Remember Me (Defiant MC) (16 page)

Maddox walked into Priest’s room and sat beside the bed.  The painkillers made his father comfortably unconscious.  Even though Maddox knew it was unlikely Priest even recognized he
was there, he didn’t want to be anywhere else.  He didn’t hear the back door open, which meant Jensen had either left or was still out there in the dark wrestling with whatever ghosts haunted him. 

“Dad,” Maddox whispered, just because he still could.  He held his father’s hand and felt the faintest pressure of a return grip.

Maddox was unaware of time passing as he sat beside his father.  Thoughts of Gabriela kept intruding no matter how he tried to push her away.  That afternoon he had felt a dull satisfaction in realizing her hunger and knowing that she wanted him.  Maddox couldn’t begin to count the number of women he’d fucked in the last ten years.  How many times had he sheathed his dick and stuck it in some unknown pussy without a name?  There were some who were more frequent liaisons, like Alice, but nothing he couldn’t live without.  Having Gabriela de Campo would be different.  Once inside her, Maddox would be lost.   

Maddox finally heard the low screech of the screen door opening and recognized his brother’s shuffle.  Jensen darkened the doorway and stared inside.  Maddox didn’t raise his head until his brother sighed and retreated across the hall.  Mad might have asked why the hell he didn’t go home to his damn wife but decided he didn’t really care. 

Mad kept thinking about the cemetery.  It was sadder than most such places; a pack of forgotten lives clustered together in a lonely spot no one ever visited.  That first grave got to him more than the rest of them put together. 

1890.

Brother
. 

Maybe that one troubled him because of the single word epitaph.  Someone had cared about the man in the ground. 

He wondered what his own stone would say if he had one.

Contention City, Arizona Territory

1888

Annika remembered his last lingering kiss hours earlier.  Yet as she awoke for the day she still reached for him, her heart sinking with regret when her arms found nothing but emptiness. 

The thought of his hard body atop hers no longer made her blush.  Indeed, she reveled in the memory and reached between her own legs to feel the want building there. 

A predatory bird cawed loudly overhead and Annika sighed.  The day could be easily idled away by indulging in thoughts of Mercer.  Reluctantly she got to her feet, noting how the air was growing crisp in the mornings, though it would heat up considerably in the afternoon. 

After dressing, Annika built a fire in the small stone pit behind the schoolhouse.  She heated some water and carefully stirred in the ground coffee beans which had been part of Lizzie Post’s supplies.  The liquid was bitter but she dared not sweeten it with her limited sugar supply. 

After she put out the fire, Annika began to walk in the direction of town.  It would take a few months of careful saving, but a horse would be the first thing her wages would buy.  Of course she had no idea where she might keep a horse but that was a problem which could be solved somehow.  No man or woman could gain an ounce of independence in the Territory without a horse. 

Annika had learned to pay no mind to the drunken sots who stumbled out of the saloons after a long night of gambling and drink.  Many were miners but there were all sorts mixed in.  Once she had pretended not to notice Mr. Swilling as he lurched down the street and then heaved into a water barrel.  He lost money on a regular basis in the raucous card games which sometimes ended with a gunshot. 

Annika warily eyed the group of men who ambled out of The Rose Room.  The three of them wore pistols on their hips and did not have the pale, somewhat bedraggled look of the miners. 

She turned away and tried not to listen as two of them called to her.  One of the establishment’s soiled doves lounged indecently on the balcony and laughed. 

Annika’s first inclination was to tell the men where they could put their crude insults.  But fighting every scoundrel in Contention City would be futile and would only draw more attention to her.  She was quite aware of how tempting a target she must be; a lone woman living too far beyond the town’s center for any screams to be heard. 

She quickened her pace and headed to the Mercantile.  Mrs. Meyer, the wife of the German proprietor and mother of two of Annika’s students, accepted the Wisconsin-bound letter Annika gave her and handed over an envelope which had arrived during the week.  As she left the Mercantile, Annika turned the small envelope over in her hands, examining it, savoring this piece of home.  The letter was in the hand of her sister, Britta. 

“Whoa,” said a deep voice and Annika was startled to realize that she had nearly run into a large man.  She looked up and saw cold blue eyes regarding her.  Those eyes seemed incapable of missing a thing. 

“Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he said with a southern drawl, removing his hat in a cocky, insincere way which abruptly reminded her of Mercer.  

“Miss Annika Larson,” she brusquely told the man.  “I am the new schoolteacher.  Now I beg your pardon, but may I pass?”

“Schoolteacher,” he nodded to himself, then broke into harsh laughter which attracted a few glances from other folks who were going about their business on Contention Way.  The man didn’t even seem aware of them.  Annika did not know what to make of him.  She only knew that he made her uneasy. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said in his slow accent, inviting her with a gesture to pass by on the rickety boardwalk which ran the length of the street.  “I’ve heard so much about you, Miss Larson.” 

His statement caught her off guard and she stared at him curiously.  He was older than Mercer and something about his manner branded him as even more of a scamp.  A fain scar ran the length of his right cheek.  He was the sort of man any women, good or otherwise, would stare after in fascination even as they pretended not to. 

“Who are you?” Annika asked, since he seemed unwilling to volunteer the information. 

He replaced his hat and checked the pistol on his hip as his cold eyes surveyed the residents of Contention City in a silent challenge.  “You can call me Mr. Dane.  Although the name Cutter Dane may be more familiar to you.” 

Annika tensed.  So here was the leader of The Danes.  The man who Mercer Dolan counted among his friends and declared he would follow anywhere.  Cutter Dane had robbed.  He had killed.  And he stood there on Contention Way in broad daylight daring anyone to call him out over it. 

Still, she refused to show him any fear.  “Why Cutter?” she asked boldly.  “What have you done to deserve a name like that?” 

With a smile he reached into his boot and withdrew a long bone-handled knife.  Annika heard the muffled scream of a woman nearby but she did not acknowledge it, standing her ground in front of the outlaw.  Cutter Dane expertly twirled the weapon in his fingers, demonstrating his deadly prowess. He seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. 

The outlaw’s deep voice was low and raspy as he leaned close to Annika.  “I’ll tell him you said hello, Miss Larson.” 

Then with a flourish he stowed the knife in his boot once more. Cutter Dane offered no further pleasantries as he stalked over to The Rose Room and disappeared into its smoky depths. 

Annika had been planning to call on Mrs. Swilling.  However, the run in with Cutter Dane had filled her with a dreaded disquiet.  She no longer felt up to a social engagement.  The day was growing warmer but she did not care.  She could not stand still.  She would walk until her legs gave out.

“I’ll tell him you said hello.” 

Was Mercer somewhere in the bowels of The Rose Room, drinking and getting pleasured by one of the painted girls?  Her fists clenched, creasing the unopened letter she held.  That damn Cutter Dane had regarded her as if he knew something a decent man would never speak of.  Had Mercer told his gang of their time together?  Was he only toying with her after all, playing her emotions as if she were an amusement to trifle with?

The blood roared in her head as she hurried with purpose back the way she had come.  Annika searched her mind for all the words Mercer Dolan had ever spoken to her.  In truth, there were no promises in there, nothing about love.  Those words had been uttered by her alone.  

As she passed the squat building which housed Contention Bank, James Dolan was stepping into the street.  He blinked in surprise when he saw her. 

“Miss Larson,” he said, moving in her direction.  As he drew closer his sharp eyes searched her face.  “Annika,” he said softly, “what’s wrong.”

She tried to smile politely.  “Not a thing, Mr. Dolan.”  But she was a little unstable and James grabbed her arm. 

“Something is wrong,” he frowned. 

Annika tried to twist away but he held to her fast.  “There’s nothing wrong, James.  You need to let me go now.” 

He wouldn’t.  They were at the end of Contention Way.  James marched her around the back of the building and tipped her chin up, gazing at her shrewdly. 

“Did he do something to you?”

Annika’s heard skipped.  “Who?”

“You know damn well who.  That cursed brother of mine.” 

Annika thought about laughing and throwing it in the face of the city marshal that yes, his brother had done many things to her.  And that she had loved them all.  But she was suddenly ashamed, knowing that to Mercer she was likely of no more consequence than a whore of The Rose Room. 

Annika could not bear the sad concern in James’s eyes.  She withdrew from his grasp and pushed him away.  “He’s done nothing to me.” 

James grabbed her again.  “Like hell,” he growled.  Suddenly he looked so similar to Mercer that she felt weak.  Then with a thick sigh he released her.  He coughed twice.  “Annika,” he said in a pained voice.  “You are a decent woman.  Don’t allow Mercer to ruin you.” 

She could not be close to him any longer.  He reminded her too strongly of his brother.  If he grabbed her again she would allow him to kiss her.  She knew he desperately wanted to. 

Instead she smoothed her sis
ter’s letter.  “Good day, Mr. Dolan.” 

James stared into her eyes for a moment and then left her alone.  She walked quickly back to the schoolhouse.  For the rest of the day she did nothing but watch the passage of shadows outside as she waited for Mercer.   

She hadn’t been at all sure he would show up, but she saw his long shadow ambling toward the schoolhouse just before dark.  She knew even before she saw him that he was drunk. 

Her voice was cold.  “Why have you come here?”

He paused, then smiled.  “Same reason I always come, Anni.” 

“I met Cutter Dane today.” 

The smile dropped from his face.  “I know.”

“So why don’t you return to drinking with your murderous friend and bedding whores?”

“I never needed your permission for either one, schoolteacher.”

Annika felt as if she had been struck a blow.   She did not want to ask her next question. “Is that what you do as soon as you leave me?”

His answer was immediate.  “No, Anni.  Never.”  

Annika leapt to her feet.  Damn this man.  Damn the way he looked at her as if she were everything one moment and nothing the next.  “Why are you here, Mercer?”  She heard the sob in her throat.  “I already told you I loved you. Do you feel anything for me?  Anything at all?” 

He wouldn’t meet her eyes.  He looked up into the tall cottonwoods.  “Yes,” he said, so low she nearly didn’t hear him.  She thought he would go to her then but he didn’t.  He turned around and disappeared into the darkness. 

“Mercer,” Annika whispered in agony and then collapsed into the dirt.  She did not know how long she cried. 

Though the last thing she felt like doing the following morning was returning to Contention City, she needed to attend church.  It was expected that she would set a good example for her students. 

She dressed, feeling weak and unwell.  The tiny looking glass confirmed she looked as such. 

When she arrived in town there was still a half hour before church service would begin.  Mrs. Swilling was seated primly in her buckboard in front of the Mercantile as her daughter Harriet fidgeted in the back.  She nodded stiffly to Annika. 

“Miss Larson.”

Annika heard men shouting and realized it was coming from the establishment about fifty yards beyond.  The Rose Room. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Swilling.  You are looking well.” 

The haughty woman sniffed.  “Thank you.  I would feel much improved, however, if Mr. Swilling was not obliged to involve himself in the scandals of that devil’s den.” 

Annika looked down the street.  She did not care to know the nature of Mrs. Swilling’s complaint but she had little choice
than to listen. 

Mrs. Swilling licked her thin lips, delighting in the gossip as she leaned forward conspiratorially.  “One of the miners was stabbed last night.”  She waved a gloved hand.  “Oh, he’ll live.  It was
n’t mortal, but the argument arose due to one of those soiled doves.”  She grimaced.  “The only scourge worse than those diseased women are the scum they delight in pleasuring.  Mr. Dolan’s own brother committed the assault.  And later he was found with blood still on his clothes as he slept in the lap of a whore.”