Black Heart (Cursed Hearts #1)(73)

Couldn’t stay away from Macha and they should have realized that their younger brother would have found a way to get past them. Shayne still wasn’t sure how Tadgh managed to pull it off without any of them finding out. It was only by pure luck that Shayne had discovered Tadgh living across the street from Macha all those years ago.

He still couldn’t believe how f**king stupid Tadgh had been to do it. What the hell had he been thinking? He knew what waited for him and he still did it, uncaring about the hell that he was going to put himself through. Eleven years without any type of protection or buffer from spirits too desperate for the lives that they’d lost to care about what they put a young child through was a dangerous way to live. To be honest, Shayne was still surprised that Tadgh hadn’t been killed or found himself locked up in a mental hospital by then.

“I’ll go get her some apple pastries,” Declean offered, stepping away from the counter to do just that.

“She’s partial to apple fritters,” Shayne suggested absently as a thought occurred to him. Then with a sigh and a muttered, “I’ll be right back,” he left the room.

When he materialized in Tristan’s room a few seconds later, he wasn’t entirely surprised to find Marty dressed, armed, and seriously pissed off. He wasn’t even surprised when she raised the large gun in his direction and aimed it directly where his heart had once beat.

What did surprise him, and apparently Marty as well if her high-pitched squeal was any indication, was the bloodied spirit of a man stumbling through her bedroom wall.

With a muttered, “Oh, shit,” Marty swung the gun in the direction of the spirit.

“Oh, my God! Don’t shoot!” the man cried, throwing his hands up into the air as he stumbled back away from Marty and making Shayne shake his head in disgust.

“Yer already dead, ye dumb bastard!” he snapped at the man as he turned his attention back to Marty, who he noted was turning an interesting shade of green.

“Don’t….d……don’t mo-“ she struggled to get out.

“Move?” Shayne finished for her with a helpless shrug.

He really wasn’t too shocked when she opened her mouth, definitely to tell him to f**k off, but instead clamped a hand over her mouth, muttered, “Oh, shit,” and ran to the bathroom. With a sigh, he followed her.

As Marty struggled to keep the gun aimed on him as she lost what was left of her dinner, he couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long time since he’d had the chance to spend any real time with her. Granted, having a gun aimed at his balls while her dinner made a second appearance probably wouldn’t qualify as quality time to most people, but he’d gladly take it.

He missed the nights they used to spend by the fire, long after everyone else had fallen asleep, talking and laughing while they pretended that everything would work out. If it hadn’t been for Tadgh, he probably would have made her his own. Their union wouldn’t have been based on romantic love, happily ever after and all that bullshit, but one of respect and friendship. There was no doubt in his mind that he never would have made her as happy as Tadgh could, but he would have kept her safe. Considering everything that had happened, maybe he should have done just that.

Chapter 27

“Stay where you are,” Marty said as she struggled to keep the gun aimed on 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 none of this had ever happened.

“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 good idea what the answer would be.

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

With a sigh, she lowered the gun, noting that he didn’t seem to care one way or the other that the gun was no longer aimed on him, further confirming her suspicions. The man could disappear, move through walls and God only knew 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?” she asked, trying to mask her fear for Tristan.

She still couldn’t get over the sight of him being thrown across the room and slamming into the wall like that. He shouldn’t have been able to move after that, but somehow he’d managed to crawl towards her before he 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,” she said absently with a small nod as she tried to wrap her mind around everything that had 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?” she asked, dropping the gun on the ground so that she could tighten her hold on the sheet wrapped around her.