Page 79 of Black Heart

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 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 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 deal with, like his wife who was upstairs and finding out why she’d fired a gun. It did a damn good job of waking him up and taking 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!” Tristan 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,” Tristan 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 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 to 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?” Tristan asked hoarsely, sure that he’d misheard him.

With a sad smile, Shayne reached over 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.

“Can I?” Tristan demanded, hating the fact that, for the first time in years, he 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.

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