Page 58 of Spyder
“I don’t like this, Spyder.”
“We don’t either. But we didn’t choose this fight. It came to us,” I tell him. “And we’re sure as hell going to end it.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bellamy
A cool breeze blows through, making me shiver, so I pull my coat around myself a little tighter. I’d planned on an evening of ice cream and watching trash TV with my mom tonight. But she was having problems and her pain got to be intolerable. So the nurse gave her the heavy sedatives to put her out then called the agency to send another nurse in to come sit with her overnight. They wanted to keep her under observation for the night which has me feeling scared and all out of sorts right now.
So with nothing else to do, my fear choking the life out of me and feeling closed in, I opted to get out of the house for a while. There was nothing I could do for my mom, and since they gave her the horse tranquilizers, she’s going to be asleep until the meds wear off at some point tomorrow.
My emotions are all over the place. One minute I’m doing okay and the next, I’m bawling my eyes out. So, after driving around for a little while, I eventually made my way over to Derek’s place. I suppose I knew where I was going the minute that I stepped out the front door and just tried to pretend, if only to myself, that I wasn’t running straight to him. Though I don’t know why I’d try to fool myself.
Derek is somebody who seems able to comfort me with merely his presence. He can take the sting out of almost any situation and have me laughing regardless of the circumstances. I don’t know what it is about him, but his presence is just so reassuring. Calming. And the best part of it is that he’s not even trying. I really like that he doesn’t overdo things or try too hard. He’s just this calming, soothing person. Which is odd given what he does.
I’d be lying, though, if I said the whole bad boy thing wasn’t appealing as hell. I’m not typically the sort of girl who goes in for that. But the edge Derek has is… sexy. Always has been. And now, it just seems even more amplified. Even sexier than before somehow in ways I can’t really explain. Ways I’m not sure I understand myself, actually.
Derek is a lot like he was back in high school. There are just parts of his personality that haven’t changed all that much over the years. But he has changed in a lot of other ways too. He’s matured. Has, in some ways, become more refined. Oh, he’s definitely still pretty rough around the edges, but he’s grown a lot since I last knew him and some of those jagged lines have been smoothed out… if only a little.
I hear the rumble of his motorcycle coming down the street and feel my heart and stomach both flip-flop inside of me. It’s crazy to me that Derek can have this sort of impact on me, that the mere thought of him gives me butterflies. The feeling only gets stronger when he turns into the driveway and pulls into the carport next to the house. The headlight turns off as he kills the engine, the low growl fading away.
Derek sits on his bike for a moment, looking at me as he takes off his gloves and helmet. He gets off his bike, tucking his gloves into the helmet as he walks up to me, a small smile on his lips. I get to my feet and pull him into an embrace, giving him a soft kiss on the lips.
“Didn’t know we had plans tonight,” he says.
“We didn’t,” I reply.
“Are you all right?”
It’s then that I notice he’s got a large bruise and a couple of scratches on his face. I lay my hand gently against his cheek, looking at him with concern.
“The better question is, are you all right?” I ask.
“Oh yeah, I’m fine.”
“What happened?”
“Come on. Let’s go inside and get warm. It’s getting cold out here.”
I let him lead me into the house. He flips on the lights and I follow him into the kitchen and only there under the bright fluorescent lighting that I see just how bruised his cheek is.
“Jesus, Derek. What happened?”
He shrugs. “Ran into a guy who was slingin’ meth and whom we told to leave town. Just had to reinforce the point.”
I walk over to him and sit him down on one of the bar stools that line the center island in his kitchen. I gingerly touch the bruise on his cheek, frowning, and then notice the cuts and bruises on his knuckles. He gives me an awkward smile.
“It looks way worse than it is. Trust me,” he says.
I shake my head. “Do you have a first-aid kit or something?”
“Yeah, but I think I just need a shower first.”
My gaze continues to move between his cheek and his hand, the emotions inside of me conflicting. Is this really what I want? To have him coming home bloodied and bruised because he’d roughed somebody up? Or what if he runs into the wrong person and doesn’t come home at all? Like this war with the cartel. He’s been pretty mum about it the last couple of weeks, but I can tell something big is on the horizon. I can see it in his eyes and the tension in his body, which seems to be growing.
The last couple of weeks I’ve spent with him have been beyond just nice. It’s been the best time of my life. It’s been so good that I’ve almost been able to forget all about the cartels and this war while I’ve been with him. Mostly, anyway. And I’d be lying if I said the more time I spent with Derek, I didn’t feel myself falling deeper and deeper in love with him with every passing day.
But seeing him bruised and bloodied like this snaps me back to reality and provides me with a stark reminder of what he does and just how dangerous that lifestyle is. Not to mention a reminder of what I know is still coming.
