Page 115 of The Spider & the Storm

Luke's sad chuckle disappeared with my easy smile as I thought about her and her promise to return. I couldn't wait to see her again. Couldn't wait to get my arms around her and press my lips to hers, to crack my chest open and beg her to defrost the barely beating organ hidden inside its frozen cage. She had the power to do it—I knew she did—and the desperation to let her buzzed wildly through my veins like a separate lifeforce from my own.

Careful. You know what happens when you lose control too fast.

“But the right woman won't run away.”

My inner voice and Luke's warred for power, and I shook my head at them both. Neither was useful right now; neither mattered when I’d already made the decision to roll with whatever this was for now.

I capped my marker and laid it with the sketch pad on the table between my chairs. I left the house, locked the door behind me, and headed down to where I'd left the truck parked at the bottom of the hill. I dug the keys out of my pocket on the way, anticipation tingling in my fingertips as I imagined what it'd be like to have her things beside mine, even if temporary. Then, I turned out of the gate, keeping my eyes down as I shuffled through the key ring, only looking up when I approached the driver's door.

That was when I saw him.

The toe of my boot kicked my heel, and I stumbled forward, slamming hard against the side of the truck. But the pain in my knee was dulled by the sight of the man standing across the road, between a pair of headstones. He was only illuminated by the lamppost in front of the house, his back to me as he blew spiraling tendrils of smoke into the chilled night air.

The cigarette.

The flower on the grave.

The empty pack.

A scrapbook of imagery flashed before my mind's eye as I watched him from over the roof of the truck, my jaw shaking and my hands trembling.

Go after him! What the hell are you doing?!

“Hey!” I shouted, my voice slicing through the silent night.

He barely shot a glance at me over his shoulder, too quick for me to get a good look at him.

And then he ran.

“Son of a bitch,” I gritted through my teeth, taking off after him.

I pulled the box cutter from my jeans pocket, clenching the cool metal against my palm as I hurried over the asphalt road to race between the graves, following the sound of pounding footsteps against grassy hallowed ground. I didn't want to hurt someone, didn't want to do it again—but I would if I had to. I knew I had it in me for the right reasons, and the sporadic torment I'd been put under over these past several weeks was enough if he wouldn't talk to me.

The shadowed figures of bushes, monuments, trees, and headstones zipped by, blurring in my peripheral vision. I knew these grounds like the back of my hand, and he didn't, yet he hadn't slowed. He hadn't stopped, hadn’t tripped or faltered once.

What the fuck?

I slowed my gait to a halt in front of a towering Celtic cross, my lungs burning a hole through my chest as I struggled to force the air in and out. I doubled over, pressing my hands to my thighs.

“Fuck, fuck …” I chanted with every huff of labored breath. “Goddammit … where the fuck did you go?!”

I forced my burning lungs to quiet and held my breath, listening to the night around me. Silence. No footsteps. My back straightened, and I turned to my left to face an angel with a wide wingspan, spun to my right to glare into the face of the Madonna holding her newborn child. Searching the surrounding area for any sign at all that the intruder had been there. He could've been hiding, could've ducked behind any one of these holy monuments that I now saw as demons, and with my weapon held tight in my fist, I peeked behind every one, only to come up empty every time.

With my teeth clenched and bared, I spun in a circle, then shouted,“Where the fuck did you go, asshole?!”

Of course, I didn't receive a reply. He was hidden too well, maybe even gone, and I was alone.

But now, I knew for certain that he existed, and that put me one step closer to catching him and finding out what he wanted from me.

***

Stormy drove her black sedan through the open gate, and as soon as she cleared the driveway, I swung the gate shut once again, making sure to take a few quick glances over my shoulder while doing so.

The adrenaline from the chase had dissipated quickly once I got back to the truck, and I spent the drive to the gate anxious and wide-eyed. Just waiting for him to jump out from his hiding spot and show his face. But it never happened, and by the time I reached the gate, where I'd kept Stormy waiting for a few minutes longer than intended, I had finally drawn the conclusion that the guy had gotten back to the stone wall andmade his way over. But that didn't make my spine any less rigid or my shoulders any less tense, and I hurried to Stormy's car with hastened purpose, eager to get to my next stop—the security guard's office.

“Hey,” she greeted with a smile as she climbed out of her car, and for just a second, I forgot all about the intruder.

She approached and slipped her hand into mine, gripping softly as she stood on her toes and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. I closed my eyes, aware of my nerves unraveling just a little, and my lungs released a sigh.

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