Read Online Remember Me (Defiant MC) by Cora Brent - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cora Brent
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Tildy McLeod, who was still alive then.
“So how is he?” Maddox asked quietly.
Jensen grimaced. “He’s bad. Could be days, could be less.”
“I see,” whispered Maddox, suddenly overcome with emotion. Priest McLeod couldn’t die. But Priest McLeod was dying. He could smell it now in the house; it was the sweet stench of slow decay, unlike the sharp coppery smell of a quick death.
“That your car in the driveway?” Maddox asked, changing the subject.
Jensen seemed disconcerted. “No. Gaby’s been here every day; she took a walk into town for latex gloves or some shit. The old man loves her, you know. Plus she’s a physician’s assistant so she helps with the medical stuff.” Jensen paused. “And then there’s Miguel. He adores his grandfather. This has been tough on him.”
Maddox didn’t say anything. He didn’t retreat when his brother took a step closer. The look on Jensen’s face was grimly earnest.
“Mad, I was sorry then. I can’t say it anymore. I know that for you all that shit is still immediate but for the rest of us it’s over. I’m married now. There’s nothing between me and Gabriela except love for our son.” He coughed. “Can you let it go, Maddox?”
Maddox looked at the man who was his strongest living genetic link. There had been another brother, Colt. He’d been the firstborn and had died in his crib when he was six months old. Maddox knew neither of his parents had ever recovered from that shot to the chest. The older he grew, the more Priest would talk about the son he’d lost, wondering aloud if his survival would have made a difference, how he might have balanced the scales between his perpetually warring younger brothers.
“Yeah,” Maddox looked Jensen in the eye. His voice was as deadly cool as he could force it to be. “I’ll let it go. Now beg your fucking pardon, brother . I’m going to see my father.”
He stalked past Jensen and headed for his father’s room. It had been his parents’ bedroom. Tildy McLeod’s sudden death had been another thing Priest had never recovered from. He’d sought solace at the bottom of a bottle. And this painful march toward death was his reward.
“Hey, Pop,” Maddox said softly as he entered the room.
His father lay under a clean white sheet. His skin had lost its natural glow and there was only a graying husk. Priest opened his muddy eyes and smiled at his youngest son.
“Mad,” he croaked, trying to reach out.
Maddox went quickly to his side and knelt beside the bed. A packaged syringe and a small bottle of clear liquid sat on the small table beside him. Maddox supposed it was for the pain. It couldn’t be for anything else. One look at his father spoke the truth; the man was indeed dying. Maddox clutched his father’s frail hand and cried like a baby, like a woman, like a sad boy who only realized what mattered most when it was lost to him.
At some point Jensen entered the room and kneeled miserably on the other side of the bed. Maddox tried to think of things to say but really there was nothing good to talk about. He had no woman, no children. He did have a motley collection of men out there in the desert outside Quartzsite but he couldn’t even think of anything to say about them.
He sat there with his father and his brother, the remains of his original family, until Priest fell asleep with a smile on his skeletal face. Maddox watched the shallow rise and fall of his chest worriedly for a few moments and then kissed his father on the forehead. Jensen followed him out.
“You okay?” he asked, stepping around Maddox carefully.
Maddox stared dully at the wall. “No. I’m not okay. Shit, this is terrible.”
“Yeah,” Jensen’s voice suddenly gained an edge. “It’s been terrible for a while. You just weren’t here to watch it.”
Maddox glared. “Fuck you.
“So how is he?” Maddox asked quietly.
Jensen grimaced. “He’s bad. Could be days, could be less.”
“I see,” whispered Maddox, suddenly overcome with emotion. Priest McLeod couldn’t die. But Priest McLeod was dying. He could smell it now in the house; it was the sweet stench of slow decay, unlike the sharp coppery smell of a quick death.
“That your car in the driveway?” Maddox asked, changing the subject.
Jensen seemed disconcerted. “No. Gaby’s been here every day; she took a walk into town for latex gloves or some shit. The old man loves her, you know. Plus she’s a physician’s assistant so she helps with the medical stuff.” Jensen paused. “And then there’s Miguel. He adores his grandfather. This has been tough on him.”
Maddox didn’t say anything. He didn’t retreat when his brother took a step closer. The look on Jensen’s face was grimly earnest.
“Mad, I was sorry then. I can’t say it anymore. I know that for you all that shit is still immediate but for the rest of us it’s over. I’m married now. There’s nothing between me and Gabriela except love for our son.” He coughed. “Can you let it go, Maddox?”
Maddox looked at the man who was his strongest living genetic link. There had been another brother, Colt. He’d been the firstborn and had died in his crib when he was six months old. Maddox knew neither of his parents had ever recovered from that shot to the chest. The older he grew, the more Priest would talk about the son he’d lost, wondering aloud if his survival would have made a difference, how he might have balanced the scales between his perpetually warring younger brothers.
“Yeah,” Maddox looked Jensen in the eye. His voice was as deadly cool as he could force it to be. “I’ll let it go. Now beg your fucking pardon, brother . I’m going to see my father.”
He stalked past Jensen and headed for his father’s room. It had been his parents’ bedroom. Tildy McLeod’s sudden death had been another thing Priest had never recovered from. He’d sought solace at the bottom of a bottle. And this painful march toward death was his reward.
“Hey, Pop,” Maddox said softly as he entered the room.
His father lay under a clean white sheet. His skin had lost its natural glow and there was only a graying husk. Priest opened his muddy eyes and smiled at his youngest son.
“Mad,” he croaked, trying to reach out.
Maddox went quickly to his side and knelt beside the bed. A packaged syringe and a small bottle of clear liquid sat on the small table beside him. Maddox supposed it was for the pain. It couldn’t be for anything else. One look at his father spoke the truth; the man was indeed dying. Maddox clutched his father’s frail hand and cried like a baby, like a woman, like a sad boy who only realized what mattered most when it was lost to him.
At some point Jensen entered the room and kneeled miserably on the other side of the bed. Maddox tried to think of things to say but really there was nothing good to talk about. He had no woman, no children. He did have a motley collection of men out there in the desert outside Quartzsite but he couldn’t even think of anything to say about them.
He sat there with his father and his brother, the remains of his original family, until Priest fell asleep with a smile on his skeletal face. Maddox watched the shallow rise and fall of his chest worriedly for a few moments and then kissed his father on the forehead. Jensen followed him out.
“You okay?” he asked, stepping around Maddox carefully.
Maddox stared dully at the wall. “No. I’m not okay. Shit, this is terrible.”
“Yeah,” Jensen’s voice suddenly gained an edge. “It’s been terrible for a while. You just weren’t here to watch it.”
Maddox glared. “Fuck you.
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