Black Heart (34 page)

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’llOw!”

“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