Page 73 of Spyder
“That it is.”
I turn to look at him, my eyes drifting to his shoulder. His arm is in a sling and he’s got a shirt on, but I can still see the wound and it makes me shudder.
“So, will our life be normal now? No more cartel wars?” I ask.
“I certainly hope not. My hope is for life to be normal. Maybe even boring.”
I give him a smile. “Maybe not boring. I’d like a little bit of excitement in my life every now and then.”
“Be careful what you ask for,” he says with a chuckle.
“That’s a good point. How about, I’d like to have some fun in my life every now and then?”
“That’s better.”
We share a laugh and a soft kiss. “We should probably be getting back to my mom’s house soon, you know. The day nurse is probably going to need to get going soon.”
He nods. “Yeah, I figured as much. But it’s been a nice day. I’m glad you came along today. Thank you.”
“It really has been a good day. And thank you for inviting me.”
“Oh good, there you are, Spyder. I wanted to talk to you.”
We both turn and see Sheriff Singer step over to us. He’d been sequestered away in the clubhouse with Prophet and some of the club’s leaders for a little while. But they all filed out about five minutes ago, started putting together plates for themselves, and joined the party.
“What’s up, Sheriff?”
“I just wanted to thank you,” Singer said.
Derek cocks his head. “Thank me? For what?”
“Prophet tells me it was your idea to turn my police department into a cartel slayer,” he says.
Derek smiles softly. “Just seemed like a good idea at the time.”
After they’d won their fight, Derek had suggested that instead of destroying the warehouse and all of the product in it like Prophet had suggested they do, that they turn it into a win for Singer and his deputies. So the Pharaohs made them the heroes of the story… and took themselves out of it.
For the last couple of weeks, the news has been all about the brave warriors of the police department and their heroics in taking down one of the most notoriously violent drug cartels in the world. More than that, that Sheriff Singer had killed Miguel Zavala himself. The news—not just local—but national news outlets have been eating it up. It’s turned Singer into a national hero. There’s even talk about the sheriff getting a medal from the Governor.
Yeah, everything’s pretty much come up roses. The cartel’s been vanquished, the town is safe, the sheriff is a hero, and the club can go back to doing what they normally do… which is still something I’m learning to grow accustomed to. With the cartel out of business, though, the worst of the danger has passed, and we can hope that there won’t be a repeat performance anytime soon.
What I hope is that now that we’re free from the threat of imminent violence and death, we can focus on the happier side of life. On the happier side of love. My hope is we can focus on each other, Derek and I. And focus on building our relationship, growing it, and making it into something beautiful.
“Well, I just wanted to say thank you,” Singer says. “Can’t say I necessarily like the spotlight or all the accolades, but it has its perks. We may be gettin’ some new fundin’ from the state for equipment upgrades and the like.”
“That’s good news, Sheriff,” Derek says. “I’m glad it’s workin’ out for you.”
Singer claps him on the shoulder and gives him a nod then turns to me with a smile on his face. “Don’t let this boy get away with anything. You keep him on his toes, Bellamy.”
“Always do, Sheriff.”
“Good girl,” he says with a laugh. “I’ll see you kids later.”
Singer walks away and grabs a beer, chatting up some of the other guys. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Singer this relaxed and loose before. And when I turn to Derek, looking into those intense and passionate hazel eyes of his, I realize my life is full of firsts lately.
“You’re a good man, Derek Moore,” I tell him. “You’re a good man with a good heart. And I appreciate you.”
“And you, Bellamy Young, are the woman of my dreams.”
