Mystic Cowboy(61)
“Could you put the knife down?” Well, at least he sounded properly cowed. Next time he’d think twice before angling for a late-night booty call.
She glared at him as best she could, but he didn’t seem dangerous. At least, not any more than someone in those jeans normally did. “What do you want, Rebel?” She honestly couldn’t tell what she hoped he would say.
Keeping one eye on the knife, he answered, “Albert. He’s, well, I think he’s having a heart attack.”
She froze. A heart attack. That irregular heartbeat hadn’t been normal, and she’d been so wrapped up in her selfish little world that she hadn’t followed through like she should have.
“Come with me,” Rebel said, keeping his voice low and cautious. “He wants to see you.”
Albert needed her. The paralysis snapped and suddenly she was a whirl of motion. She raced back into the house, grabbing her pants and throwing her keys at Rebel at the same time. “Here. Get the Jeep started.”
By the time she got a T-shirt pulled on and her sneakers scooped up, he already had the Jeep parallel with the porch. She didn’t even have the door shut, and they were off.
“What are his symptoms? How long has he been having them?” she asked as she tried to cram a foot into a sneaker while the Jeep bumped over the gravel.
“He can’t move his left arm at all this time.”
“This time?” No, she had to have heard that wrong. That would mean that not only had Albert already had a heart attack, but Rebel had known about it. And done nothing.
Rebel nodded, looking far calmer than she felt, because she felt like she was about to lose it. “The first time, he just fainted. The second time—”
“The second time?”
“Madeline.” Was he scolding her? “I need you to calm down.”
“I need to have you arrested for elder abuse,” she snapped back. And she’d thought he was just a danger to her mental health? Damn it all, the man was a menace to society. “You intentionally withheld medical treatment from a man suffering from cardiac arrest? I swear to God, Rebel, if you weren’t driving, I’d punch you myself.”
“I didn’t withhold anything. I didn’t even realize he’d had one the first time, and I brought you to see him that evening. Remember?” He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. “Remember?”
She could not remember ever being this mad. It was one thing to be furious when Rebel wouldn’t tell her his name or how he paid those bills. But this was different. This was a matter of life and death, and he was acting like the mere mention of her one-night mistake would somehow make it all better. “Yeah, sure, I remember. I remember you sweet-talking your way into my bed and then acting like I’d trapped you the next morning. I remember you not showing up for days on end, and I remember you not bringing Albert to the clinic after the second one. I would certainly remember it if you had brought your grandfather to see me because he had chest pains.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand? Fuck you, Rebel. I understand perfectly. I understand that Albert’s had three heart attacks and if he dies, I understand perfectly that it’ll be because of you. I understand that you’ll have killed him.”
The Jeep squealed to a stop so hard that she just missed banging her forehead on the dash.
“You. Do. Not. Understand.” The way he said it, like not only did he believe it, but he’d fight to the death for it, whatever it was.
It scared the hell out of her. “Jesus, Rebel!”
“Albert is dying,” he went on, ignoring her. Just like he always did. “He refused to let me bring him in after that first time. He forbid me from getting you the second time. I haven’t left his side in days because I’ve been trying to convince him to let me take him to the hospital. He is dying, Madeline. It is his fate, and he is ready. What you don’t understand is that it isn’t the end. That’s not what we believe.”
His gaze was steady, his voice even. She could see the steady beat of blood through his jugular. He was telling the truth. Or thought he was, anyway. “So what do you believe? If he’s given up, why are you pissing me off in the middle of the night?”
Everything hard about the man got something closer to gentle. “You’ve got to believe me, Madeline. He didn’t want you to worry, that’s why he kept quiet.”
Lord, not that, not the special way he said her name that was his and his alone. Not when she was so mad at him. “So why now?”
“He wants to say goodbye.” He must have seen something in her face that he took as an invitation, because he reached over and stroked her cheek. “This isn’t the end, Madeline. It’s just the next step.”