by Cora Brent
Mercer watched him go and shook his head. “He carries that damn book like it’s a precious treasure.”
Annika stood then, running her palms along her long Gibson skirt. “It is,” she told him in a haughty voice, beginning to gather the rest of her books. She knew Mercer didn’t think much of formal schooling.
Mercer’s arms were around her before she realized he had moved. “Hey now,” he said gruffly as his hands traveled to her waist, squeezing. “I didn’t mean a thing by that, Annika.”
She held the worn books stubbornly to her chest. The school needed more than a few measly volumes to share among the students but books were expensive. James was angling to secure additional funds from the school board.
“There’s a lot of value in book learning,” she told him stiffly, ignoring the rise of heat in her breast which always surged when he touched her. “It give these children a chance to be something other than-“
“Me?” he finished harshly, spinning her around and demanding her mouth. Mercer knew how to kiss in a way that accepted no argument. As Annika’s arms went around his broad shoulders she didn’t have the will to refuse him anyway.
He ran his hands over her tightly bound breasts and her breath began coming in short gasps. Mercer felt for the nipples underneath the fabric and smiled. “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he said, being rough. Surprisingly, Annika had found that she often liked him to be rough.
She unbuttoned his torn shirt and admired the hard muscles of his chest. She wanted to feel more of him. “And what does a day entail for you, Mercer?”
He ran a thumb over her lips. “No holdups, if that’s what you’re asking. The gang is dispersed for now and I’m temporarily an honest man. Spent the day tracking wild horses. But any hour spent on the back of a horse is better than nearly every alternative. Nearly,” he grinned, fondling her. “Hell of a lot better than turning your lungs to paste in that mine or lettin’ your hands get soft in the company of these smarmy businessmen. It was a good day. Got a few of those wild ones roped in.”
Annika arched her back as he felt beneath her skirt. The desire always followed his touch. “And now you’re going to rope me in?”
He lifted her. “I’ve already roped you. Let’s see how far in I get.”
“Not here,” she whispered.
Mercer knew when she meant it. He carried her in the darkness to the teacherage.
“We don’t need that,” Annika told him, objecting when he lit the lantern. The oil was scarce and couldn’t be wasted.
“I damn well need it,” he said, ripping off his shirt. “Go on now.”
She knew what he wanted. Mercer watched as she unbuttoned her dress and let it fall. Her stays weren’t laced tight and she had no difficulty removing the corset herself.
“Your hair,” he commanded. Annika removed the pins carefully, allowing the fair waves to fall in a cloud long past her shoulders.
“Now the rest of it,” he said, running a hand over the hard bulge in his denims.
She faced him utterly nude and smiled as he released himself, seizing her.
“Mercer,” she moaned as he tackled her onto the bed.
“I know, darlin’. I’ll be careful.”
Annika felt herself growing slick between her legs as their mouths worked furiously. She loved the taste of his skin, the feel of his weight.
“Holy hell,” he groaned as her head bent lower, for the first time taking his rigid organ fully in her mouth. It was what she had thought about last night, as she lay in bed alone and wished for him. He grabbed her by the hair and showed her what he wanted.
Annika cried out a little when he pulled her head away roughly. His eyes were feverish as he separated her legs and climbed between them. All these nights when they had played at the act of love, he had never committed the final deed. He would now. She knew it.
“Mercer,” she whispered, touching his face, “I love you so.”
He was at the slippery gateway of her sex. Of course Annika had heard the matronly whispers of how it would hurt. But that it would be all right because the pain was fleeting if you were in the arms of your husband. However, Mercer Dolan wasn’t her husband. She saw in his face that he had chosen tonight to thrust inside of her and take the moment for himself. She didn’t want to stop him, not really. Annika closed her eyes and braced herself.
“Anni,” he said in a pained voice, still paused at her entrance. It was a nickname only he called her. She was surprised when he abruptly withdrew, rolling onto his back and shuddering with a sigh. He saw her watching and gave her a wry grin. “Dammit,” he said.
“My darling,” she kissed his chest. “I want it. I want to be with you.”
Mercer faced away. “When you say that, Anni, you mean it in the way that requires standing up and saying words.”
She thought about taking Mercer Dolan as her husband. The picture would not come easily. “Would that be so terrible?” She kissed him along his hard jaw, feeling the bristle of his early beard on her cheek. “You could take me every night. As you wanted to take me since that first night.”
“As I could have, you know,” he reminded her, grinning.
Annika slapped at him for his cheekiness and he responded harshly, pinning her arms down.
“And I could have you right now, Annika Larson,” he said with perfect confidence and then released her, reaching under the bed to grab the bottle of whiskey he kept under there.
He took a few swallows as Annika watched him with a mix of emotions. The man was infuriating. So often she had desperately wished it was James she loved instead. Annika knew Mercer still rode with The Danes. She wondered if he visited The Rose Room when it suited him. Yes, Mercer Dolan did as he pleased. He probably always would.
But then he carefully placed the bottle on the floor and cradled her against his chest. Mercer was a violent rogue, an outlaw. Yet common sense fell away when she was in his arms. Annika knew he cared for her in some way which went beyond the simple pleasures of the flesh. She knew this because he was right; he could have dispensed with her virtue ages ago and been done with it. So what was she to him? What could their future possibly be?
“I heard Cutter Dane is back in Contention City,” she said.
Mercer froze. His words came slowly. “What do you know of Cutter Dane?”
Annika propped herself up on one elbow. He was never very forthcoming but tonight she would push him. “He’s your leader, isn’t he? The leader of The Danes? Are the Tanner boys around too?”
Mercer grunted. “You’ve been reading that rag which floats up here from Phoenix. And likely listening to James. Cutter Dane is my friend, Annika. No, he’s more than that. I’d trust that man with my life. I trust him more than I trust my damn brother. I’d ride next to him even if we were headed straight into the maw of hell. I don’t expect you to understand.”
Annika scoffed. “My god, do you really think there’s anything which could shock me? Remember how we met, Mercer Dolan. What was in that treasure box you stole from the carriage anyway? You never told me.”
Mercer smiled. “Paper.”
“Paper? You mean money?”
“I mean worthless fucking paper. And don’t go lecturing me on my language, sweet thing. I know it doesn’t shock your mind.” Mercer rolled on top of her again. He was still urgently hard. The tip of his manhood teased her in a way which was maddening. Mercer knew it. He smiled and pinned her arms again as she began to thrash, desperate to be satisfied. “Only thing really worth a shit is gold. A box full of gold. Now that would be something to hold a gun to a man’s head for.”
She had wanted to make him answer for a few more things but her mind was failing her. There was only her body and his body and the way they felt together. “Mercer,” she groaned, biting her lip as he pushed her legs together and carefully slid himself back and forth at her sensitive base. Annika began to move her body to meet his, feeling the rhythm. She’d felt this with him before. She wanted to
feel it again. The wave built slowly, so slowly, and then crashed over her with shattering bliss. It was a sin, she knew, or at least so close to one the distinction was immaterial. She didn’t care. Annika couldn’t imagine the act itself would be much better. And yet Mercer had insisted to her that it was.
“It will be, my sweet girl. It will be,” he whispered in her ear before releasing himself in a hot spurt across her belly.
As his seed dried on her skin in a place where it would do no harm, Annika settled against him restlessly. To what end was all of this? It would do no good to ask Mercer. He would grin and answer glibly, touching her in a manner which silenced argument. Yet sometimes she glimpsed a tenderness which had little do with the fever of passion. Annika turned away from him, willing the urge for rest to find her and half wishing she had fallen for a different man.
Long after she thought he’d fallen asleep she heard him sigh her name into the dark.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Contention City, Arizona
Present Day
When Maddox opened his eyes he had to wonder what the hell year it was. How many thousands of mornings had he awakened to the bleak sight of a popcorn ceiling and paneled walls? The house of his childhood was suspended in time.
But really, that wasn’t it.
Time had forged ahead in its often cruel manner and his father wheezed toward his last breath just down the hall. Maddox jumped out of the narrow bed which had been purchased for a child and not updated for a man. He glanced at the face of his phone and saw four hours had passed since he had left Priest’s bedside and stumbled off to a restless sleep.
Maddox hiked up his sagging boxer shorts and hurried into his father’s room. The old man’s breathing was ragged and his skin was the same sickly pallor of near death, but he was alive. Mad touched the papery forehead delicately and sighed with relief. He wasn’t quite ready to confront the inevitable.
He was pissing in the hallway bathroom when the kid scared the shit out of him by bounding out of Jensen’s old bedroom. Mad cursed as a spray of urine hit the wall. He had forgotten about Miguel’s presence.
“Good morning, Mad,” Miguel yawned. He didn’t wait for an answer, moving quietly to the threshold of his grandfather’s room and staring silently inside as Maddox wiped his own piss off the wall.
When he was done he approached the kid and tapped him on the shoulder. It wasn’t good for Miguel to stare so closely into the face of death. “Hey, don’t you have school today?”
“No. It’s Saturday.”
“So it is. C’mon, I’ll get you some breakfast.”
There wasn’t much in the way of decent food in Priest’s house. Mad supposed the old man hadn’t been eating properly for quite some time. He found a half empty box of plain rice cereal and filled a bowl with cereal and water since there was no milk. After dumping three tablespoons of sugar over the mess, he slid the bowl in front of his nephew.
Miguel stared into the bowl, then looked up his uncle, shrugging before digging in.
“How come you never visit?” he asked between mouthfuls.
Maddox perched himself on the edge of the chipped tile counter and removed a cigarette from the pack of Marlboros someone had left behind. He lit the end with a kitchen match and tried to think of what to say.
“Just busy, I guess,” he said, exhaling a plume of smoke. Evidently the kid hadn’t heard much about him. It was probably best that way.
Miguel chewed and stared at him. The stern look in his deep brown eyes reminded Maddox of Gaby. “What do you do, Mad? Is it really okay if I call you Mad?”
“Sure. I’m a plumber. Just like your grandpa.”
“With your motorcycle gang? The Defiant?”
Maddox frowned. So the kid had heard a thing or two. Maybe Priest had said something, maybe not. “It’s a club, Miguel. A brotherhood of sorts.”
“But you have a brother. My dad is your brother.”
Mad finished the cigarette and quickly lit another. He could feel his tension rising but didn’t want to say too much in front of the boy. It wasn’t his place. “He is. But we can’t choose the brothers of our blood. We can, however, choose the men we run with.”
Miguel stirred his cereal. “I don’t have any brothers. I have cousins but they’re not so great.” His voice dipped low and wistful. “If I had a brother he would be my best friend.”
Mad hopped off the counter and tousled his nephew’s black hair. “You may get the chance to choose your brothers. Life’s not over yet, Miguel.”
A low moan from Priest’s room reminded Maddox that for at least one man life was indeed nearly over. He hurried into the room but his father had merely rolled to his side and fallen asleep once more. Maddox covered him lightly to the shoulders with the sheet and sank into the metal folding chair beside the bed. He wished he remembered the names of the men Priest used to run with. He might call them. So many years had passed though. He didn’t know if any of those men would still be alive.
After sitting for a while and listening to the wall clock cruelly tick the minutes away, Mad sighed and returned to the kitchen. Surprisingly, Gabriela was standing there in front of the sink. Her eyes skated over him briefly and he was glad that he was still only wearing boxer shorts. She looked away, crossing her arms, and he smiled, reaching over her head for a coffee cup.
“I didn’t hear you knock,” he said casually, noting how she was trying not to stare at him.
“I didn’t knock,” she said, moving backwards a step. “I was afraid you would still be sleeping. Miguel, what are you eating?”
“A spoonful of sugar,” the kid smiled. Mad winked at him.
Gaby frowned. “I said I’d be coming early. Why aren’t you dressed?”
Maddox filled the coffee carafe with water. “I can dress or not dress however I want.”
“For crying out loud, I wasn’t talking to you!”
“Why the hell are you yelling, Gabs?”
She closed her eyes and whispered a curse. Then she shook her head and laughed. Miguel’s eyes shifted from his mother to his uncle. Mad could tell the kid was fascinated.
Just then the front door opened and Jensen walked in, looking considerably more bright-eyed than when Mad had tossed him into the truck next to his wife the night before. He stopped and stared when he noticed Mad’s lack of attire.
“Jesus, what the hell is wrong with everyone? Is my dick hanging out or something? Maddox growled, looking down.
Jensen actually managed a small grin over that even though Gaby sucked her teeth with exasperation.
“You workin’ today?” he asked Jensen, smoothly changing the subject.
His brother nodded absently. “Later. I wanted to spend a few hours here first.”
Miguel jumped out of his chair and ran to his father, pulling at him. “Can you take me hiking, Dad?”
“Miguel,” Gaby warned.
Jensen’s face grew grim as he glanced down at the knee which gave him obvious trouble. Maddox wondered how much his pain was worsened by the steady stream of alcohol he poured down his throat. It certainly couldn’t help.
“Can’t these days, son.”
Miguel appeared stricken. “I forgot,” he said softly, chewing his lip.
Maddox didn’t like seeing the kid disappointed. And strangely, he didn’t like witnessing Jensen’s weakness. “Look, I’ll take him out for an hour or two. I don’t mind.”
Jensen raised an eyebrow at Gaby. She appeared displeased but then seemed to note the way her son’s face lit up at the idea of spending some more time with his uncle.
“All right,” she sighed. “But I’m coming too in that case. Can’t have you guys capering up in the mountains with all those yawning shafts everywhere.”
Mad was defensive. “I know better than to take a kid that far into the mountains.”
Jensen was grinning. “We went up there as kids,” he said.
Maddox caught his brother’s eyes. “I remember,” he said softl
y. Indeed he did. That was back in the day when Jensen was his invincible big brother, a hellraiser in his own right to be copied and admired. “It was a long time ago.” He hadn’t meant to say that last bit so bitterly. It brought an uncomfortable melancholy into the room which was quickly broken when Miguel yipped and ran into the bedroom to dress.
Gaby gave Maddox a withering look but he had the feeling it was just for show. She wasn’t angry. “You are going to wear some clothes, aren’t you?”
Maddox McLeod grinned. “Unfortunately for you, sweet lips.” He downed the cup of coffee in two swallows and retreated to shower and change. He knew she watched him go.
***
Jensen was agreeable to sitting with Priest while they took a short hike in the desert. Maddox admitted to himself that he needed to get away from the aura of death, even just for a little while. Hospice would be stopping by soon. Before leaving, Maddox bent to his father’s ear and talked to him, reminding Priest he was close and that he loved him. When he looked up, Gaby had entered the room and was watching him sadly.
As the dry gravel and sand crunched under their feet, Miguel kept wandering away. He was quick as a rabbit and nearly as silent. Maddox saw the joy in his simple play and for a moment he was envious. Gaby walked quietly at Mad’s side, her head down. He had the impression she was trying desperately to think of things to say to him.
“Come on,” Maddox called, leading them away from the dry portion of the Hassayampa and toward the hills.
“No mountains,” Gaby reminded him. “Nothing close to that old damn mine.”
“Uncle Mad,” Miguel called, picking up a flat gray rock. “You know why there’s no water here?”
“There used to be,” Maddox said, stepping over the large river rocks. “And when there’s a long hard rain it flows again.”
Miguel hopped over to them. Gaby moved to brush some dust out of his hair and he shied away.
“We learned about the flood in school,” he said, peering doubtfully into the parched, cracked riverbed. “1890 I think. My great great great grandfather almost drowned in it. The dam broke eight miles downstream and flooded this whole place like ten feet deep.”
