Whipping around, Adam rolled his window down. “Listen, Robocop, I’m fucking saying goodbye to my girlfriend here. Give me a goddamn minute.”
When his grip loosened, I saw my chance and took it.
Before he could protest, I freed myself and my suitcase, leaped out of the SUV and, without a backward glance, my feet ate up the pavement into the departures terminal.
2
Mac
“Come on, deadweight.” I hoisted my sister’s mate up and helped him into the wheelchair he’d recently started using to get around. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were getting fat on purpose, just to give my guns a workout.”
Warren lifted his frail arm and extended his bony middle finger. “Right here.”
I bit back a grin and leaped out of his way as he attempted to run over my toes with his chair. “You wish.”
My eyes followed him. He wheeled himself into the kitchen and opened the fridge door. Loaf of bread, jar of mayo, pack of sliced turkey breast, one by one he placed the items on his lap.
My fists balled at my sides to keep from interfering, but I watched him like a hawk for signs of excess fatigue. He was about to fade.
Despite our verbal banter, I cared deeply for my sister’s mate. He was a damn good man. He and Heather were still madly in love and possessed a connection deeper than I’d ever seen shared between two people.
Human men weren’t built the way we were, though. Warren was fighting cancer and the chemo was kicking his ass. He looked progressively worse by the day. My heart ached as I watched the once strong, virile man wither to a bony shell. He slumped in his chair, his head drooping forward slightly.
“I veto your role as sandwich maker. You suck at it. Your sandwiches are like eating a blob of mayo with a side of bread and a meat garnish. I’d rather dine on cat turds.”
“That can be arranged.”
I snickered, sidestepped him, and slapped together a couple of sandwiches for us.
“Make sure you bring the mayonnaise jar and a knife with you. Your sandwiches are as dry as the Sahara.” He slowly wheeled himself to his empty spot and, with effort, rested his arms atop the table. “Fucking hell!”
I slid his plate in front of him and followed his angry gaze. Through the window, I saw his daughter—my niece, Jenny—scantily clad and standing in the driveway draped over the latest punk in a long line of punk-ass boyfriends. “Sonofabitch.”
When she swung her leg over and climbed on the back of current punk’s motorcycle, I moved fast. I was out the door and just barely caught the back of her sweater before they took off. Jenny jerked out of my grip, growling. “What the fuck?”
I leveled a menacing glare at the current punk-ass. “Move this bike and it’s a mangled heap of scrap metal.”
“Uncle Mac, knock it off.”
I looked down at the young woman who, just yesterday it seemed, had been a sweet, innocent, bright-eyed little girl dressing up her dolls and serving me tea in her miniature china tea set. “Where’s Ame?”
“In her room.”
“In her room?! She’s a baby, Jenny. You can’t just leave her in her room alone.”
“She’s not alone. You’re here babysitting Dad.” Jenny wrapped her arms around the punk’s middle, her cheek resting against his back. “I have a date with Joe. You can’t expect me to sacrifice my entire life and chain myself to the house like a house elf just because I have a child, Uncle Mac. That’s a little harsh.”
With a couple of taps to Joe’s stomach, Jenny signaled him to take off. The motorcycle roared as it sped down the street while I stood staring after them. I spent a few indulgent seconds fantasizing about sitting my niece in time out while I ripped Joe limb from limb until he was nothing but a bloody pulp.
I rushed back inside, straight to Ame’s nursery.
My sister, Heather, had painted a beautiful mural of baby animals on the walls, and the room had a cheerful, uplifting vibe. Usually. At the moment, it did nothing to cheer or uplift me.
Sweet chubby-cheeked Ame stared up from her crib with bright, curious eyes. She watched the mobile over her bed as it spun fluffy baby zoo animals around, and gummed her plump little fingers, drool dribbling down her chin and neck.
“Come here, drool-dlebug. Uncle Mac’s got you.” I scooped her into my arms and carried her back to the dining room to finish eating lunch with Warren.
One look at Ame and his face darkened. “I don’t understand where we went wrong.”
I bit back my angry comment about my niece and tried to shrug it off. The man had enough on his plate. He didn’t need me badmouthing his family. “I don’t know, Warren. But I feel lucky as a pig in a mudpuddle getting to spend time cuddling this chubby little drool-dlebug.” I wiggled my finger against her ribs, and she responded with a three-toothed giggle.
Warren slid his sandwich away. He’d only taken a single bite. “Hand her to me.”
“You eat. I got her.” I sat her little diapered butt on the table and took a bite of my sandwich before booping the tip of my finger to Ame’s nose.
“I am capable of holding my own fucking granddaughter, Mac. I’m not dead yet.” His hoarse growl belied his frustration at his situation. Warren was a proud man, a strong man. He’d withstood so much already, and life was still beating the shit out of him.
“You’re not going to die, asshole. Not on my watch. I forbid it. I am not putting up with my sister if anything happens to you. So, pull your head right on out of that shadowy place and eat your fucking sandwich.” I growled back at him, my wolf growl far more menacing than his human growl. “I’ll
