Black Heart

by R. L. Mathewson

  She taunted him.

  He watched through narrowed slits as Marty paused her little run to throw him a wink and blow him a kiss. That was it. Her ass was about to become permanently red.

  Tristan took two menacing steps towards her before he felt a hard tug on his cuffs. Marty yelped and ran off towards the safety of her father’s house while Denny did his best to drag him back. Tristan ignored the pain in his shoulder and tried to take off running after her only to be tackled to the hard frost covered ground by his brother.

  He looked up in time to see the front door that Marty had just escaped through slam shut. Oh, she was going to pay for this shit. There was no fucking way that he was turning a blind eye to this one.

  Chapter 13

  “Are you even listening to me, Marty?”

  Marty scanned the bar one more time before she returned her attention to Melissa, who’d been crying for the past hour over her boyfriend. Well, he was probably her ex-boyfriend now that she’d caught him making out with her boss yesterday.

  “She’s not listening to any of us!” Diane cried, causing several people sitting near them to turn around and frown at them.

  Marty’s cheeks heated as she tried to duck low in her seat. How in the heck had she allowed three of her friends to convince her that this was a good idea? She didn’t want to be here. It felt kind of seedy being in a bar at noon. Granted, it was Sunday and there was a game on the flat screen, but still. Anyway, she’d been perfectly happy hiding in her room…with the door locked….and the window locked, before they’d begged her to come out.

  Happy.

  “I cannot believe it’s over! I loved him!” Angie sobbed into a small pile of crinkled cocktail napkins.

  Oh, that’s right. She came out because three of her friends got dumped, within a twenty-four hour period and they’d guilt tripped her into coming. Since they’d all been dumped they were looking to her for support. Why? She had no idea. She’d never really had a boyfriend. Granted, Tristan broke her heart and had been driving her crazy over the past couple of weeks, but that didn’t make her an expert.

  She really didn’t fit in for this girl’s night out, or rather day, and had explained that to them several times. Why they didn’t just seek each other for comfort, she didn’t know.

  For the past hour they’d been taking turns telling her what was wrong, what happened, and how wonderful their love had been. She just sat there sipping her beer, nodding every now and then, admittedly not really listening. It was the same damn drama every couple of weeks.

  “Marty, do you think I should give him another chance?”

  “Huh?”

  Diane scoffed at her. “I asked if you think that I should give Billy another chance?”

  “Who’s Billy?” she asked before she could stop herself and then foolishly added, “I thought his name was James.”

  Diane scoffed at her. “James was two weeks ago! You are so insensitive to bring him up! You know how much he meant to me!”

  Right, Marty thought. The pizza delivery guy who’d dumped her, because she’d sent too many text messages in one day, or rather in one hour. Again, who the hell was Billy?

  “It’s not really her fault,” Melissa said, giving Marty a pitying look. What the heck did she have to be pitied about?

  Angie picked up the conversation with a pained sigh. “She’s never been in love like us.”

  Now all three of them were looking at her like she was pathetic, which only irritated her.

  “First off,” she held up a finger, “I have dated, a lot. I just know when it’s just dating and nothing serious,” she said pointedly.

  “What are you saying?” Angie demanded. “I loved Eric!”

  “Uh huh, and how long did you date him?” she asked, sick of playing this game every couple of weeks. Maybe if she pissed them off, they wouldn’t invite her anymore. One could hope.

  “Three weeks! Three of the best weeks of my entire life!”

  “My point exactly. You were just dating. Nothing more. Have you guys ever thought that maybe the reason so many guys dump you is because you get too serious way too soon?” she asked.

  The three of them shared a look before scoffing. “No, we’re just very lovable. We know true love when we see it,” Melissa insisted.

  “Uh huh, have you ever found it odd that the three of you find true love on a weekly basis?”

  “Gawd, you’re so insensitive!”

  Marty just barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. This was pathetic. No, not having anything better to do than come here and listen to this nonsense was pathetic. Maybe she needed a hobby?

  “She’s just bitter because no real men want her. She goes after losers,” Melissa snapped, drawing Marty away from her musings.

  “I’m sorry. What's this now?” Marty asked, sure that she'd misheard her.

  “You know exactly what I said. You haven’t really dated. Don’t think we haven’t noticed. You only agree to go out with guys you know that you’re not interested in.”

  Marty waved a hand impatiently to get them to focus. “What’s this about no real men wanting me?”

  Instead of answering her, they all gaped at her, well, a few inches past her shoulder to the right.

  “What about me?” a familiar deep voice asked right next to her freaking ear!

  Oh no, the man she’d been avoiding since Friday night had found her. This could not be good. Not at all. She’d publically humiliated him. Actually, according to the web hits, it was more like globally humiliated him. Looked like it was her turn to become a web sensation.

  She turned her head slowly, too frightened to force this moment. She would not cry or scream or run and scream and cry for her daddy. She would not! Mostly because he wasn’t cuffed and naked this time and he would most definitely catch her. Still……

  Before she could entertain any real escape plans he was kissing her. Tristan Black was kissing her! In public! Like he had every right in the world to do it no less. She moaned against his lips and nearly whimpered when he pulled away.

  “Did you miss me, baby?”

  “Er…”

  “I just wanted to return these,” he said as he made a show of reaching into his pocket. Oh no, he wouldn’t do that would he….he did! He placed the silver handcuffs in the middle of table. It seemed like the entire bar went quiet except for the occasional gasp.

  “Next time it’s my turn,” he said with a wink before he stood up and strolled out of the bar.

  Her face burned as every pair of eyes moved between her and the cuffs. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

  Shit.

  “You slut!” her three friends said in unison. It would have been funny if she wasn’t sure that was the new consensus in the bar.

  *-*-*-*

  “Oh, lad, ye really shouldn’t have done that to her,” Shayne said from the passenger seat of his truck.

  Tristan kept his eyes locked on the front door of the bar as he drove away. If he knew Marty, and he was pretty sure that he knew her better than anyone else, she’d be storming out that door to kick his ass any minute now.

  “Ye need to go back in there and apologize, maybe tell the people in there that ye were joking,” Shayne said.

  “Not happening,” Tristan said distractedly.

  “Lad, if ye don’t fix this I…I think whatever chances ye had with the lass will be good and buried. Are ye ready to finally be rid of her forever?”

  He gave a casual shrug that he wasn’t feeling and said, “It’s going to happen sooner or later. Might as well get it over with now.” Before the words were out of his mouth, his stomach gave a violent twist at the idea of never seeing Marty again.

  She aggravated him, pissed him off, got on his last nerve, but he’d be damned if she didn’t make him smile, laugh and made him glad to be alive. Without her, his life was going to amount to absolutely nothing.

  He shifted in his seat as he pressed on the gas. “I need a dri
nk.”

  Chapter 14

  “Tristan, I have to be honest. I’m a little surprised to see you here today,” Dr. Bryne said, picking up a pen and a legal pad. He watched as Tristan added a sugar packet to his coffee and pulled out a large apple fritter from a small white pastry bag. “Well, besides having breakfast in my office that is.”

  “Didn’t we have an appointment?” Tristan asked as he took a bite out of his fritter, careful not to spill any of the apple filling on his tie or shirt.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? I could have sworn that we had a meeting first thing this morning,” Tristan said in a thoughtful tone as he added another packet of sugar to his coffee.

  Dr. Bryne narrowed his eyes on Tristan. “You know that we didn’t have a meeting. The fact that you told my eight o’clock appointment to sit down and shut up when he complained about you taking his time slot, because you said and I quote, ‘the voices in my head are taking over and it's every man for himself’ lets me know that you’re well aware that we didn’t have an appointment.”

  Tristan’s lips twitched as Dr. Bryne continued to glare at him. “Oh, come on, Doc! You know that you’re happy to see me.”

  “Tristan,” he sighed. “You’ve been skipping our appointments for the last couple of weeks even though it’s a condition for returning to work. Then out of the blue you storm in here and scare the hell out of all of my patients and secretary and you expect me to be happy about this?”

  “Yes,” Tristan simply said. “So, what do you want to talk about, Doc?” Tristan asked as he sipped his coffee. He hoped this damn meeting went as planned. He needed it to go well.

  “Well, since you’re here and all I guess we could talk about a certain video that made its way onto the internet this weekend,” Dr. Bryne said casually, too casually.

  Tristan tried not to wince at the reminder of that video. “That was nothing.”

  “Didn’t look like nothing.”

  Tristan sighed as he put down his coffee and leaned back against the leather couch. “It was just someone getting back at me for being me.”

  “Meaning?”

  He shrugged. “I’m an asshole, plain and simple.”

  “That doesn’t seem to bother you.”

  Tristan pursed his lips, thinking it over. “It’s a character flaw.”

  “I see,” Dr. Bryne said and Tristan could tell the man was struggling not to smile.

  “I’m glad that you do.”

  “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something, but since you've been skipping our sessions lately I haven’t had the chance.”

  Tristan rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I’ve been busy with the voices in my head and all. Plus those damn pink bunnies are really demanding.”

  Dr. Bryne gave him a stern look, but continued. “I wanted to ask how things were working out with Marty. I know that the two of you used be childhood friends and drifted apart for a while there. It must be nice catching up after all this time.”

  Well, that was unexpected. “It’s fine,” he answered quickly. He hadn’t come here to talk about Marty. Hell, he’d spent most of the night working and trying to forget about her. Not that it actually worked, but at least he got a lot of work done.

  “Is there something in particular that you wanted to talk about, Tristan?”

  “Well, I was wondering if you would sign off on my sheet so that I could be released from medical.”

  Dr. Bryne frowned. “From what I’ve been told, you’re already working as if you’re off medical. You’re driving, responding to calls and making arrests. Why do you suddenly care about a piece of paper?”

  “Careful, lad. He’s a tricky bastard,” Shayne said from his spot behind Dr. Bryne’s desk. Tristan’s gaze automatically shot to Shayne. Dr. Bryne followed the movement and frowned.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” Tristan said as he turned his attention back to the doctor. “Now, about that signature. You’re right. I have been working, however, as long as I have that medical restriction hanging over my head, I have to bring Marty along and that’s putting her in danger.”

  “So, don’t do anything dangerous.”

  Tristan barely stopped himself from swearing. He took a calming breath before he continued. “That’s not really a choice for me, Doc. We’re not a very large department and as a supervisor I have to respond to a lot of regular calls.”

  “I see.”

  Tristan sure as hell hoped that he did. If he could get off medical, he would only have to worry about dealing with Marty in their office. He’d stick around until she got serious with another guy. Then he’d leave and never come back. He would never chance seeing her married to another man. It would destroy him.

  “Were you able to get your doctor to sign off on your shoulder?”

  “Yes, they signed off last week.” Mostly because they wanted to make sure that they never had to see him again. The terms may have been along the lines of him never ever returning there even if he was dying. It was an easy promise to make. So what if he now had to drive two hours to the nearest medical office if he needed an exam? It was well worth it.

  “Okay, then let’s talk about the shooting. How does it make you feel now?”

  His eyes shot to Shayne in question. He had to tread carefully and with Shayne reading through his file behind the good doctor’s back he had the upper hand. He hadn’t missed Shayne's soft chuckles over the past couple of minutes either.

  Shayne’s face scrunched up in distaste. “Well, that’s…that’s just not right.”

  Tristan forced himself to remain seated and not walk over there and tear the file away from Shayne so that he could read it for himself. No doubt the man was just fucking with his head.

  “Tristan?” Dr. Bryne said, drawing his attention.

  Oh, that’s right.

  He cleared his throat pointedly. “You wanted to know how I feel about the shooting?” he asked loudly, hoping Shayne would stop laughing his ass off and give him the information that he needed.

  “He has no problem with yer outlook on the shooting, lad. He has other concerns about ye, so just answer honestly,” Shayne said without looking up from file.

  What? That wasn’t right. He was only supposed to be here about the shooting. What else could there be? He was a freaking paragon of sanity and good sense, goddammit! Okay, granted he was having a powerful spirit sneak a peek at his file, but that was neither here nor there.

  “I don’t feel much about the shooting, Doc, except regret for those boys. They’re the ones who are going to have a tough time getting their lives back to normal and accepting what happened to them. If you want to know if I feel any pity or remorse over killing that prick, the answer is no. I don’t. It was a clean kill and a necessary one,” he said, using the same tone he used when talking to the prosecutor.

  Dr. Bryne nodded solemnly as he wrote something down on the legal pad resting on his lap. Tristan shot a look at Shayne, but Shayne was already on it. He leaned over the doctor’s shoulder and chuckled.

  “He’s just writing a reminder to pick up milk, lad,” Shayne said as he returned to the desk. Almost immediately he began chuckling. Tristan’s hands clenched and unclenched. What he wouldn’t give to see that damn file.

  “So, Doc, do you think that you could sign the release?” Tristan asked, trying to get the man to focus on the task at hand.

  Dr. Bryne sighed heavily. “No, I think you could really benefit from some more therapy.”

  That was it. Tristan shot off the couch. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Dr. Bryne jumped back in his chair, almost falling over. He cleared his throat. “Hank thought you could benefit from….um….”

  “Just say it!” Tristan snapped.

  “Ah, lad….” Shayne said, trying to get his attention.

  Tristan being Tristan, he ignored him. Once his temper snapped, there was usually no hauling it in.

  “I’m s
ick of this bullshit. You and I both know that there is nothing wrong with me. I’m not losing sleep over that prick and I’m ready to go back to work. The only reason to hold me back is if you felt that I was traumatized from that shooting and we both know that I would not hesitate to pull the trigger again if it was necessary.”

  “Lad, it’s not that. It’s-“

  Tristan rammed his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have patience for this shit or the time it takes out of my schedule to come here and play touchy feely, Doc. So, do us both a favor and sign me off so that I can do my fucking job!”

  “H-Hank thought you could use some anger therapy,” Dr. Bryne stuttered.

  Well…..hell.

  He shot a glare at Shayne who was glaring right back. “Next time shut the fuck up, lad, so I can tell ye that they think ye have an anger problem, ye dumb bastard!”

  “Oh,” Tristan said, frowning. He thought it over for a minute before asking, “My temper’s not that bad, is it?”

  His question was met with twin expressions of utter disbelief.

  “It’s not,” he bit out.

  Dr. Bryne carefully got to his feet and walked over to his desk. He frowned down at Tristan’s open file. Then shook his head as if he was shaking away a thought and picked up an appointment card and wrote something on the back. He walked over to Tristan and handed him the card, careful not to get too close to him.

  “I’m not going to require you to come to anymore one on one sessions,” he said, sounding relieved, really relieved. “But, I am going to recommend that you finish five anger management group meetings. They meet twice every day. I suggest that you take advantage of this opportunity and work on your anger.”

  Tristan snatched the card away and stormed off towards the door, forgetting his coffee. “This is bullshit! I have the fucking patience of a saint!” He slammed the door behind him and faced the waiting room where several very frightened patients noticeably cowered.

  “Do I look like I have a fucking anger problem?”