Page 16 of Spyder
“You sure you guys want to put yourselves in that spot?” Cosmo asks.
Tarantula nods. “Yeah, man. You may be a bunch of shithead whiteboys, but we’d rather ride with you than Zavala. Trust that.”
On the surface, it makes sense. Zavala is as big of a problem for the Warriors as he is for us. Their problems with him are just different than ours. Aligning with us if they want out from under Zavala’s thumb makes sense. But there’s still some piece of me that feels like they’re looking to us to fight this battle for them. I glance up to see Tarantula grinning at me.
“I know what you’re thinkin’,whetto,” Tarantula says. “You think we’re lookin’ to you to fight for us.”
I shake my head. “That’s not what I’m thinking.”
He clucks his tongue, the skepticism on his face more than clear. If he’s offended by it, he doesn’t give any indication of it. Chances are, on some level, he feels the same way. And if that’s true, I know it’s burning his ass. Tarantula and Bala are both proud men and I’m sure if they had the ability to take out Zavala themselves, they’d do it.
But they’re not in a position to do it. Much to their chagrin. They’re every bit as tough as they are proud and I know having to lean on us to fight Zavala—and in their eyes, having to admit it out loud—is a hit to that pride and sense of toughness. It can’t be easy for them and I need to remind myself of that fact.
Besides, getting the inside scoop on Zavala is no small thing. When you go to war, you need to know your enemy. You need to scout your enemy. When you go to war, you exploit every single advantage that you can. It’s not just bombs and bullets that win a war. In point of fact, those things are almost incidental. What wins virtually every war is information and preparation.
And to that end, getting hold of the information Tarantula can provide us will be invaluable. I mean, we’re going to war anyway. Might as well take advantage of all the tools at our disposal. We’re going up against a superior force, so having what the Warriors are offering might just give us the edge we need to win this fight. Or at least, will make us a tougher out.
“All right then. I know Prophet would appreciate it. We all would. It’d be nice to know what this prick has in store for us so that we don’t go walkin’ into a chainsaw,” Cosmo says.
There’s a moment of silence between us all. I guess none of us know what to say. Tarantula and Bala both look uncomfortable as they stand there with their hands in their pockets, shuffling their feet.
“Anyway, you know we’d be there if we could,” Tarantula finally says.
“Yeah, I know, man. You’ve got to get your own house in order. I get it, man,” Cosmo tells him.
“Appreciate that,” he replies.
“We’ll get in touch when we have some info to pass along,” Bala says.
I nod and shake his hand. “You just keep your head down, man. Don’t take any big, unnecessary risks. Zavala don’t fuck around.”
His expression is sober. “You don’t do anythin’ stupid either,cabron. Youwhettosare all right.”
Tarantula and Bala give us one last look before saying their goodbyes. And as I watch their follow van tailing them out of the lot, a peal of thunder crashes overhead so loud it sounds like the sky is splitting open.
Because yeah, that’s not ominous or anything.
Chapter Eight
Spyder
By the time we get back from our run and have spoken to Prophet about what the Warriors said, the sun is slipping toward the horizon, making the dark clouds overhead seem even darker and more imposing than earlier in the day. The thunder has started to become more regular, and lightning flashes in the clouds overhead. And as I park my bike at the curb and cut the engine, a cool wind sweeps in off the ocean. It’s going to be a cold, wet one tonight, that’s for sure.
I figure with the storm rolling in, I’ll just pick up some food, head home, and chill for the rest of the night binge-watching something on Netflix. Yeah, I lead such an exciting life. I stick my helmet and gloves into the saddlebag and lock it up before turning and heading down the sidewalk, trying to figure out what I want to eat tonight. I’m not much of a cook, so most of my meals come in a greasy bag or a box. It’s not the healthiest diet to have, but it certainly tastes better than anything I can make at home. And since we’re going to war and I may not make it out the other side, I feel like I should be allowed to indulge.
I turn the corner and have to stop short to avoid running into the woman who’s got her face glued to her phone and isn’t paying attention to where she’s going. I’m just about to rip her a new one when I look up and see her. The words die on my lips and all I can do is stand here, gaping at her like an idiot.
In most ways, Bellamy looks exactly like she did back in high school. She still wears her sandy blonde hair pulled back into a simple ponytail, and her chocolate-colored eyes still sparkle with the same warmth and intelligence I remember. Her skin still looks just as smooth and supple. And her body… She’s still got the same slender but curvy build I used to dream about back in the day.
If anything’s changed about Bellamy Young, it’s that the years since high school have refined her looks. She was always a beautiful girl back then, but now, she’s simply stunning. And I think even that word is woefully inadequate. But since my brain isn’t working right at the moment, I can’t come up with a better one.
She’s looking up at me, the expression of shock on my face is mirrored in hers. Bellamy’s eyes are wide, and her lips are parted, forming an “O”. She’s quicker to recover than I am though and puts a shaky smile on her face.
“Derek Moore,” she says, her voice trembling as much as her smile. “Max told me you were still around town. I figured I was going to run into you at some point.”
“You did?”
Her smile steadies itself as she nods. “Blue Rock isn’t that big of a city.”
