Page 19

CHAPTER 18

“I ’m going home,” Marty announced as she grabbed her bag and stood up.

“Don’t care,” Tristan muttered, and she just barely stopped herself from throwing her stapler at his head.

All day, she’d been forced to put up with his bitchiness. Now, she was more than ready to call it a night. If she’d thought he’d been an asshole before, she’d been dead wrong. Today, he’d redefined the term asshole. Today, she couldn’t wait to get the hell away from him. Today...

Today, he broke her heart.

All day, she’d waited to see a glimmer of the Tristan that she loved, but he never showed up. Instead, she had to deal with this jerk that either ignored her or snapped at her. A few times, she was forced to leave the office and hide in the bathroom to calm down before she did something stupid like cry.

She loved him so much and she hated him for it. She didn’t want to feel this way about him, never had, but she couldn’t help it. Being in love with Tristan felt natural and the other day when she was in his arms, she’d felt whole for the first time in her life. She wanted to be with him, needed to be with him, but that was never going to happen.

At least one thing was clear.

She couldn’t keep doing this. As much as she wanted to work with her father before he retired, she just couldn’t. She couldn’t come in day after day and pretend that seeing him wasn’t killing her. She just couldn’t keep doing this and as soon as she had her degree, she would start sending out her resumé and hopefully, find something far away so that she could move on with her life and forget about him.

Only…

She’d never be able to forget about him. At least she’d be able to put some distance between them and give her broken heart a chance to mend so that she could finally move on. She-

Ignored Tristan’s muttered curse when someone knocked on the door and opened it to find Rosemary standing in the doorway with what could only be described as a smug smile on her face.

“Detective Black, Hank would like a word with you,” Rosemary said, making everything in Marty go still.

Oh, God...

Somehow between work and Tristan’s bitchiness, she forgot all about her father and the likelihood that he would find out about everything that had transpired over the weekend.

This was bad, very bad.

She needed to speak with her father before he spoke to Tristan. Hell, she hadn’t been this nervous since she’d crashed her father’s truck back in high school. If she was this anxious, she couldn’t imagine how nervous Tristan must be. It was his ass on the line, after all.

Maybe she should talk to him before she spoke to her father to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. Her father was an intimidating man and had scared off more guys than she could count. She needed to handle this before things got out of hand and-

“Tell him that I’ll be right there,” Tristan drawled, standing up and grabbing a file before heading to the door, looking calm and relaxed for some reason.

“Your father would like to speak with you as well,” Rosemary added before she walked away.

Marty stepped in front of the door, blocking it. “Maybe you should let me talk to my father first.”

“It’s not necessary,” Tristan said, gesturing for her to go.

“Not necessary?” Marty repeated, dumbfounded. “It’s very necessary. The man is going to be pissed.”

Tristan merely shrugged as he stepped past her and headed towards her father’s office. She followed after him, feeling the eyes of everyone in the pit watching her. She really wasn’t looking forward to this. In fact, she’d planned on speaking with her father about everything over lunch at his favorite pizza place. She would have explained everything and, if that failed, she would have begged her father to stay out of it and let her handle things. Unfortunately for Tristan, she’d worked through lunch and obviously missed a golden opportunity because her father was about to kill him.

“Have a seat,” her father said tightly when they walked into his office.

Swallowing hard, she did just that. This was so wrong. She was a grown woman and she should be able to talk to her father, but apparently, she was pathetic.

“I need to speak with you, Hank,” Tristan said, getting to the point. On behalf of the butterflies in her stomach, she could have kissed the man, but she quickly reminded herself that was what got them into this mess in the first place.

“What do you have?” Hank asked, sighing heavily as he held out his hand for the file in Tristan’s hand.

“It might not be anything,” Tristan said, handing over the file before taking the seat next to hers.

“But you don’t think so,” Hank said, throwing Tristan a questioning look as he opened the file.

“I think all the cases are connected,” Tristan said, leaning back in his chair and looked relaxed while she sat there trying not to fidget. “If you look over my notes, you’ll see that all fifty-eight of the women I’ve selected for this were last seen near restaurant supply stores or high-class restaurants.”

“How far back does this go?” Hank asked, dropping his gaze to the folder.

“Twenty-two years.”

“No bodies?” Hank asked as he continued to look over Tristan’s notes.

“No, and none of them have been seen since. No calls, letters, or sightings.”

“Have you contacted the detectives on these cases?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Tristan sighed heavily. “They have no new leads and they don’t have the manpower to look into this.”

“Neither do we,” Hank said with real regret lacing his tone. “We’re backed up as it is, Tristan.”

“My main focus is on my current cases, Hank, but I really think this deserves some attention as well.”

Hank nodded as he closed the file and handed it back to Tristan. “Just make sure that you don’t fall behind. Let me know if you find anything that we can use.”

“What did you need to talk to us about?” Tristan asked casually with absolutely no fear as he met her father’s gaze head on.

“You’re not meeting the requirements of our agreement,” her father said, surprising her. She couldn’t help but slowly exhale, relieved that she wasn’t about to get chewed out in front of Tristan. It also meant that she could still speak to her father about everything. She didn’t want him finding out what happened from someone else. She wasn’t a child and had no plans of trying to hide what happened from her father or lying about it. It was just a little awkward talking to her father about what happened. She doubted many people eagerly spoke to their parents about their sexual escapades.

“I’ve been cleared medically,” Tristan pointed out.

“Yes,” Hank said, sighing heavily as he picked up a clipboard and looked it over. “You do realize that I’m not buying this bullshit sign-off, right?” he asked, looking up to meet Tristan’s gaze and she could have sworn her father looked amused.

“They signed off, Hank. That’s all that’s required for me to return back to work,” Tristan pointed out, still holding her father’s gaze.

“Care to tell me how they went from suggesting extending light duty as well as more physical therapy and hinting at the need for a second surgery one day and the next, signing you off and repeatedly stating in your file that you didn’t need to go back there ever again?”

“The miracle of modern science,” Tristan said dryly with a straight face as she struggled not to smile.

“Then, explain why they stated several times that if you have any further problems that you should be seen, but by someone else? In fact, they went as far as to attach the contact information for fifty other doctors. Now, why do you think they did that?” Hank asked as he leaned back in his chair, studying Tristan.

The corner of Tristan’s lips twitched, but he said nothing. Finally, her father sighed heavily as he ran his hands roughly down his face. “You may have gotten out of the medical requirements, but you still need to complete your therapy sessions before I can release you from medical,” Hank pointed out.

Tristan’s lips pressed into a firm line at that announcement. “I did the required therapy,” he said evenly.

Hank shrugged. “You have more.”

“You can’t do that,” Tristan said, sounding pissed.

“Yes, I can,” her father said without any hesitation. “You will complete the group therapy sessions before you’ll be allowed to resume the rest of your duties,” her father said, and she just barely stopped herself from pointing out that he already had when her father’s gaze shifted to her. “And you will start doing the job that you were hired for or I’m going to have to let you go until you get your degree.”

“What?” she asked, frowning in confusion. “I’ve been doing my job.”

“No, you haven’t. You were hired to type, but he’s been doing his own typing,” her father said, gesturing lazily to Tristan. “You were also hired to drive him, but again, he’s been doing that. If you can’t do your job, Marty, then I’m afraid that I’m going to have to let you go.”

She’d just bought a new car. Well, new to her, to anyone else, it was an overpriced piece of crap, but it got her from point A to point B and back, so she was happy. If he fired her, she’d have to dip into her savings, and she didn’t want to do that since it meant that she’d have to put off leaving for a while.

If she lost this job, she’d have to take another dead-end minimum wage job and she couldn’t afford to do that. She needed this job. If she lost it, maybe she could-

“She is doing her job,” Tristan said, shocking the ever-living hell out of her. She’d expected him to agree with Hank that she wasn’t doing her job so that he could finally get rid of her. “She’s created a more efficient database, making it easier to put in information and cutting down half the time needed for paperwork. She’s very efficient and works fast, Hank. I think it would be a waste of her talents if you didn’t put her in the secretary pool so that she could help the rest of the department,” he said casually while she sat there simmering with rage.

That sneaky son of a bi-

“She already has a job,” Hank said with a long-suffering sigh. “She’s supposed to be your assistant.”

Tristan shrugged. “I don’t need an assistant.”

“That’s too bad because you’ve got one,” Hank said firmly as he leveled a hard look on both of them. “I don’t know what’s going on here and I don’t care. I need you released from medical-”

“I would be if you didn’t impose this bullshit on me,” Tristan said, cutting her father off. “I did what was required by the department and I should be back at full status and we both know it. Making me go to group therapy is a waste of time. I don’t have a fucking problem.”

“You don’t think so?” her father asked, looking really freaking amused for some reason.

“No,” Tristan bit out.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Hmm,” her father made a 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 wasn’t a criminal.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your answer won’t affect your job one way or the other,” her father promised, but the look on Tristan’s face 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. Tristan 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,” Marty 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. The 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.

“What’s this?” Marty asked, frowning as she looked 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 twice a week for the next month,” 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 ten 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 plan of his working.

“He’ll go,” her father said with a shrug as he stood up.

“Or what?” Tristan asked as he 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?” Marty 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 during their chats 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 a single conversation about sex that hadn’t ended with him hyperventilating and needing a six-pack of beer. When she finally got boobs, he’d pushed that responsibility off onto Beth after Marty interrogated him for an hour and a half about her bra options. He’d tried to answer every single one of them as best as he could, but even she could tell at eleven years old that he’d been in over his head.

“Only if there’s something that 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 surprised to find Tristan watching her. If they hadn’t screwed each other over, she might have said yes, but Tristan clearly didn’t want to be with her and she’d have to be a moron to keep ignoring the signs.

“No, there’s nothing to talk about,” Marty 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 seem to care less about her.