Page 63 of Spyder
I look up and into Mr. Kettering’s kind eyes, feeling a wave of relief washing over me.
“I think so. Thank you, Mr. Kettering.”
“Of course. I’m just glad you’re all right,” he says. “Just be careful, Bellamy. There are some bad guys out there. Now, get on home. I expect your mom’s gonna be needin’ those prescriptions soon.”
“I will. Thank you again.”
He watches as I get into my car, and he keeps standing there as I pull out of the parking lot. By the time I’m on the long stretch of road that will take me home, I have my shaking mostly under control, and I’m breathing normally again. The whole episode with Jacob was bizarre, to say the least. I honestly can’t say I understand what his goal was in getting close to me.
But hopefully, it’s not something I’m going to need to think about again. Hopefully, now that his plan—whatever it was—has been exposed, he’ll just fade away. Hopefully, he’ll leave me alone. The weird thing is, I’m more pissed at him for tarnishing what had been a really good day than I am at him for being an absolute schmuck.
As I cruise down the road, I turn up the music and try to recapture that good mood when a pair of high beams flare to life behind me. They’re bright and I have to hold my hand up because the glare is so intense.
“Asshole,” I mutter.
The headlights close in on me quickly and it sends a nervous jolt through me. I speed up as the truck behind me catches up and is riding on my bumper.
“Back off, asshole,” I say.
My heart is in my throat and my stomach is turning over on itself as the headlights start to flash. The driver is turning his lights on and off, laying on his horn at the same time. It’s Jacob. It has to be. I speed up, trying to pull away from him, but I can’t outrun his truck. And then, he slams into me from behind, making me lurch forward against my seat belt painfully.
Tears of absolute terror well in my eyes and I’m screaming as I stomp on the accelerator, pushing my car to the limit. But I’m not able to put any distance between me and Jacob. He stays right on my bumper, flashing his lights and laying on his horn again and again.
We round a turn at a ridiculously dangerous speed, and I feel him connect with the rear fender of my car, making it shudder violently. I scream as I feel my car shaking and begin to spin. A moment later, I’m stomping on the brake, trying to stop us. But it’s too late.
With a body-shaking jolt, I feel my car start to turn over with the sound of rending, tortured metal, and shattering glass filling my ears. I feel weightless for a brief moment and then I’m slammed back to reality as my car hits the ground… hard. Hard enough to rattle the bones in my body. My screams drown out the sound of my car crashing and rolling over and over and over again.
And when my car crashes against something hard and unyielding, with a thunderous crash like a bomb going off, my entire world goes black.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Spyder
“What do you think they’re talking about?” I ask.
“They’ll tell us when they’re ready,” he replies.
“Don’t you ever just get curious and want to know shit?”
He shrugs as he tightens a bolt on the motor. “Sure. I’m curious about a lot of stuff. But I also don’t feel the need to go pokin’ about in business that ain’t mine.”
“You don’t think going to war with the cartel is our business?”
“It is when Leadership tells us it is,” he says, then adds with a wicked grin, “Were you this much of a pain in the ass in the Corps?”
I chuckle. “Sometimes.”
“No wonder they parked your ass in Germany. Couldn’t afford to have you questioning everything on the battlefield.”
Nitro and I are in the garage in the compound, working on our bikes, keeping a wary eye on the clubhouse—which we’ve all been told is off-limits for a while. A somber-looking Tarantula and Bala went in about an hour ago, adding another layer of mystery and intrigue to the whole scene.
It’s a chilly night and the moon is dodging between some high, thick clouds overhead, casting the world around us in a dappled, silvery light that seems like it’s in constant motion. Whatever’s going on in there, I get the idea that it’s not good news, meaning the final battle is coming. And probably soon. It’s a thought that sends a chill through me.
I’ve really been enjoying my time with Bellamy. Being with her has literally been the best time of my life. We’re closer than ever—than I ever thought possible, to be honest—and with every day that goes by, we seem to be falling deeper in love. It’s been a wholly unexpected blessing in my life, but it’s something I’m grateful for.
And knowing that this conflict with Zavala is coming to a head has me feeling torn. Yeah, we need to deal with him once and for all. But there’s every chance in the world that I’m not gonna be coming home from the fight. Zavala’s got an army. We’re less than two dozen. Since we deal in them, we’ve got top-of-the-line weapons and munitions but so does Zavala.
The only advantage we have in this fight is a tactical one. We’re all ex-military and know how to prepare and execute a battle plan. While I don’t doubt Zavala’s got some ex-military in his ranks, the majority of his troops are simple assholes with bad attitudes and weapons. Untested and undisciplined, we should be able to outmaneuver them from a tactical standpoint.
