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CHAPTER 29

“S tay where you are,” Marty said as she struggled to keep the gun aimed at the man in front of her when all she wanted to do was lie down, close her eyes and curl up into a ball in Tristan’s arms until the nausea and dizziness went away so that she could pretend that this was all just a really bad dream.

“How are ye feeling, lass?” the man asked softly, acting unconcerned about the gun currently aimed at his family jewels and probably for good reason, Marty realized.

“And if I shot you…” she prompted, already having a pretty good idea what the answer would be.

“It wouldn’t affect me at all, lass,” he said with a careless shrug.

With a sigh, Marty lowered the gun, noting that he didn’t seem to care one way or the other that the gun was no longer aimed at him, further confirming her suspicions. The man could disappear, move through walls and God only knows what else, so it didn’t exactly take a genius to figure out that her one and only weapon would be useless against him.

“Where’s my husband?” Marty demanded.

She still couldn’t get over the sight of him being thrown across the room and slamming into the wall like that. Tristan shouldn’t have been able to move after that, but somehow, he’d managed to crawl towards her before he’d passed out. He had to be okay, he had to be, she told herself as she tried to remain calm.

“He’s downstairs with my brothers,” the man said slowly, sounding as though he was choosing his words carefully.

“I see,” Marty said absently with a small nod as she tried to wrap her mind around everything that happened in the last few hours. Not only wasn’t she crazy, but apparently, she could see ghosts. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to do with that information, so she decided to focus on getting them to leave. She raised her gun and pulled the trigger, taking him by surprise.

“What the bloody hell did ye do that for?” he demanded, startled, but in no way harmed by the bullet that passed through him.

“Would you have allowed me to use the phone?” Marty asked, dropping the gun on the floor so that she could tighten her hold on the sheet wrapped around her.

Frowning, he shook his head. “Of course not. Ye’d only call for-”

“Help,” Marty finished for him as she headed for the door, shooting him a glare that dared him to stop her. Ghost or not, she would kick his ass if he tried to stop her from going to Tristan.

“Ah, hell!” he groaned, disappearing before she reached the door.

Knowing that this might be her only chance, Marty didn’t bother stopping to change her clothes. She rushed towards the bedroom door, praying that she got to Tristan before they could disappear with him. She just hoped that the gunshot did its job and that her father and Tom were on their way to-

“Please, you have to help me!” the bloodied man that she’d somehow forgotten about demanded as he grabbed hold of her wrists. Seconds later, he made her pray for death as pure dread and ice-cold fear shot through her.

* * *

“Calm the fuck down, lad!”

“Take the fucking cuffs off me, Shayne!” Tristan snapped, gritting his teeth and slamming himself back into the wall, chair and all.

He ignored the throbbing in his head and the fact that each breath he took was accompanied by searing pain and slammed back against the wall again and again until he felt the chair finally break apart. His hands were still cuffed tightly behind his back, but as long as he could move, he didn’t give a damn. He needed to get to Marty, and he needed to get to her now.

“I told ye that she was all right,” Shayne explained quickly as he reached out and grabbed hold of Tristan by his shoulders to steady him when he stumbled.

Tristan shook him off and moved past Shayne, ignoring the large bastards standing around his kitchen, glaring at him. He didn’t know who or what they were, and right now, he didn’t care. He’d deal with them later, but for right now, he needed to see Marty with his own eyes and make sure that she was okay.

“Lad, she’s fine!” Shayne said, appearing in front of him and looking him over, his expression becoming concerned seconds before it turned accusing. “Ye could have killed him, ye dumb bastard!”

The larger of the men suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway, his glare locked on Tristan as he leaned back against the doorframe. “That’s the plan.”

“Well, it’s a dumb fucking plan!” Shayne snapped, shifting between Tristan and the large man, who looked ready to carry out that plan with his bare hands, but Tristan didn’t have the patience or time to deal with this bullshit. He pushed past Shayne and the large bastard that he was going to beat the shit out of later. He headed for the stairs when the bastard’s next words, and the four men that suddenly grabbed him, stopped him.

“Ye didn’t seem to think so fifty years ago,” the large man announced, shooting Shayne a smug look.

“Things were different back then, Liam,” Shayne shot back.

“Unless the curse suddenly changed in the last fifty years, I would say that they’re exactly the same,” the man named Liam, who looked so much like Shayne, Tristan realized, said tightly, his brogue becoming more pronounced with each word.

An uneasy feeling crept up his spine, but he pushed it aside. He had more important matters to deal with, like his wife who was upstairs and finding out why she’d fired a gun. It did a damn good job of waking him up and taking ten years off of his life. The only thing that was stopping him from completely losing it was Shayne. If Marty was hurt, Shayne would be doing everything in his power to help her.

“Get. The. Fuck. Off. Me!” Tristan snapped, emphasizing each word as he struggled to get free.

“Calm yerself, lad,” one of the men said.

“This is for the best,” another one of them said, but he wasn’t listening. At least he wasn’t listening to them, but to the heart-wrenching scream that tore through the house.

Fear shot down his spine and he swore that his heart stopped beating when he realized that it was Marty screaming. It was like nothing he’d ever heard before. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but one second, he was standing in the kitchen, struggling to get to Marty and the next, he was in their bedroom, his arms free and wrapped around Marty as she shook and cried in his arms.

“Ye son of a bitch!” he heard someone yell.

“No! Please, don’t! I didn’t mean to hurt her!” a new voice cried.

He pressed a kiss against the top of Marty’s head as he looked up and watched while Shayne and the six men, who seemed determined to rid the world of him, circled around a man soaked in blood. Marty’s fingers dug into his skin. She held on tightly to him as she sobbed against his bad shoulder.

“Tristan!” he heard his father yell, followed closely by Hank yelling for Marty. Pressing another kiss against Marty’s hair, he picked her up, ignoring the agonizing pain in his head and shoulder, and headed for the door.

“Don’t do anything stupid, lad,” Liam warned as Tristan walked past him.

“Fuck off, asshole,” Tristan said, shifting Marty in his arms as he headed for the door.

“I know yer pissed, lad, but I need ye to get rid of them,” Shayne said, appearing a few feet in front of them.

“Fine,” Tristan said, already knowing that he didn’t have much of a choice. The men could follow him anywhere and probably would until they got what they wanted. He had no problems with facing them head-on, but he did have a problem with his wife being caught in the middle of it. “I’ll send her home with her father and then you can tell me what’s going on.”

“Ye can’t send her away!” Shayne said, sounding close to panicking.

“Watch me,” Tristan bit out, stepping around Shayne only to have the man shift right back in front of him, but this time, he was flanked by two of the other men.

“We can’t let ye do that, Tadgh,” the man standing to Shayne’s right said.

“That’s not my fucking name!” Tristan snapped, having had enough of this bullshit. He moved to step around the trio when Shayne’s next words stopped him.

“We need to protect her, little brother,” Shayne said softly, taking him by surprise and making his already fucked-up head spin faster.

“What did you call me?” Tristan asked hoarsely, sure that he’d misheard him.

With a sad smile, Shayne reached over and took Marty from him. “We need to have a talk, lad, but first, we need ye to go say goodbye to yer father and Hank,” Shayne explained quietly, shifting Marty in his arms as he stepped to the side so that Tristan could pass by him.

It wasn’t until he was halfway down the stairs that Shayne’s words hit him. He stopped and turned around to face Shayne, frightened for Marty.

“She’ll not be harmed, lad. Trust me,” Shayne said, reassuring him before he could ask.

“Can I?” Tristan demanded, hating the fact that, for the first time in years, he wasn’t sure.

“Always,” Shayne said firmly as he walked away with Marty curled up in his arms.

“Let’s go, Tadgh,” one of the men said as he joined him on the stairs and tossed a grey tee-shirt to him.

“It’s Tristan,” he murmured, shooting one last glance at Shayne’s retreating back before heading down the stairs as he carefully pulled the tee-shirt on.

“Tristan!” Hank shouted as he walked down the hallway towards the front door, his weapon drawn with Tom close behind as the two men quickly made their way towards him.

“Where’s Marty?” Hank demanded.

“She’s upstairs lying down. What’s going on?” Tristan asked, pretending that he didn’t know exactly what brought them here.

“That’s good, lad, really good,” the man that followed him downstairs said with an approving nod.

“What’s going on?” his father repeated in disbelief, sharing a confused look with Hank. “We heard a gunshot that’s what’s going on!”

Tristan shrugged. “Didn’t hear a thing.”

“You didn’t hear it?” Hank repeated, frowning as he looked past Tristan towards the stairs.

“No,” Tristan said in a bored tone as he gestured to the door. “But I’ll call Green and have him check into it.”

“Already called him,” Hank said with a sigh as he put his gun away. “Sorry that we woke you up. Give Marty my love.”

“Will do,” Tristan said, relieved when the men started for the door.

When his father shot him a wink and started out the door, Tristan almost stopped him and pulled him into his arms so that he could tell him how much he loved him, but somehow, he held back. He didn’t know what was going on and he wasn’t sure how far these men were planning on taking this. He wasn’t about to thank his father for everything he did for him by putting him in danger.

He wasn’t that much of an asshole.