Black Heart (22 page)

"No," Tristan said evenly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"Hmm," her father made the noncommittal sound as he studied Tristan. "Perhaps we

should ask Marty what she thinks. If I'm wrong and she agrees with you, then I'll take away

the requirement."

Almost immediately she had two sets of eyes focused on her, one looking amused while

the other was glaring a silent warning. Well, this was interesting. Why exactly did her father

think that he needed more therapy, correction, group therapy? More importantly, why he

thought that she was qualified to voice an opinion on the matter was beyond her. Her focus

wasn't on clinical psychology, but on criminal and for all his faults Tristan was not a

criminal.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Your answer won’t affect your job one way or the other," her

father promised, but the look in Tristan's angry emerald eyes told a completely different

story. If she agreed with her father, Tristan would make her life a living hell.

Perhaps she should tactfully excuse herself from this one. Working with him was hard

enough. She didn't want to make things worse. She needed this job and Tristan lived for the

job. Maybe it would be best if-

"Do you think that Tristan has an anger management problem?" her father asked, leaving

her speechless.

Did she think that Tristan had an anger management problem? For a moment she

actually considered having her father committed for asking something that would be crystal

clear to a blind man. The man had a short fuse and a temper that would scare the devil.

Then again, it really wasn't her place and she shouldn't get involved. She opened her

mouth to explain exactly that when she caught Tristan's eyes and watched as he mouthed

the words, "Don't even think about it."

So, of course she did what she thought was right.

"Why yes, yes, I believe that he does have a bit of an anger problem," she said sweetly as

she did her best to appear innocent.

Her father smiled triumphantly as Tristan let out a very low, but sexy growl that

promised all sorts of revenge, but she didn't care. This opportunity to put Tristan in his

place was just too good to pass up. Right now he could make her life a living hell and it

would be well worth it.

"There you have it. I suggest that you get started on your sessions. There's a time limit on

this and luckily enough for you there's a meeting tonight," her father said as he handed her a

piece of paper.

She took it, frowning. "What's this?" she asked, looking down at the paper, noting the

letterhead from the community center with a list of times and room numbers.

"That would be the schedule for his group meetings. Your new job is to drive him there

at least once a day for the next two weeks," he said in a tone that she knew better than to

argue with.

Still.....

"How exactly do you suggest I go about forcing someone into a car who has at least six

inches and a hundred pounds on me?" she asked, genuinely curious. Was he going to let her

carry a stun gun or something? Otherwise she really didn't see this little plan of his working.

"He'll go," her father said with a shrug as he stood up.

"Or what?" Tristan asked evenly as he too got to his feet. She couldn't help but wonder

the same thing as she stood up and moved to leave.

"Or else you’ll go back on full medical until you complete all of your therapy sessions,"

her father said before looking at her.

"Do you want to speak with me?" she asked, glad that she sounded so damn casual about

the whole thing. She'd never been comfortable talking to her dad about boys, never mind

sex.

Then again, her father had been just as nervous as her if not more so during their little

chat about the birds and the bees. It hadn’t mattered how uncomfortable the whole thing

made him, he’d always taken his responsibility to talk with her about sex seriously. Granted,

she couldn't remember one single conversation about sex that hadn’t ended with him

hyperventilating and needing a few aspirin or a six-pack of beer. When it came time for the

woman talk though he’d pushed that responsibility off onto Beth after the rather frightening

hour and a half of questions she’d thrown at him. He'd tried to answer every single one of

them as best as he could, but even she could tell at nine years old that he’d been in over his

head.

"Only if you feel there's something you want to talk to me about," Hank said as he

looked pointedly at Tristan.

Was there? She followed her father's gaze and wasn't too surprised to find Tristan

watching her. If they hadn't screwed each other over, she might have said maybe, but the

man clearly didn’t want to be with her and she'd have to be a moron to keep missing the

signs.

"No, there's nothing to talk about," she said as she turned to leave, wishing that wasn't

the case. She also wished that she wasn't in love with a man who haunted her dreams and

couldn’t care less about her.

Chapter
17

"Wow, what a bitch," the blonde airhead, as he now thought of her, said as Marty

stormed past him and snatched the keys out of his hand.

She hit the button on the keychain to unlock the car and climbed in, but not before

throwing him a look that dared him to bitch about her driving. He bit his tongue as he

walked around the car and made his way to the passenger side. Unfortunately, he was

forced to walk through the two dead, annoying women and received a shock of cold dread

that surged through his body and into his bones before it abruptly disappeared.

He hated that feeling. It was pure terror, crawling down his spine and he'd always

despised it, especially when he’d been a child. When he was a toddler, he would cry

inconsolably for hours after the unpleasant experience while his birth parents were left

frustrated and clueless on how to calm him down. It hadn’t helped matters that they'd barely

been out of high school when they’d had him. Their story was typical, but the results

weren't.

They weren't ready to handle a kid, never mind a kid like him. He couldn't imagine

dealing with a young child who cried for hours on end, would freak out over everything,

flip out if he went anywhere near cemeteries, nursing homes, or hospitals. If that wasn't bad

enough, he was constantly getting hurt. Living with him must have been stressful and he

couldn't say that he blamed his parents for what they’d done.

"Hey, shouldn't you be helping us?" the brunette demanded as she tried to climb in the

car only to discover that her foot went right through the floor.

"What the hell?" the blond gasped.

He of course sighed with satisfaction as he got comfortable in his seat. Driving provided

him with a much needed break. It was the reason why he’d always loved going for long

drives. It was the one place where he could find some peace. The only spirit that could

accompany him was Shayne, but then again, the man wasn't really a spirit.

"I need to make a quick stop before we go deal with your anger issues," Marty said

distractedly as she pulled out of the parking lot.

"I don't have anger issues," Tristan bit out tightly.

"Uh huh, then what would you call it?" she asked, shooting him a curious look before

she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the busy street.

He pursed his lips up in thought before he said, "Expressing my displeasure with

everything and everyone in an efficient manner."

"By scaring the living hell out of everyone?" she asked in disbelief.

"It is the most efficient way," he mused, chuckling when she rolled her eyes, but he didn't

miss the little smile that she tried to hide as she looked away.

"Where are we going?" he asked, wondering if this bullshit Hank threw at them at the last

minute had ruined her plans for the night. It actually made him feel kind of bad, until he

wondered if she had a date planned for tonight. Then he didn't feel so bad about wrecking

her plans. She shouldn't be seeing any other guys when she was—

She wasn't his and she never would be, he reminded himself. The reminder that she

would never be his made his chest ache. Was he really supposed to live without this

woman? he wondered as he studied her. She was beautiful, smart, funny as hell, and made

him happy.

Could he really live without her?

Allowing her into his life would be a risk, a risk that he wasn't sure he was ready for, but

if he didn't risk everything he would lose her. Having her in his life would mean being more

careful and never allowing his guard down when she was around. What if she moved in or

they got married? He'd have to be careful twenty-four seven about what he said or how he

acted so that she didn't catch him talking to Shayne or any spirit that decided to track his ass

down.

Granted, it would be a lot of work, but he'd done it before when he’d lived with his

family. It had been stressful to keep up the pretense of being normal for his family and, as

much as he loved them, it had been a huge weight off his shoulders when he finally moved

out on his own and could let his guard down. Could he do it again for Marty?

Yes, he could, he suddenly realized. For her, he would do anything. It would be a lot of

work and he wouldn't be allowed to fully relax when she was around, but it would be worth

it. If he could have Marty in his life and not have to watch as some other asshole took his

place, he would gladly do whatever it took. He'd work his ass off for the rest of his life to

make her happy if she gave him the chance.

"Why are you smiling?" Marty asked as she parked the car.

He couldn't help but smile. Up until this point he'd never allowed himself to hope for

anything more with her. Even this weekend when things had gotten out of control, he hadn't

truly allowed himself to think that he could have her. He'd always feared that he'd somehow

give himself away, but as long as he was careful, really fucking careful, he should be able to

pull this off. He'd do anything so that he didn't have to live without her. He wanted to take

her into his arms and kiss her and hold her as he told her how much he loved her, how he'd

always loved her, but now wasn't the time.

She was angry at him and probably for good reason. He may have been an asshole over

the past couple of weeks. There would probably be groveling involved when he convinced

her to give him a chance and he didn't want to do that in a-

"What are we doing here?" he asked, looking around the parking lot only to discover to

his horror that they were at a mini mall.

Marty sighed heavily as she grabbed her small black purse and opened her door. "I'm

starving and you're buying me dinner."

He looked at his watch and shrugged. They had a good forty-five minutes before he had

to go to the meeting and convince the therapist that it would be in his best interest to sign

off on his sheet and pretend that he met the new requirements. Hopefully it would only take

ten minutes out of his night so that he could focus on Marty, because no matter what, she

would be his before this night was over.

"What are you in the mood for?" he asked as he joined her in front of his car. Before she

could drop his keys in her purse, he deftly snatched them and pocketed them, pointedly

ignoring her adorable murderous glare. She really was rather pretty when she was

contemplating manslaughter, he mused as he took her hand into his and led her over to

Jason's BBQ Shack
without waiting for an answer.

Not that he really needed one. Marty loved BBQ, always had and probably always

would. When they were kids she'd show up at his house within five minutes of the grill

being started, ready to dig in. It hadn’t mattered if she’d already eaten, was grounded,

playing, or was in the middle of eating with her father, if Marty smelled BBQ she came

running. He secretly suspected that his parents made sure to fire up the grill several times a

week during good weather just to give Marty and her father an excuse to come over and

enjoy a home cooked meal with them.

Hank was a great father and a hell of a man, but he sucked at cooking so he left that

particular chore on Marty's shoulders when she was barely big enough to reach the cabinets

without that aid of a chair. Of course, his mother sent over casseroles and invited them over

for practically every meal, but Hank was a stubborn man and hated charity. He'd accept a

few meals a week to give Marty a break and because honestly, her cooking skills had been

severely limited when she’d first started out. Still, the man was determined to make a real