Page 53 of Spider

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Do I protect what’s mine?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says with affection.

“Then tell me what he said so I can continue to protect what’s mine,” he demands.

“That I’m next,” she confesses.

I don’t need to see Ghost’s face to know it’s turned ice cold. “Office, now,” he orders Star. She gets up and scurries to the office. He turns around. “Cash, I want that fucker’s details by morning. I don’t want him breathing another fucking day,” he barks before storming off after Star.

I hold my hand out to Nova. “Come on, sweetheart.” She takes my hand and follows me out. She watches as I grab thehelmet, smiling as I begin to put it on her. “Nash is coming back with us for bit,” I tell her.

“Oh, okay,” she says, shrugging.

We ride to my place with Acid riding alongside us. I can’t help but be on edge as I look around, making sure we aren’t being followed.

As we pull onto my drive, I press the button for the garage and gesture for Acid to park his bike in with mine. Switching the engines off, Acid looks around and whistles.

“Someone was saving.” He smirks.

“You haven’t seen this place?” Nova asks.

“Nope, I was away nomad when he bought it,” he replies.

“Well, come on. I will show you the rest of the house. If you’re excited by the garage, you’re about to piss your fucking pants with excitement when you see the rest of the house,” I mock. Taking Nova’s hand in mine, I lead them through the house.

Acid takes a look around before coming back to the living room. I hold out a beer for him and he takes it. “So,” he sighs, looking at me. We both know this is a conversation that needs to be done, but neither of us want to relive it.

“Sit down, sweetheart. We have something to tell you,” I say to Nova. She frowns as she looks at each of us.

Acid sighs before he takes a seat next to Nova. I stay standing, letting them have their moment together. As much as I want to hold her through this, I’m not stupid enough to think that she will even want me near her.

“When we ran from the child’s home we were both put in, we lived on the streets for a while, living off what we could find; scraps out of bins, begging for work, or just begging in general. Not much worked out for us. People don’t like giving money to young guys on the street. They just assume it will be for drink or drugs, when in reality, all we wanted was some bread so we didn’t fucking starve,” Acid explains. “I was angry, so fuckingangry at what Mom and him put me through. What I thought they put you through. I wanted to end them. I wanted them to feel pain like I felt. I wanted them to fear for their lives like I had.” Acid pauses.

Nova wipes the tears that had begun to fall down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” She sniffs, holding his hand in hers.

Acid looks away from her. “We stole some gas from various cars and trucks. We went back home and poured it everywhere we could. We chained them to the bed, and then we lit the match,” Acid confesses bluntly.

“What, what do you mean?” Nova asks, snatching her hand away from his.

Acid grips his fingers through his hair.

“We burned your family home to the ground with your mom and step daddy inside,” I state, cutting in. Acid looks up at me, unable to look at Nova.

“You killed Mom?” she asks in disbelief, her voice breaking. She looks from Acid to me. “You helped him?” she whispers.

“I cuffed them to the bed, and I lit the match, sweetheart,” I tell her, and as the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. I want to continue to live with it buried, because the way she is looking at me with devastation and horror shreds my fucking heart.

She shakes her head. “No, why? Why would you do that? That’s evil, it’s... Just why?” she asks erratically.

“Sweetheart,” I say softly. I reach to take her hand in mine, but she snatches it away and jumps to her feet, moving away from us to the other side of the room.

Acid stands. “Have you forgotten what Mom was like? What he was like?” Acid fumes, not saying his name. He never has and he never will, because saying his name makes him real. It makes what he went through real.

“Of course I haven’t. They were on drugs. I know that. But being an addict is an illness. They could have gotten clean at some point, and there were those days when she wasn’t so bad. She would be like a mom again. Our home may not have been perfect, but I was surviving. I was working. I was going to go to culinary college. I was going to have my own business,” she rasps as tears stream down her face.

“You got your own business. You made it without all of that bullshit,” Acid points out.

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