Black Heart

by R. L. Mathewson

  “Ah, I think a gentle rubdown with warming lotion will take care of everything.” She grabbed a tube of lotion from her bag and approached Tristan, hesitantly.

  “Ah, lad, I’ve seen this scene hundreds of times in horror movies. This is the part where she skins ye alive and makes a dress out of it. If I were ye, I’d run,” Shayne said, sounding amused.

  Tristan threw him a glare as Janice slowly approached him. He opened his mouth to tell her where she could put those fake nails when Marty surprised him by snatching the tube of lotion away from her.

  “Hey!” Janice cried.

  “I’ll do it,” Marty surprised the hell out of him by saying.

  Janice nibbled her lip nervously as she looked from Marty to Tristan. Finally she sighed. “Fine, but someone owes me a hundred and fifty dollars for this visit.”

  At that, Tristan managed to push himself up, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and arm. Janice yelped and jumped back, grabbing her bag and headed for the door. “You know what? On second thought forget about it!”

  He was still going after her when a small warm hand pressed against his bare chest. It stunned him enough to halt his pursuit and allowed Marty to gently press him back.

  “Sit at the desk. It will make it easier for me,” she said as she squeezed some lotion in her hand.

  The idea of Marty running her hands over his body sent a very different fire through him. A thousand past fantasies raced through his head, all of them making him break out into a sweat.

  “That’s not necessary,” he finally managed to say.

  Instead of listening to him like anyone else would have done, she shook her head and gently pushed him towards his chair. Not sure what else to do, Tristan threw Shayne a pleading look.

  “Sorry, lad. I’d let her if I were ye. I’d do it myself, but I’m not yer bitch,” Shayne said with a wink.

  Tristan discreetly flipped him off, earning a chuckle. “Good luck, lad. I’m off,” Shayne said before he faded out of the office.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, so let me know if I’m being too rough, okay?” Marty said as she gently touched his shoulder.

  He groaned as she began to carefully massage his shoulder. Her hands stilled immediately. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No, it felt good,” he said, feeling like a moron.

  “Okay,” she said as she returned to massaging his shoulder.

  Tristan tried to focus on something else, anything else as her hands moved over his shoulder, back, chest and down his arm. Her hands felt so good on him. He soon found himself closing his eyes and just enjoying it.

  *-*-*-*

  Marty forced herself to relax as she ran her hands over his body. Well, not his entire body, unfortunately, but enough to fulfill several of her old schoolgirl fantasies.

  Over the years she’d given a guy or two a massage, but they hadn’t felt this good to touch. Granted, Tristan had his shirt off and those guys hadn't. She was amazed at how hard his muscles felt beneath her touch, but still smooth. It was nice. This was nice. She smiled when she realized that she was getting paid for this. Yeah, this was such a hardship running her hands over the hard muscular body of the best looking guy in town.

  Poor her.

  She couldn’t help herself as she slowed her movements down so that she could enjoy exploring his body, at least, the areas that she was allowed to touch. He was so warm and firm. She ran her hands over his biceps, smiling as his muscles quivered beneath her touch and then moved her hand over his chest and nearly moaned as his small flat nipple hardened. Was it supposed to do that?

  As she massaged his body, she took advantage of his eyes being closed to further examine his tattoo and wound. The tattoo on his chest was darker than she’d originally thought and was sexy as hell. She enjoyed running her fingers over that. Apparently he did too if his groans and moans were any indication.

  Her eyes moved to the scar on his shoulder. The one on the back was larger than the one on the front. She realized after a moment that it was the exit wound. It must have hurt. Well, of course it hurt, she thought, feeling like an idiot, he’d been shot. She skimmed her fingers over the angry pink skin and frowned at the light scratches Janice had created with her fake nails. Anger surged through her knowing that someone had added to his pain. Before she could stop herself, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder.

  *-*-*-*

  Tristan gripped the edge of the desk until he feared that his fingers would snap off when he felt her warm soft lips press against his shoulder. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his raging hormones. The last thing either one of them needed was him jumping her. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He could really go for it, but he was pretty sure that she might get upset.

  “What was that for?” he somehow managed to ask. Although truth be told he had no idea if it came out as a coherent sentence since his mind was still focused on the things that he wanted to do with her mouth.

  He felt her warm breath tickle his ear. Oh, shit……

  “For all those times you used to kiss me better. Remember?”

  He chuckled softly as his body turned to putty beneath her touch. “How could I ever forget? You were my own personal stalker.”

  She playfully slapped him on his good shoulder. “I was not a stalker!”

  “Yes, you were!” He chuckled harder as he remembered how diligent she’d been about following him everywhere. If his father hadn’t attached locks on the bathroom doors, she would have followed him in there as well.

  “Hey, I wasn’t half as bad as the girls who used to follow you around when we were in school,” she said defensively as she continued to rub his back. She felt him further relax as they reminisced about the good old days, the days where she got to spend every waking moment with him and felt whole.

  She really missed those days.

  He groaned loudly. “Don’t remind me. I still have nightmares of giggling girls with acne and braces chasing me down and trying to steal a kiss.” He gave her a mock shudder that earned a soft chuckle.

  “See,” she teased, “I wasn’t that bad. I only demanded kisses when I had a boo boo.”

  “That’s true, except for all those extra kisses that you demanded for all of your invisible injuries.”

  She sighed dramatically. “I was a sneaky one.”

  “Yes, you were,” he chuckled in agreement. She loved the sound of his laughter, absolutely adored it.

  “I still remember the last time you gave me a kiss,” she said, smiling at the memory of her first real kiss.

  “Really?” he asked, stunned that she did. He remembered the last time, but for completely different reasons.

  “Uh huh,” she said, stopping her massage to squeeze a little more lotion in her hands. Tristan’s eyes closed as he enjoyed her ministrations.

  “How could I ever forget the kiss that made my life a living hell?”

  *-*-*-*

  His eyes shot open. “What?”

  She exhaled slowly. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

  His brows creased in confusion. “Refresh my memory.” Obviously his memory wasn’t as good as he’d thought, because that kiss always brought a smile to his face whenever he thought about it.

  “Okay, let’s see. It was at the high school bonfire after the dance. You were a senior and I was nothing but a lowly freshman. To my shock and your date’s horror, you gave me a ride to the dance and even danced with me a few times,” she said absently as she rubbed his back and chest.

  Tristan’s hands clenched tightly on the desk. It was the first and only school dance that he’d ever attended and it had nothing to do with his date, whoever the hell it had been. He went for one reason and one reason only. He wanted to dance with Marty. More to the point, he wanted to hold her in his arms. He remembered ignoring his date. She’d been bitchy, but that’s all he remembered about her.

  “After the dance, the three of us walked to the bonfire where your date, Karen Manor, a
junior, bitched and threw a few hissy fits, because she wanted you to send me away.”

  “And I didn’t,” he said softly, because that night he’d decided to test the waters to see if he could handle more with Marty and handle giving in to what he felt for her. Unfortunately for his date, she’d just been a decoy, an excuse to attend the dance and spend time with Marty without any pressure or her father killing him.

  “No,” she sighed, “You were always so sweet and protective of me. You said you weren’t going to leave me to fend for myself around a bunch of drunk jocks.”

  He nodded. That was part of the reason. Even at fifteen she’d been stunning. He hadn't been the only one to notice how beautiful she was. But the real reason had been quite simple. After spending three hours holding Marty in his arms and dancing to horrible music, he’d decided that he was going to give in to the overwhelming need to finally make her his.

  “So, there we were. The two of us sipping sodas and hanging out near the fire. Karen was with Matt Cabal a few feet away trying to make you jealous.” He didn’t remember anything about that moment other than sitting with Marty and using the cool night air as an excuse to wrap his arm around her.

  “Anyway, some genius decided to throw a beer bottle into the fire. It shattered against one of the logs and a small sliver of glass slashed my cheek.”

  Tristan carefully pushed back in his chair and stood up, moving away from her. He didn’t want to be near her when she finished the story. There was no doubt in his mind that she would be able to feel the tremors shooting through his body at the mere memory of what happened next.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, frowning.

  “Yeah.” He pulled on his shirt and tie. After a small pause she continued.

  “Anyway, after you punched the boy for hurting me, even though it was an accident, you walked back to me and pressed a kiss to the cut…and missed, kissing me full on the mouth. It sent your date into hysterics and for the next year and a half her little friends and she went out of their way to torment me.”

  He hadn’t missed. Not even by a millimeter. He’d meant to kiss her. If she hadn’t stepped back, stunned, he would have continued that one perfect kiss. He remembered that he was about to pull her back into his arms when the spirit of a child walked up to him, reminding him of why it could never be. It was that night when he’d decided that he had to do the right thing by her and push her away. It was also the night the weird dreams started.

  Not that he could really call them dreams. They were more like flickers of scenes that played through his head while he slept. They were never long enough for him to get a good picture of what was happening, but he sensed that they were about her, about them. Although they happened infrequently, they were still enough to wake him up in the middle of the night, sweating and panting. Every time he woke up feeling heartache so deep that he actually thought he’d die, wished for it actually. He’d do anything to avoid experiencing that type of soul crushing pain.

  Whenever he experienced one of those flickers of a dream, he had to fight the urge to leap out of bed and go to her. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her until the pain stopped, but he couldn’t. He was a freak and she deserved so much better than him. He’d realized that years ago when he’d pushed her away for her own good.

  Same as now.

  With feigned arrogance, he shrugged. “Sorry about that, but I guess some things never change.” When she looked up from wiping her hands clean with a paper towel, looking confused, he continued. “Your dad’s still making me let you tag along,” he said, knowing that it would hurt her enough to push her away. It was a lie and it killed him to say it. Not once in their childhood had anyone forced him to let her tag along or made him be nice to her. They’d never needed to do that. Even back then she’d been special to him.

  He watched with an emotionless expression as his words had the desired effect. Her eyes teared up as she stared back at him. Still, he made no moves to correct the lie or comfort her even though it was tearing him apart inside.

  “You’re lying,” she said evenly. “No one ever made you be nice to me.”

  He simply shrugged as he adjusted the gun in his side holster.

  “You really are an asshole, aren’t you?”

  He met her eyes and answered without any hesitation, “Yes.”

  Chapter 9

  Tristan chanced glances up at Marty every now and then while they worked. As far as he could tell she hadn’t looked up at all. He’d finally managed to push her away for good. No wonder he felt like shit. That and his shoulder was fucking killing him. He had a pretty good idea that he’d torn something this morning, but at the moment he really didn’t care.

  A knock sounded at the door. “What?” he snapped.

  Rosemary walked into the office, carefully staying away from Tristan’s side of the room. She looked at Marty expectantly as she set a huge bouquet of baby pink roses in front of her.

  “What are these?” Marty asked as she reached for the card.

  “I don’t know. There wasn’t a name inside the card. It was just addressed to you and said congratulations on your new job.”

  Marty’s hand stilled on the card.

  “You read her card?” Tristan asked, his tone thoughtful and cool. It was the tone that everyone around here knew meant that he was pissed, really pissed.

  Rosemary licked her lips nervously. “I had to find out who they were for,” she explained, trying to act innocent, but he wasn’t buying it.

  “Well, I’m guessing that the person delivering them could have told you who they belonged to or the fact that her name’s on the envelope should have been a clue.”

  “Oh,” Rosemary said with a nervous chuckle. “I didn’t realize that.”

  “Uh huh,” Tristan said, not believing one word of bullshit coming out of her mouth. She was one of the biggest gossips and troublemakers in the office and if she’d had her way, he would have been fired a long time ago.

  “It’s okay,” Marty said with a forced smile.

  “No, it’s not.”

  “It’s fine. Really,” Marty said tightly, shooting him a look that clearly told him to let it go.

  Tristan rolled his eyes before looking back at Rosemary. “Anything else?”

  “It’s eleven-thirty,” she said, looking at Marty as if that was supposed to mean something.

  “And….” Tristan prompted.

  She looked imploringly at Marty as she shifted anxiously, obviously expecting Marty to somehow save her.

  Marty looked up from her work and sent the woman an apologetic smile. Then she looked back at the clock and sighed. “I guess it’s my turn.”

  “Um, yes,” Rosemary said, nervously licking her lips.

  “Turn for what?” Tristan demanded.

  “Nothing much,” Rosemary answered quickly, too quickly.

  Marty began gathering her things. “To cover the phones and finish the paperwork from this weekend.”

  Rosemary’s face turned bright red as she tried to back out of the room, but Tristan held up a hand to stop her. “Whoa, what’s this?”

  “It’s nothing. It’s just the things that Hank wanted her to do,” Rosemary hastily explained.

  Tristan gestured to the computer. “She’s already doing what Hank wanted her to do.”

  Rosemary cleared her throat and made one last attempt to save her ass. “He thought that she could help out with daily reports.”

  “Bullshit,” Tristan snapped.

  Marty’s brows arched up in surprise. “Tristan, what is your problem?”

  He ignored her as he continued to glare at Rosemary. “Get the hell out of my office.”

  The woman just about tripped over her own two feet trying to flee the room while Marty glared at him. “You didn’t have to be so mean to her. What is your problem?”

  “Nothing except for the fact that she was trying to unload her workload on you. Daily reports are her job.”

  “What abou
t the phone?” Marty asked, nibbling on her bottom lip.

  He shrugged. “It goes to voicemail for a half hour during her lunch break if no one else answers it. It’s not the emergency line, Marty. She just didn’t want to have to deal with returning phone calls when she got back from lunch.”

  Marty looked at the door where Rosemary had just exited and frowned. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh. You have to be careful. While you’re here in this weird little position you’re going to have her and a few others trying to unload their work on you. She tries to do it to all the new secretaries. Just check with me before you agree to do anything and you’ll be fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  He pushed away from the desk and stood up. “Don’t thank me. I’m just covering my own ass.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” she mumbled to herself.

  His jaw clenched as realization hit him. The one person who used to trust and like him now hated him along with everyone else. He was now truly alone in this world. There would never be another person that he could be himself around or feel free with. He had his family. They loved him and he loved them, but they would never, could never, handle the real him. The one person who came close now hated him. Their easy going friendship was good and dead, because he’d killed it.

  Even though their friendship had ended years ago, his heart felt like it was being squeezed in his chest. Why the hell did doing the right thing have to hurt so damn much? It was the right thing to do. He was sure of it. He knew his future. For the rest of his life he would be sought out by restless spirits. That wasn’t something that he wanted to have to endure on top of acting oblivious to it in private. He needed his alone time at home to deal with it. No woman, especially Marty, could ever be part of his life.

  He walked over to the window and leaned against the wall, staring out into the bright afternoon. For several minutes he watched the playground across the street as the elementary school children had their morning recess. It was one of his favorite times of the day. It always made him feel better to watch them. Their carefree smiling faces always did that for him, but not today. He looked over his shoulder to see Marty working at her computer.