Remember Me (Defiant MC) (31 page)

The blood still trickled from James’s mouth.  Annika saw the effort it took for him to try to speak.  The wound in his chest continued to leak and his breathing was an agonized wheeze.  “I remember,” he said.  He ran his hand across his mouth and grimaced at the
smear of dark blood he saw.  

Annika knelt beside Mercer and placed a gentle hand on James’s chest.   She could see in his eyes the knowledge of his death.  She wanted him to know he would not face it alone. 

“Can’t fault you, Annika,” he said.  A convulsion of pain caused him to stiffen and then he offered her a rueful grin.  “Can’t fault you,” he continued, “for what I always knew.” 

Annika fought the tears.  James
Dolan deserved better than self-serving weeping.  “James,” she finally said, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he told her.  He coughed and tried to swallow the blood which bubbled into his throat.  His eyes, so like Mercer’s, shifted from her to his brother and back again.  “I wouldn’t have lived many more years anyway.  My lungs wouldn’t allow it.  Just know that I loved you.  Know that I loved you both.  And remember me.”

“Yes,” she took his hand, kissing it as Mercer let out a moan of grief.  “Always.”

It was only seconds but seemed much longer.  There were distant shouts and the glow of fire as buildings lining Contention Way b
urned.  And James Dolan was no more. 

“Mercer.”  Como was tying his arm into a makeshift sling.  “You should go.  Cutter and the rest are set to rally a mile due east of the bridge.  They won’t wait long.”   He looked at the ceiling where sounds on the second floor could be heard as the home’s other occupants dared to stir.  “And even without Swilling the mob will remember your blood.” 

Mercer stared at James as if he hadn’t heard a word.  “I need to bury him.” 

Como sucked in an impatient breath.  “You can’t.” 

“I will,” said Annika. She raised her eyes and looked calmly at Mercer.  “I’ll see him put to rest. I should do it.  I need to do it.  You know you can’t stay.”

Mercer stared at her.  Annika could almost see the inner struggle being waged within.  Contention City would not have forgotten about him.  With the deaths of James and Swilling and the bedlam wrought by The Danes, Mercer’s neck would be still be sought.  Gun-toting posses would surely chase them all over the Territory and Annika’s presence would be a liability.   But if he fled with Cutter Dane it was impossible to guess when she might see him again.  Weeks, years, possibly never. 

“Can you ride?” Mercer slowly asked Como.

The Italian frowned at his arm.  “It isn’t a bad shot,
amico
, and I can ride, yes.  But not the kind of riding you boys will need to do in order to escape the law of the Territory.”   He took a step closer to Mercer and looked at him shrewdly.  “I owe you a debt, Dolan.  You saved my life out there more than once.  Remember the Black Hills?” 

Mercer nodded vaguely. “The Black Hills.  Yes, I remember.”

Annika held him.  “I’ll find you.  My love.  I will.”  She kissed him. 

“I’ll help her,” said Como.  He gave them a crooked grin.  “Medici’s dislike having debts.”  He ambled toward the door.  “I should not be present when the light shines of all of this.”  He waved his good arm around to indicate the bloody mess and the dead bodies.  “I promise you, Merc
er, I will see her to safety.” 

When Como Medici ma
de his exit Mercer turned to Annika once more and ran a hand down her cheek.  Something about it reminded her of the first time they’d kissed, a moment of passionate confusion.  It seemed so long ago, she mused.  It was, indeed, so long ago.

“Just don’t forget me,” Annika choked as she slipped her ar
ms around his shoulders and pressed herself to him one more time. 

Mercer’s broad hands spread across her back.  “As if I could, sweet girl.” 

He did not say goodbye.  Annika was glad.  The words would have haunted her.  She stood there in the parlor of a fine home with two dead men.  Somewhere inside the house a woman began to shout. 

“In this world or another one,” she whispered to herself. 

Then, just before Mrs. Swilling discovered her dead husband and issued a great cacophony of wailing, a stubbornly distinct thought carved itself in Annika’s mind. 

I’ll remember.

Contention City, Arizona

Present Day

Maddox couldn’t open his eyes.  He would feel himself swimming out of the oblivion, fighting to surface like a drowning man climbing toward the promise of air.  Then the darkness would pull him back down.  Somewhere in between he found his father. 

“Told ya,” Priest said, wagging a finger.  It wasn’t the Priest of latter days, shriveled and gasping.  This man was large and brimming with vitality, even younger than the father figure of Mad’s childhood.  He wore a leather jacket and a cocky sneer which spelled a knowing defiance. 

This Priest swing on leg across bike which was black to its last inch.  He was still shaking his head with apparent ruefulness that his words hadn’t been heeded. 

“Told ya to stay out them hills, boy.  Nothin’ but death.  Gold and death.  All the same.”  Priest gunned the engine.  Maddox wondered where the hell this ghostly Priest planned on going since they seemed to be suspended together in some sort of wild gray nowhere. Then a patch of fog cleared and Maddox saw the low peaks of the Scorpion Mountains. 

Priest turned and offered crooked smile.  “It’ll be all right, Maddie.  Open your eyes.  Your brother’s here.” 

Maddox found he could not speak or move.  He could only watch his father ride off in the direction of the mountains until the fog closed around him, leaving Maddox alone again in the featureless landscape. 

Helplessly, he looked up and strained to move.  Somewhere, anywhere.  To stay here, he knew, was death.  Gabriela’s face flashed across his mind and he found the strength to draw back his fist.  With a roar he punched through the fog and landed hard on a cold floor. 

Maddox struggled to open his eyes but something was sealing them shut.  He tried to move his hands and couldn’t, being that they were tied together behind his back.  But whoever had made the knot had been careless and after a few moments of struggle he managed to shake his right hand free.  He immediately felt his face but there was no mask or tape covering his skin.  The reason he couldn’t open his eyes was due to the sheer volume of dried blood which had pooled from his head wound.  He clawed his eyes free and blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his vision as his head screamed in agony. 

It was dark, he knew that.  There was a pervasive musty smell mixed with the sharp odor of chemicals, causing his stomach to heave.  Gingerly he reached out a hand and his fingertips made contact with a smooth wall.  As he shifted position his foot found another wall.  The dimensions of the room were small, very small.  Maddox figured he was somewhere in the depths of the Scorpion Grill.  He recalled the way Bryce had suckered him over the head and felt a growl rising in his throat.  Mad had been caught unawares once.  It wouldn’t happen twice. 

He carefully sat up, not wishing to make an excess of noise.  Once they realized he was conscious they would come back.  If they’d been of a mind to kill him they would have done so already.  Desperate men were often foolishly violent. 

“Call the cop,”
Bryce had said.

Perhaps they
needed to talk to Jensen first.  Maybe they knew Jensen was the only one who had the balls to coldly plug him. 

Was that how Chaz had met his end?  Maddox didn’t know how or whe
n but those men – Jensen, Bryce, Alan and Chaz - had obviously discovered a long lost cache of gold smuggled out of the old Scorpion mine.  Children liked to chant the words “Finders, keepers,” yet it was rarely that simple.   But something which hadn’t been found would never be missed.  If they cashed in the gold nuggets carefully and quietly, no one would be the wiser. 

However, something
had gone wrong with their little system and it had cost a man his life.  Maddox exhaled grimly and clenched his fists.  He damn well wouldn’t be the next to die.

Maddox quietly felt around in the dark for something which could be used as a weapon.  After making contact with an object he finally identified as a plastic dustpan he shoved it away in disgust.  He had a flash of hope when he remembered his cell phone.  But even before he grabbed for the back pocket where it normally lived he remembered how he’d left it in Miguel’s hands. 

He could hear the soft murmur of voices on the other side of the wall.  Men’s voices. Really, he had little defense against Jensen’s gun.  But he’d sure as shit refuse to cower meekly and beg for his life. 

Open your eyes.  Your brother’s here. 

Indeed, when Maddox strained he could make out the low, clear tones of Jensen’s voice mixed in with the nasal quality of the other two.

“My brother,” he said through clenched teeth.  The throb in his head grew with each pulse of rage. 

That man in there was no brother of his.  His only real brothers were hundreds of miles away, deep in the Mojave Desert.  He should be with them now. 

And Gaby.

His heart hurt at the thought of Gabriela.  Whatever she was to be told wouldn’t be truth.  Even now they must have taken his bike from the front parking lot hidden it somewhere it wouldn’t be found.  She would believe he had abandoned her. 

Mad McLeod had enough.  He drew up both his knees and with a grunt of fury kicked out as hard as he could against the wall.  His left foot went straight through the drywall and the voices on the other side stopped. 

“He’s awake,” Jensen said with a sigh.

Maddox tried to stand as he heard the shuffling footsteps come closer.  The knock on the other side of the door was polite, almost mocking. 

“Mad?”

“Hey, Jen,” Maddox called, his heart pounding.  “You mind letting me the hell out of here?”

He heard whispers on the other side and then Jensen’s voice clearly telling someone “Piss off.”

“Maddox, I’ve got my piece trained on the door.  It’s gonna be that way until we get this sorted out.”

Maddox laughed.  “So you can shoot me and not have to look at my face?  Fuck you, Jensen. FUCK YOU!”

When the door swung open i
t was unexpected.  Mad scuttled backwards, swearing as a bright light was shone inside the room.  Between the abrupt change from utter darkness and the blossom of torture from his likely concussion, Maddox was just about blind.

Someone flipped on a switch and the bare bulb of the overhead light showed Jensen McLeod’s impassive face.  Below his bleak expression was the muzzle of a gun.  Jensen pointed the weapon directly at Maddox, the meaning clear. Maddox could discern the shapes of the other two men as they waited behind Jensen.

“Maddox,” Jensen tsked softly.  “What the hell did you do?”

Maddox considered trying to bluff his way out but one look at Jensen’s grim face told him of the futility.  Jensen seemed to be waiting for him to answer.  Maddox figured he ought to, while he still could. 

“So this is who you really are?  Not a standup lawman or a staid family guy.  Sure as hell not a decent father.” 

Jensen flinched at that one.  “Watch your mouth, asshole.” 

“Why?  We all know it won’t make a fucking difference.”

Bryce
spoke from behind Jensen.  “That’s right,” he agreed. “It won’t.” 

Maddox licked his parched lips and tried to rise.  “So Chaz got greedy, maybe wanted more than his share and you figured it would be easier to split the take three ways instead of four?”

Jensen frowned, apparently disconcerted.  Maddox figured underneath he still might be the kid who hated lying to his mother about where he’d been. 

“Is that right, Jensen?” he prodded.  “Is it?”

His brother smiled.  It was terrible.  “So what if that were true?”

“So what?  So what do you think your son would say if he saw you now?”

The smile disappeared.  Jensen raised the gun ever so slightly. 

Maddox swayed, dizzy and s
ick from the concussion.  Who knew what Sanders, that rat bastard, had hit him with?  Whatever it was had made a deep cut just above his right temple.  He felt the blood dripping down the side of his face. 

“Maybe,” Maddox said recklessly, “you’ll shut him up too.  And Gaby.  Then you can be alone with your gold.  And these fuckers too.” 

“Don’t,” Jensen snarled, “say another word about my son. I don’t owe you any fucking answers.”  He coughed.  “Family doesn’t mean shit to you.  I’d kill to protect my boy.”

Chaz threatened the kid. 

Alan had said that and by that point he didn’t have much reason to lie.  It didn’t change the fact that Jensen held a gun on him. 

Bryce
slid to Jensen’s side like a snake.  Maddox saw with some alarm that he held a gun of his own.  He didn’t even look at Maddox.  He spoke only to Jensen. 

“No way out of this, McLeod.  He’s not going to be satisfied just walking away. And what are you going to do when he brings those gorillas in leather out here? They’ll slaughter you, rape your wife, cut your kid’s throat.”