downstairs with my brothers,” the man said slowly, sounding as though he was choosing his words carefully.

“I see,” she said absently with a small nod as she tried to wrap her mind around everything that had happened in the last few hours. Not only wasn’t she crazy, but apparently she could see ghosts. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to do with that information so she decided to focus on getting them to leave. She raised her gun and pulled the trigger, taking him by surprise.

“What the bloody hell did ye do that for?” he demanded, startled, but in no way harmed by the bullet that passed through him.

“Would you have allowed me to use the phone?” she asked, dropping the gun on the ground so that she could tighten her hold on the sheet wrapped around her.

Frowning, he shook his head. “Of course not. Ye’d only call for-“

“Help,” she finished for him as she headed for the door, shooting him a glare that dared him to stop her. Ghost or not, she would kick his ass if he tried to stop her from going to Tristan.

“Ah, hell!” he groaned, disappearing before she reached the door.

Knowing that this might be her only chance, she didn’t bother stopping to change her clothes. She rushed towards the bedroom door, praying that she got to Tristan before they could disappear with him. She just hoped that the gunshot did its job and that her father and Tom were on their way to-

“Please, you have to help me!” the bloodied man that she’d somehow forgotten about demanded as he grabbed hold of her wrists. Seconds later he made her pray for death as pure dread and ice cold fear shot through her.

*-*-*-*

“Calm the fuck down, lad!”

“Get the cuffs the fuck off me, Shayne!” Tristan snapped, gritting his teeth and slamming himself back into the wall, chair and all.

He ignored the throbbing in his head and the fact that each breath he took was accompanied by searing pain and slammed back against the wall again and again until he felt the chair finally break apart. His hands were still cuffed tightly behind his back, but as long as he could move he didn’t give a damn. He needed to get to Marty and he needed to get to her now.

“I told ye that she was alright,” Shayne explained quickly as he reached out and grabbed hold of Tristan by his shoulders to steady him when he stumbled.

Tristan shook him off and moved past Shayne, ignoring the large bastards standing around his kitchen, glaring at him. He didn’t know who or what they were and right now he didn’t care. He’d deal with them later, but for right now he needed to see Marty with his own eyes and touch her to know that she was okay.

“Lad, she’s fine!” Shayne said, appearing in front of him and looking him over, his expression becoming concerned seconds before it turned accusing. “Ye could have killed him, ye dumb bastard!”

The larger of the men suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway, his glare locked on Tristan as he leaned back against the doorframe. “That’s the plan.”

“Well it’s a dumb fucking plan!” Shayne snapped, shifting between Tristan and the large man who looked ready to carry out that plan with his bare hands, but Tristan didn’t have the patience or time to deal with this bullshit. He pushed past Shayne and the large bastard that he was going to beat the shit out of later. He headed for the stairs when the bastard’s next words, and the four men that suddenly appeared in front of him and grabbed him, stopped him.

“Ye didn’t seem to think so fifty years ago,” the large man announced, shooting Shayne a smug look.

“Things were different back then, Liam,” Shayne shot back.

“Unless the curse suddenly changed in the last fifty years, I would say that they’re exactly the same,” the man named Liam who looked so much like Shayne, Tristan now realized, said tightly, his brogue becoming more pronounced with each word.

An uneasy feeling crept up his spine, but he pushed it aside. He had more important matters to attend to, like his wife who was upstairs and finding out why she’d fired a gun. It had done a damn good job of waking him up and taking about ten years off of his life. The only thing that was stopping him from completely losing it was Shayne. If Marty was hurt, Shayne would be doing everything in his power to help her.

“Get. The. Fuck. Off. Me!” he snapped, emphasizing each word as he struggled to get free.

“Calm yerself, lad,” one of the men said.

“This is for the best,” another one of them said, but he wasn’t listening. At least he wasn’t listening to them, but to the heart-wrenching scream that tore through the house.

Fear shot down his spine and he swore that his heart stopped beating when he realized that it was Marty screaming. It was like nothing he’d ever heard before. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but one second he was standing in the kitchen, struggling to get to Marty and the next he was in their bedroom, his arms free and wrapped around Marty as she shook and cried in his arms.

“Ye son of a bitch!” he heard someone yell.

“No! Please, don’t! I didn’t mean to hurt her!” a new voice cried.

He pressed a kiss against the top of Marty’s head as he looked up and watched while Shayne and the six men who seemed determined to rid the world of him, circled around a man soaked in blood. Marty’s fingers dug into his skin. She held on tightly to him as she sobbed against his bad shoulder.

“Tristan!” he heard his father yell, followed closely by Hank yelling for Marty. Pressing another kiss against Marty’s hair, he picked her up, ignoring the agonizing pain in his head and shoulder, and headed for the door.

“Don’t do anything stupid, lad,” Liam warned as Tristan walked past him.

“Fuck off, asshole,” he said, shifting Marty in his arms as he headed for the door.

“I know yer pissed, lad, but I need ye to get rid of them,” Shayne said, appearing a few feet in front of them.

“Fine,” Tristan said, already knowing that he didn’t have much of a choice. The men could follow him anywhere and probably would until they got what they wanted. He had no problems with facing them head on, but he did have a huge problem with his wife being caught in the middle of it. “I’ll send her home with her father and then you can tell me what’s going on.”

“Ye can’t send her away!” Shayne said, sounding close to panicking.

“Watch me,” Tristan bit out, stepping around Shayne only to have the man shift right back in front of him, but this time he was flanked by two of the other men.

“We can’t let ye do that, Tadgh,” the man standing at Shayne’s right said.

“That’s not my fucking name!” Tristan snapped, having had enough of this bullshit. He moved to step around the trio when Shayne’s next words stopped him.

“We need to protect her, little brother,” Shayne said softly, taking him by surprise and making his already fucked up head spin faster.

“What did you call me?” he asked, sure that he’d misheard him.

With a sad smile, Shayne reached out and took Marty from him. “We need to have a talk, lad, but first we need ye to go say goodbye to yer father and Hank,” Shayne explained quietly, shifting Marty in his arms as he stepped to the side so that Tristan could pass by him.

It wasn’t until he was halfway down the stairs that Shayne’s words hit him. He stopped and turned around to face Shayne, frightened for Marty.

“She’ll not be harmed, lad. Trust me,” Shayne said, reassuring him before he could ask for it.

“Can I?” Tristan demanded, hating the fact that, for the first time in years, he just wasn’t sure.

“Always,” Shayne said firmly as he walked away with Marty curled up in his arms.

“Let’s go, Tadgh,” one of the men said as he joined him on the stairs and tossed a grey tee shirt to him.

“It’s Tristan,” he murmured, shooting one last glance at Shayne’s retreating back before heading down the stairs as he carefully pulled the tee shirt on.

“Tristan!” Hank shouted as he walked down the hall towards the front door, his weapon drawn and Tom hot on his heels as the two men quickly made their way towards him.

“Where’s Marty?” Hank demanded.

“She’s upstairs lying down. What’s going on?” he asked, pretending that he didn’t know exactly what brought them here.

“That’s good, lad, really good,” the man that had followed him downstairs said with an approving nod.

“What’s going on?” his father repeated in disbelief, sharing a confused look with Hank. “We heard a gunshot that’s what’s going on!”

Tristan shrugged. “Didn’t hear a thing.”

“You didn’t hear it?” Hank repeated, frowning as he looked past Tristan towards the stairs.

“No,” Tristan said in a bored tone as he gestured to the door. “But, I’ll call Green and have him check into it.”

“Already called him,” Hank said with a sigh as he put his gun away. “Sorry that we woke you up. Give Marty my love.”

“Will do,” Tristan said, relieved when the men started for the door.

When his father shot him a wink and started out the door, he almost stopped him and pulled him into his arms so that he could tell the man how much he loved him and appreciated everything that he’d done for him, but somehow he held back. He didn’t know what was going on and he wasn’t sure how far these men were planning on taking this. He wasn’t about to thank his father for everything he’d done for him by putting him in danger.

He wasn’t that much of an asshole.

Chapter 28

“Are ye all right, lass?” the voice with the light Irish brogue that made her feel protected and safe asked as a cold cloth was pressed against her forehead.

“No,” she said with an embarrassing sniffle. She definitely was not okay. Confused? Scared? Embarrassed? Dizzy? Close to vomiting? Yes, she was all of those things, but the one thing that she was definitely not was fine.

“Declean, did ye get the fritters?” another man, whose voice was slightly deeper and sexier, asked.

“They were out,” she heard a man mumble and she considered opening her eyes to see who spoke, but that would only cause more problems like more vomiting, doing something embarrassing like passing out, or losing it again. Was that…..bitch slapping that she was hearing? Yup, she was pretty sure that there were currently ghosts in her room bitch slapping each other from the sounds of it.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” Declean demanded, sounding like he was pouting. Why that made her lips twitch, she didn’t know. Maybe it was part of a mental breakdown?

“Cause ye didn’t get the lass her baked goods, ye lazy bastard!” another one snapped, followed by the sounds of more bitch slapping.

“Hit me again, Fergus and I’ll-Ow!”

“Stop yer bitching and go get the lass something to eat!”

“What am I supposed to get her then?”

“Apples?” someone suggested, sounding hopeful.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, her stomach doing backflips at the mere suggestion of her favorite snack.

“Ye dumb bastard! Ye know that she can’t eat apples when she’s pregnant!”

A heavy sigh was followed by, “Aye, yer right. Then what are we supposed to get for her?”

“Why are ye asking me? I’m not the one that’s pregnant!”

“Lass, what would ye like to eat?” the man that had carried her into the room asked and, although she could use a fritter or an apple donut, she was having a difficult time wrapping her mind around one little thing.

“Pregnant?”

*-*-*-*

“Oh, he’s not going to be happy about this,” he heard Shayne say as he walked down the hall towards the bedroom.

“Well, the lass really didn’t leave us with much of a choice, now did she?”

“She did make Quinn cry,” Shayne said, sounding thoughtful.

“I wasn’t crying!” a man snapped and if Tristan hadn’t been preparing himself for the worst he probably would have laughed or at the very least cracked a smile. He sure as hell wasn’t smiling when he walked into his room and found his wife gagged, still wrapped up in a sheet, and now handcuffed to the bed.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded, shooting Shayne a glare as he stormed over to the bed.

“She beat me,” the tall man standing by the bed mumbled, shifting nervously as the other men in the room chuckled.

“I did warn the lads that she had a bit of a temper,” Shayne explained defensively as Tristan pulled out the gag, one of his clean socks rolled up into a ball.

“Pregnant? You got me pregnant?” Marty demanded as soon as the gag was freed, taking him off guard.

“Uh,” was all he could come up with under that murderous glare that she was shooting him.

“Well said, lad,” Shayne said dryly as he reached over and released Marty from her cuffs.

“What the hell are ye doing, ye dumb bastard?” the man that he was assuming was Quinn demanded as he quickly moved away from the bed. “The lass is feral!”

“Calm yerself. He’s the one that she wants to kill,” Shayne pointed out, reaching out to help Marty sit up, but one look from her had him quickly backing away from the bed as well.

“I’ll just let ye go ahead and handle this part, lad,” Shayne said, walking away like the coward that he was.

“Well?” Marty demanded as she sat up, oblivious to the fact that she was only wearing a sheet in a room full of men.

Thankfully, the sheet never slipped, but neither did the murderous glare she was sending him, unfortunately. He opened his mouth to explain, but just couldn’t find the right words. Marty, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be at a loss for words. She also didn’t seem to care that they weren’t alone.

“You ready to talk yet, huh?” she demanded, somehow sounding more pissed than she looked, which was impressive because she looked ready to go for his balls.

“Marty, I-“

“You what? You’re ready to explain why you’re such an asshole? Or maybe you’re ready to explain why you feel the need to subscribe to over two hundred dollars worth of porn channels a month, huh?” she snapped, earning a few chuckles from their audience and having him make a mental note to kick Shayne’s ass later. He opened his mouth to explain, but Marty was far from done.

“Or maybe you want to explain how you were still a virgin at twenty-nine?” she demanded, taking him off guard and accomplishing the one thing that he’d never thought possible. She’d managed to mortify him more than his mother ever had.

“I’m embarrassed for him,” one of the men said in a loud whisper, earning several chuckles, and erasing any sliver of doubt that he’d ever had that these men were related to Shayne.

“Me too, lad,” another man said.

“Da’s probably rolling over in his grave from shame.”

“Aye, it’s a sad day for the men of our clan.”

“A sad day indeed.”

Just when he thought it was over, he heard the all too familiar long suffering sigh that had him rolling his eyes before the betraying bastard uttered a single syllable of bullshit.

“Now you see what I’ve been dealing with, lads? It hasn’t been easy dealing with a twenty-nine year old virgin with a porn fetish.”

Tristan started to turn his head so that he could tell Shayne to go fuck off when the glare Marty was shooting him turned from murderous to something beyond words that actually frightened him and his poor balls enough for them to pull up tight and further out of her reach.

“Oh? Do we have another secret?” Marty asked mockingly with a hint of pure acid lacing her tone.

“Aw, shit,” one of the men, or him, whispered in fear, but he really wasn’t sure at the moment. The only thing that he was positive of at the moment was that his wife was seriously pissed off at him and whatever the men were here to do to him was suddenly looking better and better with each passing second.

“Let’s see if I’ve got this right so far,” Marty bit out, tightening her hold on the sheet to keep herself covered as she got to her knees and in his face. It took everything he had not to scoot back from her and make a run for it, but common sense kept his ass firmly planted on the bed.

He was in deep shit and there was nowhere to run.

“You’ve kept the reason why you were a virgin all to yourself. You gave me some lame ass excuse for keeping the bedroom down the hall locked up-“

“Ah, that’s my room,” Shayne interrupted her, probably thinking that he was helping.

He wasn’t.

“Stop fucking helping!”

“Another secret!” Marty snapped, moving closer and almost falling off the bed when her legs got tangled in the sheets. He reached out and steadied her, only to have his hands slapped away the second that she was safe.

“I’m sick of the secrets and the lies, Tristan! I want to know what the hell is going on here! I want to know why you pushed me away and broke my heart!” she cried out as the first tear trickled down her cheek, making him feel like the biggest prick on earth.

He tried to reach for her and take her into his arms, but she wasn’t having that.

“I want to know why you were such an asshole to me one minute and begging me for a chance the next. I want to know who they are!” she said, her voice breaking as she gestured to the men shifting nervously around the room. “And I want to know why you nearly destroyed my heart last month over that woman!”

“What woman?” he found himself asking. He had absolutely no idea who she was talking about. There had never been any other women.

“She means yer ma, lad,” Shayne said, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“That was your mother?” Marty demanded tightly before adding, “And you didn’t tell me?”

“She’s not my mother,” he said evenly.

“You should have told me!”

“It was none of your business!” he snapped back, only realizing how badly he’d fucked up when he saw the other men in the room wince in sympathy and Marty’s expression turned hurt.

“As much fun as this is,” Liam said, pulling Tristan’s attention away from his wife and probably saving his poor balls, “I think that it’s time that we got this over with.”

Chapter 29

“Fine,” Tristan said, looking away from her as he stood up, “but leave my wife out of it.”

Did he really think that she was going to be able to sit here while he found out why their house was being overrun by ghosts? As she climbed off the bed and pushed him out of her way, she had to wonder if he really knew her at all.

For the past month she’d been battling with fatigue and fears that she was going insane. She deserved some answers and she was going to get them. She grabbed one of Tristan’s tee shirts and a pair of her panties out of the bureau.

“This involves her as well, lad,” Liam, she thought his name was, said as she headed for the bathroom to change.

“Keep her out of it,” Tristan bit out, sounding pissed, the kind of pissed that usually sent everyone in the room running for cover, but it didn’t phase her one bit. To be honest, she was kind of hoping that he kept on pissing her off so that when she kicked his ass, and there was no doubt in her mind right now that she would in fact be kicking his ass, it would be justified.

“I’m going,” she said, pausing in front of the large man blocking the bathroom.

Something in her expression must have given away the testicle mutilation thoughts racing through her mind, because he took one look at her before swallowing nervously and jumping out of her way. That was probably for the best, she thought, as she started to close the door behind her. She wanted to save her energy for the ass kicking that Tristan most definitely had coming.

“No, you’re not,” Tristan said tightly from behind her, but she was done listening to him.

Whatever this was that she’d gone through over the last month, Tristan was definitely in the middle of it. Since she doubted that he was going to willingly give her the answers that she wanted that meant that she was going to have to deal with these men. One way or another, she would finally have all of her questions answered and then she’d deal with Tristan.

She dropped the sheet and quickly pulled on the shirt and panties. After catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she ran a brush through her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. Once that was done, she headed for the door, determined to get this over with.

“Sorry, lass,” one of the men said with a shrug as soon as she opened the door, “but, there’s been a change of plans.”

*-*-*-*

“Ye’ll be lucky if she doesn’t rip yer balls off for this, lad,” Shayne muttered, not looking particularly happy as all but one of the men materialized in the living room.

“Let’s get this bullshit over with,” Tristan said, ignoring him as he walked into the room.

He was beyond pissed with Shayne and planned on dealing with him later, but right now he needed to figure out what he was dealing with so that he could end this bullshit. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it at the man standing guard by the door, noting that it didn’t go through his head. Instead, it hit him in the face before it dropped to the floor. He ignored the man’s vile curse and ran everything that he knew about Shayne through his head.

There was no doubt in his mind now that these men were the same as Shayne. He knew Shayne pretty well. At least he thought he did. There seemed to be a few things that he didn’t know about his oldest friend. In fact, six of those mysteries were currently in his house waiting to kill him.

It wasn’t happening. No fucking way. A year ago, he might not have cared what happened to him, but things were different now. Now he had Marty in his life and they were expecting a baby. She was pretty pissed at him right now, but he was an asshole and used to pissing people off so he knew that it was only a matter of time and groveling before she forgave him.

No, he definitely wasn’t worried about his wife forgiving him, but he was worried about her. He didn’t know what these men wanted from them, besides killing him apparently, and he wasn’t taking the chance that they had the same plans for his wife. The first chance he got, he was sending Marty away and Shayne, the betraying bastard, was going to keep her safe until he could come for her.

Money was going to be a major obstacle in getting Marty somewhere safe. He had a little over twenty grand left in the bank, the money that he’d planned on spending on their honeymoon, but he doubted that would last them very long, not with a baby on the way. They were going to have to be prepared to move at a moment’s notice and hope that these men didn’t have the same connection with him that Shayne had. If they did…..

Well, he’d worry about that later. Right now he needed to get some answers and figure a way out of this without having to screw up their lives.

“We need to explain a few things before we-“ Liam began, but Tristan was done playing these games. He was going to get his answers and then he was going to do whatever it took to send these bastards packing.

“And I need to know why my wife is suddenly caught up in this bullshit,” he said in a bored tone, cutting the man off as a shot of stabbing pain went through his shoulder while he did his best not to react.

It hurt, it really fucking hurt. Granted, not all of his arm and shoulder hurt. Some of it was numb like the tips of his fingers, but the parts that hurt more than made up for it. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but he didn’t think that it had hurt this much after he’d been shot. Not screaming in agony when his shoulder brushed up against the back of the couch when he sat down took some effort, but he managed it.

He wasn’t about to let any of them know just how bad his arm was. It was something that could be used against him and right now he needed every advantage that he could get. The only one of them that he had to worry about was Shayne. He’d never regretted his connection to the man more than he did right now. If Shayne opened his big fucking mouth and let them know that he was at a disadvantage, they’d probably put more men on Marty, thinking that he wasn’t much of a threat. That’s exactly what he would have done if Marty hadn’t been pregnant.

“She’s always been involved, Tadgh,” Liam said quietly as he sat down in Shayne’s favorite chair.

“Bullshit,” Tristan snapped back, in too much pain to pretend to play along.

How in the fuck could something hurt this much?

“This was always the tricky part,” Shayne said on a sigh as he folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall.

“At least he always handles this part better than Declean does,” the man standing guard at the double doors said with a chuckle.

“It’s a very emotional time for me, ye son of a bitch!” the man standing near the far left corner of the room, presumably Declean, yelled.

“Hey!” the man in the right corner snapped just as every man in the room’s expression turned murderous.

“Watch yer fucking mouth!” Shayne snapped, shaking his head in disgust.

“Call Ma’ that again, lad, and ye’ll be able to taste yer balls in the back of yer throat,” Liam said with a glare.

“I didn’t mean it like that and ye know it!” Declean muttered defensively as he continued to pout in the corner, reminding him so much of Shayne at the moment and confirming an earlier suspicion.

“You’re all brothers,” he said hollowly, the over-the-top pout confirming it. They all looked similar with their black hair, green eyes, large builds and similar mannerisms and expressions.

“Yes,” Liam said with an approving nod.

He felt a little lightheaded, a mixture of the pain and the fear that what Shayne said earlier was true. He wasn’t sure what it meant or how it was possible, but he needed to know. He needed to know for himself, for Marty and for their baby. Christ, a baby. What if their child was as fucked up as he was? His stomach twisted at the thought of his child going through the bullshit that he’d gone through growing up.

Was never going to fucking happen.

“And yer our little brother, lad,” Shayne explained softly with the same smile that used to help him get through the day when he didn’t think that it was humanly possible. Now it just left him feeling terrified.

What did this mean for his baby and for-

“How exactly is he your brother?” Marty asked as she walked around the couch and took the empty spot on the couch to his right out of habit. She was always careful of his left arm, taking great care to avoid touching it most of the time.

She had no clue how fucked up his left arm was right now and he had no plans on making her worried by telling her. They had enough to deal with without bothering over something that could be fixed with a bag of ice.

“You need to go back upstairs,” he said, hoping that for once in their lives that she would just listen to him. But of course she didn’t.

“Nope, not going to happen,” she said as she glanced around the room.

“How did you get past Finn?” Liam asked with a frown.

“You mean the big crybaby upstairs?” Marty asked, looking thoughtful.

“Why would you call him a crybaby?” Liam asked, looking confused while Shayne looked quite amused and for good reason.

“Probably because she left him crying on the floor curled up in the fetal position,” Tristan said with a sigh, knowing his wife’s temper well enough by now to know what she was capable of.

Three weeks later and Tristan was still cringing on behalf of the dumb bastard that had made the mistake of shooting his mouth off about how the Chief’s daughter had fucked her way into having permanent job security. If the man had known that Marty had been standing right behind him, he probably wouldn’t have called her a whore. Then again, if he had known that she was behind him, he probably would have been prepared for Marty when she decided to show him exactly how qualified she was to work for a police department.

Personally, he thought the guy got off easy for calling her a slut and insinuating that she did her best work on her knees. She’d only stolen his club, dropped him to his knees and kept him there until he was crying and apologizing for being an asshole. Hank, after he’d had time to cool off, had suspended the young officer for violating several sexual harassment rules and sent the bastard home.

Tristan had kind of felt bad for the guy, being made to cry like that in front of the whole squad. He’d made sure to catch up with the man in the parking lot and shared that thought as he beat the shit out of him. He’d probably still be explaining things to the young officer if his father and brother hadn’t arrived to rush the man to the hospital to have his jaw wired shut.

“You might want to go check on him,” Marty said with a careless shrug that had Shayne chuckling.

Several of the men cursed as their forms began to fade, but before any of them could leave, Finn appeared on the living room floor, curled up tightly in a ball and gasping for air which was a bit odd since he didn’t need to breathe.

“My balls, my poor, beautiful, innocent balls,” he whimpered pathetically.

All eyes, including his, went from the poor bastard lying on the floor, whimpering and muttering prayers for his balls, to the small woman sitting next to him.

“What? He wouldn’t answer my questions!” she said defensively a split second before her glare landed on Tristan. He swore that his balls twitched in fear beneath that glare, but he didn’t let the very real possibility of having to face testicular recovery surgery keep him from doing what had to be done.

“Go back upstairs, Marty.”

He didn’t want her to try and escape, not with spirits after her. She’d never be able to outrun them and there would be no one to help her. She’d either end up dead or locked up in a mental institution somewhere and neither option was acceptable to him. He just needed her out of the room so that he could find out a few things without having to worry about her.

“I’m not going anywhere so you might as well get on with it,” she stubbornly said as she crossed her arms over her chest, giving them all a look that dared them to try and stop her.

“Please have mercy on my balls,” Finn whimpered, taking the decision out of his hands.

Chapter 30

“You were telling us how Tristan was your brother,” Marty said when the silence in the room became awkward.

Men were such babies. Seriously, what did they expect her to do? They’d left her with a man, well a male that wasn’t exactly human, that she didn’t know, who tried to keep her locked up in her bedroom. Did they really think that she was going to sit on the bed like a good girl and wait for the big boys to finish their super secret conversation?

Her father raised her better than that. She wasn’t the type of woman to leave it to a man to solve her problems for her and seeing ghosts or whatever the hell they were was definitely a problem. Now that she knew that she wasn’t going crazy, she could admit that this whole thing was kind of cool, even if it did frighten her.

Whatever that had been that had occurred upstairs with that bloodied man was definitely not something that she wanted to experience again. His touch had been cold and left her feeling depressed, hopeless, and had filled her with so much dread that if he’d killed her at that moment, she probably would have thanked him. It was something that she fully planned on avoiding in the future.

It was also something that clued her into the fact that the men standing around the room, watching the man curled up on the floor and whimpering about his “poor helpless balls” were very different from the bloodied man upstairs in more ways than one. While the dead man’s appearance was probably the same as it had been when he’d died, bloodied, his clothes torn to shreds, and his face covered with developing bruises and gashes, these men appeared to be in their prime.

Their clothes, mostly jeans, khaki cargo pants, and tee shirts, appeared to be clean and undamaged in any way that she could tell. Besides a few minor scars, their faces were clean-shaven, handsome and free of any signs of trauma. Since she doubted that all of the men had died from a heart attack while they’d slept peacefully in their clothes that meant that either they’d never been human or that they had the power to change their appearance.  Of course, there could be a third option, but she’d need a little more time and information before she could think of one.

Another thing that she noticed was that these men could handle their forms. The bloodied man had stumbled around the room, surprised and aggravated by the fact that he could move through the bed and bureau. The only thing that he’d seemed to be able to touch was her. He’d tried to touch the bed and grab the phone while he’d dragged her around the bedroom, flipping out and demanding that she fix everything. His hands and body went right through whatever they came in contact with. These men didn’t seem to have that problem. They could sit down, open doors, pick up objects and lean against the wall without falling through it.

Their touch also didn’t make her wish for death. Their touch was warm, comforting and familiar. It was odd, but then again, wasn’t everything about this situation odd? For the past month she’d been hearing voices and today she was seeing the dead and was apparently pregnant. She wasn’t sure how, but she’d be willing to bet everything that she had that they were all connected.

The fact that Tristan wasn’t freaking out over everything that was going on also clued her into the fact that this situation wasn’t entirely new to him. Then again, nothing really fazed Tristan. He’d always been level headed and thought things out before he reacted. Even when they were children, Tristan would get the facts first.

Like the time that she’d caught one of his friends peeking into her window and watching her change into her bathing suit. Before Tristan had broken his friend’s nose, he had patiently listened to the boy babble on and on about getting lost when he was looking for the basketball that had rolled across the street. Then how he’d accidentally tripped over a plant and pressed his face against her bedroom window and watched her for five minutes. Tristan had a temper and could be an asshole, but he usually managed to maintain that deadly calm that kind of freaked people out while he figured things out.

She looked at him to find him slowly studying everyone in the room, no doubt taking in every detail and storing the information away for later when he figured out a way to use it to his advantage. When his gaze landed on her, his eyes narrowed as they conveyed the silent promise of locking her in their room for the rest of her life if she didn’t move her ass and leave the room, but since she wasn’t afraid of him, she simply ignored him as she turned her focus back on the men that would answer all of her questions.

“How exactly is Tristan your brother?” she prompted the men yet again when it became clear that they weren’t going to be able to stop sending pitying looks at the big baby whining on the floor. Seriously, she’d only kicked him a few times, she mused, rolling her eyes in disgust.

“Someone,” the man curled up into a ball on the floor paused to groan, “kill me.”

“Yer already dead! Now man the hell up and stop embarrassing us like this!” Shayne, she thought his name was, snapped with open disgust and inadvertently answered one of her questions.

The man pulled one of his hands away from his abused manhood long enough to flip Shayne off and earn a few lighthearted chuckles from the rest of the men in the room. Definitely brothers, she thought as she shifted to get more comfortable, but the way her stomach suddenly churned had her pressing a hand against it and holding her breath as she waited for it to pass.

“Marty, are you okay?” Tristan asked, shifting slightly so that he could place his right hand over hers.

She opened her mouth to answer him when her eyes landed on his shoulder. It was swollen and painted an angry red. It looked like it hurt and, judging by the way that he kept his arm tightly by his side, it did. It took everything she had not to ask him about it. Her father had taught them both to never give away a disadvantage and, if he was hurt, then they were definitely going to be at a greater disadvantage than they already were.

This situation might be fascinating, but that didn’t mean that she was blind to the dangers. She wasn’t sure what they wanted with her. So far they’d been very gentle with her, babying her a bit, leading her to believe that they were concerned about her. Tristan, on the other hand, seemed to have pissed them off, which wasn’t anything mind blowing since he did go out of his way to do that to most people, but in this situation it felt different.

“Marty?” Tristan said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze to get her attention. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she lied, forcing a smile. If he wasn’t going to give anything away, then neither was she.

“No worries, lad. It’s just morning sickness,” Shayne explained.

“Aye, the lass always has a tough time of it when she’s pregnant,” the man leaning against the wall added with a shrug while she struggled to make sense out of what he’d just said.

“She’s never been pregnant before,” Tristan pointed out and before she got the chance to add anything to the conversation her head began to spin as nausea once again took over.

“Marty?” Tristan said, sounding worried.

“I’m fine,” she lied, closing her eyes as she willed the nausea to go away.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m good,” she said, shifting on the couch until she found herself lying down with her head cushioned on Tristan’s warm jean clad leg and once she was there she never wanted to leave.

The dizziness went away and took some of the nausea with it. She decided then and there that they were just going to have to learn to live like this, because she was never getting up again. The only thing that sounded better than staying here for the rest of her life was a hot bath and curling up in her own bed. Since she didn’t trust Tristan or these men to hold off on this conversation until she could move without getting sick or passing out, she had no choice but to suck it up and stay here.

“Let me take you upstairs where you can rest,” Tristan said softly and for a second she was tempted, oh so tempted to take him up on that offer.

“No,” she mumbled, well aware that she was probably pouting and not really giving a damn at the moment.

“Get off yer lazy ass and get the lass an apple pastry!” someone demanded.

“My balls are about to explode, ye insensitive bastard!”

Knowing that it was only a matter of time before she was forced to seek out the comfort of a bathroom, she interrupted the bickering men with the hopes that they could just get on with it. “I’m fine,” she bit out.

“Maybe we should just get this over with,” one of the men said, sounding almost sad.

“Why don’t ye tell it, Liam?”

“He always tells it,” someone grumbled.

“That’s cause he doesn’t get distracted when he tells it!”

“I don’t get distracted, ye bastard!”

“Then what would ye call it?”

“Being fucking thorough!”

“Is that what ye call it?”

“Aye!”

“I call it being a fucking-“

“Shut the fuck up,” Tristan snapped and for once Marty was grateful that he’d channeled the asshole within. She honestly wasn’t sure if she could have handled another minute of bickering.

“Ye didn’t have to be so rude about it,” one of the men grumbled.

“Apparently I did,” Tristan said dryly before adding, “Can we get to the point of your visit without the bitching?”

“I don’t know how Shayne put up with you for all these years,” came the muttered response, which piqued her interest enough for her to open her eyes and chance the world spinning out of control. There was a little dizziness, but nothing like she’d experienced before. A long, loud suffering sigh had Tristan muttering under his breath and her attention shifting to Shayne.

“Some days were harder than others,” Shayne said solemnly.

“He always was a mean little bastard,” the man to Shayne’s left said with a sigh.

“Mmmhmmm, just a right mean bastard,” the man to the right said with a firm nod.

“Enough!” the man sitting in the large overstuffed black leather chair that didn’t go with the rest of the furniture snapped, sounding pissed and reminding her of a certain someone that was glaring at Shayne.

“Let’s get this over with,” the man said quietly, his tone and words instantly replacing the light mood in the room with a sense of foreboding.

Tristan reached down and took one of her hands into his. He gave it a gentle squeeze, letting her know that everything would be okay. She knew that he would never let anything happen to her, but that didn’t stop her from worrying. She didn’t want to lose him. Kick his ass? Absolutely. He had a lot of explaining to do and once he’d properly groveled, she would consider forgiving him for hiding this whole thing from her.

“We should give ye a proper introduction,” the man sitting down in the chair that she’d really like to get rid of, said. “My name is Liam.”

“And ye already know Shayne,” Liam said flatly, gesturing to Shayne who threw her a wink.

Shayne nodded towards the man that was still lying on the floor, whimpering pathetically. “And I believe ye’ve already met Finn,” he said cheerfully.

“And my poor, misunderstood precious balls,” Finn muttered, shooting her a pout that would have made her feel bad if he hadn’t added the over the top lip quiver.

“I’m Quinn,” a warm, deeply masculine voice said, drawing her attention to the back of the couch where the man with the thin scar running halfway over his bottom lip and down to his chin stood, holding a blanket.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, feeling herself blush as he shook the blanket open and laid it over her.

“The pleasure’s all mine, lass,” he said with a small, almost sad smile as he stepped away and walked back to the doorway.

“I’m Declean,” a man said, drawing her attention to the far left corner where a handsome man with a roguish smile stood. “And before ye ask, aye, I was always yer favorite.”

“She couldn’t stand ye,” Finn said, getting to his feet before he hobbled over to the wall and leaned back against it, taking great pains to look pathetic and making him appear almost sweet and innocent. Since he’d tried to use an obscene amount of charm on her upstairs to try to persuade her to do what he wanted, she doubted that there was anything innocent about the man.

“She adored me!”

“Uh huh,” the large man in the far right corner said dismissively before he added, “I’m Aidan.”

“And that’s Fergus pouting in the back,” Finn said, gesturing to the man standing near the windows with his arms folded over his chest and what appeared to be a permanent scowl on his face.

“We shouldn’t even be here,” Fergus said evenly.

“And what do ye expect us to do then, Fergus? Are we supposed to sit back on our asses and watch them die?” Quinn demanded, sounding irritated as he glared right back at his brother.

When Fergus’ glare landed on her, she felt a chill spread down her spine and when he answered his brother, she felt like her world was about to crumble down around her.

“Aye.”

Chapter 31

“Why don’t we cut the shit and get right to the point?” Tristan said, realizing that he’d never regretted anything more in his life than not locking Marty’s ass up and keeping her out of this.

She was frightened, but instead of admitting that, she was doing her best to hide it, determined not to miss a single syllable of this bullshit. She didn’t need to be here. This was his problem and he would take care of it. He knew that she wanted answers and he would give them to her, but he didn’t want to do it like this.

He didn’t know what these men wanted or what they were going to say and he didn’t want one of them scaring her again. She was doing her best to hide it, but he could feel the slight trembling of her arm. The death grip that she had on his leg also clued him into the fact that Marty wasn’t taking this whole thing as calmly as she would like them to believe.

“Why don’t we start from the beginning?” Liam suggested, sounding as though he wasn’t sure that was a good idea.

Tristan looked around the room, his fingers continuing to lightly caress Marty’s arm, and took in the stoic expressions of the other men. When his gaze landed on Shayne, he wasn’t too surprised to find him standing there, trying to hide his worry behind a small forced smile that told him everything that he needed to know.

He was truly fucked.

“We were all born in-“ Liam began, but Tristan cut him off, refusing to allow one more second to pass without finding out about the only thing that mattered to him.

“Are you here to harm my wife?” he demanded, ignoring Marty’s startled gasp and the few muttered curses that exploded around the room, keeping his eyes locked on the man that he’d already determined to be the leader of this group.

“No,” Liam said, sighing heavily as he shifted back in the chair. “We’re here to protect her and the boy.”

“What boy?” Marty asked, moving to sit up, but a gentle touch from Tristan had her lying back down. There was no doubt in his mind that if she tried to sit up right now that she would either pass out or make herself sick. She was ghostly white, her skin was cool to the touch and she couldn’t seem to stop trembling even with the thick blanket tucked in around her.

Biting back a grimace of pain, he leaned over and grabbed the blanket folded on the back of the couch and pulled it over Marty. She sent him an annoyed look even as she grabbed the edge of the extra blanket and pulled it up to her chin. He was grateful when several of the men suddenly appeared around the couch and started fussing over Marty, adding a third blanket and tucking her in. When they were done they disappeared just as quickly as they had appeared and returned to their respective spots in the room.

“We’re here to ensure that ye and yer son get the chance to live a long and happy life, Macha,” Liam explained softly.

Marty’s grip on his leg tightened past the point of pain, which was a blessing since it took his attention away from the agonizing pain shooting down his arm. “What about Tristan?” she asked even though she probably already knew the answer. He knew Marty well enough to know that she needed to hear it before she could accept it.

After a slight pause, Liam confirmed his suspicions. “He can’t stay, Macha.”

“Stop calling me that!” she snapped, her voice cracking and this time when he tried to stop her from sitting up, she shoved his hand away.

“Marty, relax,” he said, putting his good arm around her and pulling her against him. She tried to fight him, but she was too tired to do anything more than to shove weakly at him. Once he had her tucked into his side, she gave up and simply curled up against him, her head on his shoulder as she laid her hand against his chest, careful of his old wound.

“They’re not taking you,” she said stubbornly, her voice breaking as she tried to stay calm, but this was too much for her.

“I’m taking you upstairs,” he said, fully expecting her to put up a fight so when she merely nodded against his shoulder he was a little surprised, but apparently the other men in the room weren’t.

“Ye can’t escape, lass,” Quinn said with a shrug.

“There’s no use in trying, lass. We’ll just find ye,” Finn added softly.

“If ye leave without our protection, ye won’t last another night, Lass,” Declean explained.

“I-I wasn’t going to try and run,” Marty said, but Tristan knew her well enough to know that she was lying her beautiful ass off.

“Every time we have this talk, ye always try to escape,” Fergus pointed out.

“And it never works out well, lass. So do us all a favor and just let Liam tell ye what ye need to know,” Quinn said, gesturing lazily to the man.

“How do you know that it’s a boy?” Marty asked, changing the subject, but not letting it go. There was no doubt in his mind that she was even at this moment trying to figure out how they were going to get away from these men.

They weren’t

Well, at least he wasn’t. The first opportunity that he had, he was sending her away and Shayne, the betraying bastard, was going to take care of her. He didn’t know how he was going to do it yet, but he’d figure something out.

“I think that it would be best if we started from the beginning,” Liam said in a hard tone that let them know the time for asking questions was over. Knowing that they didn’t have much of a choice and needing time to figure out a way to sneak Marty out of the house, Tristan nodded.

“As I’m sure ye’ve figured out, we’re all brothers,” Liam began and Tristan didn’t need any clarification to know that Liam included him in that group, but he added it anyway. “All of us are yer brothers, Tadgh.”

“We were all born in Ireland a long time ago,” Liam continued only to be interrupted by Marty.

“How long is a long time ago?” she asked, shifting until she was snuggled up tightly against his side. She sounded calm, but the slight trembling of her voice gave her away. She was terrified and it killed him that there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it.

“We’re not entirely sure of the date,” Shayne admitted with a shrug.

“For several generations our family managed to rule our own lands and live in relative peace without drawing the attention of our king,” Liam began as Tristan noted that all the men but one either looked down at his feet or looked away as if the action would save them from this conversation. Shayne kept his gaze locked on Tristan, looking terrified and resigned to the fate that awaited Tristan as the story continued.

“Our Da’ died shortly before ye were born, Tadgh, leaving it up to us to protect ye and Ma and do whatever it took to keep our lands. Things were different back then and it wasn’t unheard of for a lad to take over the job of a man.”

“By the time Da’ died, most of us had already been doing a man’s work and using a sword to protect our land, but we were still just lads. That attracted a lot of unwanted attention by men that would do anything to have what we had. Without that land we would have had no way to provide for ye and for Ma so we did what we had to do to keep it.”

Shayne smoothly cut in, taking over. “When we weren’t taking turns patrolling our land or working, we were training. Sometimes we’d get lucky and we could barter with a trained soldier needing to cross our lands or needing a meal in exchange for more training.”

“But that wasn’t enough,” Declean explained, taking over. “We needed to keep our people loyal and that was difficult to do with only a handful of lads left to protect them so we each took a turn selling our oaths to whichever king was willing to pay and train us to be mercenaries.”

“Three of us at a time would leave and go train while the rest would protect the land, our people and ye and Ma. When we were done we’d share what we learned and switch places,” Finn said, taking over and sounding as though he were reciting a well-learned part in a play. “By the time that ye were becoming a man our reputation alone protected our lands.”

“No one dared to cross us or try and take what was ours,” Fergus bit out before Liam once again took over.

“We used our skills and coins to expand our lands and make sure that our people never went a day without food. We were well respected and feared throughout the lands. As long as we minded our own business, we were left alone by our king.”

Liam looked directly at him, a sad smile curving his lips slightly as he said, “But that all changed when he learned about ye, lad.”

“What did Tristan have to do with it?” Marty asked softly as he struggled to wrap his mind around what they were telling them.

“The king wanted a killing machine, someone that he could trust to put his duties and oath above all else,” Liam explained as he looked over at Shayne.

“And that wasn’t us, lad,” Shayne said, his voice thick with regret. “We couldn’t be bought. Our loyalty belonged to our family and no amount of coin or promises of more land would change that and he knew it.”

“Ye were the youngest of eight men who were looking to start families of their own soon. No matter what we said or promised, Ma’ was afraid that ye were going to be left without any land of yer own and back then, Tadgh, that could have easily been a death sentence,” Finn explained before Liam once again took over telling the story that was supposed to somehow explain this crazy mess.

“Ye were about eight years old when Ma’ went behind our backs and gave ye to the king in exchange for his protection. He made promises that ye would be well settled when it was time for ye to start yer own family.”

“Wait a second,” Marty said, interrupting them before they could go any further, “I thought you said that he was a man by the time that you were done training.”

“Back then he was, lass,” Declean said with a shrug. “He worked as a man and trained like a man and to us that made him a man.”

Before Marty could ask any more questions, Liam continued. “Ma’ loved ye, lad, and she did what she thought was best,” he explained as if Tristan really gave a damn.

“By the time that we found out what she did, it was too late. Ye belonged to the king until yer service to him was completed.”

“How long was that?” Tristan found himself asking, having absolutely no delusions about what kind of life that would have been for a child.

“Ye were promised until ye were twenty-five,” Liam said harshly, looking pissed. “The bastard took advantage and convinced Ma to give ye what could have easily been a life sentence in his army.”

“Were you able to get him out?” Marty asked as she shifted into a more comfortable position against him, causing his injured shoulder to brush up against the couch and forcing him to ignore the black dots that danced along his vision.

“Getting him out wasn’t a choice, lass,” Shayne said softly as he gestured for Liam to continue.

“Stealing from our king would have meant that we forfeited not only our lives, but that of our mother’s and of his. We had no choice but to allow it. But, we did find a way to protect him.”

“How?” Marty demanded, not sounding pleased by this story one bit. There was no doubt in his mind that she was imagining the innocent child in her womb being forced into a fucked up situation like that and hating every second of it. Not that she would ever have to worry about someone harming their child, because he would kill anyone that even thought about trying.

“Shayne gave his oath to the king in exchange for the right to protect Tadgh during training and battle,” Liam said, gesturing to Shayne.

“It was a right that we all wanted, but Shayne won the honor,” Quinn added solemnly.

“We would have all been there to protect ye, lad, if given the choice,” Aidan explained.

“There was no doubt that Shayne would keep ye safe, lad,” Fergus said without looking at them.

When Shayne suddenly looked away, Tristan knew that Shayne hadn’t been able to keep his promise.

“Tell me,” he said, keeping his eyes locked on Shayne.

Sighing heavily, Shayne shifted his gaze back to Tristan so that he could glare at him through angry green eyes that Tristan suddenly realized matched his own.

“Ye got us sentenced to death on the first day, ye stubborn bastard!”

Chapter 32

Marty waited for shock, disbelief, something to hit her with that announcement, but sadly, she wasn’t surprised, not at all.

Tristan was pretty damn stubborn and seemed to enjoy pushing people’s buttons. So it really wasn’t at all surprising, at least not to her, that he would do something to piss someone off, even in another life, enough for them to want to kill him. Even her father, who loved Tristan like a son, had come close a few times to wringing Tristan’s neck. Not even a month ago, Tom and Denny had to wrestle a gun out of her father’s hands after he’d found out that they’d eloped.

Granted, Tristan had led everyone to believe that it had been all his idea. It hadn’t been, not completely. After she’d agreed to marry him, she’d decided that an engagement of any kind wasn’t going to work, not once Beth got involved. Beth would have stretched it out, made their lives a living hell and made the whole experience torture as she pulled together her version of the perfect wedding.

Instead of going through that nightmare, they snuck off first thing in the morning for coffee and a quick visit to the courthouse. Forty-five minutes later her father was being dragged away from Tristan as he swore up and down that he was going to shoot the bastard for touching his daughter. By lunchtime her father was over it and eating pizza with Tristan in their office and making plans to go fishing next month.

“It was only by the grace of God and this one,” Shayne said, gesturing to her and confusing her even more, “that we didn’t lose our goddamn heads that day!”

“Me? What did I do?” she asked, still having a hard time believing that they were actually talking about her and Tristan like this.

“Ye stopped yer father’s man from taking his head when the dumb bastard didn’t have the good sense to shut the fuck up,” Shayne bit out as he glared at Tristan.

“My father……,” Marty repeated slowly.

“Not Hank, lass,” Shayne said with a wince. “I’m sorry. This must be really confusing for ye. Maybe we should take a break.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she rushed out, afraid that if they stopped now that she would never find out what was going on. “Please continue.”

“Are you sure?” Tristan asked, giving her arm a comforting rub as he pulled her closer.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she lied, knowing that, by the end of the night, she might very well be anything but fine once she found out what they had planned for them.

“Yer father was the king of our area,” Liam said, taking over the conversation and making it very difficult for her to focus.

King?

Seriously?

“He doted on ye when ye were young, which was probably why he indulged ye when ye asked to have Tadgh’s life spared,” Liam explained as he leaned back in his chair and to the side, striking what a lot of women would probably consider a very sexy pose with his perfect muscles bulging in just the right way, but it didn’t do a damn thing for her.

“The two of ye were about the same age when Tadgh went to yer father’s camp. Ye were already promised to another, which was probably why yer father turned a blind eye to the two of ye sneaking off to play together. He didn’t think that he had to worry about Tadgh doing anything foolish.”

“It also probably didn’t hurt that he knew that Shayne here,” Quinn said, gesturing with a nod towards Shayne, “never allowed our little brother out of his sight.”

“Ye had no playmates of yer own, so yer father didn’t see the harm in allowing ye to play with what would one day be one of yer personal guards,” Aidan explained.

“He probably thought that it would create loyalty for ye from Tadgh,” Fergus pointed out before adding, “I doubt the man ever thought that he’d ever have to worry about the two of ye falling in love.”

“I don’t think any of us expected that,” Finn said softly.

She sneaked a peek up at Tristan to find him watching the men in the room and had to wonder if it had been love at first sight then, too. It probably had been, she realized as she looked away. She’d probably taken one look at him and fallen head over heels in love with him even as he’d pissed her off, she thought with a sad smile. She didn’t have to ask to know that this love story probably didn’t have a happy ending.

“What happened next?” she asked when no one made a move to continue telling the story.

After a slight pause, Liam continued where Finn had left off. “When Tadgh wasn’t training, which wasn’t often, he was sneaking off to see ye. At first yer father thought nothing of it, but as the two of ye got older he liked it less and less and made sure that Tadgh knew his place.”

“Whenever Tadgh disobeyed yer father he was punished,” Quinn said.

“Which was often,” Shayne added quietly.

“I don’t think that any of us were really too surprised when we found out that the two of ye had married in secret,” Liam said with a fond smile and a chuckle that was shared by the rest of the men.

“He was a sneaky little bastard,” Shayne said, laughing along with his brothers. “Hid it from us for two whole years before I caught the two of them.”

“We knew that he would have never let her marry that prick,” Fergus said, grinning.

“Nah, we’d have killed the bastard before he touched her,” Finn said with a firm nod that was quickly backed up by several “Ayes” and nods of agreement.

“What happened then?” Tristan asked, making her wonder if she was the only one that noticed his words sounded rushed.

“Once her father found out, he was not a happy man, but it was her choice. Back then we didn’t force arranged marriages and in theory she was free to pick her husband,” Fergus explained even as she waited for the “But”.

“However, her father didn’t see it that way and neither did her betrothed,” Finn explained before Liam once again took over.

“With our help, Tadgh was able to take ye onto the safety of our lands and protect ye until we could figure out a way to get ye off our lands and move ye out of his territory. We thought we had enough time, but then we found out that ye were carrying a babe right around the time that we discovered that there was a bounty on Tadgh’s head.”

“It took some time, but we managed to get ye both out and we were taking ye up north when they caught up to us,” Liam said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“We would have made it, but that’s when the babe decided that it was time to make an appearance,” Shayne said with a shrug.

“Then what happened?” she asked, already having a good idea.

For a moment, no one answered and just when she was about to beg, Finn spoke. “The details aren’t important, lass. What’s important is that all of our fates were sealed that night with a curse.”

“What was this curse?” Tristan asked.

“When he caught up to us,” Liam said instead of answering Tristan, “ye claimed that Macha was yer soulmate, yer one true love, lad. He mocked ye even as he cursed ye…….as he cursed all of us.”

“He bound us to the earth to live a life of pure hell,” Fergus bit out angrily. “We’re stuck in a game that we can never win.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tristan asked, sounding just as pissed, which usually didn’t take much, but she had a feeling that he was in a lot more pain than she’d thought.

“We’re stuck in this fucked up existence until we can figure out a way to beat the bastard!” Fergus snapped, his anger becoming more and more obvious with each word until he was practically shouting.

“Calm yerself!” Shayne yelled.

“Fuck that!” Fergus snapped back. “They need to know what’s going on and what’s waiting for them!”

“Not like this,” Finn said evenly.

“Ye came to kill him, didn’t ye?” Fergus said, sounding bitter as her worst fears were confirmed. “The polite bullshit never worked before so let’s just put it all out there so that he knows exactly why we’re about to fuck him over!”

“Oh, and why’s that?” Tristan asked, sounding calm while she was doing her best not to panic.

“Shut the fuck up!” Quinn shouted, moving towards Fergus who looked more than willing to meet him head on.

“Yer scaring her, ye dumb bastard!” Shayne yelled, moving to join them.

“She should be scared!” Fergus shouted, shoving Quinn back. “She’s about to get her heart broken again and there’s not a fucking thing we can do about it!”

“It didn’t have to be like this!” Finn yelled, getting in Fergus’ face and shoving him against the wall.

“Enough!” Tristan and Liam shouted.

“Cut the shit and just tell us what’s going on,” Tristan demanded even as he gave her arm a comforting squeeze.

“We’re all bound to this earth and so are our soul mates,” Finn said, shoving his hand through his hair as he stepped away from Fergus.

“While our soul mates are stuck being born over and over again,” Quinn said, taking over and sounding pissed. “We’re stuck in this fucked up position where we’re forced to either live this bullshit existence or to take a chance and try to win a game that can never be won.”

“What are you talking about?” Marty asked, trying to ignore the chill that tore through her body as terror and disbelief fought for her attention.

“Every time that any of ye die, Macha, ye and all of our soul mates are forced to come back again, living a life of pain and heartbreak. Each time we’re left with the choice of sitting back and hoping that this time will be better for all of ye, or take a chance by following after ye with the hopes that this will be the time that the curse will be broken,” Aidan explained.

“The only problem is that the rules are set up to fuck us over. Every time we take a chance to try and end this game our memories are completely erased and we’re left starting fresh in a game that’s already in play,” Shayne added as he moved back to his spot by the wall.

“We’re born with targets on our asses,” Quinn bit out and before she could ask what he meant by that, Liam provided her with an answer that horrified her.

“There’s no escaping the curse, lass. When we’re like this we have the power to send the spirits where they need to be and the ability to protect each other. We also maintain all of our memories in this form, but when we’re born again we lose all of that,” Liam said, sounding exhausted and making her wonder just how many times he’d been through this.

“The curse follows us each and every time we try to end it. We start attracting attention from spirits the moment that we’re born when we’re at our most vulnerable. We have no way to protect ourselves or any memories to help guide us,” Liam said, sending Tristan what could only be described as a look of regret.

“That’s why when we decide to attempt to break the curse that we make sure that at least one of us can stand in as our protector,” Liam explained softly, looking at Tristan for another moment before he forced himself to look away.

“We do it this way to keep each other safe and so that we’re not completely fucked by this curse,” Declean said while looking at Tristan until he also forced himself to look away.

“It helps to know that we’re not alone and that we’re not crazy,” Quinn quietly added.

As she tried her best to digest everything they were telling her, something occurred to her and made her wonder why Tristan had pushed her away all these years if he knew that she was, supposedly, his soul mate. If the whole point of him being born was to break a curse with her, then why did he-

“He didn’t know what ye were to him, lass,” Shayne said, answering her question before she had a chance to finish thinking of it.

“Why not?”

She watched as Shayne leveled a glare on Tristan. “Because the stubborn bastard broke his promise,” he bit out angrily.

“Oh, and what promise was that?” Tristan asked, sounding every bit as pissed as Shayne.

“The one where ye promised to finally let her go.”

Chapter 33

“Stop!” Marty screamed and she’d probably be on his back trying to drag him off of Shayne if one of his “brothers” hadn’t stopped her.

“Calm down!” one of them demanded as he tried to drag Tristan away from Shayne, but Tristan wasn’t having that. Not after all the bullshit he’d gone through.

“Fuck off,” Tristan bit out, ignoring the agonizing pain shooting up and down his useless arm as he tightened his hold around Shayne’s neck with his good hand and slammed the bastard as hard as he could against the floor. He couldn’t kill the bastard, something that he regretted at the moment, but he could hurt Shayne and for now that would have to be enough.

“Calm the fuck down, lad!” Shayne snapped, moving to grab Tristan by the shoulders and shove him away only to curse and disappear so that he wouldn’t hurt him. It should comfort him that Shayne cared enough about him not to hurt him even when he was bashing his head into the floor, but it didn’t.

Far from it.

“You fucking asshole!” Tristan roared, struggling to get to his feet and nearly falling back on his ass when the pain in his shoulder and head become too much to handle, but he pushed through it.

It didn’t matter that he most likely had a concussion and that his arm was seriously fucked up, the only thing that mattered was that the one person that he’d trusted completely had fucked him over. Shayne had lied to him, kept things from him and had put Marty in danger.

“Lad, if ye’d just calm down I could explain everything,” Shayne said as he materialized across the room.

“You fucking lied to me!” Tristan shouted, going after Shayne.

“I didn’t lie to ye, lad!” Shayne said, suddenly disappearing just as Tristan reached him only to reappear on the other side of the room.

“Bullshit!” he snapped, shifting directions and going after Shayne, shoving anyone dumb enough to get in his way aside.

“That’s kind of harsh, don’t ye think, lad?” Shayne said, once again disappearing from sight just as Tristan was about to reach him. He reappeared across the room, forcing Tristan to chase after him.

“You lied to me, kept shit away from me and kept me away from Marty!” Tristan snapped, ignoring the pain in his arm as he went after his one time best friend. He was too focused on killing the bastard to care that Shayne could keep this up all day or realize that he probably had another five minutes of this before the pain became too much and knocked him on his ass.

“I did what I thought was best,” Shayne said, ducking out of reach before disappearing, this time just as Tristan swung at the bastard. The move sent him stumbling and had him biting back a groan as the pain intensified, but it wasn’t enough to stop him.

Nothing short of murder would be able to stop him this time.

“Tristan?” Marty said, trying to get his attention, but he barely heard or saw her as he continued to go after Shayne. At this point he was barely aware of anything else but Shayne.

“Tristan?” she tried again.

“Not now,” he said absently, zeroing in on the bastard holding up his hands up in surrender.

“Lad, yer hurt. Why don’t we just sit down and talk this through?” Shayne calmly suggested as he disappeared only to reappear near the television and out of Tristan’s reach.

“You mean the talk that we should have had the night that you appeared in my bedroom?” Tristan bit out.

“Ye were a child then, lad. It wasn’t something that I could talk to ye about.”

“Bullshit!”

“It’s not bullshit, lad! Ye had enough problems and ye didn’t need to know that-“

“That I wasn’t a fucking freak? Or that there was a reason why I was given such a fucked up existence?”

“Well,-“

“You could have cleared up everything! Instead you left me wondering what the hell was wrong with me! You made me think that I was doing Marty a favor by shoving her away! You-“

“Ye,” Liam said coldly as he stepped in front of him and cut him off, “did that all on yer own.”

“Fuck you,” Tristan snapped, moving to step around Liam and go after Shayne, but Liam wasn’t having it.

When Tristan shifted to the side, so did Liam, blocking him. “Yer the one that made Shayne promise not to help,” Liam said evenly, taking Tristan by surprise.

“What the hell are you talking-“ he started to demand only to get another surprise when Marty cut him off.

“Would someone mind giving me a hand with this guy?”

Expecting to find one of the men holding Marty back so that she wouldn’t do something foolish like try to get in the middle of this, he looked back only to discover that all of his “brothers” were standing directly behind him and looking just as confused as he felt. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see when Finn and Quinn shifted to the side so that they could look back, but it definitely wasn’t his wife being chased around the couch by a naked elderly man.

*-*-*-*

“Tristan?” she said, trying to remain calm as she gave the very grumpy and very naked elderly man in front of her what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

Apparently he took her smile as an invitation. With his gaze locked on her, he moved towards her. Well, it was more like a shuffle, leaving Marty to wonder if physical limitations followed people into their deaths or if this man was just used to moving like that and didn’t give it a second thought.

She took a step back, fully expecting either Tristan or one of the men that claimed to be his brother to step in and handle the ghost. When the man shuffled closer, Marty took a step back and risked a glance towards the other side of the room. What she saw had her rolling her eyes and making a mental note to kick Tristan’s ass later.

While Tristan chewed Shayne out, and she fully planned on finding out what that was about later, the rest of the men crowded behind him, looking ready to jump in at any second and grab him. As she took yet another step back, she couldn’t help but wonder why they hadn’t just grabbed him and ended the whole thing.

As she moved around the back of the couch, she watched as Quinn moved to grab Tristan by his shoulders when Tristan got a little too close to decking Shayne, only to watch the man hesitate, shake his head and drop his hands by his sides as he let out what sounded like a curse. It was an odd move, but then again, so was being chased around the couch by a naked elderly man that she didn’t know.

During her second lap around the couch, she watched as Fergus moved to grab Tristan only to have a similar reaction. They didn’t want to hurt him, she realized as she slowed down to watch an obviously frustrated Liam attempt the same thing and fail, which was kind of screwed up since he was the one who’d hurt Tristan in the first place. He made one more attempt before he dropped his hands by his sides and curled them into fists as he let out what she was definitely sure was a curse and disappeared, only to reappear in front of Tristan a second later.

She was so focused on what was going on with Tristan that she didn’t realize that she’d stopped moving until the sound of a shuffle and a grunt had her saying a curse of her own and hauling ass, well, walking away really fast. She was still nauseous after all and all of this walking in circles wasn’t helping. After her fourth time around the couch, she, and her stomach, finally had enough.

“Would someone mind giving me a hand with this guy?”

For a moment, they simply stood there looking adorably confused as they watched the old naked guy chase her around the couch for another lap. Knowing that her stomach wasn’t up for another lap around the couch, she veered off towards them, deciding that she’d had enough of, well, everything tonight.

She walked right passed Finn and Quinn and kept going towards Tristan, who appeared just as confused as the rest of the men. Once she reached him, she grabbed his good hand, gave it a pull and somehow was able to get him to have a seat in the ugly chair that Liam had vacated. Before he could get up and go after Shayne, and she knew him well enough to know that was exactly what he wanted to do, she sat on his lap, careful of his bad shoulder and made it clear that she didn’t plan on getting up anytime soon.

When Tristan tried to shift her off of his lap, she decided that perhaps a little clarification was in order. “If you so much as move me an inch, I will give the term ‘morning sickness’ a whole new meaning,” she swore, wishing that it wasn’t true, but with all the running around, stress and exhaustion, her stomach was less than pleased with her and was at that very moment threatening to turn her promise into reality.

“That threat won’t work forever,” he said, sighing as he wrapped his good arm around her and pressed a kiss against the top of her head all while he probably glared in Shayne’s direction.

“We’ll see,” she said with a shrug as she watched Declean reach out as the naked old man neared their group and pressed his hand against the old man’s chest.

A beautiful white light spread over his chest until it surrounded them. Feelings of love, happiness and calm spread over her, stealing her breath and making her feel safe and cherished. It was a feeling that she wanted to last forever, but all too soon it was gone and so was the elderly man.

“What just happened?” she asked, forcing herself to remain calm when all she wanted to do was to jump off Tristan’s lap and get out of this room, this house, this town and go somewhere where she didn’t have to worry that she was losing her goddamn mind.

“He just needed help finding his way,” Declean said with a shrug as he sat down on the couch.

After a slight hesitation, Finn joined him. When Quinn went to join them, Fergus calmly shoved his brother out of the way and sat down. Flipping his brother off, Quinn moved to stand next to the fireplace, placing him between a probably still glaring Tristan and a remorseful looking Shayne, who’d since taken up his spot against the wall.

“As a rule, we don’t tell each other about the curse until it’s the right time, and we sure as hell wouldn’t tell a child the truth of his existence,” Liam said, taking up where they’d left off and Marty hoped that he managed to finish the story before anything else happened. She really wasn’t sure how much more she could handle tonight.

“Shayne didn’t tell ye everything, because ye made him promise to do everything that he could to keep Macha safe and whether ye like it or not, that included keeping her away from ye until the time was right.”

“Why would he do that?” she asked, noting the way that Tristan tensed beneath her, probably wishing that he could take another swing at Shayne.

“Because out of all of our soul mates, ye have suffered the most, Macha, and we’d all hoped to give ye a little peace, but that’s never been enough for Tadgh. He wanted to give ye yer freedom even if it meant that the two of ye had to go through hell first to get it,” Liam explained softly.

“I don’t understand,” she mumbled, feeling even more confused.

“Years ago, more like centuries ago,” Shayne said, taking over, “when we’d all come to accept that there was no breaking this curse. We also realized that the curse was stronger in yer case. Not only were ye stuck being born over and over again with each life being more trying than the last, but ye were cursed to experience heartbreak each and every time, lass.”

“While Tadgh was willing to keep going, intent on breaking the curse, we weren’t,” Quinn added.

“It seemed that every time was worse than the last time for ye,” Declean said.

“We realized too late that ye carried yer heartache with ye into each new life and that each time that Tadgh was taken away from ye that yer pain was greater than the last time,” Aidan explained before Liam once again took over.

“Tadgh was determined to end yer suffering by destroying the curse, but we just couldn’t allow it any longer. We did everything that we could to get him to see it our way, but the stubborn bastard wouldn’t give up. He lied to all of us and promised to leave ye alone only to break his promise and chase after ye. After the last time, we really thought that he’d finally come to his senses, but he hadn’t.”

“Somehow, and we’re still not sure how he did it, he found out where ye’d be born and he found a way to be born a few years before ye. It made it impossible for us to find him and put an end to this before ye got hurt, Macha and for that we are deeply sorry.”

“I would never hurt her,” Tristan bit out coldly.

Liam nodded in agreement. “Aye, we know that, lad. We know that ye meant well, but that doesn’t change anything. We have to do this before things get worse.”

“How are things going to get worse?” she found herself asking as she reached down and took his good hand in both of hers, desperate for his touch and the comfort of the connection that she was only now beginning to understand.

“It’s part of the curse, lass. Every time he manages to get the babe on ye, things get bad real fast.”

“How bad?” she asked, hoping that they’d say or do something that would give her a clue on how to break this damn curse. She wasn’t going to lose Tristan. There was no way in hell that they were going to take him from her. Not now. Not after everything that they’d been through. It wasn’t happening.

Liam sighed heavily as he rubbed his hands down his face, looking exhausted. “Really bad, lass. He’ll get killed, you’ll either get killed or die of a broken heart and that lad in your womb will never see the light of day.”

“There has to be a way to break this,” she said, knowing that they must have missed something. Well, that was okay because she was good at figuring things out and so was Tristan. It might take some time, but they’d figure out how to break this curse and then they could finally be together.

“There isn’t, lass. I’m sorry,” Liam said, sounding like he truly meant it.

“No,” she said, stubbornly shaking her head as she struggled not to cry or scream out in frustration, “you missed something and for all you know this might be the time that we break it.”

“There is no way to break this curse,” Liam said softly before adding, “at least not for the two of you.”

“Meaning?” Tristan asked, giving her hands a comforting squeeze and reminding her that she wasn’t alone. He wouldn’t let them do this. He would fight. He was an asshole and he would give them hell and she’d never been happier about that than at this moment.

“The two of ye are stuck in this cycle with the rest of us. There’s no way out, lad. I’m sorry,” Liam explained. “But, that babe should get his chance, even if it’s just for a release.”

“He’s never had a chance to be born, never been held or loved. He’s stuck in a hell all of his own, lad,” Shayne said after a slight hesitation. “If he could be at least born, we think that his soul would be set free.”

For several long tense minutes no one said anything, which was probably for the best as she struggled not to cry as her heart broke for her baby. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him to never be born, held, or loved and she knew without question that she would love this child more than anything else on this earth, but she also knew that they were wrong. Taking Tristan away wouldn’t guarantee anything. She needed him, hell, they needed him here to protect them, love them and help them break this curse. She needed him to-

“This was my idea, wasn’t it?” Tristan asked, breaking the silence.

Shayne looked right at them as he said, “Aye, lad, this has been yer plan all along.”

Chapter 34

Tristan didn’t have to ask Shayne anything else. He had his answers, finally. Although he had absolutely no doubt that he would chase Marty to the ends of the earth to be with her, he knew that he would never continue putting her through this hell unless there was a good reason. That reason was their baby. He pressed a kiss against Marty’s forehead as he did his best to block out her soft sobs as he released her hands and pressed his hand against her stomach.

“Has this plan ever been tried before?” he asked, wanting to make damn sure that they were making the right decision.

“No,” Liam said, shaking his head. “Since ye came up with the plan, we haven’t had a chance to test it out.”

“Why not?” he asked, doing his best to ignore his wife as she softly cried, “Please don’t.”

“Half of us were either making our own attempts to break the curse or we were too late.”

Meaning he’d already been killed.

“We did our best, lad, to watch after Macha when ye couldn’t, but nothing helped. She was either too far gone in her grief over losing ye or the curse took care of things,” Declean quietly explained.

“We tried to approach her, but that didn’t end well either, lad,” Finn sheepishly added.

He had questions, a lot of them, but for right now he was content with just sitting back and holding his wife while this curse and his plan to save his son was explained to him. Besides, he’d have all his memories and answers by the end of the night, but he wouldn’t have her. Right now he needed to hold her one last time before he was forced to say goodbye.

“We figured that if we couldn’t break the curse fer yer son, then the best thing would be to free him from this curse by making ye promise to stop trying,” Liam explained before adding with a glare, “But ye kept breaking yer promise and pissing us off, lad.”

Which would explain the ass whooping Liam had dished out, Tristan realized with a wince.

“We’re not happy that ye broke yer promise and are forcing our hand on this one, Tadgh, but we’ll do what needs to be done,” Liam promised, making Marty tremble harder in his arms.

For their son, Tristan would do anything, including giving up his own life, but he had one question that he needed answered before they went through with this.

“Will I be able to watch over them?” he asked, closing his eyes and tightening his hold around Marty as her sobs tore at his heart.

“I’m sorry, lad, but once ye fail to break the curse, ye won’t get to see her again until the next time she’s born,” Shayne explained.

And if this worked, and their son was freed, then he would never see her again. This was too much to ask her to go through and it needed to end. It would kill him to never see her again, but he would give her the freedom that she deserved.

“This time she knows about us before the curse took its hold and we’ll be able to stay by her side without scaring her,” Shayne said, giving him the one promise that would make this situation tolerable.

He allowed himself another moment to simply enjoy having Marty in his arms before he opened his eyes and did what needed to be done. Ignoring her sobs and the way she clutched desperately to him, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead, one on each cheek before he pressed his lips to her trembling ones.

“I love you so much, Marty,” he whispered hoarsely against her lips, “so goddamn much.”

“Please don’t do this, Tristan,” she pleaded against his lips.

“Shhhh, it’s fine, baby.”

“No,” she sobbed, shaking her head frantically as she pulled away from him. “It’s not!”

“It has to be done, lass,” Liam said soothingly.

“No, it doesn’t!” she cried.

“Marty,-“

“There has to be a way, Tristan! There has to be!”

“Lass, if we don’t remove him before the curse kicks in, then we won’t have a chance to save yer son.”

“No,” Marty said, stubbornly shaking her head. “You don’t know that. Maybe you missed something-“

“Each of us has our own trigger for the curse, lass,” Declean explained, interrupting her. “And yers has always been started by Tadgh getting a babe on ye. It triggers Tadgh’s death and, as a result, yer death. It’s what called us to ye.”

“Then it shouldn’t make a difference whether you end his life or if you give us a little more time to figure this thing out!” Marty cried, grabbing his hand and squeezing it, making it hard to do what had to be done.

“If we take him, lass, it won’t be a true death. That’s why he came up with this plan in the first place. We’ll simply pull him out of his body and that will be it. If we let the curse take its toll, his death will trigger a series of events that will end with yer death.”

“I won’t allow that,” Tristan said, pulling her attention back to him.

He forced himself to ignore the tears streaming down her face as he leaned in to kiss her one last time, but she wasn’t having that. She pulled far enough away from him so that she could cup his face in her hands as she flat out begged him not to do this.

“You don’t need to do this, Tristan. We can find a way to beat this thing.”

“If it means that you and our son get a chance to live,” he said softly as he gestured to Shayne, “then I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do!”

“No,” he said, turning his face so that he could press a kiss against the palm of her hand just as Finn and Aidan appeared on either side of her, “I don’t.”

With a slight nod, Finn and Aidan disappeared, taking his heartbroken wife with them.

“I’m so sorry, lad,” Shayne said softly as he moved towards him.

He ground his jaw shut tightly when he heard Marty scream his name from somewhere upstairs, probably their room. He carefully stood up, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and the way his heart pounded in his chest at the thought of never seeing her again.

“This is why you never pushed me towards her, isn’t it?” he asked as he tried to force his mind away from everything that was happening.

“Yes,” Shayne said with a sad smile. “I was in no rush to get here, lad.”

“Tristan!”

He forced his eyes closed as he fought against the urge to go to her and drag her into his arms, but he couldn’t. If he so much as saw her again, he knew that it would break him.

“Do ye want to give her a proper goodbye, lad?” Shayne asked and he knew that he was being offered one last night with his wife, but he couldn’t take it….he just couldn’t.

“No,” he forced the word out of his mouth as he opened his eyes and faced his oldest friend and protector. “Send me home, Shayne.”

“Verra well, lad,” Shayne said quietly as he moved his hand towards Tristan’s chest. “Let’s bring ye home.”

*-*-*-*

“You’re making a mistake!” Marty snapped as she tried to push past Finn.

“I’m sorry, lass,” he said again as he gently gripped her shoulders and stopped her from going to the closed door.

“Would ye like something to eat or drink?” Aidan asked with a polite smile as he gestured once again for her to lie down and rest.

Ignoring him, Marty ducked away from Finn’s hold, furious with herself for losing it the way she had. Instead of crying and pleading with Tristan not to go through with this asinine plan, she should have slapped some sense into him. She’d been so focused on losing him that she hadn’t done anything to stop it from happening.

Now she was trapped in their bedroom with two guards while her husband was downstairs making the biggest mistake of their lives and she had no idea how she was going to stop him. Screaming and crying certainly hadn’t helped, she thought bitterly, pissed that she’d screwed up what was probably her one and only chance at saving Tristan.

At saving them.

She needed him and so did their baby. She didn’t care what Tristan or these men thought. Deep down she knew that this was wrong. It wasn’t just because she didn’t want to lose him, she didn’t, but because this plan felt wrong for so many reasons. If they’d been cursed together, then that’s how they needed to break this curse, together.

If the curse had a hold over their baby, then it was just as trapped as they were and tying to cheat this curse was not going to help or change things. She also didn’t think that this plan of theirs was going to free their baby. Their baby surviving to be born wasn’t a guarantee that it would be free from this curse one day. For all they knew, the baby would return to wherever it had been all these years once it was his time. Now since Tristan was so hellbent on this plan of his, the baby would never get another chance to escape.

Their only chance to beat this curse for their child and for them was to face this thing head on together. They needed more details on the curse so that they could do some research. They also needed to know more about what had happened in their past lives and the events that triggered the curse. What they didn’t need was Tristan destroying their only chance at breaking this curse.

It had to be the hormones, she thought with a sigh as she pulled her foot up and slammed it down on Aidan’s instep. That was the only explanation there was for it, she decided as she ignored Aidan’s curses and focused on Finn, the only thing standing between her and the door.

“Now, lass, we can talk about this,” Finn said, licking his lips nervously as he stumbled back a step.

“Move,” she simply said, moving towards him, more than prepared to take a shot at the family jewels again if that’s what it took to get him out of her way.

He opened his mouth to argue, but she was done playing around. She kept moving towards him, knowing without a doubt that he would never hurt her even to protect himself. She didn’t want to hurt him again, but she would if she had to and he must have realized that because he suddenly disappeared.

“That was easy,” she murmured, more than a little confused as she shot a look over her shoulder at Aidan to make sure that he was still distracted, but he wasn’t there.

She didn’t know what was going on and she wasn’t about to waste precious time trying to figure it out. They could be back at any moment and she needed to be out the door and heading down the stairs before that happened.

Realizing that all they’d need to do to return her to this room was to lay their hands on her had her moving quickly. She threw open the door, half-expecting someone to be waiting on the other side to grab her. When she didn’t see anyone, she bolted out the door, hoping that her luck would hold.

All she wanted to do was get close enough to Tristan so that she could talk some sense into him. If that didn’t work, then she’d use the chokehold on him that her father had taught her in the second grade when some large fourth grade girl kept pushing her off the swings and stealing her turn. It had worked like a dream back then and she hoped that it was just as effective this time. This was her only shot and she wasn’t about to blow it. Well, not again.

This time she was going to…..going to……

Why was Tristan calling someone a bitch and telling him to man up?

Chapter 35

“Fucking do it!”

“If ye would shut the fuck up I might be able ta!” Finn snapped back, his focus never shifted away from where his hand laid on Tristan’s chest.

Tristan ground his teeth shut as he waited for it to happen. Any second now it would be over. The pain would be gone, the fucking stress from waiting for this bullshit to be over with and hopefully the agony of knowing that he would never see Marty again would be gone.

This needed to end and now. Deciding to take himself out of the game was hard enough, but the way that each and every one of his so called brothers kept wimping out on him and prolonging this was fucking torture. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to walk away from Marty and their child, but he had to do it. If his being around was a factor in triggering their deaths, then he had to be taken out of the situation.

It was supposed to be quick. One pull and everything should have been over, but ten minutes of bitching later and he was still standing here waiting for someone to grow the balls to do it. When Finn shot a nervous look over to Liam, Tristan knew that this whole thing was about to take a lot longer than any of them had expected.

“Just do it,” Tristan bit out through clenched teeth as he reached up with his good hand and placed it over the one Finn still had pressed against his chest.

“I’m trying!” But they both knew that he wasn’t going to do it. He had that same expression on his face that every man before him had just before they’d stepped back, made up some bullshit excuse and told someone else to do it. Now the only problem was that there was no one else left to do it.

“Try harder,” he ground out, willing Finn to do it and end his suffering.

The pain from knowing that he would never see Marty again was surprisingly more brutal than his fucked up shoulder and that had him seeing black spots and struggling not to give into his shaky legs and drop to the ground. He knew that if he gave into the pain that they’d use it as an excuse not to do this and he desperately needed them to do this.

He couldn’t stomach the idea of Marty or their baby suffering. He didn’t want to keep putting her through this hell and he didn’t want her life shortened because of him. He wanted her to go on and enjoy her life, raise their son and if she had to come back again, he wanted her to have a chance at being happy, growing old and-

“This ends now,” Marty said, shoving Finn’s hand away as she smoothly stepped in front of him. Looking relieved, Finn quickly retreated away.

“Go back upstairs,” he ordered, looking anywhere but at her, knowing that one look at her would probably break him and have him doing anything to stay with her even if it was only for one more night.

“No,” she said simply as she placed her hand on his good shoulder and shoved, taking him off guard and knocking him on his ass.

Not that it would take much right now to kick his ass, he thought as he fought against another wave of dizziness. As soon as his ass hit the chair, Marty was climbing on his lap, looking pissed and determined.

“Get off,” he said, his voice sounding hollow as he struggled to stay with it.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” she said dryly as she settled more comfortably on his lap.

“Maybe we should leave the room and give these two some privacy,” Shayne, the fucking coward, said, already making a quick retreat for the door.

He’d been the first one to back out of doing what needed to be done, sprouting some bullshit about not being able to do it, because it would damage his video game playing hand. It hadn’t exactly surprised him that after all these years of protecting him that Shayne wouldn’t be able to do anything that would hurt him, but the others didn’t have that excuse.

They’d come here specifically to take him out of the game and should have been able to do it without any problems. When Shayne wimped out on him, he’d expected Liam, who’d stepped up next, to get the job done. After five of the longest minutes of his life, Liam backed up, shot him a glare and flipped him off when Tristan called him a fucking pussy, and gestured for Declean to take a shot at it.

“Put her back in her room and let’s finish this,” Tristan demanded, needing her out of the room before he lost his nerve to do this.

“I’m not going back to the room until you and I have a talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said absently as he shifted to move her off his lap and do whatever it took to finish this when Shayne said, “We’ll be back in a few, lad. We need to discuss strategy and all that.”

Before he could argue they disappeared, prolonging something that was becoming harder and harder to do with every passing second. Why did she have to make this so damn difficult? He was doing this for her and their baby.

Right now it was hard to accept, but one day, hopefully, soon she would understand the gift that he was giving her. He’d do anything to see her belly swell with their child, to hold him and to be by her side as they watched their son grow up, but that wasn’t in the cards for them. This curse explained so much and made him wish that he’d listened to his fears and stayed away from her. Then again if he had, their child wouldn’t be getting this chance to escape.

He knew what it was like to be alone and defenseless. Just thinking about their child suffering like that was enough to make him sick to his stomach. No child should suffer and he was going to make damn sure that his child’s suffering ended now.

Letting them end his life was taking a huge risk, but right now that’s all he had. His only hope was that he wouldn’t have to wait very long before he had access to all the memories from his prior lives. That was one of the main reasons that he was doing this. They needed that information.

He knew that Marty was pissed with his plan and wanted to figure this out together, but if they had any real chance, this was it. It would hurt like hell to walk away from her, but he had no choice. As soon as he had all of his memories back, he was going to go through each one and try to find something that would help save his wife and child. It was the only way.

“You’re not doing this, Tristan.”

“It’s the only way,” he said tightly, refusing to look at her or touch her, knowing that it wouldn’t take much for him to lose his nerve.

“No, it’s not,” Marty stubbornly said and he knew that there was nothing that he could say to convince her otherwise, so he didn’t bother.

“I’ve made my decision.”

“And I’ve made mine,” she said as she cupped his face in her soft warm hands and moved to pull his gaze to hers, but he wouldn’t allow it. Not when he was so goddamn close to breaking.

“This is the only way to save you and the baby, Marty. It’s not a choice that I’m making lightly, but it is my choice,” he said evenly as he reached up with his good hand and gently removed her hands from his jaw, careful not to look at her.

“Uh huh, I tell you what, Tristan. Look me in the eye and tell me that this plan is our only hope and I’ll let you go, no questions asked.”

Without looking at her, he said, “When they remove me, I’ll get my memories back and hopefully some answers so that I can save you and the baby.”

“How very noble of you, Tristan,” she murmured. “Now why don’t you try looking at me when you say that?”

She knew him too damn well, he thought with a sigh as he closed his eyes and let his head drop back. “Marty,-“

“We need you, Tristan,” she said softly.

“I’m doing this for you,” he said, hating how his voice broke and wishing that Shayne and the rest of the cowards would get back in here and finish this. Honestly, he didn’t think that he could take much more.

“How can you be sure that this is the right thing for us?” she asked, cupping his face in her hands. Before he could push her hands away she was leaning over him and brushing her lips against his.

“For all you know, Tristan, taking yourself out of the game will trigger the curse and me and the baby will suffer,” she said, hitting on something that he’d forced himself not to think about, but now that she’d said it, that’s all he could think about.

What if leaving triggered something seriously fucked up happening to her and their baby?

“Fuck,” he groaned.

He could feel her smiling against his lips. She was a smug little thing, he noted as he thought over what she’d said, trying to find an argument that would support his plan and admittedly not trying very hard. He didn’t want to leave her, but he also didn’t want her or the baby to suffer because of him.

“What’s your plan?” he asked, sighing heavily as he opened his eyes and raised his head, already knowing that she had one.

“I thought that you’d never ask,” she said, smiling as she readjusted herself on his lap, careful of his shoulder. “We interrogate your brothers,” Marty said, smiling as she easily said the word and making him want to roll his eyes, “and find out absolutely everything we can about the curse and the events that led up to the curse getting activated. That way we know what to watch out for and we can make plans.”

He reached up with his good hand and pushed a loose strand of her hair back as he gently cupped her face. “What if this plan doesn’t work?”

“Then we’ll learn from our mistakes and the next time-“

“I don’t want to put you or the baby through this again,” he said quietly.

She turned her face and pressed a kiss against his palm. “I would rather free the baby than to take the chance of sending him back to wherever he’s been, Tristan. If that means that we keep coming back until we get this thing right, then that’s what we’ll have to do.”

“I don’t think that I could keep putting you through this, Marty.”

“We don’t have a choice,” she said with a sad smile that made him want to take her in his arms and never let her go.

“Because it’s the only way that we’re going to get our happily ever after.”

He pulled her closer so that he could kiss her, praying that he didn’t fuck this up.

*-*-*-*

“What’s the verdict then?” Finn asked as Shayne materialized in the kitchen.

“She talked him out of it.” Just as he knew she would.

“Thank fucking God for that,” Fergus muttered as he leaned back in his chair.

He’d never seen his brothers look so relieved before. Then again, they’d never been asked to remove their little brother’s soul before. It wasn’t as though they were really killing him. Tristan was one of them. He was a cursed soul and removing him from the body that he currently occupied would have only been returning him to his true form. Reminding themselves of that fact certainly hadn’t helped.

As pissed off as the brothers had been, none of them had been able to do it. He was their youngest brother, their responsibility and they hadn’t been able to overlook that, even if it meant saving Marty and the baby any more heartache or pain. Tristan was right.

They were fucking wimps.

Now they had to make a few choices. Did they make another attempt or did they go along with Marty’s plan and try to destroy this curse once and for all?

“What do we do now, Liam?” Declean asked as he frowned down at the apple pastries on the counter that he’d finally managed to steal for Marty.

“Other than wait for the curse to take them?” Liam asked, shaking his head slightly. “I’m afraid there’s really not much we can do.”

Unfortunately for them, they didn’t have to wait very long for the curse to demand its due.

Chapter 36

“What are ye doing, lass?” Shayne asked as he appeared right next to her, startling a small scream out of her and making her drop her cell phone.

“What’s wrong?” Declean demanded as he appeared on the other side, earning another scream from her and had her stumbling back.

“What’s all this screaming for, lass?” Fergus asked as she banged into him.

“Stop doing that!” she snapped, placing a hand over her pounding heart as she struggled to calm her breathing. Honestly, they were going to give her a heart attack.

“Doing what?” Finn asked as he suddenly appeared, sitting in the black leather chair that the brothers seemed to favor.

“Scaring the hell out of me!” she snapped, taking a deep breath as she bent down and picked up her phone.

“Ye didn’t have to yell it, lass,” Fergus said with a touch of a pout as he took a seat on the couch.

Shayne let out a long-suffering sigh that had her torn between rolling her eyes and smiling. “She always was a violent little thing.”

“Aye,” Finn readily agreed, giving her a pointed look.

“Remember the beatings?” Declean asked conversationally as he sat on the couch near Finn.

“I doubt any of us will ever be able to forget the beatings,” Fergus said in a harsh whisper that had the others nodding enthusiastically.

“Are you done yet?” she asked, refusing to be amused by this. She had something that she needed to do and she couldn’t do it with an audience.

“Why?” Shayne asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement, “are ye gonna beat us?”

“You really are related to Tristan,” she muttered, shaking her head in disgust as she turned around and walked out of the room.

“What are we doing?” Declean asked as he appeared on her right side, startling another scream out of her and causing her to stumble forward.

“Anything that we can help with, lass?” Quinn asked, appearing to her left and catching her by the elbow and steadying her before she fell flat on her face just as the rather frightening screams started from what sounded like the kitchen.

Instead of answering him, because at that moment she was pretty sure that she’d lost the ability to talk, she blindly reached out and grabbed his hand. She squeezed the hell out of it while she watched a half naked man with shaggy dirty blonde hair run out of the staircase wall, across the small hallway, and through the opposite wall.

“Get back here, ye little bastard!” Aidan shouted as he ran out of the wall, across the small hallway and through the opposite wall after the shaggy haired man who wouldn’t stop screeching.

“Are ye hungry, lass?” Declean asked, giving her hand a gentle tug that had her automatically following him. A few seconds later he pulled her back when the shaggy haired man, still screeching, suddenly jumped out of the wall and ran back the way he’d come.

“We could get ye some bread or fruit,” Quinn offered.

She couldn’t do more than shake her head as she watched Aidan come running through the wall, looking really pissed as he ran across the hall and into the wall.

“Ye really should eat, lass,” Declean said, giving her another nudge that had her once again walking towards the kitchen.

“Stop trying to touch me, you pervert!” the shaggy haired man screeched as he once again made an appearance, but this time she’d heard him coming and managed to stop on her own without having to be prompted. They watched as he ran back through the wall and then as one, they turned their heads and watched as Aidan stumbled out of the wall after him.

“Will ye be needing some help with this one?” Quinn asked, sounding thoughtful.

Without sparing them a look, Aidan flipped him off as he took off after the shaggy haired ghost who couldn’t seem to stop screeching. Quinn and Declean chuckled as they once again started to lead her towards the kitchen, but between the screeching, the men scaring the hell out of her by popping in and out of the room, and watching the two men run back and forth, she had the start of what promised to be a really fun headache.

“I’m going back to bed,” she announced, turning around and heading for the stairs, deciding that she could make her call upstairs before she crashed for the day.

“Are ye sure, lass?” Quinn asked, joining her on the stairs.

“Yes,” she said, pressing her fingertips to her temple that was already starting to throb.

Instead of disappearing like she’d expected him to, he continued to walk with her up the stairs. When he took a right turn at the top of the stairs to walk towards her bedroom she said, “You don’t have to follow me.”

“I’m afraid that I do, lass,” Quinn answered with a careless shrug and a gesture for her to keep walking when she stopped to frown up at him.

“No, you don’t.”

“Aye, I do.”

“No, you really don’t,” she stressed, feeling her patience begin to fray.

He leaned down until his face was only a few inches away from hers and with a devilish grin said, “Aye, I really do.”

“And why is that?”

“Because it’s my watch,” he said with a wink as he stepped back and gestured for her to continue.

“There really isn’t any point in arguing with you, is there?” she asked, too exhausted to put up much of an argument and not dumb enough to even try for two very important reasons.

They were dealing with spirits and as stubborn as she was, she had to admit that she was out of her league on this one. She didn’t know how to protect herself against them and doubted that it was even possible since their touch seemed to paralyze her with fear and dread. It was an experience that she never wanted to repeat again if she could help it.

The other reason that she didn’t even bother to argue with Quinn was very simple, he was Tristan’s brother and obviously just as stubborn as her husband. Any other day or situation and she’d probably argue with him just to wipe that smug smile off his face, but today she was exhausted, cranky and wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed with her husband and sleep the rest of the day away.

“Ye won’t even know we’re here,” Quinn explained with a touch of arrogance that had her rethinking her decision not to argue.

“Fine,” she sighed, resigning herself to the fact that she just didn’t have the energy to do anything more than send her father a text message letting him know that they were both going to be out sick for the day. Once that was done she shut the phone off and placed it on Tristan’s bureau as she walked by it. She’d wait until after they got a little sleep before she worried about how she was going to drag Tristan to see a doctor for his shoulder.

It was probably going to take a lot of threatening, pleading, and manipulation on her part to get him to a doctor, but this time he was definitely going. Last night she’d been overwhelmed, stressed, and trying to get over the scare that Tristan gave her to put up much of a fight when he’d refused to go to the emergency room. His arm and shoulder were covered with bruises, slightly swollen and obviously causing him a great deal of pain. He needed to go to the doctor and if she had to, she would drag his stubborn ass all the way there. First however, she really needed some sleep before she dropped dead from exhaustion.

She nearly wept with relief when she pulled back the covers and crawled in bed with Tristan, who was still sound asleep. The half hour of sleep she’d managed to get last night, or rather this morning hadn’t been enough to wipe away a month’s worth of exhaustion. A day of rest should take care of that problem, she’d decided an hour ago when she’d forced herself to get up and go hunt down her cell phone so that she could call in sick.

Tristan wasn’t going to be happy and he’d probably bitch and glare at her when he woke up, but she didn’t care. He was just as exhausted as she was, if not more. He needed some rest and if this was the only way to make sure that he got it, then-

Why was the bed so hot? It felt like she’d crawled into a sauna. In a matter of seconds, she was sweating and shoving the covers away.

“Is everything alright, lass?” Quinn asked, stepping away from the wall, disappearing a split second later and reappearing by the bed before she could tell him that everything was fine, but one look at Tristan’s still body had her questioning that assumption.

“Tristan?”

When he didn’t open his eyes or show any sign that he’d heard her, she placed her hand on his good arm to give him a little shake, but the instant that she touched him, she knew that she’d made a mistake in giving in last night.

“Tristan?” she said, trying not to panic as she shook him. “Tristan?”

“Lad?” Quinn grabbed Tristan by his good shoulder and rolled him over onto his back. “Ah, shit……”

“I-I need my phone,” she said, swallowing back the panic as her eyes locked on the large dark purple bruises covering his left shoulder and half of his arm. That alone would have been enough to terrify her, but the swollen angry red almost purple skin that surrounded the bruises was the real reason that she was suddenly terrified beyond words.

She was by no means an expert on injuries, but thanks to the summer first aid courses that Tom ran every year she knew enough to know that Tristan’s injury was very serious and definitely infected. They needed to get him to the hospital so that a doctor could have a look at the shoulder and fix it so that she could kill Tristan for scaring her like this.

“I’m verra sorry, lass,” Quinn sighed with a small shake of his head as he stepped back.

“You’re not the one that hurt him,” she pointed out as she pressed the back of her hand against Tristan’s damp forehead.

“That’s not what I’m sorry for.”

“Could you get my phone please?” He was definitely burning up. Maybe she should grab some ice packs and try to cool him down while they waited for help. She moved off the bed to go grab as much ice as she could carry when she remembered that she’d forgotten to make more earlier after she’d used the last ice cubes up.

Shit.

Wait, no this wasn’t a problem, she assured herself as she headed for the door. Beth always kept a couple of bags of ice in the chest freezer just in case they lost power. Hopefully Tom was home and could bring the ice over, because she didn’t like the idea of having to leave Tristan’s side right now. Before she did anything else she still needed to call 911, she realized when she saw that her phone still sitting on the top of the bureau.

“Lass,” Quinn said softly as he appeared in front of her. “There’s nothing that ye can do to stop this.”

“Of course there is,” she mumbled, only half listening as she reached around him to grab her phone as she debated whether she would be better off calling Tom first.

“There’s nothing to do now, but wait for the curse to finish.”

Chapter 37

“Everything’s going to be alright, Marty,” her father said, giving her a reassuring smile and for good reason.

He had absolutely no idea that Tristan was going to die.

“I know,” she lied, waiting for him to put the cruiser in park and shutdown the emergency lights before she opened her door and stepped out of the car as she tried to convince herself that this wasn’t the end.

It couldn’t be. Not for them and definitely not for Tristan. He was the most stubborn man that she’d ever known, but each time she reminded herself of that fact Quinn’s words would echo in her head, destroying what little hope she had left.

This had to be a dream, all of it.

Any second now she was going to wake up. She’d share this dream with Tristan when he asked her what was wrong. When she told him, he’d tease her and distract her with his wicked kisses until this dream was nothing more than a distant memory and all she could think about was the way that he felt when he moved against her.

All her hopes that this was a dream vanished when a man wearing a bloodied hospital gown stumbled through the brick wall of the hospital and headed her way. Numbly, she watched as Finn and Fergus suddenly appeared in front of the man. Seconds later the trio was engulfed in a beautiful white light that spread all around them. It didn’t quite reach her, which was probably the reason why she felt dread instead of any hope when she saw the ambulance transporting Tristan pull into the long driveway.

*-*-*-*

“Fuck! We need to get his fever down.”

“Did your mother have any more ice in the freezer?” Tom asked, trying to stay calm when Shayne could tell that the man was struggling to hold it together.

It was a familiar scene, one that he’d watched play out hundreds of times during his too long, fucked up existence. He’d even experienced this scenario, twice. The first time when Tadgh had died in his arms and the second time when his own mate, Aileen had died the one and only time he’d allowed himself to be born and taken a stab at breaking the curse.

He’d failed miserably. He hadn’t been able to protect her, which was the reason why he’d never tried again. She was better off without him and this bloody curse that tainted everything that it touched.

The last time he’d seen her, she’d been covered in blood, his and hers, and cursing him out for being a bastard. He’d taken it, held her tightly in his arms as he swore that he would never bother her again and unlike Tadgh, he’d kept his word.

Keeping his word hadn’t been difficult for him and probably for a very simple reason. While Tadgh was truly in love with his soul mate, Shayne was not. In fact, not strangling the woman with his bare hands had taken every ounce of energy that he’d had every time he’d seen her during that one lifetime that he’d foolishly tried to set them free.

She didn’t mean anything other than a means to an end. He didn’t hate her, but he couldn’t honestly say that he cared about her. He’d never met her when he’d been alive, truly alive before this curse had trapped them and during that one and only attempt he hadn’t developed any feelings beyond annoyance for her. She wasn’t his responsibility and he didn’t owe her a damn thing, which was the reason that he’d been able to turn his back on her. Tadgh, on the other hand…..

Tadgh was his brother, his blood and his responsibility. He would never be able to turn his back on him no matter how much his brother pissed him off. He was also the best person that Shayne had ever known.

Christ, he could still remember those carefree smiles that made it so damn difficult to stay angry at the boy. He’d been such a kind boy and an even kinder man. Tadgh would have made such a wonderful father and if it hadn’t been for him, he would have had that chance.

He’d fucked up everything with one simple mistake, a stupid mistake and one that he’d spend eternity wishing like hell that he could fix, but he couldn’t. There was no going back, no fixing the mistake that had cost them everything, and no forgiving himself. Tadgh didn’t seem to have that problem.

Nothing had ever hurt like the moment that he’d watched Tadgh die for the first time and then watched as the man appeared in his new cursed form as he was forced to watch his wife and unborn child die. God, the anguish and pain he’d seen in his brother’s eyes as he knelt by Macha’s side still tore at him when he allowed himself to remember that moment, but it had nothing on the moment that followed once Macha and baby’s souls were taken away.

As Shayne had laid on the ground, barely able to breathe, never mind move from the injuries that he’d suffered, he’d been forced to watch as his brother’s world was destroyed and his heart was shattered. When Tadgh had finally been able to look away from the body of his young wife and looked at him, he’d seen pain, so much goddamn pain, but he’d also seen forgiveness in his brother’s eyes.

Tadgh had stayed with them all as they’d been forced to lie there feeling useless and helpless as the reminders of their failure had laid only a few feet away. By the third day they hadn’t been able to take the reminder of their failure any longer. They’d dragged their bodies, broken and bloodied over to where Tadgh and Macha’s bodies laid. For the rest of the day and night they’d slowly dug a hole and buried the bodies while Tadgh stood over them.

He never said a word while they worked, not even when they’d managed to drag Macha’s body into the hole and started to push dirt into the hole to cover her. He simply stood there, standing guard over them while they did what had to be done. Shayne wasn’t sure how he’d handled it. He knew that he wouldn’t have been able to cope with watching his own funeral. The two times that he’d died he hadn’t stuck around to watch, but Tadgh always watched.

They’d told him that he wouldn’t be able to talk to or touch Marty once he died and that much was true. If she was still alive after he died, he’d be pulled out right away, but the moment that her time was up, he would start to feel the pull to return to her and each and every time he gave in without a second of hesitation. Tadgh always stood by Macha’s side as she drew her last breath. Then he would stay with her body until she was buried.

Tadgh was a much better man than he was, but he’d always known that. While Tadgh couldn’t do enough to make things right for his soul mate, Shayne couldn’t give a fuck about his own. When he felt the pull of her rebirth he ignored it. He’d ignored the pull twenty-five years ago and he fully planned on ignoring the pull of her death whenever that happened just as he always had.

She lived close by, but not close enough that he’d ever had to see her while he’d been protecting Tristan, which was a blessing. He didn’t want to see her, didn’t want to know what she looked like, what kind of life she had, if she was married, had children, or was living a miserable, pain filled existence. She wasn’t his problem or his responsibility, Tadgh was.

His brother’s time was almost at an end and he needed to be there for him. No matter how painful his death would be, realizing that he was once again separated from Macha and their child was always excruciating for Tadgh. It would be even more painful this time, because this would be the last time he would ever see her.

Shayne had seen it in Tristan’s eyes last night as the situation was explained to him. It hadn’t surprised him how fast Tristan had come to realize what the plan meant and accepted it. He’d always been like that, putting the needs and safety of his loved ones first. Every time Macha lost Tadgh it became increasingly harder to deal with and this time would be no different.

He’d hoped that the plan would have saved Marty and the baby from the curse, but none of them had had the balls to go through with it and now they were going to suffer. He’d give her a week, four at the most before her heart gave out and she followed after Tristan.

If he thought it would make a difference, he would just reach down and pull Tadgh’s soul out now, but it wouldn’t change anything. The curse was already activated and now it was time to go through the motions. Besides, Marty would want to say goodbye to him. It would be painful to watch, but they would deal with it and the aftermath.

Hell, he was not looking forward to this. He did not want to watch as Marty’s heart broke. He didn’t want to watch as his brother once again lost the only happiness that he’d ever known in this lifetime and he sure as hell didn’t want to see the anguish in his brother’s eyes as Marty took her last breath.

But, he would.

He would do whatever his brother needed. He owed him that much at least.

“Shit! Dad, he’s seizing!” Denny said, trying not to panic as he worked alongside his father to save Tristan’s life.

Shayne was thankful that this family came into Tristan’s life. They’d taken him in, accepted him and loved him and Shayne had no doubt that if they had learned of Tristan’s curse that they would have been there for him as well. They’d made life for Tristan tolerable and Shayne would make sure that when their time came that he was there to help them to the other side. It was the least that he could do for them.

“Park the fucking truck!” Tom yelled at the EMT behind the wheel, losing his cool for the first time since Shayne had come into the picture.

Shayne knew that tone and look well. The man knew that he was about to lose a child and that there was nothing on this earth that he could do to stop it, but that didn’t mean that he was going to sit on his ass and give up. No, not this man.

As the ambulance was put in park, Shayne watched as Tom worked to save his youngest son’s life. He kept working as the backdoors to the ambulance were opened and the stretcher was pulled out. He didn’t stop working even as the stretcher was moved quickly into the hospital, down the hall and through the emergency room doors. He was still working on his son twenty minutes later when Tristan’s stretcher was rushed through the restricted double doors of the surgical ward and then he stood there, looking helpless as he silently said goodbye.

Chapter 38

“Wait for me!” he yelled excitedly, grabbing the wobbly stick that he’d found just that morning and had decided would be his spear.

“Go on back to ma’, lad,” Liam said, barely sparing him a glance as he gestured for him to do as he was told.

Undeterred, he pumped his legs faster until he thought they’d fall off, but he didn’t let that stop him. He was ready to fight with his brothers and he needed to tell them so.

“Pleeeaaassssssseeeeeeeeeeeeee!” he begged unashamed as he dropped his mighty spear and dove for his oldest brother’s legs when he was close enough.

As soon as he had his small arms wrapped around Liam’s thick leg, he promptly followed up his attack by wrapping his legs around his brother’s calf and held on tightly, prepared to hold his brother captive forever if that’s what it took.

He really hoped that it didn’t come down to that, because his doggie was expecting puppies any day now and he really wanted to play with them. That would be impossible to do if he had to keep doing this, but do it he would if that’s what it took. He was a man now and it was about time that his brothers realized that.

Instead of yelling at him or hitting him like most of the men around their land would have done, Liam sighed heavily as he reached down and gently grabbed him by the arms and plucked him off. Tadgh tried to hold on tightly, but being only three, it was kind of difficult to put up much of a fight against his brother who was already as large as a full-grown man.

“Didn’t we talk about this, lad?” Liam asked as he shifted Tadgh in his arms so that he could place his arm over Liam’s shoulder and look his brother in the eye like a man.

“Aye, but that was before,” Tadgh informed him.

“Before what, lad?” Finn asked as he reached over and ruffled Tadgh’s hair.

“Before I found my spear!”

“I see,” Liam murmured as his lips twitched.

“Ye mean this stick?” Quinn asked, stepping around them so that he could show Liam his spear.

“That’s it!” Tadgh said proudly as Liam reached out and took the stick from Quinn.

Liam pressed a kiss against his brow before he set him down on his feet and handed him back his spear. “What’s this about, lad?” Liam asked as he took a knee in front of him.

“I wanna go with you and fight,” he said, not quite able to meet his brother’s eyes as he lied.

“Ye hate fighting,” Liam pointed out as he patiently waited for Tadgh to tell him the truth.

“That’s not true,” Tadgh mumbled as he looked up and met his brother’s gaze. “I like fighting. It’s fun, but I don’t like hurting anyone.”

“Aye.” Liam nodded in agreement, because he understood how he felt. “And ye know that where we’re going we might have to hurt someone so I don’t think that’s the real reason that ye want to go.”

Tadgh shrugged his tiny shoulders. “It’s not.”

“Then what’s the reason?”

Tadgh felt his chin quiver and tried to stop it before it gave him away, but he couldn’t. “I’m going to miss ye,” he shamefully admitted as he hurried to wipe away the tears on the back of his dirty arm before his brothers could see them.

With a kind smile, Liam gently wiped away his tears. “And we’ll miss ye, lad, but we have to go.”

“Do ye promise to come back for me?”

“Always, lad, always.”

*-*-*-*

“Ye shouldn’t have talked back to me Da’,” Macha said in way of greeting as she finished crawling in beneath the tent’s flaps.

“Aye, I’ll try to remember that the next time he’s pulling ye through the camp by ye hair,” Tadgh said dryly, shifting slightly on his sleeping fur and immediately wishing that he hadn’t when the small action caused agonizing pain to shoot through the slices on his back.

“I had it handled,” Macha argued, opening her small satchel. “Besides,” she rushed to continue before he could call her on her lie, “I don’t remember asking ye for yer help.”

He chuckled. He couldn’t help it. “Ye never have to ask fer it, mo shonuachar.”

“Ye shouldn’t be calling me that. If me father hears-“

“Then he’ll know that much sooner that ye belong with me,” Tadgh said firmly, loving the way that she nibbled on her bottom lip as she tried to hide a pleased smile from him.

She didn’t say anything else while she laid out her herbs and cleaning cloths and he didn’t care. He was more than happy to lie there and watch her. She was his heart, his soul and he’d known that since the moment that he’d laid eyes on her when they were nothing more than children.

“Ye need to stop pushing me father,” she said, sounding sad as she set to work to clean his cuts.

“Then he needs to keep his hands off ye, lass,” Tadgh said, trying not to cringe as the herbs stung him.

“He could have killed ye when ye threatened to kill him if he ever touched me again.”

“It was a promise, lass, and believe me, if I ever see him hurt ye like that again I will kill him,” he swore, meaning every word, because he would kill the bastard. He’d do whatever it took to keep her safe.

*-*-*-*

“Please,” Macha said, panting heavily as she shifted beneath him in an attempt to tempt him to take her.

“Please what, mo shonuachar?” he asked, teasing her with the head of his cock and loving the way she growled in frustration as he pulled away when she tried to roll her hips and take the choice away from him.

“Don’t make me kill ye,” she growled, making him chuckle as he returned his cock back to her core.

“Who knew that my wife was such a violent little thing,” he teased her as he leaned down and stole a kiss.

“Ye did! Now take me before I’m forced to kill ye!” she snapped, rolling her hips up and this time he let her catch his cock.

“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” he groaned as he slid inside her hot sheath, amazed at how wet she could get with a few simple touches and kisses.

Knowing that they didn’t have much time and that they needed to be quiet, he leaned down and took her mouth as he picked up his pace. He swallowed her moans as she did the same for his groans, both aware that any noise could draw the wrong kind of attention and cost them their lives. They shouldn’t be doing this, but he couldn’t help himself.

She was everything to him and he needed to be with her and touch her. He hated that they were forced to sneak around, but until his service to his king was over or he figured out another way to get her out of her marital contract, this was the only way that they could be together. One day the king would pay for forcing him to sneak around with his wife like she was one of the whores that followed after their camp.

That day couldn’t come fast enough for him.

*-*-*-*

“I can’t ask ye to do this!”

“Ye don’t have to, lad,” Liam said unconcerned as he grabbed his sword and headed for the door of their small hut.

The rest of his brothers grabbed their swords and satchels without a word and followed after Liam, but this wasn’t over. Tadgh grabbed his own sword and the satchel that held his and Macha’s things and headed after his brothers.

“I’ll be right back,” he told her, hoping that for once she’d do as she was asked and wait here for him, but she didn’t and probably never would.

“Ye know that yer not going to be able to talk them out of this,” she said as she caught up to him.

“Aye, I know,” he bit out, taking her hand into his. “Stubborn bastards.”

She chuckled as they hurried to catch up to his brothers who were already a good distance ahead of them.

“They’re gonna get themselves killed!”

*-*-*-*

“Get yer hands off her!”

“Make a choice!” the bastard said, giving Macha’s hair a violent twist that had her crying out. “Yer life or hers?”

“Mine!” he shouted without hesitation.

“So be it,” the king snarled as he shoved his daughter aside, pulled out his sword and swiftly slid it through Tadgh’s stomach, his men tightened their hold on Tadgh as he calmly accepted his fate. He’d do anything to keep her safe.

“Ye bastard!” Shayne roared. “I’ll kill ye!”

“Yer dead! Dead!” Liam shouted as the rest of his brothers fought and screamed, desperate to get to him and kill every man in sight, but Tadgh could barely hear them over his wife’s cries. She was in pain, so much pain and there’s nothing that he could do to stop it. He only prayed the baby waited just a little while longer until his brothers could get free and protect it.

Clenching his jaw tightly, he forced himself not to cry out in pain as the king slowly, so goddamn slowly, pulled the sword out, making sure that Tadgh felt every ounce of pain. He wouldn’t make a sound of pain, too afraid that he’d use up the last of his energy when he needed to save it to beg for his wife and brothers to be spared.

He could accept his fate as long as Macha was left unharmed, able to raise their child and that his brothers could be there to protect them. It was the only thing that kept him from fighting back and taking as many of the king’s men with him as he could. The only thing that he wanted above vengeance was the knowledge that his family would survive this.

“Do ye truly believe that she’s yer soul mate?” the king asked tauntingly as he gestured for a guard to grab Macha when she tried to go to him.

“Aye,” he admitted, knowing that there was no point in lying and fearing what the king would do to Macha if he tried.

“I see,” the King said solemnly, pulling out his short sword and pointing it towards Tadgh’s chest, probably expecting him to beg for his life, but he wouldn’t. This was the bargain for his family’s lives and he would gladly pay it for them.

“Then where yer soul goes, shouldn’t hers follow?”

It took a few seconds for the King’s words to sink in and by the time they did, it was too late. The King grabbed his own daughter by the hair and thrust the small sword into the right side of her chest, a killing wound. It was a wound that he’d inflicted hundreds of times into his enemies’ chests. It was designed to cause a slow painful death with no hope of recovery.

“Ye bastard!”

Keeping his eyes locked on his wife as she fell helplessly to the ground, he grabbed the sword at his throat, barely noticing or caring as the blade sliced through his fingers and shoved it away as he grabbed the wrist that held it and with a well practiced move, snapped it. He took the sword, turned it and thrust it back, killing the man before he could react. He quickly killed the man to his left as he pushed up on his trembling legs and went after the bastard that he should have killed a long time ago.

He was barely aware of the commotion going on to his left or the screams of agony as he moved towards his prey. Before he could get within striking distance, the coward grabbed Macha by her hair, tilted her hair back, exposing her throat to the sharp blade of a dagger.

“Not another step,” the king warned.

“Ye won’t be leaving this field alive,” Shayne promised hoarsely as he stepped up beside him.

“Yer life is mine for the taking,” Liam swore, stepping up to his left and claiming the right to kill the King. Tadgh didn’t waste his energy arguing, not when the only thing that mattered was that the king died this night.

“Tadgh,” Macha said, sobbing as she pressed one hand to her wound and the other over the baby that she would never hold.

“Drop the knife,” Finn said coldly, coming up behind the King while Fergus, Aidan and Quinn disposed of the men protecting the King’s back.

His brothers were badly injured, but determined. The King’s smug smile froze on his face as his eyes quickly darted around the clearing and whatever he saw had him dropping his hold on Macha’s hair, but he didn’t move the blade away from her neck.

Using his sword as a staff to support his weight, Tadgh quickly looked around and saw the reason why. All of the King’s men were either dead or dying. Months of running and hiding ended tonight.

Keeping his knife firmly against his daughter’s throat, the King reached into his robes and pulled out a smooth disc shaped grey stone. Holding it over his heart, the King locked eyes with him.

“Ye will all pay fer this, this I swear! Ye will never know peace or true happiness. Ye will forever walk this earth as slaves, never knowing a moment of peace! Ye will pay for stealing from me! Ye ruined me over this nonsense of soul mates and true love, so I curse ye all to hell and back and ye soul mates along with ye! May ye only know pain and suffering for eternity and ye soul mates suffer fer what ye did to me this day! Ye will always meet with death!” the King shouted, but none of them heard him. None of them cared for the nonsense that he shouted.

Finn placed his hand over the stone, ripping it out of the King’s hand. “And ye as well, ye dumb bastard!”

Quinn quickly reached down and placed his hand around the blade, separating it from Macha’s neck and taking the slice that would have ended her life too quickly. As it was, she’d only had a few precious moments left. He was about to lose her and their child, he realized. Raw agony ripped through him, tearing an unholy roar from his throat as he picked up his sword and swung, slicing the King’s neck open from ear from ear.

“Macha,” he whispered, his heart breaking as he released the sword and dropped to his knees before her.

“It hurts,” she cried softly as she fell to her side.

He reached for her when his strength finally left him and he couldn’t do more than to fall to the ground. He reached for her, but couldn’t quite reach her. The inches that separated them felt like miles.

“I know, mo shonuachar,” he said softly, welcoming the cold numbness that spread through his body.

“Hold on, lad,” Shayne said, pulling him into his arms and further away from Macha. He tried to fight, but he didn’t have any fight left in him.

“Do something!” Shayne demanded.

“I’m s-scared,” Macha admitted as Finn dropped to his knees beside her, tears rolling down his blood spattered face, he reached out with trembling hands and did what Tadgh couldn’t. He took her into his arms and held her.

“There’s nothing ta be scared of, mo shonuachar,” he told her, wishing that those were his arms wrapped around her. “I’m gonna be coming for ye.”

“Ye promise?” she sobbed softly as her breathing became labored.

“Aye, I do,” he said, smiling as his vision dimmed out.

Chapter 39

“Everything will be fine,” Beth said softly to herself, to her or the men looking like the rug had been pulled out from beneath them, she didn’t know.

She also couldn’t hold it together for a minute longer if she had to sit here. She needed space away from the oppressive grief that threatened to overwhelm and destroy her. There was a way out of this and she needed to figure it out quickly and she wouldn’t be able to do that if she stayed here a minute longer.

“Where are you going?” Denny asked, looking worse than the last time they’d all gathered in this room while they’d waited for the surgeon to tell them that everything would be fine.

“I need to use the bathroom,” she mumbled, trying to give him a smile and failing miserably.

Denny nodded as he stood. “I’ll go with you.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, grabbing her purse.

Quinn, Finn, and Aidan shifted their circle of protection, widening it as they prepared to move with her. She was glad that they were here and that they’d refused to let her out of their sight. It made getting them alone so that she could question them about this curse easier. She needed to know exactly what was said, who said it and what they were doing when they said it. She needed-

“Oh, fuck no,” Finn groaned softly, drawing her attention to him.

Frowning, she looked past him to see a very large and handsome man with short, slightly wavy jet-black hair, and beautiful green eyes walk down the wide hallway towards them. She was about to ask what was wrong when she realized something.

Those were Tristan’s eyes.

“No, no, no,” she said, shaking her head as she stepped back away from the truth and heartache that was heading straight for her.

“Marty?” Her father reached for her, but she shoved his hands away, desperate to get away.

“Macha,” the man coming for her said with an Irish brogue that confirmed her fears.

“No! No! No!” she cried, stumbling back as her father, Tom and Denny tried to grab her, but she shoved them away. “Please, God, no!”

“Shhhh, mo shonuachar,” he said soothingly as he reached for her.

“Calm down, Marty!” her father pleaded, his voice breaking as he wrapped his arms around her. She fought him, needing to get away from the man watching her with kind eyes. If she could put some space between them and keep him from touching her then this wasn’t really happening.

Tristan wouldn’t be dead.

“Shit!” her father snapped when she kicked and struggled to get away from him.

“Can we get some goddamn help here?” Denny snapped as he grabbed Marty by her legs and helped take her to the ground.

“Relax, sweetheart,” the man with Tristan’s eyes said softly as he reached out and cupped her face.

She closed her eyes as she shook her head, tears ran down her face as the first sob broke free. “Please!” she begged softly.

“Yer okay, mo shonuachar,” he said as she felt his lips brush against hers. “It’s not yer time yet.”

“Please don’t leave me, Tristan,” she sobbed softly. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never.”

*-*-*-*

“What the fuck is that beeping?” Fergus demanded even though they all knew what that meant.

Not even a minute earlier they’d all watched as their brother left his body. Those kind, too goddamn forgiving eyes had locked with his. With a sad smile and a small flicker of his hand, Tadgh had covered his naked form with clothes and walked out of the operating room in search of his young bride.

“He’s dead,” Liam said flatly as they watched doctors and nurses race around the room, shooting drugs into Tristan’s IVs in between shocking him and pushing air into his lungs in the hopes that they could restart his heart.

No one said anything else as they watched the men and women work in vain to save Tristan’s life. There was no point really, the curse had him and would soon have his wife. They’d be forced to watch her die once again and at that moment he wanted to hate Tadgh, but he just couldn’t.

This wasn’t his fault. It was the fault of the murderous bastard who had gotten off too easily so long ago. They should have made his death last for days before they allowed him any release. They should have-

“They’re keeping his body alive?” Declean asked, sounding curious and cutting into his thoughts.

“Aye,” He nodded, having watched enough television and movies to know that was exactly what they were doing. It wouldn’t help, not in Tristan’s case, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless.

“Tadgh died, right?” Declean asked, sounding thoughtful.

“Aye,” Liam said with a slight nod.

“Then……then the curse claimed him?” Declean asked, starting to irritate him.

“Aye, lad! Do ye really need to have this explained after all this time?”

Declean simply shook his head. “I don’t, but a thought just occurred to me that’s all,” he said with a shrug.

“What’s that?” Liam asked, his eyes never leaving Tristan’s face.

“It’s just that he died and the curse claimed its due for this life. They’re keeping his body alive, so what’s to stop us from putting Tadgh back inside? I don’t think the curse can claim him twice in one lifetime, can it?”

Shayne looked up and met Liam’s gaze. “Is it possible, do ye think?” he asked, trying not to hope for the impossible.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Liam said with a determined glint in his eyes before he disappeared.

“Guard him,” he told Fergus as he followed after his brother, damn near feeling giddy at the prospect of finally getting one over on this curse.

*-*-*-*

“How are you still here?” she asked, remembering what they were told last night. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Once he died he was supposed to be ripped away from her.

“I’m not sure, mo shonuachar,” he said with a kind smile, his hand continued to caress her stomach. “But it might be best not to speak to me, lass, or they’ll think yer crazy,” he said with a wink, trying to tease her into smiling, but it didn’t work and she didn’t care.

She wanted Tristan back. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him, to live even a single minute without him. They still had time left, she could feel it down in her soul.

“There has to be a way,” she said, ignoring the concerned looks of everyone around her.

“There’s not, lass. Believe me, we’ve tried everything,” he gently explained. “The only thing left to do is let ye go now, Macha.”

“No! Please!” she said, trying to reach for him, but she couldn’t move, not with her father’s arms wrapped tightly around her.

“It’s the only way,” Tadgh said with a sad smile. “I can’t keep putting ye and our child through this, mo shonuachar. This has to end now.”

“No! Just one more time! Please! We can do this!” she cried as she felt her heart start to shatter and break.

“I need ye to be strong, lass. I need ye to go on without me for this child,” he said, giving her stomach a gentle caress.

She tried to speak, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t go on without him, didn’t want to and she knew at that moment that the curse had its grips on her. She wouldn’t last long without him and there was nothing that she could do about it.

As her father held her in his arms, rocking her gently as he swore to her that everything would be okay, she numbly watched as Liam and Shayne appeared on either side of Tristan’s soul and with a firm nod, grabbed him by the arms and disappeared, leaving her with the grief that was swallowing her whole.

*-*-*-*

“Let me go!” Tadgh shouted as they materialized in the operating room.

“Sure thing,” Shayne murmured, praying that this worked. With a nod, they picked Tadgh up and slammed him down into his body.

They watched him for several minutes, praying that something, anything would happen. This had to work, needed to work. Hell, he didn’t know what he would do if it didn’t work. A tiny beep was the only warning that any of them received before one of the most terrifying things that he’d ever witnessed occurred.

Tristan’s body arched off the table, startling everyone working on him, but the unholy roar that he released as he slammed back down on the table terrified them. Seconds passed as everyone stared at the body in shock, the solid beep quickly becoming separate sounds as Tristan’s heart started to work on its own.

Shayne watched with amusement as a nurse’s eyes rolled back into her head seconds before she swayed and dropped to the ground. The other humans barely spared her a glance, their gazes remained locked on Tristan’s still body.

“What the hell was that?” his surgeon asked, looking stunned as he stood over Tristan’s body, the paddles he’d been about to place on Tristan’s chest still clutched tightly in his hands.

“That was us kicking this fucking curse’s ass,” Shayne said smugly, butting fists with a grinning Declean as he made his way out of the operating room.

He needed to tell Marty that everything was going to be okay and he meant to do just that, but he couldn’t. He needed a moment to….

He just needed a moment.

He wanted to go home, throw on the television and blast it to help clear his head, but he couldn’t leave the hospital. Tristan and Marty were too vulnerable right now and his brothers were going to need help keeping them safe. He needed noise, lots of it and preferably cries of pain or pleasure, it didn’t matter. Both would work, always had.

“Aye, that’s much better,” he sighed as the screams of the drunk arguing with the triage nurse reached his ears. The rest of the background noise was like music to his ears.

It wasn’t as loud as he preferred, but he’d take what he could get at the moment. They weren’t as good as porn movies, but they would have to do. The fake groans, moans, screams of pleasure and horrible music were the perfect substitutes for the sounds of the old war camps.

The noises of fighting, arguing men getting into drunken shouting matches and the sounds of the camp whores screaming in pleasure once served as a sort of lullaby for him. While some men lost themselves in their drink or between the legs of a woman, he’d lost himself in sounds, loud, unpredictable sounds.

He’d always done his best thinking in loud places. They comforted him, probably because pure silence scared the living shit out of him. It always reminded him of-

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, grabbing his side as a cramp shot through his lung.

Another cramp, and then another more powerful cramp shot through his lungs, dropping him on his ass as he struggled with some unknown need. His lungs were on fire and felt like they were going to explode. Something wasn’t right. Something was really fucking wrong.

The curse.

Shit!

He needed to get to Tristan. He needed to figure out a way to spare his brother anymore pain. He needed to-

“Hey, buddy, you might want to put some clothes on.”

Chapter 40

“W-what?” the rather delicious male specimen said, adding to his sex appeal with an Irish brogue that nearly distracted her from her purpose here, almost.

She allowed her eyes to run down his rather impressive body, lingering here and there before finally looking up and meeting killer green eyes. “People are starting to stare,” she said with a shrug as she reached past him and grabbed a folded white sheet off a cart and shook it open. “Not that I can blame them,” she added with a wink as she laid the sheet over his lap.

Gasping for air like he’d just run a marathon, his brows curled up in confusion as he looked around the busy waiting room. “Ye can see me?” he asked, making her sigh in disappointment.

Minus ten points for insanity.

“Yes,” she said, wondering if she should help him to the emergency room or up to the lockdown unit upstairs for the mentally challenged.

“Ye shouldn’t be able to see me.”

Locked unit it was then. Decision made, she stood up and looked around the busy waiting room until she spotted what she needed by some frat boy pressing a bloodied towel to his face. She made her way over to the wheelchair, ignoring the way the frat boy leered at her ass and rolled it over to the poor, hot nut job currently trying to stand up.

“Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the wheelchair.

“I can walk,” he ground out, leveling a glare on her as he moved to prove just that, but he didn’t make it very far before his legs gave out on him and he almost fell back on his very fine ass.

With a sigh, she wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him to the chair. She really didn’t have time for this good Samaritan crap today, but what choice did she have? He was too screwed up in the head to take care of himself and the only hospital staff manning the ER waiting room was the triage nurse too busy arguing with some jackass in an expensive suit who was demanding that he be seen immediately, to help. That left it up to little old her to drop this insane hunk off at the psych ward.

“I could have walked,” he grumbled irritably as she pushed him down the hall towards the elevators.

“Yes, I’m sure that you could have,” she said dryly.

“Sarcasm?” he growled out, earning two points, because really that voice of his was really delicious and if she didn’t need to be somewhere, soon, she’d probably push him down to the gift shop and buy a romance novel. She’d sucker him into reading all the really naughty scenes to her, but alas she didn’t have that kind of time.

“Me? Sarcastic? Never,” she said distractedly as she studied the hospital directory.

“What are ye looking for?” he asked, sounding suspicious.

“The lockdown unit,” she murmured, wondering if it was labeled under a codename because she couldn’t for the life of her find it listed on the hospital directory.

“I’m not insane,” he bit out.

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not!”

“No, no of course you’re not. It’s perfectly normal to stroll around the emergency room buck naked and thinking that you’re invisible.”

“I am not insane!” he snapped, moving to climb out of the wheelchair, but one well placed shove from her had him sitting back down like a good boy, a good boy who grumbled and bitched, but that was fine with her as long as he behaved himself.

“Uh huh, doesn’t matter anyways, because it looks like it’s the emergency room for you,” she said, moving to turn the wheelchair around and take him back to the ER.

“I’m not hurt, lass,” he said, moving to get up and this time when she tried to keep him in the chair, he shrugged off her touch and climbed out of the chair, a bit stiffly, but this time he managed to stand on his own two feet.

She shrugged as she pushed the wheelchair away and pressed the up button for the elevator. “Then you’re on your own, cupcake. I have someone that I need to talk to.”

“I don’t need help,” he grated out as he looked around and when he saw a cart filled with folded blue scrubs, he dropped the sheet, giving her a beautiful memory.

It really was a shame that he was insane, she thought with a sigh as she watched him pull on a pair of scrub bottoms that were a little too short and a bit snug around one of the best asses that she’d ever seen. Glaring at her like this was somehow her fault, he grabbed a white tee shirt and pulled it on. The shirt was tight, encasing perfectly sculptured muscles and making a girl wish that she could forget that he was insane.

That problem was solved when he grabbed some poor guy who’d made the mistake of walking by at that moment by his shirt and raised him off the ground. “Give me yer shoes, lad.”

“All righty then,” she said, turning her attention to the elevator doors sliding open and pointedly ignoring the insane man as he committed robbery and made some poor guy piss his pants. “You have a nice life now and don’t forget to be a good boy and take your Prozac.”

She stepped onto the elevator, pressed the button for the fifth floor and admittedly hadn’t expected the large mental patient to follow her. Then again, with her luck she really should have, she mentally berated herself as she calmly reached into her bag and palmed her gun. Then she thought better of it and reached for her stun gun.

‘This can’t be happening,” he murmured in that sexy brogue of his as he raised his hands in front of his face and moved them, wiggling his fingers as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“Just keep telling yourself that,” she said, keeping an eye on him even as she watched the lights climb up to the fifth floor.

“Ye do realize that I’d take ye down before ye even had a chance to pull that out of yer purse, don’t ye, lass?” he asked conversationally as he dropped his arms, admittedly shocking her and grudgingly impressing her at the same time.

“Get tasered a lot, do you?”

He took her off guard when he chuckled. It was deep, and sexy as hell.

Mental. Patient, she reminded herself before she did something stupid like drool over him.

The well-timed ding of the elevator was truly appreciated as it gave her the excuse that she needed to get away from this man and get her mind back on her work. When the elevator doors opened, she sighed heavily. Looked like she’d found the psych ward after all.

“Hold her down!” a nurse ordered just as her large insane friend stormed past her.

“Get yer fucking hands off her!” he roared, noticeably startling the orderlies charged with holding the pretty brunette down while a nurse struggled to shove a very large needle in the woman’s arm.

The two large EMTs and the police officer with pepper hair helping to hold down the woman looked up as the raging insane man headed for them. It was more than obvious that her insane friend’s presence wasn’t a welcome sight and as she followed behind him, once again holding her stun gun, she contemplated the benefits of taking him down for them.

“Mind your business!” the officer snapped, securing his hold around the struggling, screaming woman, that honestly was hard to listen to without feeling her heart break. The woman’s pain was almost palpable and she would have given anything at that moment to turn around and walk out of here, but the man she’d been trying to talk to for the past week was here and this couldn’t wait a minute longer.

“Get yer fucking hands off her!” he snapped, grabbing the two orderlies holding the woman’s legs down by the backs of their necks and tossing them away from the woman like they didn’t weigh anything. That alone had her pulling her stun gun out of her pocketbook and setting the voltage to high, because really, there was just no way that the two EMTs, cop and nurse were going to be able to overpower this man.

Without a word, he reached down and plucked the needle out of the nurse’s hand and tossed it aside, his gaze locked on the sobbing woman. When the younger EMT moved to grab him, her insane friend simply shoved him away, knocking him clear across the room.

“Denny?” an older woman that she hadn’t noticed until then said, sounding calm which was probably a good thing right now since the last thing that this situation needed was a hysterical woman.

“Macha?” her insane buddy said soothingly only to frown a few seconds later when the woman didn’t respond. Then with a sigh and a self-deprecating shake of his head, he said, “Marty? Lass? It’s fine. He’s alright.”

The older EMT released his hold on the woman and looked like he was going to take his chances wrestling with the psych patient when the sobbing woman suddenly opened her eyes.

“A-are you sure?” she asked, looking up at the psych patient with such hope that Ashlyn seriously considered tasering the bastard on principle alone for screwing with this poor woman’s head.

He smiled fondly down at the woman. “Aye, he’s fine, still an asshole, but he’s fine.”

The woman’s expression crumpled as her expression turned from heartbroken to relieved. She reached for the psych patient and wrapped her arms around his neck. He simply held onto her as she sobbed quietly against his shoulder and Ashlyn took that as her cue to move on. This wasn’t her drama so she really didn’t need to be here, she decided as she moved to take a step forward, but realized that there was no one manning the nurse’s station. So with a shrug, she faced the very confused looking group of people. She decided to ignore the ones that were unconscious, because they probably wouldn’t be much help and focused on the ones watching her insane friend.

“Does anyone know where I can find Detective Black? I was told that he was here.”

*-*-*-*

“How did this happen?” Liam demanded as he paced the long room. He stormed forward, disappeared only to reappear on the other side of the room, doing that over and over again.

“The curse,” he mumbled, carefully shifting Marty in his arms as she slept.

The poor thing had pretty much collapsed into exhaustion once the surgeon came out and explained that it had been touch and go, but that Tristan had pulled through and was being transported to ICU. Shayne had tried to transport them both to his room, but had discovered that his ability to move around by jumping from place to place was gone.

He was once again human and he had no idea how in the hell that happened. The only thing that he’d been able to come up with was the curse, which seemed to still affect him. He still saw ghosts. They saw him and irritated the shit out of him. The only thing that changed was that he was human, all of his memories were intact and the woman sitting across from him, texting like a woman possessed, seriously pissed him off. There was good reason for that, he thought bitterly as he narrowed his eyes on her and glared.

She was his fucking soul mate.

After all these years, here she was pissing him off and reminding him why he hated being human. If he’d still been in his true form he could have given her the swat on the ass that she rightly deserved and popped out of the room, never giving her another thought. That’s not how this was going to work out apparently.

The curse had plans and they involved the two of them now. How did he know this? Well, that was really quite simple. He was the only dumb bastard out of his brothers who had been turned back to human. His brothers were still in their true forms, Tristan was still alive, hooked up to machines, but still very much alive and hopefully out of the curse’s reach.

He ran his eyes over her, wondering how exactly he’d been paired with this woman when she clearly wasn’t his type. He liked long beautiful hair, soft eyes, pouty lips and a slender body. What he got instead was a woman with a very short haircut, shorter than his, about a half dozen piercings in her ears, tattoos on her neck and arms and God only knew where else and a body with an athletic build. Her style also grated, nothing truly feminine about her clothes. She wore a black tee shirt that showed off, of all things, a pierced belly button, jeans that rode a little too low and a pair of black combat boots.

Fate was truly a fucked up son of a bitch.

“Keep staring,” she said flatly without looking up from her phone. “I love it, really.”

Yup, truly fucked up.

“You want to hand her over?” Denny asked, stopping in front of him and tossing the ice pack that he’d been pressing against his face aside so that he could glare down at Shayne.

“No.”

“You want to tell me who you are since you’re holding my daughter?” Hank demanded. He probably would have simply taken Marty away from Shayne an hour ago except that when he’d tried, Marty had started crying again so the man promptly handed her back over to Shayne.

“No, not really.”

Declean chuckled as he walked through Denny and sat down next to him. “Ye might want to tell them something, lad.”

That probably would be for the best, he decided as he looked at his brothers for suggestions, but the useless bastards only shrugged. Very helpful, he thought, sighing heavily with annoyance. Looked like he was on his own, again.

“I’m her brother-in-law,” he said, deciding to go with the truth. At least, the truth as far as he saw it.

Denny chuckled darkly. “Nice try, asshole. I’m her brother-in-law.”

“Aye,” Shayne readily agreed, “but you’re her brother-in-law by adoption. I’m her brother-in-law by blood. Tristan is my little brother.”

“Wow, it’s like daytime television come to life,” his annoying soul mate mumbled, destroying the stunned silence that he had to admit was a bit off-putting. The glares weren’t exactly comforting either, he decided. The words of encouragement from his brothers definitely weren’t helping either.

“Ye stupid son of a bitch,” Declean groaned.

“Real smooth, shit head,” Finn added with a sigh.

“I knew we were gonna pay for Ma’ dropping ye on yer head,” Liam said, shaking his head in disgust as he disappeared, probably to go pace in Tristan’s room.

“Well, as much fun as this has been, and it’s been loads,” the annoying woman said, cutting through the silence as she got to her feet. “I have to go, but I really need to speak with the Detective when he wakes up,” she said, handing a business card over to a stunned Denny, who couldn’t seem to stop glaring at him.

Yup, it was really fucking great to be human.

Chapter 41

“I swear to God that if you don’t drop that sponge that I will have you committed by morning,” he promised, leveling a glare on his mother.

She sighed heavily as she dropped the sponge back into the small bowl. “None of my boys appreciate me.”

“I do,” Shayne, the biggest fucking traitor, said cheerfully as he sauntered into the room and dropped down on the bed next to him.

His mother gave that pleased smile that seemed only reserved for Shayne as she readily agreed, “I know you do, sweetheart.”

Shayne, the fucking kiss ass, grinned smugly.

“Fucking brownnoser,” Denny grumbled from the couch where he openly glared at Shayne.

“Denny Black!”

“Well, he is!”

“Words hurt, lad,” Shayne said with a sniffle that made his mother’s glare turn murderous on Denny.

“That’s it,” Denny said, getting to his feet and storming off towards the door, “I can’t take this any longer. I’m going to work.”

“Never mind him, Shayne. He’s just upset,” his mother said with that damn smile.

Seriously, how did the bastard pull it off? From what he’d heard his mother had wanted to wring Shayne’s neck when he’d pulled that whole long lost brother bullshit, but one shocking DNA test and sob story later and he had her wrapped around his finger. The woman couldn’t seem do enough for his “long lost” brother.

His father, brother and Hank were still suspicious and if he hadn’t been able to get Shayne some fake papers they probably would have given into the urge to drag him out back by now and beat the shit out of him.

“I have to go make dinner, but I’ll be back later to check on you,” she said, leaning over and pressing a kiss against his cheek. Before she could pull back all the way, Shayne was leaning over him and pointedly clearing his throat.

With a small giggle, she leaned over and planted a big kiss on Shayne’s cheek before she grabbed her bucket and headed out the door, leaving Tristan to glare at the smug bastard.

“Ye know that she loves me more, don’t ye?”

“She really does,” Finn said, appearing in the seat that Denny had vacated.

“Aye,” Declean said as he appeared, sitting on the corner of the bed. “She’s downstairs right now making him a sandwich.”

“It could be for me,” Tristan muttered, already knowing that it probably wasn’t.

Quinn appeared, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, shaking his head. “No, it’s for him. She’s down there cutting the crusts off his sandwich the way he likes it.”

“Actually,” Marty said, strolling into the room with two cans of soda in her hands, “she’s making it for me, because the crust upsets my stomach and later tonight she’s baking me an apple pie.”

“If ye weren’t knocked up ye know that I’d be the favorite,” Shayne said, accepting the can of soda that Marty held out to him.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Marty said smugly, earning a smile from him as she placed his soda on the nightstand and leaned down to kiss Tristan.

“Enough of that now,” Liam said as he appeared in the room. Fergus appeared a few seconds later. “We have some things that we need to discuss.”

Marty brushed her lips against his one more time before she carefully climbed over him so that she could sit between him and Shayne. If any other man had thrown his arm around Marty’s shoulders the way that Shayne did he probably would have killed him, but he didn’t have any worries. He knew exactly how Shayne felt about Marty, because he remembered everything, absolutely everything.

It was a bit frightening at times to have so many memories swimming around in his head, but it was also a blessing. Now he knew exactly how much his brothers loved him and what they’d been through for him. For the first time in his life, lives, he felt truly whole. He had his wife, a child on the way and he had his brothers. He didn’t know how long this would last, but he planned on enjoying it while it did.

The only thing that marred his happiness was this fucking curse. Things had changed and he didn’t know just how much or how it would affect them. He also wasn’t sure if he’d escaped the curse. Marty believed it and for now, to keep her happy he kept his thoughts to himself. He didn’t think the curse was done with them yet.

“Quinn, ye need to keep watch over Shayne,” Liam announced, earning a snarl from Shayne and a shit eating grin from Quinn.

“I don’t need a guard.”

Liam simply ignored him the way that he normally did when he wanted to piss him off, which was often. “We need to figure out why Shayne’s soul mate is trying to contact ye,” Liam said, reminding him that he had a few phone calls that he needed to return. Now that he was back on full medical, that shouldn’t be a problem, he thought miserably.

He fucking hated full medical.

“She’s a private investigator,” he said, grabbing the ice pack on his shoulder and readjusting it before it could fall off. “She’s looking into a cold case for a client that I’m investigating.”

Liam nodded, looking thoughtful. “Aye, that might just work.”

“What might work?” Marty asked, snuggling into Shayne’s side since she couldn’t touch his left shoulder or arm without him passing out. Stupid fucking infection and separated shoulder, he thought bitterly as Shayne wagged his eyebrows in his direction.

“We need an excuse to get these two together,” Liam explained, doing a great job of erasing all signs of humor off of Shayne’s face.

“Hell no!”

“Doesn’t she think that he’s a mental patient?” Marty asked, obviously trying not to laugh, but his brothers didn’t seem to care enough to try and hide their amusement.

“Aye,” Quinn said, chuckling. “Shayne always did have a way with the lasses.”

“I’m not doing it,” Shayne said firmly.

“It’s the only way we can find out how this curse is working. If ye can get the lass and break the curse on yer end, it might allow one of us the chance to do the same,” Liam said, knowing that Shayne would do anything to help his brothers break this curse.

“I hate her,” he said evenly, but not refusing, Tristan noted.

“I’m not asking ye to fall in love with the lass.”

But he was asking Shayne to make her fall in love with him. He didn’t say that and wouldn’t, not with Marty in the room. She wouldn’t like it and, if she hadn’t fallen asleep on Shayne’s shoulder, she’d probably be ripping Shayne a new one.

“Fine, I’ll do it, but as soon as this thing passes off to one of ye, I’m done with her.”

Tristan chuckled, he couldn’t help it. The idea of Shayne trying to court a woman and getting a chance at a little payback for all the bullshit that Shayne had put him through over the years was just too much. This was going to be fun.

“What’s so funny, lad?” Shayne demanded.

“Remember what I told you about payback being a bitch? Well pucker up, asshole, because here it comes.”

Shayne closed his eyes and let out a pained groan as he dropped his head back against the headboard. “I really fucking hate being human.”

Chapter 42

One month later……

A noise woke Marty up. She sat up in bed and looked around the room, frowning when she didn’t see anything. After a quick glance at the alarm clock on Tristan’s side, she realized that it was a little past three o’clock in the morning and the other half of her bed was still empty.

She still had another night left without him, she remembered with a sigh as she looked around the room again, this time searching for his brothers. When she didn’t see Declean or Finn, she quietly whispered their names, hoping that they’d hear her.

They didn’t.

After a minute, she considered yelling for them, but she didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention if she could help it. She’d only experienced cold dread once and once was more than enough for her. She wouldn’t do anything to draw attention to herself if there was a ghost in the house.

When she heard another loud noise it occurred to her that perhaps it wasn’t a ghost roaming the house. It was probably just Denny or one of their parents dropping by, she realized, letting out a sigh of relief that was quickly halted when something really important occurred to her.

It was after three in the morning and no one in her family would be foolish enough to let themselves in and take the chance of Tristan mistaking them for a burglar. Then again, after Beth had walked in on the two of them having sex in the foyer two weeks ago, no one in their family came over without calling first anymore.

“Shit!” she hissed softly as she crawled out of bed and grabbed the baseball bat that she kept beneath her side of the bed. For all of about ten seconds she considered going downstairs and taking care of this problem herself and if wasn’t pregnant, and concerned about the baby getting hurt, she would have done just that.

Cursing Declean and Finn to hell, she grabbed her cell phone and quickly made her way to the walk-in closet. As quietly as she could, she opened the door and stepped inside. The walk-in closet hadn’t been a big deal to her when she’d moved in with Tristan, but right now she was glad that it was so large. There would be plenty of room to swing the bat if an intruder found her.

She opened her phone and called Tristan, hoping that he’d pick up.

“Hey, sweetheart, I-“

“Tristan, there’s someone in the house,” she whispered, cutting him off so that she could quickly get to the point and he could get his ass home where it belonged so that he could beat the shit out of anyone crazy enough to break into their house.

“Where are you?” he asked casually, too casually, she thought. Tristan was extremely overprotective of her. Something like this should have him flipping out and promising to send every cop on duty her way.

“In the closet with the baseball bat,” she said softly.

“Good. Okay, stay there I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said quickly, hanging up on her before she could get the chance to point out that he was over three hours away.

She stared through the white paneled door. She could see bits and pieces of the room, but not much. At least she would be able to see if someone walked in. A creak from the direction of the bedroom door had her holding her breath. Oh God, he’s on the second floor! She gripped the baseball bat firmly and raised it, ready to start swinging.

The door to the bedroom opened and a large man walked inside. She couldn’t make out any features, just that he was large. He walked inside and moved around the room, taking his time. She held her breath while she watched him, praying that he would leave quickly. He turned and moved to walk back towards the door when he suddenly paused in front of the closet door.

He faced the closet. She gripped the bat tightly even as she willed him to turn back around and head for the door. Her jaw dropped in shock when the intruder began to disrobe. He dropped his shirt to the ground, slowly. When he undid his pants, revealing a pair of grey boxer briefs, a small gasp escaped her lips.

Tristan.

She would recognize that body anywhere.

That little bastard, she thought. Quietly, she put the bat down behind her. She slowly stepped back from the door and moved to the side where he wouldn’t be able to see her. On the shelf behind her, Tristan kept extra stuff for work, shoe polish, shoelaces, cleaning materials for his guns, a few pairs of cuffs, and a small metal flashlight.

Marty grabbed a set of handcuffs and the flashlight. As quietly as she could, she pulled the flashlight apart until all she had in her hand was the small metal tube. She squeezed back against the side of the wall and waited. He didn’t keep her waiting long. The door opened and he stepped inside, pausing to look down at the bat.

When he bent down and picked up the bat, she stepped up behind him and pressed the metal tube against his back. “Okay, asshole, drop the bat.”

Slowly, he dropped the bat. “Now put your hands behind your back,” she ordered.

When he paused, she nudged the tube against his back until he moved to do what she wanted. Sighing heavily, he put his hands behind his back. With one hand, she cuffed both his hands together, careful not to pull too hard on his left arm.

“Okay, into the bedroom slowly and don’t turn around.”

After a slight pause, he walked into the bedroom. She moved with him, keeping a hand on his cuffs and the tube.

“I guess I should call the cops now,” she said offhandedly.

Tristan didn’t say anything as he stood there, letting her call the shots. She took her hand off the cuffs and ran a finger teasingly down his back, making the muscles in his back tighten. She moved her hand down to his ass and squeezed. Every muscle in his body went rigid.

“It’s really a shame to waste such a great body.”

Biting her lip so that she wouldn’t laugh and give herself away, she moved her arm around his waist and pushed her hand into his briefs and when she found what she was after, she gave it a gentle squeeze, making him groan.

“A damn shame. My husband has a really nice body, but not as nice as yours. And this,” she ran her hand over him, making him moan, “he has nothing on you in this department.”

She pulled the pipe away. He tried to turn around, but she put a hand on his back to stop him. She dropped the pipe to the ground and slowly pulled his underwear down.

“I tell you what,” she said, playfully nibbling on his bottom before she stood up, “you do a little something for me and we’ll forget all about the police.”

He adjusted his feet, taking a deep ragged breath. Marty ran her hand over his back as she leaned closer and pressed a kiss between his shoulders. Her hands went around his stomach and chest.

“What do you say? Are you game?” she asked. Her hand slid back down his stomach and between his legs. She ran her hand over his erection. “I’d say you were more than game,…..Tristan.”

“I hope you knew it was me the whole time,” Tristan said, chucking as he slowly thrust in her hold. Smiling, she pressed another kiss against his back. She ran her hand over his erection one more time before she released him.

When she dropped her hand away, he turned around to face her. He leaned in and kissed her. “I’m sorry I scared you. We were able to get away a lot sooner than I thought.”

She put her arms around his neck. “It wasn’t funny,” she said, although she had enjoyed herself once she’d realized who the intruder was.

“I know. I’m sorry I woke you. I was trying to make a sandwich when I dropped a plate and broke it.”

“Where did Declean and Finn go?” she asked, leaning up so that she could press a kiss against his chin.

“They came downstairs to find out how the trip went,” he said, bending slightly so that he could kiss the tip of her nose.

“And how did the trip go?” she asked, dropping her arms from around his neck so that she could push his underwear down the rest of the way.

Sighing with frustration, he stepped out of his underwear and kicked it to the side. “Another dead end.”

“Are you going to check out that lead down in Massachusetts next week?” she asked, hating the idea of spending another week without him.

He shook his head as he leaned down and kissed her. “I’m done for now.”

“Why?”

“Because I missed you too much,” he confessed, making her smile.

“Really?”

“Really,” he said, pressing one last kiss against her lips before he stepped away from her and sat on the edge of the bed. “Besides, Ashlyn is finally back in town.”

“Shayne must be thrilled,” she said, smiling when Tristan shifted to free himself.

Well, she couldn’t very well allow that, now could she? Before he could bring his knees up, Marty was pushing him down on the bed and sitting on his lap.

“Rot in hell, ye bastards!” they heard Shayne shout seconds before the sounds of a door down the hall being slammed shut reached their room.

“He’s thrilled,” he said dryly as he lay back on the bed.

“Apparently,” she said with a smile as she reached down and grabbed a handful of her cotton nightgown. She pulled it off and was about to toss it aside when the strained expression on Tristan’s face caught her attention.

“Your shoulder?” she asked, dropping the nightgown on the floor as she scrambled to get off him, praying that she hadn’t hurt him. Damn it, she should have known better.

“Yeah,” he said with a slight groan that had her frantically searching for a key.

“Got it,” she said, picking up the key from the bottom drawer and moving to turn around and free him when a large tan hand slowly snatched the key out of her hand.

“I don’t think you’ll be needing that,” he whispered seductively as she registered the feel of his lips brushing over her neck.

It took her a few seconds before she realized that he’d somehow managed to pull her arms behind her back and handcuffed her without her knowing it.

Damn, he was good.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back until she was pressed tightly against his body. “Why don’t I show you how much I missed you?”

“And how long do you think that will take?” she asked, loving the way it felt to be in his arms, whole.

“For the rest of my life, mo shonuachar.”

Epilogue

“Stop fucking judging me!”

“It’s a stupid show!”

“It’s misunderstood!”

“It was supposed to be a three hour tour. Why the hell did they need all that fucking luggage?”

Shayne glared at Finn as he pointed towards his open bedroom door. “I told ye never to bring that up again!”

“It’s a stupid show,” Finn muttered with a shrug before he disappeared.

“Yer dead to me, ye bastard!” Shayne yelled after the confused bastard.

It was a great show, damn it!

“How are they supposed to make banana cream pies on a deserted island without milk, flour, or butter?” Declean demanded from the comfort of Shayne’s bed.

Shayne didn’t bother answering him as he flipped Declean off and stormed out of his bedroom. As he walked down the hall towards Tristan’s bedroom he cursed Declean and his precious Food Channel to hell and back. Thanks to that betraying bastard he now had a craving for banana cream pie and no way to get his hands on one.

“Sorry, lad,” Quinn said with a shrug as he appeared in front of Tristan’s door.

“Still?” Shayne asked, not quite believing what he was hearing.

“Aye,” Quinn said, chuckling. “Seems the lad really missed her.”

“Oh, come on! It’s been two days!”

Quinn simply shrugged as he gestured for Shayne to turn around and leave. Snorting in disgust, Shayne moved to pound on Tristan’s door. Two days with Marty was more than enough, especially since he was bored and wanted to get out of here for a while.

“Think again, lad,” Quinn said, grabbing him.

One second he was raising his hand to pound on Tristan’s door and remind the bastard that he’d promised to give him a ride into town and the next he was standing in the middle of the foyer. It took him a minute before he realized what his brother had done to him.

“No fucking way……”

“I’m embarrassed for ye, lad,” Aidan said in a mock whisper as he appeared to Shayne’s right.

“Aye, he just manhandled ye like ye were his bitch or something,” Finn said, shaking his head in disgust. “Are ye really gonna take that, lad?”

This couldn’t be said enough, being human fucking sucked.

He went from being able to go and do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted to being completely dependent on his brothers for everything. It grated in the worst possible way. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t pulled his own weight. Even in his cursed form he’d taken care of himself, protected himself and Tristan. He’d had a use, but now….

Now he was completely useless.

His brothers protected him from spirits and fucked him over for their own entertainment. The little brother that he’d been sworn to protect and care for now took care of him. Tristan gave him shelter, food, clothes and spending money like he was some fucking child instead of a full-grown man.

He hated it.

He hated this whole fucked up situation. He’d been raised that taking charity was wrong. Unless a man was dead or dying, he should be taking care of himself and his family. If he’d been back in his own time, he would have simply picked up a sword and sold his services to the highest bidder and provided for himself. Beyond playing video games and surfing the internet, he had no modern day skills that he could use.

Hell, he couldn’t even drive a car. He didn’t have an education, could barely read English and at least once a day he forgot that he couldn’t simply walk through doors and walls and gave his jackass brothers something to laugh their asses off about.

If his brothers didn’t need him to help with the curse, he would have walked head on into traffic and gladly welcomed the curse back. As much as they pissed him off, he loved them. They were his family and the best friends that he’d ever had. For them he’d put up with the annoying soul mate that he’d rather throttle than fu-

“Looks like the funs about to start,” Finn suddenly announced with an eager smile that actually made Shayne a little nervous.

“Aye,” Quinn said, chuckling, “someone better go get Tadgh and Liam.”

“I’m on it!” he heard Aidan shout from the upstairs hallway.

Before he could ask what was going on, the doorbell was ringing and the bastards that loved to torment him were trying to yank his shirt off. After a short struggle, the bastards had his shirt off and were shoving him towards the front door.

“What the fuck are ye doing?” he shouted, wondering when the bullshit would end.

“Make sure to smile, lad,” Quinn said, giving him another push towards the door.

“Aye, it would probably be for the best if ye stopped grinding yer teeth,” Finn pointed out with a shooing gesture towards the door.

“And ye should probably stop clenching yer fists like that,” Aidan said as he popped back into the room.

His stomach dropped as realization hit and when it did, all he wanted to do was to make a run for it. When he may have taken a step back to do just that, he found his only exit blocked by Liam and Tristan.

“Just flex a little muscle and you’re in, big guy,” Tristan said with a wink and a chuckle that had him narrowing his eyes on the traitorous bastard as he was once again dragged back towards the door.

As he was shoved out the door, Shayne decided that there was perhaps a slight chance that he’d gone a tad overboard with screwing Tristan over for his own entertainment over the years. When he was thrown into the woman that fate and the damn curse had trapped him with, he decided that payback truly was a bitch.

To be continued……..

About the Author

R.L. Mathewson resides in New England where she enjoys romantic walks on the beach, lazy Sunday afternoons and hot cocoa ;)

Sorry, but it’s a little creepy talking about myself in the third person, lol.

I’m a single mother of two great kids. When I’m not spending time with them, I’m pretty much a workaholic. I’ve always been that way. Can’t stand down time. It’s just not my thing. I like to stay busy, which is why after I finish writing this sentence that I’m going to return to the Pyte/Sentinel series.

Thank you once again for taking a chance on Black Heart. I hope you enjoyed the book. If you’d like more information about this series or any other series that I write, please visit www.Rlmathewson.com

Thank you,

R.L. Mathewson