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 for it.

“Can I?” Tristan demanded, hating the fact that, for the first time in years, he just 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 hall towards the front door, his weapon drawn and Tom hot on his heels as the two men quickly made their way towards him.

“Where’s Marty?” Hank demanded.

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

“That’s good, lad, really good,” the man that had 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, he almost stopped him and pulled him into his arms so that he could tell the man how much he loved him and appreciated everything that he’d done for 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’d done for him by putting him in danger.

He wasn’t that much of an ass**le.

Chapter 28

“Are ye all right, lass?” the voice with the light Irish brogue that made her feel protected and safe asked as a cold cloth was pressed against her forehead.

“No,” she said with an embarrassing sniffle. She definitely was not okay. Confused? Scared? Embarrassed? Dizzy? Close to vomiting? Yes, she was all of those things, but the one thing that she was definitely not was fine.

“Declean, did ye get the fritters?” another man, whose voice was slightly deeper and sexier, asked.

“They were out,” she heard a man mumble and she considered opening her eyes to see who spoke, but that would only cause more problems like more vomiting, doing something embarrassing like passing out, or losing it again. Was that…..bitch slapping that she was hearing? Yup, she was pretty sure that there were currently ghosts in her room bitch slapping each other from the sounds of it.            

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” Declean demanded, sounding like he was pouting. Why that made her lips twitch, she didn’t know. Maybe it was part of a mental breakdown?

“Cause ye didn’t get the lass her baked goods, ye lazy bastard!” another one snapped, followed by the sounds of more bitch slapping.

“Hit me again, Fergus and I’ll-Ow!”

“Stop yer bitching and go get the lass something to eat!”

“What am I supposed to get her then?”

“Apples?” someone suggested, sounding hopeful.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, her stomach doing backflips at the mere suggestion of her favorite snack.

“Ye dumb bastard! Ye know that she can’t eat apples when she’s pregnant!”

A heavy sigh was followed by, “Aye, yer right. Then what are we supposed to get for her?”

“Why are ye asking me? I’m not the one that’s pregnant!”

“Lass, what would ye like to eat?” the man that had carried her into the room asked and, although she could use a fritter or an apple donut, she was having a difficult time wrapping her mind around one little thing.

“Pregnant?”

*-*-*-*

“Oh, he’s not going to be happy about this,” he heard Shayne say as he walked down the hall towards the bedroom.

“Well, the lass really didn’t leave us with much of a choice, now did she?”

“She did make Quinn cry,” Shayne said, sounding thoughtful.

“I wasn’t crying!” a man snapped and if Tristan hadn’t been preparing himself for the worst he probably would have laughed or at the very least cracked a smile. He sure as hell wasn’t smiling when he walked into his room and found his wife gagged, still wrapped up in a sheet, and now handcuffed to the bed.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded, shooting Shayne a glare as he stormed over to the bed.

“She beat me,” the tall man standing by the bed mumbled, shifting nervously as the other men in the room chuckled.

“I did warn the lads that she had a bit of a temper,” Shayne explained defensively as Tristan pulled out the gag, one of his clean socks rolled up into a ball.

“Pregnant? You got me pregnant?” Marty demanded as soon as the gag was freed, taking him off guard.

“Uh,” was all he could come up with under that murderous glare that she was shooting him.

“Well said, lad,” Shayne said dryly as he reached over and released Marty from her cuffs.

“What the hell are ye doing, ye dumb bastard?” the man that he was assuming was Quinn demanded as he quickly moved away from the bed. “The lass is feral!”

“Calm yerself. He’s the one that she wants to kill,” Shayne pointed out, reaching out to help Marty sit up, but one look from her had him quickly backing away from the bed as well.

“I’ll just let ye go ahead and handle this part, lad,” Shayne said, walking away like the coward that he was.

“Well?” Marty demanded as she sat up, oblivious to the fact that she was only wearing a sheet in a room full of men.

Thankfully, the sheet never slipped, but neither did the murderous glare she was sending him, unfortunately. He opened his mouth to explain, but just couldn’t find the right words. Marty, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be at a loss for words. She also didn’t seem to care that they weren’t alone.

“You ready to talk yet, huh?” she demanded, somehow sounding more pissed than she looked, which was impressive because she looked ready to go for his balls.

“Marty, I-“

“You what? You’re ready to explain why you’re such an ass**le? Or maybe you’re ready to explain why you feel the need to subscribe to over two hundred dollars worth of  p**n  channels a month, huh?” she snapped, earning a few chuckles from their audience and having him make a mental note to kick Shayne’s ass later. He opened his mouth to explain, but Marty was far from done.