Page 74 of No Fear
“Those two pussies ain’t your brothers and you damn well know it.”
“What I know is that if you ever say anything like that to me ever again, I’ll lay you out old man.” Remy growled, “Cash and Coltaremy brothers. They’re my family. My only family. So no, I didn’t call you when I came home because I didn’t want to see you. I don’t want anything to do with you so you can leave. Now.”
If he expected Decker to throw a punch, he would’ve been disappointed. His father didn’t clench his fists and come at him. He didn’t wave a white flag and back away either. He only narrowed his eyes, looking Remy over from top to bottom, and then he burst out laughing.
It was a deep laugh, raw and mean and everything about this man that he hated, “See there, you got a backbone. More than them two pussies got for all that they may be Bomars or not. They ain’t mine but you sure are.”
“I said, don’t talk about my brothers. You don’t have any right. The twins are good men despite the hell you rained down on them so you can stay away from them and stay away from me or I’ll return the lesson you taught us all that you don’t pick on people bigger than you.”
“Is that a threat?” Decker’s laughter faded and he bowed up, “You ain’t gonna talk to me like that, Remington. I’m still your father.”
“You’re not anything to me. Not anymore.”
“Your mama would…”
“Don’t talk to me about her!” He screamed and then fought to get his breathing under control and lower his voice, “She’s a worthless druggie. You broke her the day she had the twins and you ruined all of our lives because of it. Everything that’s happened since, every hurtful word and bad decision, that’s on you. You can talk about family all you want but you don’t know a damn thing about family!”
Something he said must have hit below the fog of the alcohol because pure rage covered Decker’s face and his fists clenched. Remy knew what was coming before it happened. He knew that the fight he’d expected for years was finally here and he welcomed it with open arms.
He needed it. Needed to finally work through his anger and his despair and his hatred in the only way his family had taught him how. With his fists.
So when Decker rushed him, he let his father get in one solid punch. He took it on the chin and felt it reverberate through every bone in his body. Damn, the old man still had hands of steel. His eyesight went foggy for a second, just long enough for Decker to knock him off his feet. All of his breath whooshed out of him when they hit the ground and a cloud of dust haloed around them.
His training kicked in and his arms came up, covering his face to fend off the brutal fists being thrown at him. He’d underestimated the bastard. Even drunk and disoriented, the anger was always sitting right there at the surface with Decker and he’d unleashed it without so much as a second thought on the one son he actually claimed to have loved.
As he lay there in the dirt, battling his own father, Remy’s anger peaked higher than it ever had before. Not for himself. Not because his father was trying to beat the hell out of him. Not because any and all hopes he’d had of avoiding this were gone. Not because he was, in essence, breaking every tie with his parents by doing this. But for the twins.
They’d been on the receiving end of this all their lives. They’d had to deal with this when they were far too young and far too small to defend themselves. They’d been children. They had been fragile, breakable children when Decker had hit them, abused them, burned them with cigarettes and tried to not just break them but destroy them.
And Remy had left them behind. He’d run away. He hadn’t protected them. He had failed them. But he wouldn’t fail them again. He wouldn’t fail Rachel. He wouldn’t fail himself. Because he might be a Bomar but he wasn’t tied to their curse. Not anymore. He could be a good man. Just like Cash and just like Colt. He could protect his family. He would. Always.
He stopped simply defending against the blows and took control with one twist of his body. He flipped Decker off of him and pinned him before he could jump back up. He used his height and weight to keep the other man underneath him when he bucked and then threw his own first punch.
The sound of bone crunching against his knuckles was music to his ears. Decker cursed and bucked harder, throwing elbows and knees. Remy got into a rhythm and the rest of the world faded away. Punch, block, block, punch. The bastard got a few lucky throws in, nearly dislodged him once, but the awful hate pouring from his mouth never stopped.
He cursed and spit blood and cursed some more. He called Remy names. He disowned him. And Remy wanted to scream that he’d disowned himself ten years ago but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was too caught up in destroying this man that had tried so hard to destroy everyone Remy loved.
He was so deep in the darkness, in the pain and anger and hate, that he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until big arms were wrapping around his chest and hauling him up to his feet. He fought the tight hold. Her jerked and spun, trying to get away. He threw an elbow and heard a curse, his name breaking through the fog of the adrenaline that had come with the fight.
“Cool it, Remington. Cool off.”
His throat felt bruised right along with the rest of him, “Link?”
“Stop fighting. He’s done. Stop fighting or you’ll kill him.”
Remy let his cousin pull him away as his vision began to clear. He sucked in great, heaving gulps of air and slowly, reality seeped back in. His eyes immediately went to the bloody figure on the ground and his stomach turned.
Decker’s face was a bruised and broken mess. He wasn’t unconscious but he was mumbling and smacking at Bentley’s hands as his nephew tried to help him up. Remy pushed out of Lincoln’s hold and stepped further away, taking huge breaths and trying to regain his sanity.
He’d lost it for just a minute there. Totally and completely lost control. He hadn’t done that since his first years in the Army. Back then, he’d had no way of controlling his temper. He’d reacted to every threat, every harsh word, with his fists. But he wasn’t that same scared and angry kid and the fact that he’d let Decker reduce him back to that embarrassed him.
Lincoln and Bentley were here. They had seen it. He glanced at the slick muscle car sitting next to his own and wondered how he’d missed the sound of that engine driving up. He’d been lost in the bloodlust and he hadn’t heard them arrive, had no idea how long they’d been there or how much they’d seen.
He watched as Bentley tried to help a woozy Decker to his feet. The Bomar known most for his always present smile certainly wasn’t grinning now. He frowned when Decker smacked his hands away and then cursed at him when he started wandering off, throwing his hands in the air and looking at his older brother.
“Go after him, Bent. Make sure he gets home.” Lincoln ordered.
“I got him home last night.”
