Page 78 of Black Heart

“Yer already dead, ye dumb bastard!” Shayne 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 watched as 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 at him while 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’d 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 did, but he would have kept her safe. Considering everything that happened, maybe he should have done just that.

CHAPTER29

“Stay where you are,” Marty said as she struggled to keep the gun aimed at 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 this was all just a really bad dream.

“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 pretty good idea what the answer would be.

“It wouldn’t affect me at all, lass,” he said with a careless shrug.

With a sigh, Marty lowered the gun, noting that he didn’t seem to care one way or the other that the gun was no longer aimed at him, further confirming her suspicions. The man could disappear, move through walls and God only knows 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?” Marty demanded.

She still couldn’t get over the sight of him being thrown across the room and slamming into the wall like that. Tristan shouldn’t have been able to move after that, but somehow, he’d managed to crawl towards her before he’d 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,” Marty said absently with a small nod as she tried to wrap her mind around everything that 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?” Marty asked, dropping the gun on the floor 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,” Marty 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, Marty 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!”

“Take the fucking cuffs 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 all right,” 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 make sure 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!”

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