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Authors: R.L. Mathewson

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BOOK: Black Heart
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yumminess.

The man was a god.

Tristan couldn’t move as Marty ran hungry eyes over him. This was not happening.

Surely she wasn’t checking him out. No, she was just curious about his wound. When her

eyes fell on it a few seconds later, he was sure that was it.

“She wants ye,” Shayne whispered in his ear. “Yer totally in. Just flex a little muscle, big

guy, and she’s yers.”

Tristan just barely caught himself before he told the man to fuck off. That’s all he

needed was Marty thinking that he was crazy. That would just make his already fucked up

life perfect.

Marty cleared her throat as she tenderly ran a finger below the still healing wound. At

least she had enough sense not to touch it directly, unlike his family. It hurt like a bitch

when anything touched it and they didn’t seem to grasp that, which in his book was pretty

fucked up considering that two of them were licensed paramedics.

“Is that any better?”

“Some days are better than others. What are you doing here?” he asked, mentally kicking

his own ass at how rude he sounded, but he couldn’t help but wonder why the woman that

he’d been avoiding for years was suddenly showed up on his front step.

Marty sighed heavily. “I was just doing your mother a favor. Don’t worry, I won’t do it

again.” She turned and started to leave only to come to an abrupt halt when she saw Beth

and Tom pull to a stop in front of the house in Tom’s truck. Tom rolled down the window

so that Beth could lean over and yell.

“I’m sorry, Marty. I have to make a run to the college to collect some….things. You

know how much Tom hates for me to go there at night alone so he’s going to take me and

then we’re going out for a while. We’d thought it would be fun. Oh, and Denny is leaving,

too.”

Marty opened her mouth to ask for a ride into town, but was cut off by Beth. “Also, I

just spoke with Hank. Your Dad isn’t going to be home until well after three in the

morning. I’m not sure when we’re going to be home, probably really late.” She looked past

Marty to Tristan.

“Sweetie, you don’t mind if Marty hangs out with you, do you?” Before Tristan could

respond, his mother smiled brightly and continued. “Actually, since we’re all going to be out

so late you might want to make up a room for her and let her stay with you. I know you

wouldn’t turn the poor thing out and make her wait on her father’s front step all night.” If

possible, she smiled even wider. “Great, I’m glad that’s all taken care of. Love you!” she

yelled as she sat back and effectively ended the conversation, not that there had been much

of one.

Tom closed the window while he mouthed what Marty and Tristan thought was “Sorry.”

They stood there shocked while his parents drove away. Denny was close behind them in

his SUV. He paused only long enough to shake with uncontrollable laughter and confirm

their suspicions that they’d just been screwed over.

Marty pressed her palms against her eyes. “This cannot be happening.”

“What the hell was all that about?” Tristan asked as his eyes dropped to Marty’s, in his

opinion, perfectly rounded ass. He managed to look up, appearing innocent by the time

Marty turned around.

“I have a bad feeling that your mother,” she paused, swallowing hard, “is playing

matchmaker.”

Tristan cursed as Shayne burst out laughing. “Oh, it took her long enough, didn’t it? I

swear she’s the last one to notice.” He looked at Marty. “Well, maybe not the last.”

“Stop it,” Tristan snapped.

Marty looked startled. “I’m..I’ll…You know what? I’m sure if I put my mind to it I can

figure out how to pick a lock.” She gestured to the basket. “Bon appetite and have a nice

life,” she said, turning back around and walking away.

“Wait!” Tristan found himself saying, surprising the hell out of himself. “I wasn’t talking

to you. I was…I was…just bitching about my wound. It’s itching like crazy.”

She paused, looking over her shoulder at him with a slight frown. “Oh.”

He stepped back away from the door and gestured for her to enter. “Come on in. I’ll give

you the tour and show you where you can sleep.”

She rocked back on her heels as she considered it. “I don’t want to intrude, Tristan. I

know how much you like to be alone.”

He scowled at that. “What do you mean?”

She just shook her head and shrugged as she said, “Nothing.”

“Are you coming in or not?” he snapped out of irritation, because for the first time in

years he had no idea how to handle her.

She smiled sweetly at him. “When you put it that way, how can a girl resist? Oh, wait,

probably like this,” she said, brightly, sending him a withering glare as she continued on to

her father’s house.

“Yer ma’s gonna kick yer ass for this one, lad,” Shayne said as Tristan threw one last

look of longing in Marty’s direction before he reluctantly closed the door.

Frustrated, Tristan rammed a hand through his hair. “I could care less,” he ground out as

he took the basket into the kitchen and angrily put the food away. Any appetite he’d had

was gone with having to watch her walk away, taking another chunk of his heart with her.

-
-
-

“What an asshole,” Marty muttered to herself as she carefully climbed up the trellis

located next to her bedroom window. For the first time in years she was happy about the

blinding security lights her father attached to the house since they made it possible to see

what she was doing, as long as she squinted that is. Progress was slowed considerably as she

was forced to constantly stop to detangle her clothes from thorns and splinters. Sadly, she

was only five feet from the ground when the sky opened up and poured down on her.

Within seconds she was completely drenched and the trellis turned into a slippery

challenge. She used her arm to push away the wet hair out of her face as she cursed Tristan

under her breath. The jerk. Like she really wanted to spend the night alone with him.

Puhlease. She wouldn’t go somewhere that she wasn’t wanted and he clearly wanted

nothing to do with her.

In a matter of minutes she managed to climb to her window. She carefully twined her left

arm in the trellis so that she could reach out with her other hand and try to open her

window.

“Almost…almost…,” she mumbled to herself. A few seconds later, she discovered,

unhappily, that her window was locked. Grumbling several words that would make even her

father blush, she climbed down the slippery trellis. Halfway down her grip slipped. She fell

the three feet to the ground, somehow landing on her backside in the wrecked flower

garden, which now mostly consisted of watery mud.

“Goddamnit!” she yelled with her hands raised to the sky in frustration.

For the next two minutes, she struggled to climb out of the muddy mess. Every time she

managed to pull a limb out it was met with a loud suction noise and then a large splatter as

she slipped and landed back in the mud until she was completely covered from head to toe.

Oh, her day officially sucked ass.

Finally, and with one less shoe, she managed to trudge through the large pools of water

taking up residence on the front lawn and made it to the safety of the front porch where she

huddled next to the front door. She turned her back to the wind and rain. She pulled her

phone out and sighed with relief. At least some things were looking up. Her phone had

somehow survived the mud bath.

She took a minute to figure out who she should call. Her father was definitely out of the

question, at least for the moment. She didn’t want to ask him to come home to let her in

since he was handling a double shift. Beth and Tom were definitely out. They would only

come back so that Beth could find another way to stick her with Tristan.

With her luck, Beth would lock them up in her shed out back until they promised her

marriage and grandchildren. Her friends were probably out as well. Half of them were at

work at the moment and wouldn’t be able to leave. The other half were either studying or

with their boyfriends. Unfortunately, that half didn’t own a car or would willingly cut into

their time with their boyfriends to help her out. They kind of sucked.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she cursed herself out for losing the spare key a year

ago. Why she hadn’t replaced it before it came to this, she didn’t know. Oh wait, yes she

did, because she was an idiot. Within minutes she was shivering. She looked wistfully across

the street. Damn Beth and her matchmaking ways. If not for that, she could be happily on

the couch across the street, fighting with Denny over the last slice of cake. Instead she was

going to freeze her ass off out here.

She glared in the direction of Tristan’s house. There was no way in hell that she was

going back there begging to be allowed inside his house. She’d rather die out here and be

found in the morning as a giant mud popsicle than beg
him
for anything. He wasn’t that

kind boy from her childhood that she remembered. He was the cold bastard everyone

accused him of being. Screw him. She wanted nothing from him.

Nothing.

-
-
-

“It’s pouring out there, lad,” Shayne said for the tenth time.

“Uh huh,” Tristan responded absently as he fought through a pack of demons to get to

the next level.

“She’s probably freezing her wee ass off,” Shayne added.

“Probably,” Tristan agreed with a smirk.

“Maybe,” Shayne cleared his throat nervously, “Maybe ye should go out there and ask

her to come back here.”

Tristan chuckled. “Like hell I will. She wanted to go and play burglar. I’m not about to

go beg her to come here. If she wants to freeze her ass off, that’s her business.”

“That’s cold, lad,” Shayne said, sounding shocked and a little disappointed. Tristan

didn’t know why. Shayne knew that he was a cold bastard after all. Hell, everyone knew it.

Still…..

“Hey, I invited her in. She’s the one who decided my invitation was lacking and hauled

ass out of here,” he said defensively.

“I know, but still……”

“Still, what?”

Shayne shrugged, “It’s Marty, lad.”

He closed his eyes and groaned. Leave it up to Shayne to get to the heart of the matter.

Marty was out there alone, cold, and wet and could be hurt. Even after all these years the

thought of her less than happy was enough to piss him off and get him off his ass.

Tristan paused the game and tossed the controller on the couch. “Don’t fuck with my

character or I’ll put child blockers on the internet and put a halt to your free porn,” he

warned.

Shayne flipped him off and mumbled a promise to sign Tristan up on every gay hookup

site he could find if he came between him and his porn. Knowing that it wasn’t an idle

threat, Tristan kept his mouth shut and walked to the door. He wasn’t sure how he was

going to get Marty here, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to beg. If he had to throw her over

his shoulder and carry her spoiled ass back here he would.

He grabbed his keys, a small black plastic box and slipped it into his back pocket, and

headed out, not bothering with a shirt since it would just get wet anyway. Within seconds of

walking outside he was completely soaked.

A minute later he was strolling up the short driveway towards an equally soaked and

muddy Marty. She was sitting on the front stoop, shivering and looking seriously pissed.

“Couldn’t get in?” he stupidly asked.

She shrugged. “Yes, I could, but it’s so much nicer out here, don’t you think?”

He sighed heavily, wondering why he’d left his warm house for this shit. “Listen, I came

to invite you back to my house.”

“No, thank you,” she bit out through clenched teeth.

That brought him up short. “You’d rather stay out here and freeze than come to my

house?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” he asked, unable to hide his confusion.

She pushed her wet hair out of her face and shook her head. “Just go away, Tristan. I

don't want anything to do with you.”

Instead of doing what she’d asked, he ground his teeth and stepped past her. He pulled

the small black box from his back pocket and kneeled in front of the door. In less than a

minute, he had the front door unlocked and opened.

“How did you do that?”

He completely ignored her as he walked off. Her words hurt more than anything. He

wasn’t about to hang around and let her know just how much.

Chapter
6

“So, what exactly are my duties?” Marty asked her father for the hundredth time as they

BOOK: Black Heart
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