Black Heart (Cursed Hearts #1)(45)

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, right and the other day when she’d been 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 in this department, and with her father before he retired, she just couldn't. She couldn't come in day after day and pretend that seeing him and being near 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 resume and hopefully she'd find something far away so that she could move on with her life and forget about him.

Who the hell was she trying to kid? She'd never be able to forget about Tristan Black. At least she'd be able to put some space between them and give her broken heart a chance to mend and finally move on.

She’d just reached the door when someone knocked. Ignoring Tristan's muttered, yet colorful, curse, she opened the door to find Rosemary standing in the doorway wearing what could only be described as a complacent smile on her face.

"Detective Black, Hank would like a word with you," she said, making everything in Marty go still.

Oh no........

Somehow between work and Tristan's attitude she'd forgotten all about her father and the likelihood that he would find out about everything that had transpired over the weekend. Well, not everything, but he sure as hell would find out about Tristan being shoved out of his house, aroused and na**d as well as Tristan's little announcement at the bar.

This was bad, very bad. She needed to speak with her father first and calm him down 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 after all, 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 said, standing up and grabbing a file before heading to the door, looking calm and relaxed.

"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?" she repeated, dumbfounded. "It's very necessary. The man is going to be pissed."

Tristan merely shrugged as he somehow managed to get her out of the office. 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 shop. 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.

With a sense of doom, she did just that. This was so wrong. She was in her twenties and she should be beyond this, but apparently she was a wimp.

"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 situation 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, opening the file.

"No, I think all the cases are connected," Tristan said, leaning back in his chair and looking relaxed while she sat there trying not to fidget. "If you'll 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 not one of them has been seen since. No calls, letters, or sightings."

"Have you contacted the detectives on these cases?"

"Yes."

"And?"

Tristan ran a hand through his neatly combed hair, sighing 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 in his tone. "We're backed up as it is, Tristan."

"My main focus is on my 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."