“How did they get in?” their mother asked, adjusting the baby in her arms.
Tristan absently rubbed his injured shoulder. “It looks like they broke 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,” she said through tears.
Tristan ruffled the young boy’s hair again. “You’re welcome.”
“Ah, lad, yer hurt again,” Shayne said as 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 surprised that Shayne had abandoned hisGilligan’s Islandmarathon to come to him. He could sense when Tristan needed help. For some reason, they were connected, had been since that first night.
With a forced smile, Tristan excused himself, leaving Marty to follow after him. Without a word, he tore off his body armor and climbed into the passenger seat. After a slight pause, Marty climbed into the driver’s side and adjusted the seat by sliding it forward until she could reach the pedals.
She delicately cleared her throat and asked, “Where to?”
CHAPTER9
“Detective Black, stop squirming!” Janice snapped as she mauled his shoulder, forcing Tristan to bury his face against his office couch as he ground his teeth together.
“God, that looks like it hurts,” Shayne said.
“Of course, it fucking hurts! I’ve got Attila the Hun trying to give me a massage!” Tristan snapped, not caring at the moment that he was talking to Shayne in front of Janice, the masseuse from hell, and Marty.
Janice’s hands stilled as she said, “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 when she commenced with her backrub.
He wasn’t kidding about her nails. What kind of masseuse had inch-long fingernails with flowers painted all over them? They kept digging into his skin, sending more fire straight to 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 completely useless at the moment. Janice moved to continue the massage, but Marty stopped her.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Marty said with a pointed look in Tristan’s direction.
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,” Janice said with a wince as she grabbed a tube of lotion from her bag.
“Ah, lad, I’ve seen this 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 really fucking 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 plucked the lotion from her hand.
“Hey!” Janice cried, moving to snatch it back.
“I’ll do it,” Marty said, taking him by surprise.