Page 67 of Spyder
“Since the moment I heard you were in the hospital,” he replies, his eyes burning with intensity. “The thought of losing you, Bell...”
His voice trails off, but he doesn’t need to finish the statement. I already know what he means and how he feels. It’s the same exact way I feel when I think about him living this lifestyle of his. It’s how I feel about him going to war with the cartel. The thought of losing him tears a hole in my heart I know could never be filled by anybody else. A hole in my heart I know would never heal.
“So do you know who it was?” he asks. “Do you know who ran you off the road?”
“I’m almost positive it was Jacob… Peter,” she replies.
I tell him about the confrontation in the parking lot. We share information and it confirms my initial thought: Jacob is Peter and vice versa. He was trying to get close to me as part of some notion for revenge he had, though neither of us know what that plan might have been. It could be that I put it together and called him on it before Peter had a chance to enact it. Or perhaps the beating Derek gave him pushed him over the edge and made him snap. I suppose it doesn’t matter at this point.
“I figured it was him,” Derek says. “Sheriff Singer’s already out there looking for him. He’s gonna scoop him up when he finds that prick.”
“Make me a promise?” I ask.
He cocks his head. “Sure. What is it?”
“You’ll let Sheriff Singer do his job? You’ll let the sheriff bring Peter in and you won’t go after him yourself?”
Derek’s expression darkens, and he looks away. I don’t need to be a mind reader to see that he’s already contemplating all the different ways he can hurt and/or kill Peter. But I don’t want him to do that. Yes, I want him punished. But I want him punished the right way, to the fullest extent of the law, not subjected to street justice. That’s not what I want done in my name.
“Derek? Promise me?”
He sighs. “Fine. But I think he deserves a lot worse than he’s going to get. He could have killed you, Bell.”
“But he didn’t. I’m fine… relatively speaking,” I say, flashing him a grin. “I’ll recover, though.”
“But he could have,” he says.
I give his hand a squeeze. “But he didn’t. So, let’s just let the situation play out with Sheriff Singer.”
“You’ve got a soft heart,” he says with a chuckle.
“Yeah, I suppose I do.”
His smile melts my heart. “And that’s just one of the many things I love about you,” he replies. “And I would love to kiss you, but I’m sure it would hurt, so I’m going to hold off for now.”
“I’ll take a rain check on that then. And I intend to collect.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Derek’s phone rings, and he frowns as he slips it out of his pocket and looks at the display screen. His lips compress into a tight line as he glances over at me.
“It’s Domino,” he explains and then connects the call. “What’s up?”
I can hear Domino’s deep, grumbling voice, but the words are muffled, and I can’t make them out. But judging by the expression on Derek’s face, whatever it is, it’s not good and I’m guessing it has something to do with Zavala.
“Right,” he says into the phone. “Copy that.”
He disconnects the call and slides the phone back into his pocket, the expression on his face sour, and it feels like a brick has been dropped into my stomach. I can see the conflict on his face and know what it is he’s struggling with. He looks down at his hands, wringing them together. His body is as tight as the expression on his face.
“Zavala?” I ask.
He nods but doesn’t say anything, his gaze fixed on his hands. My stomach and heart are both fluttering wildly, knowing what this means. He’s going to war. Derek finally looks up at me and it almost seems like he’s asking my permission to go. Like he wants me to be okay with this. I’m not, but I also know if he doesn’t do this, if he doesn’t stand with his brothers, and something happens to them, it’s something that will haunt him for the rest of his life. It’s something he’d never forgive himself for.
At the same time, I have to think my brush with death is giving him pause. It’s making him look at his whole situation differently. Having almost lost me, I can see him struggling with the idea of putting himself in a position where I could potentially lose him. He’s struggling with the emotions he felt last night and is probably thinking about what I’m going to be going through as I wait to hear word from him. As I wait to find out if he’s alive.
“I don’t want to say this… I can’t believe I’m saying this… but you should go,” I say. “You should see this through. Finish what you started and come back to me, Derek.”
He looks at me with a sense of trepidation in his eyes. He knows what a difficult thing this is for me to say. Knows how hard this is for me. He knows that between my mother’s illness and now this, that I’m having a rough time of it. But I can also see the gratitude on his face. I can see he’s thankful that I understand… or at least, that I’m pretending to understand and be all right with this. And pretending is about all I can do. Fake it till you make it, right?
