Oh….crap. Perhaps she’d went just a tad too far with the “mama’s boy” comment judging by the homicidal glare he was sending her. She opened her mouth to backtrack when he leaned in, placing his mouth next to her ear.
“Better get a change of panties and a box of tissues, sweetheart, because you’ll be leaving here in the same fashion as your predecessor,” he whispered harshly in her ear, sending a tremor throughout her body that had nothing to do with fear.
Chapter 7
You can do this, she repeated in her head as she walked through the station on Monday morning. Her arms were filled with boxes of pastries and donuts, making walking through the pit difficult. She’d picked them up on a whim on her way into work. She thought it would be a nice gesture on her first day, but she was also nervous, very nervous and when she was nervous, she ate. Usually when she got this nervous she snacked away on her favorite fruit, but she ran out of apples over the weekend and hadn’t had a chance to go to the market to get more. She really should have bought more. The idea of working with Tristan was enough to give her an aneurism.
She really hoped that he'd calmed down by now. When he’d stormed out of the office yesterday after their little spat, she had a feeling that she’d just stepped into hell. Unfortunately that feeling only increased overnight. Now she was on the verge of hyperventilating. Maybe an apple fritter would calm him down? She could only hope. If they did she was running out and buying ten dozen for him. She’d do anything to keep that side of Tristan hidden from her.
For years she’d heard people bitch and whine about him. Never once had she truly believed any of it. It was just gossip, she'd thought. That is until the past couple of run-ins she’d had with him changed her mind. Now she had to wonder how he’d managed to keep that side of him hidden from her all those years ago. The man truly was the biggest prick that everyone claimed him to be and she was stuck with him.
Just great.
“Good morning, Marty!” Rosemary, her father’s secretary, said cheerfully as Marty entered the pit. She didn’t know much about the woman other than she was a busybody. The older woman came around her desk and walked towards her.
“Oh, aren’t you a sweetheart! Here let me give you a hand with all of that,” she said. Her “hand” was gesturing Marty towards the break room and standing back while Marty struggled to place the boxes down without dropping any of them.
Marty stepped back as the woman began searching through the bags. “Oh, the boys will love you for this!” she said as she helped herself to several pastries.
“I’m glad. Um, listen is Detective Black in yet?” she asked, trying not to sound nervous, but failing miserably.
Rosemary tsked around a mouthful of bear claw. “I still cannot believe that your father did that to you. I told him that he should keep Detective Black on medical leave and give the rest of us a break, but would he listen? No,” she said, sounding absolutely disgusted as she shoved another bite of pastry in her mouth.
“And now you’re stuck with him, you poor thing,” she said, shooting Marty a look of pity before she turned her attention back to the pastry boxes. “I think your father should at least assign a uniformed officer to drive him around. There’s really no need for you to be stuck with him all the time. Not when you have so much to do.”
“I don’t mind,” Marty responded, wondering again what exactly she was supposed to do. She had a vague idea, but she’d feel more comfortable knowing exactly what was expected of her. “Did my father leave instructions for me?” she asked, knowing that her father wouldn’t be around today or tomorrow to show her. He was going to be stuck in conferences for the next couple of days up in Manchester.
Rosemary studied her for a moment. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Well, not all the details,” she admitted with a shrug.
“Hmmmmm.” Rosemary looked back towards the door and then at her. “Well, I believe you’re taking your turn to watch over the administrative phones while the secretaries take their lunch. You also need to log in some reports that came in over the weekend into the computer. It’s really not that bad. That is, when you’re not with Detective Black,” the woman explained as she smiled sweetly at Marty.
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Marty agreed.
Rosemary’s smile brightened considerably. “Good, um, your turn to watch over the phones is at eleven-thirty and goes to…I believe one.”
“Okay,” Marty agreed, not afraid of a little work even if it was boring.
“I’m so excited that you’re here with us, Marty!”
“I just bet you are,” Tristan drawled from the doorway.
Rosemary’s smile disappeared and was soon replaced by a scowl. “Good morning, Detective Black,” Rosemary said tightly.
Tristan ignored her. He had only eyes for Marty. “Are you ready or do you need a nap before we get to work?”
“I’m ready,” Marty said evenly.
“Good, we have a call,” he said before he turned around and walked away, obviously expecting her to follow.
She was sorely tempted to make him wait, but she couldn’t do that. Technically he was her superior. Damn it. So, she found herself throwing one last look of longing at the pastries, knowing that she would be forced to skip breakfast since there was no way that she could drive and eat at the same. Well, there was, but Tristan made her nervous enough.
*-*-*-*
“I’m supposed to be driving,” Marty said through clenched teeth as Tristan cut through traffic with the emergency lights flaring and sirens blaring. “And we’re not supposed to be responding to any calls,” she said, holding onto the sides of her seat with a death grip.
“Uh huh, that’s nice,” Tristan said absently. Obviously he wasn’t going to listen to her father. She wondered not for the first time, if her time with him was going to be pointless.
“Detective Black, what’s your ETA?” the dispatcher asked over the radio.
He shut down the lights and siren as he pulled into what appeared to be a quiet middleclass neighborhood. “I’m less than a minute out. Do you still have the boy on the line?” he asked into the CB radio handset.
“Yes, he said he’s hiding in his sister’s room, in the closet. He also said that he doesn’t think that he can keep the baby quiet any longer and they’re getting closer to his location. He also reports that his older sister stopped screaming a minute ago.”
“Tell him to stay where he is. I’m coming in.”
“Received, Detective Black. I also have two patrol cars heading to your location.”
“Received,” Tristan said as he pulled over and parked the car.
Marty shifted nervously in her seat as she watched him pull on a bulletproof vest and grab a shotgun.
“W-what do you want me to do?” she asked, trying to stay calm.
“Stay here and out of my way,” he said without looking at her as he climbed out of the car, staying low. He ducked as he ran towards a small one-story brick house. He gestured for curious neighbors to return to their homes. Marty watched as he carefully peeked into side windows and then the front windows.
“Detective Black, the baby is starting to cry. The little boy can hear the men running towards them now,” the dispatcher announced, making Marty even more nervous.
She watched as Tristan kicked open the front door and ducked inside the house. Her stomach clenched into tight knots as she watched him disappear. A minute later the quiet neighborhood was disturbed by a series of gunshots.
*-*-*-*
Tristan slowly walked into the house. A small noise to his right caught his attention. He looked down to find a teenage girl bound and gagged with duct tape, cowering on the floor. Never taking his eyes away from the doorways, he wound his arm around the girl's waist. Clenching his jaw tightly against the pain in his shoulder, he carried her to a small closet in the living room and quietly shut the door.
He heard several large men running along the hallway to his left and the sounds
of a baby screaming. “Where is it?” one of the men demanded.
“You said this house was supposed to be empty, asshole!”
“Hey, I didn’t know the girl was staying home sick!”
“Shut the fuck up and find that baby! I don't care if you have to throw it into the dryer, just shut it the fuck up!”
Tristan swore under his breath. Damn it, he couldn’t just sneak up on them. If they got their hands on those kids, he was screwed. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the hall and raised the shotgun at two men wearing stained handkerchiefs over the bottom half of their faces.
“Police, drop your weapons, now!” he ordered.
Both men’s eyes widened as their trembling hands automatically rose towards the ceiling.
“Put your weapons down!”
The men flinched and that’s when all hell broke out. Their fingers tightened on the triggers, releasing several shots into the ceiling. The men nervously dropped their weapons and themselves to the ground, but the guns continued to go off a few more times barely missing Tristan’s shoulder and leg. Realizing that the triggers had locked, Tristan swore as he jumped out of the way of the faulty guns all while keeping his aim on the two cowering men on the floor.
“We didn’t mean it!” the balding one screamed.
“Shut the fuck up before I put you in a dryer, you piece of shit,” Tristan said as he carefully retrieved the hair trigger weapons and cuffed the men. He found two knives and another gun on each of the men. He pulled the men into the living room where he cuffed their wrists behind their backs and their legs together, because he was in no fucking mood for any more bullshit today. After they were secured, he walked through the house, making sure there weren’t any more surprises waiting for him. Once he was certain that there weren’t, he shifted his attention to finding the children.
“Hey, buddy, it’s the police. It’s okay, you can come out now,” he said over the sounds of the screaming baby. Tristan walked into a pink room covered in boy band posters and headed straight for the double white closet doors. He set the safety on his shotgun and set it aside.
He lightly knocked on the closet door. “Hey, buddy, this is Detective Black. Are you ready to come out yet?”
“H-how do I know you’re really a police officer?”
Tristan went down on his haunches in front of the double doors. “Well, I guess you have me there. What if I show you my badge? Will that work?” he asked softly, trying not to frighten the poor kid anymore than he already was.
The baby still screamed as the boy considered it. “I guess,” was his response after a short pause.
Tristan pulled his badge off his belt and slipped it beneath the door. A few seconds later the door tentatively opened and a little boy in pajamas, who couldn’t have been older than ten years old, crawled out on his knees barely able to hold the screaming baby boy in his arms.
The boy sniffled as he struggled to stand up. Tristan reached out slowly and took the baby into his arms, not wanting to frighten the boy. The baby continued to cry, but Tristan didn’t care. He was so relieved the kids were safe and unharmed.
“I-I tried to get him to be quiet, but he’s hungry.”
“You did a great job, buddy,” Tristan said as he cradled the baby in one arm and took the little boy’s hand in the other. He gave the little boy’s hand a reassuring squeeze as they walked into the hallway.
*-*-*-*
Marty watched the house nervously as she tried to comfort the very distraught mother, who’d come home to a nightmare barely ten minutes ago. “My babies!” the woman cried. “I just left to pick up their medication! How could this happen?”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Marty said soothingly, giving the woman’s shoulder what she hoped was a comforting squeeze.
The woman shook as they watched several police officers drag two cuffed men out of the house. They appeared unharmed, which meant…..oh no, Tristan was shot. Marty forced herself not to panic. He was fine. He had to be.
“Are you okay?” the woman suddenly asked, making her realize that she was trembling as well.
Marty forced herself to smile. “Yes, I’m fine.”
Seconds later a teenage girl and a young boy ran out of the house and straight for their mother. “Mommy!” the little boy cried.
Marty dropped her arm from around the mother’s shoulders and watched with a small smile as the woman ran to her children. She covered their faces in kisses as she hugged the life out of them. After a moment, Marty’s gaze returned to the front door. She watched as several officers came and went, but there was no sign of Tristan.
“Where’s your brother?” the woman asked through sobs.
“He’s in there.” The little boy pointed towards the house as his face squished up. “He pooped! The officers are in there arguing over who has to change him.”
That startled a laugh out of the little boy’s mother. “I guess I should go in there.”
An officer standing nearby held up a hand to stop her. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m going to have to ask you to stay out here.”
“But, my baby-“
“The detective has it covered, ma’am,” the officer explained with an understanding smile.
Marty nervously licked her lips. “So, Detective Black is-“
“He’s fine, ma’am,” the officer said.
“The gunshots?” she asked, forcing herself to remain calm.
“The perps' guns went off when they surrendered. No one was hurt.” As the officer spoke, Marty felt herself relax against the squad car.
“There he is, Mommy! There’s the officer who saved us!” the little boy cried.
Marty watched as Tristan strolled out of the house with a baby in his arms. The baby was suckling a bottle while looking up at Tristan adoringly. Tristan kissed the baby on the head and rubbed his back. Marty was a little taken aback. She’d never in her life seen a man who looked more comfortable with a baby in his arms than Tristan did. He looked like he was made to be a father. It sent a weird rush through her body that she quickly squashed. This was not the time or man to have those feelings about.
“Thank you so much!” the woman said as she took the baby into her arms.
Tristan gently rubbed the baby’s head. “You’re very welcome.” He smiled down at the little boy and gently clasped his small shoulder. “Your son did a good job, ma’am. He kept the baby calm and did a great job by calling 911.”
Tristan noticed the daughter looked upset so he added, “Your daughter also kept the boys safe by not informing the men that they were in the house. That ultimately gave your son the opportunity to call for help.”
The woman put an arm around her daughter and gave her a hug. “How did they get in?”
Tristan absently rubbed his injured shoulder. “It seems they busted 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,” the woman said through tears.
Tristan ruffled the young boy’s hair again. “You’re welcome.”
“Ah, lad, yer hurt again,” Shayne said a moment after 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 too surprised that Shayne had abandoned his Gilligan's Island marathon to come to him. He could sense when Tristan needed help. For some reason they were connected, always had been.
With a forced smile, he excused himself, leaving Marty to follow after him. Without a word, he tore off his body armor. He climbed into the passenger seat and waited for Marty. After a slight pause, she climbed in and adjusted the seat by sliding it forward several inches until she could reach the pedals.
She delicately cleared her throat. “Where to?”
Chapter 8
“Detective Black, stop squirming!” Janice snapped as she mauled his shoulder. Tristan b
uried his face in his office couch and gritted his teeth.
“Gad, that looks like it hurts,” Shayne said.
“Of course it hurts! I’ve got Attila the Hun trying to give me a massage!” Tristan snapped, uncaring at the moment that he was talking to Shayne in front of Janice, the masseuse from hell, and Marty.
Janice's hands stilled. “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 as she commenced with her backrub.
He wasn’t kidding about her nails. What kind of masseuse had inch long nails with flowers painted all over them? They kept digging into his skin, sending more fire straight into 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 useless at the moment. Janice moved to continue the massage, but Marty stopped her.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she said. Janice rolled her eyes before she caught the murderous glare Tristan was sending her way. Then she stepped back and noticeably swallowed. Smart girl.
Black Heart Page 8
