“Go back upstairs, Marty.”
He didn’t want her to try and escape, not with spirits after her. She’d never be able to outrun them and there would be no one to help her. She’d either end up dead or locked up in a mental institution somewhere and neither option was acceptable to him. He just needed her out of the room so that he could find out a few things without having to worry about her.
“I’m not going anywhere so you might as well get on with it,” she stubbornly said as she crossed her arms over her chest, giving them all a look that dared them to try and stop her.
“Please have mercy on my balls,” Finn whimpered, taking the decision out of his hands.
Chapter 30
“You were telling us how Tristan was your brother,” Marty said when the silence in the room became awkward.
Men were such babies. Seriously, what did they expect her to do? They’d left her with a man, well a male that wasn’t exactly human, that she didn’t know, who tried to keep her locked up in her bedroom. Did they really think that she was going to sit on the bed like a good girl and wait for the big boys to finish their super secret conversation?
Her father raised her better than that. She wasn’t the type of woman to leave it to a man to solve her problems for her and seeing ghosts or whatever the hell they were was definitely a problem. Now that she knew that she wasn’t going crazy, she could admit that this whole thing was kind of cool, even if it did frighten her.
Whatever that had been that had occurred upstairs with that bloodied man was definitely not something that she wanted to experience again. His touch had been cold and left her feeling depressed, hopeless, and had filled her with so much dread that if he’d killed her at that moment, she probably would have thanked him. It was something that she fully planned on avoiding in the future.
It was also something that clued her into the fact that the men standing around the room, watching the man curled up on the floor and whimpering about his “poor helpless balls” were very different from the bloodied man upstairs in more ways than one. While the dead man’s appearance was probably the same as it had been when he’d died, bloodied, his clothes torn to shreds, and his face covered with developing bruises and gashes, these men appeared to be in their prime.
Their clothes, mostly jeans, khaki cargo pants, and tee shirts, appeared to be clean and undamaged in any way that she could tell. Besides a few minor scars, their faces were clean-shaven, handsome and free of any signs of trauma. Since she doubted that all of the men had died from a heart attack while they’d slept peacefully in their clothes that meant that either they’d never been human or that they had the power to change their appearance. Of course, there could be a third option, but she’d need a little more time and information before she could think of one.
Another thing that she noticed was that these men could handle their forms. The bloodied man had stumbled around the room, surprised and aggravated by the fact that he could move through the bed and bureau. The only thing that he’d seemed to be able to touch was her. He’d tried to touch the bed and grab the phone while he’d dragged her around the bedroom, flipping out and demanding that she fix everything. His hands and body went right through whatever they came in contact with. These men didn’t seem to have that problem. They could sit down, open doors, pick up objects and lean against the wall without falling through it.
Their touch also didn’t make her wish for death. Their touch was warm, comforting and familiar. It was odd, but then again, wasn’t everything about this situation odd? For the past month she’d been hearing voices and today she was seeing the dead and was apparently pregnant. She wasn’t sure how, but she’d be willing to bet everything that she had that they were all connected.
The fact that Tristan wasn’t freaking out over everything that was going on also clued her into the fact that this situation wasn’t entirely new to him. Then again, nothing really fazed Tristan. He’d always been level headed and thought things out before he reacted. Even when they were children, Tristan would get the facts first.
Like the time that she’d caught one of his friends peeking into her window and watching her change into her bathing suit. Before Tristan had broken his friend’s nose, he had patiently listened to the boy babble on and on about getting lost when he was looking for the basketball that had rolled across the street. Then how he’d accidentally tripped over a plant and pressed his face against her bedroom window and watched her for five minutes. Tristan had a temper and could be an asshole, but he usually managed to maintain that deadly calm that kind of freaked people out while he figured things out.
She looked at him to find him slowly studying everyone in the room, no doubt taking in every detail and storing the information away for later when he figured out a way to use it to his advantage. When his gaze landed on her, his eyes narrowed as they conveyed the silent promise of locking her in their room for the rest of her life if she didn’t move her ass and leave the room, but since she wasn’t afraid of him, she simply ignored him as she turned her focus back on the men that would answer all of her questions.
“How exactly is Tristan your brother?” she prompted the men yet again when it became clear that they weren’t going to be able to stop sending pitying looks at the big baby whining on the floor. Seriously, she’d only kicked him a few times, she mused, rolling her eyes in disgust.
“Someone,” the man curled up into a ball on the floor paused to groan, “kill me.”
“Yer already dead! Now man the hell up and stop embarrassing us like this!” Shayne, she thought his name was, snapped with open disgust and inadvertently answered one of her questions.
The man pulled one of his hands away from his abused manhood long enough to flip Shayne off and earn a few lighthearted chuckles from the rest of the men in the room. Definitely brothers, she thought as she shifted to get more comfortable, but the way her stomach suddenly churned had her pressing a hand against it and holding her breath as she waited for it to pass.
“Marty, are you okay?” Tristan asked, shifting slightly so that he could place his right hand over hers.
She opened her mouth to answer him when her eyes landed on his shoulder. It was swollen and painted an angry red. It looked like it hurt and, judging by the way that he kept his arm tightly by his side, it did. It took everything she had not to ask him about it. Her father had taught them both to never give away a disadvantage and, if he was hurt, then they were definitely going to be at a greater disadvantage than they already were.
This situation might be fascinating, but that didn’t mean that she was blind to the dangers. She wasn’t sure what they wanted with her. So far they’d been very gentle with her, babying her a bit, leading her to believe that they were concerned about her. Tristan, on the other hand, seemed to have pissed them off, which wasn’t anything mind blowing since he did go out of his way to do that to most people, but in this situation it felt different.
“Marty?” Tristan said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze to get her attention. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she lied, forcing a smile. If he wasn’t going to give anything away, then neither was she.
“No worries, lad. It’s just morning sickness,” Shayne explained.
“Aye, the lass always has a tough time of it when she’s pregnant,” the man leaning against the wall added with a shrug while she struggled to make sense out of what he’d just said.
“She’s never been pregnant before,” Tristan pointed out and before she got the chance to add anything to the conversation her head began to spin as nausea once again took over.
“Marty?” Tristan said, sounding worried.
“I’m fine,” she lied, closing her eyes as she willed the nausea to go away.
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m good,” she said, shifting on the couch until she found herself lying down with her head cushioned on Tristan’s warm jean clad leg and once she was there she never wanted to leave.
; The dizziness went away and took some of the nausea with it. She decided then and there that they were just going to have to learn to live like this, because she was never getting up again. The only thing that sounded better than staying here for the rest of her life was a hot bath and curling up in her own bed. Since she didn’t trust Tristan or these men to hold off on this conversation until she could move without getting sick or passing out, she had no choice but to suck it up and stay here.
“Let me take you upstairs where you can rest,” Tristan said softly and for a second she was tempted, oh so tempted to take him up on that offer.
“No,” she mumbled, well aware that she was probably pouting and not really giving a damn at the moment.
“Get off yer lazy ass and get the lass an apple pastry!” someone demanded.
“My balls are about to explode, ye insensitive bastard!”
Knowing that it was only a matter of time before she was forced to seek out the comfort of a bathroom, she interrupted the bickering men with the hopes that they could just get on with it. “I’m fine,” she bit out.
“Maybe we should just get this over with,” one of the men said, sounding almost sad.
“Why don’t ye tell it, Liam?”
“He always tells it,” someone grumbled.
“That’s cause he doesn’t get distracted when he tells it!”
“I don’t get distracted, ye bastard!”
“Then what would ye call it?”
“Being fucking thorough!”
“Is that what ye call it?”
“Aye!”
“I call it being a fucking-“
“Shut the fuck up,” Tristan snapped and for once Marty was grateful that he’d channeled the asshole within. She honestly wasn’t sure if she could have handled another minute of bickering.
“Ye didn’t have to be so rude about it,” one of the men grumbled.
“Apparently I did,” Tristan said dryly before adding, “Can we get to the point of your visit without the bitching?”
“I don’t know how Shayne put up with you for all these years,” came the muttered response, which piqued her interest enough for her to open her eyes and chance the world spinning out of control. There was a little dizziness, but nothing like she’d experienced before. A long, loud suffering sigh had Tristan muttering under his breath and her attention shifting to Shayne.
“Some days were harder than others,” Shayne said solemnly.
“He always was a mean little bastard,” the man to Shayne’s left said with a sigh.
“Mmmhmmm, just a right mean bastard,” the man to the right said with a firm nod.
“Enough!” the man sitting in the large overstuffed black leather chair that didn’t go with the rest of the furniture snapped, sounding pissed and reminding her of a certain someone that was glaring at Shayne.
“Let’s get this over with,” the man said quietly, his tone and words instantly replacing the light mood in the room with a sense of foreboding.
Tristan reached down and took one of her hands into his. He gave it a gentle squeeze, letting her know that everything would be okay. She knew that he would never let anything happen to her, but that didn’t stop her from worrying. She didn’t want to lose him. Kick his ass? Absolutely. He had a lot of explaining to do and once he’d properly groveled, she would consider forgiving him for hiding this whole thing from her.
“We should give ye a proper introduction,” the man sitting down in the chair that she’d really like to get rid of, said. “My name is Liam.”
“And ye already know Shayne,” Liam said flatly, gesturing to Shayne who threw her a wink.
Shayne nodded towards the man that was still lying on the floor, whimpering pathetically. “And I believe ye’ve already met Finn,” he said cheerfully.
“And my poor, misunderstood precious balls,” Finn muttered, shooting her a pout that would have made her feel bad if he hadn’t added the over the top lip quiver.
“I’m Quinn,” a warm, deeply masculine voice said, drawing her attention to the back of the couch where the man with the thin scar running halfway over his bottom lip and down to his chin stood, holding a blanket.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, feeling herself blush as he shook the blanket open and laid it over her.
“The pleasure’s all mine, lass,” he said with a small, almost sad smile as he stepped away and walked back to the doorway.
“I’m Declean,” a man said, drawing her attention to the far left corner where a handsome man with a roguish smile stood. “And before ye ask, aye, I was always yer favorite.”
“She couldn’t stand ye,” Finn said, getting to his feet before he hobbled over to the wall and leaned back against it, taking great pains to look pathetic and making him appear almost sweet and innocent. Since he’d tried to use an obscene amount of charm on her upstairs to try to persuade her to do what he wanted, she doubted that there was anything innocent about the man.
“She adored me!”
“Uh huh,” the large man in the far right corner said dismissively before he added, “I’m Aidan.”
“And that’s Fergus pouting in the back,” Finn said, gesturing to the man standing near the windows with his arms folded over his chest and what appeared to be a permanent scowl on his face.
“We shouldn’t even be here,” Fergus said evenly.
“And what do ye expect us to do then, Fergus? Are we supposed to sit back on our asses and watch them die?” Quinn demanded, sounding irritated as he glared right back at his brother.
When Fergus’ glare landed on her, she felt a chill spread down her spine and when he answered his brother, she felt like her world was about to crumble down around her.
“Aye.”
Chapter 31
“Why don’t we cut the shit and get right to the point?” Tristan said, realizing that he’d never regretted anything more in his life than not locking Marty’s ass up and keeping her out of this.
She was frightened, but instead of admitting that, she was doing her best to hide it, determined not to miss a single syllable of this bullshit. She didn’t need to be here. This was his problem and he would take care of it. He knew that she wanted answers and he would give them to her, but he didn’t want to do it like this.
He didn’t know what these men wanted or what they were going to say and he didn’t want one of them scaring her again. She was doing her best to hide it, but he could feel the slight trembling of her arm. The death grip that she had on his leg also clued him into the fact that Marty wasn’t taking this whole thing as calmly as she would like them to believe.
“Why don’t we start from the beginning?” Liam suggested, sounding as though he wasn’t sure that was a good idea.
Tristan looked around the room, his fingers continuing to lightly caress Marty’s arm, and took in the stoic expressions of the other men. When his gaze landed on Shayne, he wasn’t too surprised to find him standing there, trying to hide his worry behind a small forced smile that told him everything that he needed to know.
He was truly fucked.
“We were all born in-“ Liam began, but Tristan cut him off, refusing to allow one more second to pass without finding out about the only thing that mattered to him.
“Are you here to harm my wife?” he demanded, ignoring Marty’s startled gasp and the few muttered curses that exploded around the room, keeping his eyes locked on the man that he’d already determined to be the leader of this group.
“No,” Liam said, sighing heavily as he shifted back in the chair. “We’re here to protect her and the boy.”
“What boy?” Marty asked, moving to sit up, but a gentle touch from Tristan had her lying back down. There was no doubt in his mind that if she tried to sit up right now that she would either pass out or make herself sick. She was ghostly white, her skin was cool to the touch and she couldn’t seem to stop trembling even with the thick blanket tucked in around her.
Biting back a grimace of pain
, he leaned over and grabbed the blanket folded on the back of the couch and pulled it over Marty. She sent him an annoyed look even as she grabbed the edge of the extra blanket and pulled it up to her chin. He was grateful when several of the men suddenly appeared around the couch and started fussing over Marty, adding a third blanket and tucking her in. When they were done they disappeared just as quickly as they had appeared and returned to their respective spots in the room.
“We’re here to ensure that ye and yer son get the chance to live a long and happy life, Macha,” Liam explained softly.
Marty’s grip on his leg tightened past the point of pain, which was a blessing since it took his attention away from the agonizing pain shooting down his arm. “What about Tristan?” she asked even though she probably already knew the answer. He knew Marty well enough to know that she needed to hear it before she could accept it.
After a slight pause, Liam confirmed his suspicions. “He can’t stay, Macha.”
“Stop calling me that!” she snapped, her voice cracking and this time when he tried to stop her from sitting up, she shoved his hand away.
“Marty, relax,” he said, putting his good arm around her and pulling her against him. She tried to fight him, but she was too tired to do anything more than to shove weakly at him. Once he had her tucked into his side, she gave up and simply curled up against him, her head on his shoulder as she laid her hand against his chest, careful of his old wound.
“They’re not taking you,” she said stubbornly, her voice breaking as she tried to stay calm, but this was too much for her.
“I’m taking you upstairs,” he said, fully expecting her to put up a fight so when she merely nodded against his shoulder he was a little surprised, but apparently the other men in the room weren’t.
“Ye can’t escape, lass,” Quinn said with a shrug.