“He has no problem with yer outlook on the shooting, lad. He has other concerns about ye, so just answer honestly,” Shayne said without looking up from file.

What? That wasn’t right. He was only supposed to be here about the shooting. What else could there be? He was a freaking paragon of sanity and good sense, goddammit! Okay, granted he was having a powerful spirit sneak a peek at his file, but that was neither here nor there.

“I don’t feel much about the shooting, Doc, except regret for those boys. They’re the ones who are going to have a tough time getting their lives back to normal and accepting what happened to them. If you want to know if I feel any pity or remorse over killing that prick, the answer is no. I don’t. It was a clean kill and a necessary one,” he said, using the same tone he used when talking to the prosecutor.

Dr. Bryne nodded solemnly as he wrote something down on the legal pad resting on his lap. Tristan shot a look at Shayne, but Shayne was already on it. He leaned over the doctor’s shoulder and chuckled.

“He’s just writing a reminder to pick up milk, lad,” Shayne said as he returned to the desk. Almost immediately he began chuckling. Tristan’s hands clenched and unclenched. What he wouldn’t give to see that damn file.

“So, Doc, do you think that you could sign the release?” Tristan asked, trying to get the man to focus on the task at hand.

Dr. Bryne sighed heavily. “No, I think you could really benefit from some more therapy.”

That was it. Tristan shot off the couch. “What the hell does that mean?”

Dr. Bryne jumped back in his chair, almost falling over. He cleared his throat. “Hank thought you could benefit from….um….”

“Just say it!” Tristan snapped.

“Ah, lad….” Shayne said, trying to get his attention.

Tristan being Tristan, he ignored him. Once his temper snapped, there was usually no hauling it in.

“I’m sick of this bullshit. You and I both know that there is nothing wrong with me. I’m not losing sleep over that prick and I’m ready to go back to work. The only reason to hold me back is if you felt that I was traumatized from that shooting and we both know that I would not hesitate to pull the trigger again if it was necessary.”

“Lad, it’s not that. It’s-“

Tristan rammed his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have patience for this shit or the time it takes out of my schedule to come here and play touchy feely, Doc. So, do us both a favor and sign me off so that I can do my f**king job!”

“H-Hank thought you could use some anger therapy,” Dr. Bryne stuttered.

Well…..hell.

He shot a glare at Shayne who was glaring right back. “Next time shut the f**k up, lad, so I can tell ye that they think ye have an anger problem, ye dumb bastard!”

“Oh,” Tristan said, frowning. He thought it over for a minute before asking, “My temper’s not that bad, is it?”

His question was met with twin expressions of utter disbelief.

“It’s not,” he bit out.

Dr. Bryne carefully got to his feet and walked over to his desk. He frowned down at Tristan’s open file. Then shook his head as if he was shaking away a thought and picked up an appointment card and wrote something on the back. He walked over to Tristan and handed him the card, careful not to get too close to him.

“I’m not going to require you to come to anymore one on one sessions,” he said, sounding relieved, really relieved. “But, I am going to recommend that you finish five anger management group meetings. They meet twice every day. I suggest that you take advantage of this opportunity and work on your anger.”

Tristan snatched the card away and stormed off towards the door, forgetting his coffee. “This is bullshit! I have the f**king patience of a saint!” He slammed the door behind him and faced the waiting room where several very frightened patients noticeably cowered.

“Do I look like I have a f**king anger problem?”

As one they shook their heads.

“That’s what I thought.”

Chapter 15

“Are you coming in?” Hank asked as he threw the cruiser in park.

Marty held up a finger to let him know that she’d be in there in a minute. In the meantime she was on hold with her cell phone provider. Thanks to Tristan’s little antics yesterday, she was forced to change her phone number or continue to deal with phone calls every other minute from people that she didn't know asking questions about her and Tristan or guys that wanted a chance at getting between her legs.

So, now she was forced to pay forty dollars to change her number. Forty bucks she was determined to make Tristan pay. This was his fault after all. If she’d known this was how he was going to treat her after all those years of friendship, she would have stuck with ignoring him. That orgasm was so not worth this bullshit or those damn dreams that she’d been having since Friday. Well, maybe a little of it. She closed her eyes and groaned.

She needed to get her act together and get over the jerk. One would think that after all these years she’d be over him, but no of course not. If anything she loved the bastard more now. Love just plain sucked and was so not worth it. She’d just stick with Bob and chocolate from now on.

Ten minutes later and forty bucks poorer, she walked into Betty Lou’s Coffee and Pastry shop and stepped in line. Her father was already seated at one of the small booths on the other side of the large coffee shop and was talking with the “boys”. Hopefully he was still unaware of her weekend activities.

She was not looking forward to his temper when he found out about her involvement in Tristan’s internet debut. It had been stupid and childish, but something in her had snapped after Tristan had toyed with her. After years of being ignored only to be used and treated like crap when he finally deigned to acknowledge her existence had set her off. She'd finally had enough and did something she’d regretted almost immediately, but it was either follow through with her rash decision or take a chance on a man that would probably shove her away once he was done with her.

She forced herself to calm down and focus on buying an apple fritter and a hot chocolate. That would make her morning better. She just needed her apple fritter and cocoa and everything would be okay. A few minutes later she was waiting for a rather chatty woman to grab her coffee and get the hell out of her way. There was only one fritter left and it was hers!

Just as she was opening her mouth to ask the woman in front of her to move aside so that she could place her order, a large man wearing a dark suit stepped in front of her.

What the hell?

“Hey, there’s a line, buddy!” she snapped, not even caring enough to be polite about it. She needed her delicious fritter or she was pretty sure that she would kill someone.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, sweetheart,” a familiar voice said. It didn’t take her long to figure out who the bastard that had cut in front of her was.

“Tristan Black,” she bit out through clenched teeth, “move your ass!”

He looked over his shoulder and snorted, but didn’t say anything else as he returned his attention back to the cashier.

“I’ll take a hot chocolate and a coffee roll-“

“It’s our last one, Detective. I know that you usually get two,” the woman said in a flirty tone that had Marty’s teeth grinding together.