Page 27

CHAPTER 26

One month later...

“I really don’t see why yer so angry,” Shayne said 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 fists, struggling against the urge to strangle his best 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 sent 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 say something that he’d regret... eventually .

“For the last time,” Tristan bit out, opening his eyes to glare at the annoying bastard, “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 though he were speaking with a small 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,” Tristan 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 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 he’d laid his hands on him to take over, which wasn’t even fucking possible, he’d 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 time he abruptly left the room. 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 asshole throw a look of longing towards the stairs, Tristan shook his head, once. That’s all it took to keep the man from going upstairs to stare at 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 why he could see them, after all. Whatever Shayne was, he was 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. That meant touching them and he really fucking hated touching them.

“I’m not sure how they keep getting past me,” Shayne said with a heartfelt sigh as he got to his feet.

“Maybe because you’re too busy pouting to do your fucking job,” Tristan snapped, tired of this bullshit.

“No, that’s not the reason. I’m more than capable of pouting and doing my job. I’m talented like that,” Shayne said, sounding thoughtful as he glanced at the dead bastard, taking in his torn clothes and tire tracks marring his shirt.

“Ye shouldn’t have gotten near me lad here without me knowing,” Shayne said as he considered the ghost once again looking longingly back towards the stairs as he released a wistful sigh that had Tristans’ jaw clenching.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the ghost said, frowning as he glanced back at Shayne. “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 as this incredibly hot woman got down on her knees and-”

“ Well ,” Shayne said, quickly cutting him 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 said 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 throughout the room seconds before he simply disappeared.

“What the hell is going on, Shayne?” Tristan demanded as he rammed his fingers through his hair.

Whatever was going on was seriously fucking with his life. He’d always attracted spirits, but this past month was fucking ridiculous. Normally, he only had to deal with spirits when Shayne was busy, but something 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. For some reason, it was worse when he was with Marty, which was often. Thanks to him, she wasn’t getting much sleep either. Every time they 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 were. Mostly she was exhausted because of this damn spirit invasion that didn’t look like it was going to end anytime soon. Every night when she passed out 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, Tristan woke up to find himself being attacked and screamed at and, each and every time it happened, he ended up waking Marty. It didn’t matter 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 their nighttime visits without scaring the hell out of her. He tried everything he could think of 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 a month and sleeping on the couch instead of with her in their bed would cause a lot of bullshit that he’d rather avoid. He was in love with his wife and he never wanted her to have a reason to question that.

When it became obvious that she couldn’t fall asleep again, he held her, drew a bath for her, or they’d grab the files of the missing women and looked 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 few seconds for Marty to fall asleep 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.

He normally reported back to the office by nine after he drove around, patrolling the town and making calls for two hours. By the time he turned the car off, Marty was awake and sending him a grateful smile. For the next eight hours, she struggled to stay awake while she worked, but the second that he turned the car on to take her home, she was fast asleep. He usually managed to drive around town for two hours before he took her home.

Once they were home, she kept herself busy with cooking, cleaning, working on her thesis, and work. 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.

But he knew better.

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 everyone 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 already spoke to Hank and put in for time off so that he could surprise Marty with a 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 didn’t make 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 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 beautiful island among hundreds until someone 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, the cost of the room and meal package was going to wipe out his savings, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t wait to hold his wife’s hand without worrying about coming up with some fucked-up excuse why he had to suddenly drop her hand, drag her across the street, or leave the room when they walked through him so that she didn’t wonder why he was struggling not to lose his fucking mind.

He was really looking forward to holding her all night, taking a shower without someone screaming in his ear, and being able to tell his wife that he loved her without some bitter woman scoffing while she called him a lying sack of shit.

It was going to be the best two weeks of his life and he couldn’t wa-

“What the hell is that sound?” Shayne demanded for what was probably the hundredth time in the last week and drawing Tristan’s attention right back to where it should be.

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Tristan said as he started to head up the stairs to his wife, praying that she was able to sleep tonight. “Just keep them off my ass for one night.”