Protecting What's Mine(98)
“This is bullshit,” Wendy muttered under her breath. “I’m going out,” she announced.
“Don’t you want to have a big, family dinner?” Andrea pleaded.
“As far as I’m concerned, she’s not part of the family,” Wendy said, stubbing the cigarette out on Mack’s purse.
“Can I talk to you outside?” Mack asked Wendy briskly.
She didn’t wait for an answer, simply grabbed her purse and stalked out the front door. She waited on the front steps for a solid minute until the door opened and closed behind her.
“What’s your problem now? Kill another patient?” Wendy demanded, drawing her black hoodie closer around her shoulders. She had another cigarette lit and a glass of whatever wine Tony was pouring.
“She’s drinking again. She’s drunk,” Mack said matter-of-factly.
“So?”
“So she said she was sober.”
“Oh, come the fuck on, Pollyanna.” Wendy scratched idly at a scab on the back of her hand. “Like you even give a shit about this family. You never have. It’s always been me and mom. Since when have you ever cared about this family?”
“Who the fuck do you think pays the rent here, Wendy? Because it sure as hell isn’t you or cocktail party Barbie in there.”
“What? You expect me to be grateful? You expect me to be happy with a measly six grand and rent? You owe me more than that.”
“No, I really don’t,” Mack shot back. “But I thought you at least cared about Mom.”
“Get off your fucking high horse, Dr. O’Neil. You’re pathetic. You walked away. I’m the one stuck here dealing with everything.”
“Oh? And how are you dealing with anything? You have a job? Are those track marks in your hand. Did your veins wear out?”
“Fuck you, asshole. Why don’t you go a kill another couple of patients? Maybe then you’ll feel special.”
Mack laughed, a dry, mirthless sound. “I’m done here. Blood doesn’t mean I’m permanently bonded to you. Her either. Good luck paying your own rent.”
She was so busy congratulating herself for leaving her suitcase in the car that she didn’t see the skinny leg with the thorn tattoo sweep out until it was too late. But Mack was faster than she had been as a kid. As she fell, she grabbed Wendy and took her sister with her.
They tumbled down the six cement steps landing in a heap at the bottom.
“You killed him! You fucking killed him! Now it’s your turn to die,” Wendy shrieked. The switch had flipped. Her nails raked over Mack’s cheek, over the scar she’d put there ten years ago.
Mack pulled her arm back and fired one beautiful shot to Wendy’s nose. The crunch, both the sound and feel, were beyond satisfying. “Stay down. I’m done with you,” she said and turned to walk toward the car.
But Wendy had never learned to recognize when a fight was over. She hurled herself at Mack’s knees and brought her down to the cold sidewalk. “Get off of me,” Mack said with an icy calm as her sister’s blood dripped on to her own sweater.
But Wendy had learned a few tricks herself. She locked an arm around Mack’s throat and squeezed.
“What the hell is goin’ on here?” Tony hollered from the front door. “Is this normal, Andi?”
“Just ignore them,” her mother pleaded with him. “Come inside and let’s make some drinks.”
Mack lurched forward, unsteady on the air cast, and tried to dislodge her sister as her vision tunneled.
“I’m going to be there when you die,” Wendy hissed in her ear. “And I’m going to laugh.”
Giving up on anything other than survival, Mack lodged her elbow somewhere in Wendy’s midsection. Her sister’s grip loosened, and Mack dumped her on the ground, dragging in a ragged breath.
“I am done with this family,” she rasped.
“She attacked me, Tony,” Wendy said, crocodile tears pooling in her eyes. “She threatened me. She’s a fucking psycho! She said she was going to kill me and mom!”
“Now hang on there a minute,” Tony said, looking bewildered.
Mack’s ankle protested when she turned to get in her rental. “If you rebroke my ankle, I’m suing your ass,” she told Wendy. “Make sure you can pay your attorney in hypodermic needles. Oh, and Tony, get out now before you sign a prenup. She’s been married five times so far.”
Andrea pretended to fall into a graceful faint at the top of the steps.
Wendy gave up all pretenses of playing the victim and tackled Mack to the ground.
She was a trauma doctor. A retrievalist. A family practitioner. Mackenzie O’Neil did not brawl with ex-family members on the sidewalk.
She rolled, pinning her sister in the gutter. “Now you listen to me. I am done with you. You ever come anywhere near me, you ever even think about asking me for another dime, and you won’t like what you find.”
Hairy arms locked around her. Tony the idiot lifted her off Wendy and restrained her with big meaty hands just as a squad car with its lights on pulled up.
47
She could have called Linc from the airport for a ride. But she couldn’t stand the thought of him seeing her like this, bruised and battered. Angry. Tired. Disgusted with herself.