Black Heart (23 page)

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