Black Heart

by R. L. Mathewson

  "Why?" she asked, wondering if he truly knew his mother at all. If Beth was determined to come over here, then she was damn well going to-

  "They'll be busy for a while helping Denny," Tristan said offhandedly as he pulled his underwear down and raised the temperature of the room by a good ten degrees.

  "What happened to Denny?" she somehow managed to ask as her eyes ate up every last inch of him. The man truly was magnificent. She wanted to run her hands over his muscles, kiss his scars better and trace his tattoos with her tongue.

  "A freak accident," Tristan said, sounding unconcerned as he grabbed his beer and walked over to the bathtub. With a smile, he took a sip of his beer as he gestured lazily for her to move forward.

  "Is he okay?" she asked, worrying her bottom lip as she moved forward, noticing for the first time that the water was barely lukewarm. Just how long had she dozed off for? she wondered when Tristan climbed in behind her and hissed as he sat down.

  "I guess I was gone longer than I thought," Tristan said as he wrapped an arm around her waist and gently pulled her back against him.

  "You were gone?" she asked, carefully setting her beer on the side of the tub.

  "Mmmhmm," he said, taking a sip of his beer as she enjoyed the feel of him against her back. She could lay in his arms forever.

  "Did they call you to help Denny?" she asked, placing her arms over his where it rested across her stomach.

  He chuckled as he pressed as a kiss against her neck. "No, his unfortunate accident happened while I was over there getting something out of my old room," he explained.

  "You left to get something out of your old room?" she asked, hoping that she didn't sound as hurt as she felt.

  "I only left to get something for you, baby. I would have been quicker, but Denny saw me sneak inside the house and decided to try and sell my ass down the river to distract Mom."

  As curious as she was about what he had for her, she was even more curious about Denny. "Tristan?"

  "Hmm?" he asked, placing his beer on the side of the tub next to hers before reaching down for his pants.

  "What happened to Denny?"

  "Nothing important," Tristan murmured as he searched around for something. "He just suddenly found himself tied up."

  "Tied up?" she asked, feeling her lips twitch as she leaned her head back and to the side so that she could look up at him.

  "Well, maybe handcuffed and hanging out the window would be a better description," he said, planting a quick kiss against her lips before shifting to look over the side of the tub to see what he was doing.

  She laughed as she turned in his arms so that she could lay her head against his chest, careful of his shoulder. "Please tell me that you didn't really do that to poor Denny."

  "Had to," he mumbled as he continued his search.

  "And why is that?"

  "Because," he said, turning his attention back to her as he picked up her left hand and slid something on her finger, "he was keeping me from you and I didn't want to spend one more minute on this earth without you, Marty. Marry me?"

  For a moment she could only stare at the beautiful diamond ring on her finger. It took her a second before she could remember where she’d seen this ring before. It was the ring his grandmother left him when he was fifteen. She'd been a child the last time she saw it, but she'd dreamed of wearing it one day and now she was.

  "I know that I've screwed up in the past and that I'm probably rushing this, Marty, but I just can't stomach the idea of going one more day without making you mine," he said as he entwined their fingers together. "Please give me a chance."

  This was insane, she told herself as she looked down at the ring on her finger. They hadn't dated and they'd only been together for a day, two tops, but what was even crazier was the fact that she wanted to say yes, more like scream it. He couldn't be serious, she thought as she looked up and met his eyes and just like that she knew that he was dead serious and she was lost.

  "I don't want to waste another minute, Marty," he said softly as he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. "Say yes."

  "Are you still going to be an asshole?" she asked, desperately trying to buy some time to think clearly.

  "Yes," he said with absolutely no hesitation, "but you can kick my ass if I step out of line."

  "Marriage is forever," she stupidly pointed out as she felt something close to panic claw at her chest.

  "And that's how long I plan on loving you, Marty," he said as he leaned in and kissed her.

  “B-but I haven’t even told you that I love you yet!”

  He chuckled as he brushed his lips against hers. “I don’t need to hear it.”

  “Damn you’re cocky,” she sighed against his lips, loving the way his lips felt against hers as they curled up.

  “Yes, but you love me anyway.”

  With a soft groan, she admitted it. “I do love you, Tristan, even if you piss me off.”

  “Then that’s all that matters, Marty,” he said before deepening the kiss.

  There was so much that they needed to talk about, so much that she didn't know about this man. Her parents had rushed into marriage and the results had been disastrous. They'd barely known each other and only found out too late that they had nothing in common and no future. She didn't want that and she sure as hell didn't want the man that she loved hating her one day.

  Saying yes to him would be foolish and she was not a foolish person.

  Chapter 24One month later.......

  "I really don't see why yer so angry," Shayne mused as he leaned back in the overstuffed recliner that he’d demanded Tristan buy for him so that he could watch Gilligan's Island in comfort.

  Breathe in. Breathe out, Tristan told himself as he clenched and unclenched his hands, struggling against the urge to strangle his friend.

  "It's hardly my fault that Marty is pissed at ye, lad," Shayne pointed out with a shrug as he focused on some lame ass 80's monster movie.

  "She's. Not. Pissed. At. Me," Tristan bit out through clenched teeth.

  Shayne sighed heavily as he shook his head, shooting Tristan a pitying look. "Lad, when are ye gonna learn that when a woman is screaming at ye that yer in deep shit?"

  He had to close his eyes and take a deep breath before he answered, truly afraid that he'd do something that he'd regret....eventually.

  "For the last time," he said tightly, opening his eyes, "she wasn't screaming at me."

  "I could hear her all the way down here, lad. She sounded pretty pissed if ye ask me."

  "She wasn't screaming at me, you asshole! She was screaming my name!" Tristan snapped.

  "Yes," Shayne agreed slowly as if he were speaking with a small, confused child, "as she yelled at ye, lad. I'm thinking that after a month of her screaming at ye like that, that ye'd finally get the hint and move on. Ye really should take the hint, lad. It's kind of pathetic at this point."

  "For the last time," he ground out, "my wife wasn't screaming at me because she was mad at me, you jackass! She was screaming my name while I was making love to her!"

  Shayne frowned up at him. "And ye actually stopped just to come down here and tell me that?"

  "No, what I came down here to tell you was that another one slipped by you," Tristan said tightly as he jerked a thumb in the direction of the dumb dead bastard who actually had the balls to ask if he could take over Tristan's body so that he could "Get some of that."

  Up until that point, Tristan had been able to ignore the bastard's presence, but the moment the man had laid his hands on him to try and take over, which wasn't possible, he lost it. The ice-cold pain and anguish that seeped into his skin made it difficult to focus on anything other than getting the bastard out of the room and away from Marty. When she managed to ask him why he'd stopped, he was forced to tell her that he heard something downstairs, again.

  If it wasn't for their family's tendency to let themselves in and make themselves at home, she'd probably think that he was crazy every t
ime he abruptly left the room when they were sleeping, making love, talking, or taking a shower. He really needed to have another talk with them, but right now he was more concerned by the fact that over the past month spirits had been getting by Shayne left and right and bugging the shit out of him.

  When he saw the spirit throw a look of longing towards the stairs, he shook his head, once. That's all it took to keep the man from going to play peeping tom on Marty. If he so much as looked in the direction of the stairs, Tristan was going to bring the bastard down to his knees, again.

  While he normally didn't bother with spirits and left the handling and sorting to Shayne that didn't mean that he couldn't do his own damage. There was a reason after all that he could see, touch and communicate with them. Whatever Shayne was, he was, but the human version. He couldn't do as much as Shayne for that reason, but he could do enough to keep them in line when he needed to control them. The problem with trying to control them was that it meant that he had to touch them and he fucking hated touching them.

  "I'm not sure how they keep getting past me," Shayne said with a put out sigh as he got to his feet.

  "Maybe because you're too busy pouting to do your job," Tristan snapped, tired of this bullshit.

  "No, that's not the reason," Shayne said, sounding thoughtful as he looked the spirit over. "I'm more than capable of pouting and doing my job. I'm talented like that," he said, earning a few muttered curses from Tristan as he stepped up to the ghost who looked like he'd been hit by a car. The tire tracks across his back only went to confirm that suspicion.

  "Ye shouldn't have gotten near me lad here without me knowing," he said as he curiously watched the nervous man.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," the man said, shifting anxiously. "The only thing that I know was that one minute I was taking my after dinner walk and the next I was getting pulled into a bedroom while this incredibly hot woman got on her knees and-"

  "Well," Shayne said, quickly cutting the man off when Tristan took a threatening step towards him, "I can see that yer not going to be helpful, so this is where we say goodbye," Shayne quickly explained as he laid his hands on the dead man's chest. A beautiful white light spread over his chest, sending warmth and feelings of love through the room seconds before the man simply disappeared.

  "What the hell is going on, Shayne?" Tristan asked as he rammed his fingers through his hair out of frustration.

  Whatever was going on was seriously fucking with his life. He'd always attracted spirits, but this past month was fucking ridiculous. Normally he could still lead a semi-normal, productive life, only having to deal with spirits when Shayne was otherwise occupied, but something had changed over the past month. He couldn't remember the last time that he got a full night of sleep, never mind took a piss without an audience.

  Everywhere he went, they followed. It was even worse when he was with Marty, which was often. He felt like such an asshole. Thanks to him, she wasn't getting much sleep either. Every time spirts woke him up, he managed to startle her awake. He'd apologize for waking her up and she'd shrug it off like it was no big deal, but he knew that the multiple wakeups a night were taking their toll on her.

  She was exhausted.

  Granted, she was also putting in a lot of hours at work plus a few hours each night trying to figure out where all the missing women had disappeared. Mostly she was exhausted because of this damn spirit invasion that didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon. Every night when she fell into an exhausted sleep in his arms, he prayed that they'd give him a damn break, at least for one night, but they never did.

  Every night for the past month he woke up to find himself being attacked or screamed at and, each and every time that happened, he ended up waking Marty. It hadn’t mattered if he was holding her in his arms or managed to put some space between them before he fell asleep, he couldn't manage to handle the nighttime visits without scaring the hell out of her. He tried everything he could to help her fall back asleep, but once she was awake, that was it.

  He considered sleeping on the couch, but that would only send the wrong message to his wife. They'd only been married for a month and opting to sleep on the couch instead of with her in their bed would cause a lot of bullshit problems that he'd rather avoid. He was in love with his wife and he didn't want her to ever have a reason to question that. So, instead of leaving her to sleep, he tried other ways to help make things better for her.

  Sometimes he held her, drew a bath for her or they'd grab the files of the missing women and look through them, hoping to find something that they'd missed. So far they hadn't found any leads. They were still investigating restaurants and restaurant supply stores, but they were going nowhere.

  The only time that she seemed to get any sleep was when he was driving. It only took a matter of seconds for Marty to doze off and once she was out she slept so damn peacefully that most mornings he drove around instead of going straight to the office. As long as he drove, she slept so he made damn sure that he drove as long as he could. Thankfully his position allowed him that luxury, but it couldn't keep him on the road indefinitely.

  He usually reported back to the office by nine after he drove around, patrolling the town and making calls. By the time he shut the engine down, her eyes would be open and she'd be throwing him a grateful smile as she grabbed her bag and opened her door. For the next eight or so hours she'd struggle to stay awake while she worked, but the second that he turned on the car to take her home, she was fast asleep. He usually managed to drive for an hour or two before he took her home.

  Once they were home, she kept herself busy with cooking, cleaning and working. When he suggested that she get some sleep or offered to help her, she'd give him a playful shove and tell him that everything was fine. Things weren't fine. They were far from fine.

  His wife wasn't happy and it was his fault. He'd rushed her into marrying him, too afraid that he'd fuck up and lose her for good. If things didn't change, and soon, he was afraid that he was going to lose her anyway.

  One thing was certain, he wasn't going to lose her lying down. He knew what his life would be like without her, empty, and he wasn't about to go back to that. Not without a fight. He was going to take her away from everything and give her a real honeymoon. He should have done that right after they’d eloped, but they'd both wanted to focus on this case and Marty wanted to be able to start her new position without any delays.

  She was set to graduate and officially start her job in a month. Everything had taken longer than expected because of work, getting married, and a few problems with her advisors, but the end was finally in sight. He'd already spoken to Hank and put in for a vacation so that he could surprise Marty with a real honeymoon as her graduation present. He knew that she'd be pissed to have to put off her new job for a little while longer, but they needed this.

  He needed this.

  He desperately needed some time alone with his wife. He wanted to take her away from all this bullshit and prove to her that she hadn't made a mistake by marrying him. Marty needed to know that he loved her, worshipped her, and would move heaven and earth to make her happy.

  In order to do that, he had to get rid of all the bullshit and distractions in their lives. She deserved all of his attention and he was going to damn well give it to her even if it killed him. It was definitely going to make him broke.

  It took some time, research and using Shayne's talents, but he found an exclusive resort on a small island in the Bahamas that was untouched by death. Before the resort was built fifteen years ago, the island had been untouched by humans. It had just been another small pretty island among hundreds of small pretty islands until a few contractors decided to build a resort. Since its creation, not one single human had died on the island.

  He'd checked.

  Repeatedly.

  The airline tickets, private boat to take them to the island and the cost of the rooms and meal package was going to wipe out his entire nest egg and that s
hould piss him off, but surprisingly he didn't care. For the first time in his life, he was going to be a normal guy and he couldn't wait.

  He couldn't wait to hold his wife's hand without worrying about coming up with some fucked up excuse why he had to drop her hand, cross the street unnecessarily, or having to stop whatever he was doing and kiss her, well, that one he didn't mind, because he was hoping to go unnoticed by a spirit that just happened to be too close for his comfort. He was really looking forward to being able to get some uninterrupted sleep, using the john without an audience, and being able to tell his wife that he loved her before he made love to her without some bitter woman scoffing, ranting and raving that he was a lying sack of shit.

  It was going to be two weeks of heaven with Marty and he couldn't wa-

  "What the hell is that sound?" Shayne demanded for what was probably the tenth time in the past week and drawing Tristan's attention right back to where it should be.

  "Don't know. Don't care," Tristan said, turning his back on his frowning friend. He started to head up the stairs to his wife whom he'd love to make love to for the rest of the night, but actually found himself hoping that she was asleep. She really needed her rest. "Just keep them off my ass for the rest of the night."

  Chapter 25

  Tristan was hiding something from her.

  Actually, she was pretty sure that he was hiding several things from her and, if she wasn’t so damn tired, she’d probably be really pissed off, but right now she couldn’t quite find the energy to pick a fight with him. She could barely find the energy to reach down and grab the comforter and pull it over her.

  After several failed attempts, a few groans and whimpers, she gave up and settled for curling up on her side and closing her eyes only to open them a split second later and shoot a nervous look around the dimly lit room when she thought she heard a noise. She didn’t see anything, but…….

  Biting her lip, she quickly leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed a fistful of the thick comforter that had been kicked off the bed when she’d tumbled onto the bed with Tristan after their shower. Throwing one last wary glance around the suddenly too quiet room, she dropped back on the bed, yanking the comforter over her in the process.