Page 9

CHAPTER 8

Y ou can do this, Marty kept telling herself as she walked through the station Monday morning. Her arms were filled with boxes of pastries and donuts, making walking through the security door difficult.

She’d picked them up on a whim on her way into work. She thought it would be a nice gesture on her first day, but she was also nervous, very nervous, and when she was nervous, she ate. Normally, when she got this nervous, she snacked away on her favorite fruit, but she ran out of apples over the weekend and didn’t have a chance to go to the store to buy more.

She really hoped that Tristan calmed down by now. When he stormed out of the office yesterday, she had a feeling that she’d just stepped into a whole new level of hell. Unfortunately, that feeling only got worse last night. Now, she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Perhaps an apple fritter would help him calm down? She could only hope. If it did, she was running out and buying ten dozen apple fritters for him. She’d do anything to keep that side of Tristan hidden from her.

Over the years, she’d heard people bitch and whine about him. She never believed them. It was just gossip, she’d thought. That is until the past couple of run-ins she’d had with him changed her mind. Now, she had to wonder how he’d managed to keep that side of him hidden from her all those years ago. He truly was an asshole and now, she was stuck with him.

Just great.

“Good morning, Marty!” Rosemary, her father’s secretary, said cheerfully as Marty entered the pit. She didn’t know much about the woman other than she was a busybody. The older woman came around her desk and quickly made her way towards her.

“Oh, aren’t you a sweetheart! Here let me give you a hand,” Rosemary said. Her “hand” was gesturing towards the break room and standing back while Marty struggled to place the boxes down without dropping any of them.

Marty stepped back as Rosemary began searching through the bags. “Oh, the boys will love you for this!” Rosemary said as she helped herself to several pastries.

“Is Detective Black in yet?” Marty asked, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Rosemary tsked around a mouthful of bear claw. “I still can’t believe that your father did that to you. I told him that he should keep Detective Black on medical leave and give the rest of us a break, but would he listen? No,” she said, sounding absolutely disgusted as she shoved another bite of pastry in her mouth.

“And now you’re stuck with him, you poor thing,” Rosemary said, giving Marty a pitying look before she turned her attention back to the pastry boxes. “I think your father should at least assign a uniformed officer to drive him around. There’s really no need for you to be stuck with him all the time. Not when you have so much to do.”

“I don’t mind,” Marty mumbled absently, wondering what exactly she was supposed to do. She had a vague idea, but she’d feel more comfortable knowing exactly what was expected of her. “Did my father leave instructions for me?” she asked since her father would be spending the next few days stuck at a conference in Manchester.

Rosemary studied her for a moment before she asked, “He didn’t tell you?”

“He told me the basics, but he didn’t go into detail,” Marty admitted.

“Hmmmmm,” Rosemary murmured as her gaze flickered to the door. “Well, I believe you’re taking your turn watching over the administrative phones when the secretaries take their lunch. You also need to log in some reports that came in over the weekend into the computer. It’s really not that bad. That is when you’re not with Detective Black,” Rosemary explained with a warm smile.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Marty agreed.

Rosemary’s smile brightened. “I believe your turn to watch the phones is eleven-thirty to one.”

“Okay,” Marty said, not afraid of a little work even if it sounded boring.

“I’m so excited that you’re here with us, Marty!” Rosemary gushed as she helped herself to another pastry.

“I just bet you are,” Tristan drawled from the doorway.

Rosemary’s smile disappeared and was soon replaced by a scowl. “Good morning, Detective Black,” Rosemary said tightly.

Tristan ignored her and focused on Marty. “Are you ready or do you need a nap before we get started?”

“I’m ready,” Marty said evenly.

“Good, because we have a call,” Tristan said before he turned around and walked away, obviously expecting her to follow him.

She was tempted to make him wait, but she couldn’t do that. Technically, he was her boss. So, she found herself throwing one last look of longing at the pastries, knowing that she would be forced to skip breakfast since there was no way that she could drive and eat at the same. Well, there was, but Tristan already made her nervous.

* * *

“I’m supposed to be driving,” Marty said through clenched teeth as Tristan cut through traffic with the emergency lights and the sirens blaring. “And we’re not supposed to be responding to any calls,” she reminded him as she held onto the sides of her seat with a death grip.

“Uh-huh, that’s nice,” Tristan murmured absently. Obviously, he wasn’t going to listen to her father and she couldn’t help but wonder, not for the first time, if this was going to end up being a waste of time.

“Detective Black, what’s your ETA?” the dispatcher asked over the radio.

He shut off the lights and siren as he pulled into what appeared to be a quiet middleclass neighborhood. “I’m less than a minute out. Do you still have the boy on the line?” he said into the mic.

“Yes, he said they’re hiding in the closet in his sister’s room. He also said that he doesn’t think that he can keep the baby quiet any longer and they’re getting closer to his location. He reported that his older sister stopped screaming a minute ago.”

“Tell him to stay where he is. I’m coming in.”

“Received, Detective Black. I also have two patrol cars heading to your location.”

“Received,” Tristan said as he pulled over and parked the car.

Marty shifted nervously in her seat as she watched him pull on a bulletproof vest and grab a shotgun.

“What do you want me to do?” Marty asked as she watched him.

“Stay here and stay the hell out of my way,” Tristan said without looking at her as he climbed out of the car, staying low. He ducked as he ran towards a small one-story brick house, gesturing for the curious neighbors watching from their driveway to return to their homes. Marty watched as he carefully peeked into a side window and then the front windows.

“Detective Black, the baby is starting to cry. The little boy can hear the men running towards them now,” the dispatcher announced, making Marty swallow hard as she watched Tristan kick open the front door and ducked inside the house seconds later. Her stomach clenched into tight knots as she watched him disappear. A minute later, the quiet neighborhood was disturbed by a series of gunshots.

* * *

Tristan slowly walked into the house. A small noise to his right drew his attention. He looked down to find a teenage girl bound and gagged with duct tape, cowering on the hardwood floor. Never taking his eyes away from the doorway, Tristan wound his arm around the girl’s waist. Clenching his jaw tightly against the pain tearing through his shoulder, he carried her to a small closet in the living room and placed her inside before closing the door.

He heard several large men running along the hallway to his left as the sounds of a baby screaming filled the small house. “Where is it?” one of the men demanded.

“You said this house was supposed to be empty, asshole!”

“I didn’t know the girl was staying home sick!”

“Shut the fuck up and find that baby! I don’t care if you have to throw it into the dryer, just shut it the fuck up!”

Tristan swore under his breath as he stepped into the hallway and raised the shotgun, aiming it at two men wearing stained handkerchiefs over the bottom half of their faces.

“Police. Drop your weapons now!” Tristan ordered.

Both men’s eyes widened as their trembling hands automatically rose towards the ceiling.

“Put your weapons down now!”

The men flinched and that’s when all hell broke out. Their fingers tightened on the triggers, releasing several shots into the ceiling before they dropped their weapons to the ground. When their guns continued to go off a few more times, barely missing Tristan’s shoulder and leg, they dropped to the ground and covered their heads with their hands. Realizing the triggers had locked, Tristan swore as he jumped out of the way of the faulty guns, all while keeping his gun aimed at the men cowering on the floor.

“We didn’t mean it!” the balding one screamed after the last shot fired.

“Shut the fuck up before I put you in a dryer, you piece of shit,” Tristan snapped as he carefully retrieved the hair-trigger weapons and handcuffed the men. He found two knives and another gun on each of the men. He pulled the men into the living room, where he cuffed their wrists behind their backs and their legs together because he was in no fucking mood for any more bullshit today.

After they were secured, Tristan walked through the house, making sure there weren’t any more surprises waiting for him. Once he was certain that it was clear, he shifted his attention to finding the children.

“Hey, buddy, it’s the police. It’s okay, you can come out now,” Tristan said over the sounds of the screaming baby as he made his way down the long hallway, pausing only long enough to glance inside each room.

A few seconds later, he walked into a pink room covered in boy band posters and headed straight for the closet door. He set the safety on his shotgun and set it aside before he lightly knocked on the closet door.

“My name is Detective Black. Are you ready to come out?” Tristan asked softly.

“How do I know you’re really a police officer?”

Tristan took a knee in front of the closet door. “Well, I guess you have me there. What if I show you my badge? Will that work?” he asked, trying not to frighten the poor kid any more than he already was.

The baby continued to scream as the boy thought it over. “I guess,” was his response after a short pause.

Tristan pulled his badge off his belt and slipped it beneath the door. A few seconds later, the door tentatively opened and a little boy wearing pajamas, who couldn’t have been older than ten years old, crawled out on his knees, barely able to hold the screaming baby boy in his arms.

The boy sniffled as he struggled to stand up. Tristan reached over and took the baby into his arms. The baby continued to cry, but Tristan didn’t care. He was so relieved the kids were safe.

“I-I tried to get him to be quiet, but he’s hungry,” the little boy said as he stood up.

“You did a great job,” Tristan said as he cradled the baby in one arm and took the little boy’s hand in the other. He gave the little boy’s hand a reassuring squeeze, ignoring the agonizing pain tearing through his shoulder as they made their way into the hallway.

* * *

Marty watched the house nervously as she tried to comfort the terrified mother, who came home to this nightmare a few minutes ago. “I only left to pick up their medication. How the hell did this happen?”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Marty said soothingly, giving the woman’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

The woman trembled as they watched several police officers drag two cuffed men out of the house. They appeared unharmed, which meant…

Oh, God, no…

He was fine.

He had to be, Marty told herself as she stood there, struggling not to panic and-

“Are you okay?” the woman suddenly asked, making her realize that she was trembling as well.

Marty forced a warm smile. “I’m fine.”

Seconds later, a teenage girl and a young boy ran out of the house.

“Mommy!” the little boy cried when he saw her standing there.

Marty watched as the woman ran to her children and covered their faces in kisses as she hugged the life out of them. After a moment, Marty’s gaze returned to the front door. She watched as several officers came and went, but there was no sign of Tristan.

“Where’s your brother?” the woman asked.

“He’s in there,” the little boy said, pointing back towards the house as his face squished up. “He pooped! The officers are in there arguing over who has to change him.”

That startled a laugh out of the little boy’s mother. “I guess I should go in there.”

An officer standing nearby held up a hand to stop her. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m going to have to ask you to stay out here.”

“But, my baby-”

“The detective has it covered, ma’am,” the officer explained with a reassuring smile.

Marty nervously licked her lips. “So, Detective Black is-”

“He’s fine, ma’am,” the officer said.

“The gunshots?” Marty asked, releasing a shaky breath.

“The perps’ guns went off when they surrendered. No one was hurt.”

“There he is, Mommy! There’s the officer that saved us!” the little boy cried.

Marty watched as Tristan strolled out of the house with a baby in his arms. The baby was suckling a bottle while looking up at Tristan adoringly. Tristan kissed the top of the baby’s head and rubbed his back. Marty was a little taken back. She’d never seen a man who looked more comfortable with a baby in his arms than Tristan did. He looked like he was made to be a father. It sent a weird rush through her body that she quickly squashed.

This was not the time or the man to have those feelings about.

* * *

“Thank you so much!” the woman said as she took the baby from him.

“You’re very welcome,” Tristan said as he smiled down at the little boy. “Your son did a great job, ma’am. He kept the baby calm and called 911.”

Tristan noticed the daughter looked upset, so he added, “Your daughter also kept the boys safe by not informing the men that they were in the house. That ultimately gave your son the opportunity to call for help.”

“How did they get in?” their mother asked, adjusting the baby in her arms.

Tristan absently rubbed his injured shoulder. “It looks like they broke in through the basement. After my men get what they need, they’re going to attach a better lock for you, ma’am.”

“Thank you for everything, Detective,” she said through tears.

Tristan ruffled the young boy’s hair again. “You’re welcome.”

“Ah, lad, yer hurt again,” Shayne said as he popped onto the scene. “I can see the pain in yer eyes, lad. Ye need to get that looked at.”

Tristan couldn’t agree more. His shoulder was on fire from dragging those men into the living room. He wasn’t surprised that Shayne had abandoned his Gilligan’s Island marathon to come to him. He could sense when Tristan needed help. For some reason, they were connected, had been since that first night.

With a forced smile, Tristan excused himself, leaving Marty to follow after him. Without a word, he tore off his body armor and climbed into the passenger seat. After a slight pause, Marty climbed into the driver’s side and adjusted the seat by sliding it forward until she could reach the pedals.

She delicately cleared her throat and asked, “Where to?”