SPIDER'S WEB

by Dani Matthews

  I count to ten in my head before replying. “Her father wants her dead. Do I have a bit of empathy for her? Yes. That’s it. That’s where it ends. She’s a fucking pawn—nothing more. She has information, and we’re using it. When this is over, she’ll be gone, and we won’t have to deal with her any further.” I give him an ominous look. “So help me, Santos, if you don’t back the fuck off on this and stop seeing shit where there is none, you and I are going to have some real problems. Got it?”

  Instead of responding, Santos studies me intently, realizing that I’ve been pushed too far. He gives a curt nod and remains silent.

  About damned time.

  Next time, I’m bringing Xavier and leaving Santos out of the loop. Maybe taking him out of circulation will teach him to keep a tight grip on those suspicions. Any further conversations like this one is asking for nothing but trouble in my inner circle, and I can’t have that.

  Sixteen

  Catalina

  It’s been three days since I’d awoken in the guest room on Nikolas’s estate. During my stay, Dr. Jennings has dropped by once to check my wounds and to make certain they’re beginning to heal properly. He’d gone over how to properly dress the wounds and how important it is to keep them dry. Unfortunately, I can’t reach the one on the back of my shoulder, so Tomàs has had to help.

  Speaking of the stern man, he still hasn’t loosened up around me. He’s gone with me on walks around the estate’s grounds so I can stretch my legs, but remains obstinately silent the majority of the time. I don’t know if Nikolas gave him orders to remain strictly professional with me or if it’s just how Tomàs prefers it. I guess only time will tell.

  Mavis tends to be the highlight of my days. She’s very sweet and tends to act maternal towards me. She’s always asking after my injury and making certain that I’m well-fed. I’ve learned that she doesn’t know much about Nikolas other than what he shares with her, which isn’t much. She still seems to adore her employer though, and she also has a soft spot for Tomàs. I’ve caught her teasing him a few times, and much to my amazement, he’ll crack a slight smile every now and then.

  I wake each morning looking forward to my upcoming conversations with Mavis, and today is no different. The minute I step into the kitchen for my morning breakfast, Mavis bustles over in a huff. “Where’s your sling?” she demands.

  I blink, a little taken aback by her fierce tone. “I need to build up my strength. The sling is becoming more of a hindrance than anything,” I say lightly.

  Honestly, I’m tired of looking weak, and the sling just reminds everyone that a few short days ago, I was bedridden with a gunshot wound. I want to gain back my independence and find a way back to the hotel. I haven’t seen Nikolas since the conversation by the pool, and the cell phone hasn’t been returned to me. All I’ve been able to do is quietly seethe over my lack of options.

  Next time I see him, he’s going to have to hear me out. This is my life, and we made an agreement. He can protect me just as well at the hotel as he can here.

  Mavis sighs loudly and ushers me to the nearest chair. “What is it with you young people? You’re always so quick to want to jump back into the frying pan,” she admonishes.

  * * *

  I wake with a start, my heart pounding as I try to sort out what had yanked me from my sleep. Bright light flashes, lighting up the room, and a second later, a loud clap of thunder follows.

  My heart stutters to a stop before it slowly returns to its steady pace.

  A thunderstorm.

  Rain is pelting at the windowpane, and I carefully sit upright, careful not to make any sudden movements that would pull on my stitches. After easing the blanket away from my legs, I rise to my feet and walk to the window. I pull aside the curtain and stare out into the night.

  Lightning flashes in the distance, and thunder rumbles as the worst of the storm begins to move on. As strange as it sounds, the storm soothes my soul. One would think that I would avoid rain and storms after what happened with Zac.

  That’s not the case, though.

  I don’t know why, but I feel closer to him when it rains.

  God, I miss him so much, but I can feel him leaving me with each day that passes. Life is moving on, and I am moving on with it. The urge to go outside is strong, and I’m not about to deny it. My life is such a mess right now, and most of the time, my emotions are chaotic at best, but the rain, it always seems to center me somehow.

  After slipping on a bathrobe over my satin slip, I pad barefoot into the hall—the flooring cool on the bottoms of my feet. The hall is dark, and I sense it’s late. I make my way to the back of the estate where the lounge room looks out over the patio and pool.

  Lightning flashes as I cross to the glass doors, and I test the knob. It gives easily, and I open it. The sweet rush of fresh rain fills my senses, and I step out into the warm night. After closing the door so as not to let the rain inside, I turn and begin walking out onto the patio. The falling rain drenches me immediately.

  This is where I want to be.

  The darkness of the night soothes me as the rain washes over my face like tears.

  Seventeen

  Nikolas

  My eyes feel gritty, and I sit back in my chair and rub them. I should call it a night and leave the rest for tomorrow. I’d spent most of the evening in my office working on shit that has to be done, or else it piles up and then it really turns into a headache. I’ve learned that working on it in increments is more stabilizing where my mood is concerned.

  My phone’s alarm breaks the silence, and I tense. It’s not the notification I typically receive when an incoming text or phone call comes in. No, this is the house’s silent alarm.

  I yank open the top drawer of my desk and grab my gun. I always have a gun available in the rooms that I reside in the most. After verifying it’s loaded, I rise to my feet and turn off the phone that’s still beeping.

  With the gun in hand, I stride to the door and open it, peering out into the darkened hall. It’s well after two in the morning, but I know my men are out and about. Security will handle whatever the issue is, but I don’t like being caught off guard. If there’s a threat, I’m going to find out what it is and make sure it’s eliminated.

  I’m not hearing voices or gun shots, so it must not be anything too serious. As I move through the halls, I listen intently before making my way downstairs to the first floor.

  A dark shadow moves past as I enter the foyer, and I recognize one of my men. He notices me and nods respectfully. “The patio door was triggered,” he tells me in a low voice.

  We both make our way to the lounge room and find Santos and one of my men standing in the dark, just outside the patio door. Neither of them appears to be braced for a threat. Instead, they’re just standing there, looking out into the night.

  “Problem?” I ask as I approach them.

  Santos turns to face me, and in the moonlight, his body language is stiff. “Catalina triggered it,” he informs.

  I frown and move closer to the glass door, squinting into the rain. That’s when I spy her. She’s standing dead center of the patio, hands at her sides with her back to us, soaked to the bone. What the hell?

  “I’ve got this,” I tell the men.

  “Nikolas—” Santos begins.

  “I said I will handle it,” I cut in, my voice sharp. I’ve had my fill of him questioning my authority.

  The two members of security quickly beat a hasty retreat.

  Santos moodily gazes at me. “Don’t get involved,” he says, nodding to Catalina. “If you go to her, it can’t be taken back.”

  “If I wanted your advice, I’d ask for it.”

  Santos stands there a moment longer before he gives in and strides away.

  When I’m certain I’m alone, I turn the door knob and open the door. The storm has passed, and now it’s a peaceful rain shower. I’m going to get soaked, but someone has to go out there and get her. I don’t know if she had a nightm
are or if she’s sleepwalking, but she can’t stay out there. It also doesn’t escape my notice that I don’t want Santos or any of my men approaching her.

  I slowly cross the patio so as not to startle her. As the rain drips into my face, I find that the sound of it masks my approach. When I get closer, I can almost sense the sadness radiating from her. I haven’t thought much about what she’s suffered until she took that bullet. She’s been through a lot, and yet she keeps swinging with a fierceness that I admire. Seeing her so lost tugs at something inside me.

  Taking care to be careful, I pause behind her soaked, petite frame. Her long hair looks like a dark cascade clinging to her delicate form. I touch her upper arms to signal that I’m here.

  She doesn’t so much as twitch.

  Instinct has me gently urging her to turn around, and then I draw her into my arms, sheltering her from the rain. To my surprise, her body melts into mine, and her curves press into the hard planes of my body. If she were shivering, I’d quickly usher her inside. Instead, her head presses against my heart, and she seems content to remain there, her small arms willingly wrapping around my waist.

  As rain drips into my eyes, I find myself frowning. When was the last time a woman actually returned my embrace without it being in a sexual manner? Why is her obvious vulnerability tonight making me falter? Instead of concentrating on her, I find myself questioning myself.

  And I don’t like it.

  I ease her out of my arms, nudging her towards the patio door. She automatically turns and begins walking as I lead her back inside. I take a moment to make certain the door is closed, and then I put my hand on the small of her back. “Back to your room,” I murmur.

  Once more, she silently does as I command, and it bothers me. I don’t like her this amenable. I don’t think it’s in her DNA to ever buckle, and I’m hoping the old Catalina reappears damn soon.

  I’m sure we’re leaving a water trail, but that can wait until later. We’re just entering the guest room I’ve assigned to her when I recall her injuries. Damn it, those bandages aren’t supposed to get wet.

  “In the bathroom. We need towels,” I tell her as I switch on the light.

  She blinks a few times, her lashes spikey from the rain as her eyes focus on me. She looks momentarily puzzled to see me, but then she nods in agreement and heads for the bathroom.

  Of course, I’m going to follow her. I’m not leaving until I’m certain she’s dry and back in bed for the night.

  She turns on the bathroom light and then stands there, something obviously weighing heavily on her mind.

  “Catalina?” I ask.

  Her head turns, and she gazes at me with turbulent eyes. “He died in my arms. In the rain,” she says softly.

  I swear my chest tightens, and I don’t know what to say as she stares at me. I’m actually fucking jealous of this Zac. What is it like to have someone be so consumed by love for you? Her scars flash in my mind. She couldn’t even face the idea of living without her Zac. As I stare back at her, I realize that she’s never lied or gone back on her word once it’s been given. She feels deeply, that’s apparent, and she doesn’t hide it or apologize for it. She’s reckless and difficult, but brutally honest.

  “I’m not trying to hurt you,” I say quietly, wanting her to know that things may not be easy between us, but I certainly don’t intentionally mean to hurt her.

  I can see reality slowly leaking into her luminous eyes, and she nods. “I can’t move on until he’s dead, Nikolas,” she says softly.

  “I know.”

  “Do you really?” she asks.

  “Yeah, I do.” I glance at her body. The lavender bathrobe is glued to her curves, and my brows furrow as my eyes slide to her left shoulder. “You’re not supposed to get your bandages wet.”

  “Oh. I wasn’t thinking…” She sighs and turns to the mirror, gazing at her reflection. She visibly winces, clearly regretting her decision to go outside.

  “Would you like help?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral. There’s no way she’s going to be able to change the bandage on the back of her shoulder.

  She hesitates and turns her head to glance at me. “If you don’t mind. I can do the front, I just can’t reach the back.”

  I nod. “Where’s the bandages?”

  She opens a bathroom drawer and pulls out a few new packages of bandages, medical tape, and a tube of ointment.

  I walk to the sink and begin washing my hands. In the mirror’s reflection, I watch as she pulls her wet hair to one side and then carefully loosens her robe so that it bares her injured shoulder. Next, she moves the delicate strap down and folds her arms across her chest so that her injury is bared to me, but yet she’s properly covered. She stands there with her back to me, waiting.

  After drying my hands, I face her and carefully begin removing the saturated bandage from her shoulder. The bullet wound is small, and the tips of stitches stick out from her skin. The wound looks to be healing. “The pain getting better?” I can’t help but ask as I pick up the tube of ointment and use a sterile bandage to gently smear it onto the wound.

  “Yes,” is all she says.

  I tear open a new bandage and carefully place it over the wound. Then, I use the medical tape to hold it in place. As soon as I’m finished, I step away and turn, washing my hands.

  “I can handle the rest from here,” I hear her say.

  My eyes lift, and in the mirror’s reflection, her eyes meet mine. Her defenses have gone back up, and she’s watching me with suspicious eyes. She’s usually unreadable, but I know exactly what she’s thinking, because it’s the same thing I’d be thinking if I were in her shoes. She’s wondering how I’m going to use this vulnerable moment against her in the coming days.

  I’d like to tell her that I won’t. That what I’ve seen tonight has irrevocably changed the way I see her. That things began to change the night she was shot, and that she’s no longer just a pawn. I see her as a person, as someone that deserves the ending she’s hoping for. But I’m not the type of guy to say shit like that.

  So instead, I wipe my hands dry and give her a curt nod. “Goodnight, Gatita.” With that said, I exit the bathroom and leave her room.

  In the hallway, I rake a hand through my hair.

  Santos was right.

  I never should have been the one to open that patio door.

  Eighteen

  Catalina

  I linger in bed far longer than usual the following morning. Last night is a bit of a haze, but I do recall what happened. Nighttime is when my emotions get the better of me, because when I’m all alone in the dark, memories creep up and reopen old wounds. I just wanted to feel close to Zac when I’d gone out into the rain, because someday, that sensation of being close to him will fade. Then, all I’ll have left are memories—and even those will eventually grow distant.

  The last thing I’d expected was anyone to find me out there, but I should have known. Nikolas has so much security that I bet I hadn’t even fully stepped onto the patio when someone had already been alerted. But at night, I don’t think about these things. I don’t have my defenses up, and I’m not suspicious, because no one else is around.

  My chest tightens at the thought of Nikolas seeing me so vulnerable. It makes me feel wary, but yet he’d gone out into the rain to get me. He could have easily had someone else do it, but he himself came outside. That makes me wonder why.

  And then he’d held me.

  It’d felt so good to be held, because it’s been a long time since I’ve felt comfort of any kind. I miss the feel of arms around me, and the surety of knowing that someone cares. I grew up lonely, and for a short time, Zac had chased it away. Now, that loneliness is back, and for a brief moment, Nikolas unexpectedly eased it.

  I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I sense that something has shifted between us. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s still an arrogant asshole, I remind myself. Maybe now though, he’ll be a smidgen nicer. I guess only time wi
ll tell.

  My thoughts shift back to Zac, and my heart feels heavy. The pain from losing him is beginning to lessen. It was one of the things I’d noticed when I was standing in the rain, and it had made me sad. Zac had been my entire world for a while, and now I feel lost.

  The grief I’d felt for Zac has been my driving force that has kept propelling me forward. What happens once Zac can finally rest in peace?

  Where will the future lead me?

  * * *

  I’m facing off with Tomàs as we stand in the hallway near the lounge room. Afternoon has come and gone, and by now, I am ready to face Nikolas and put aside the odd moment we’d shared the night before.

  I can’t continue to remain in seclusion on his property. I feel like a caged animal, and I’m growing increasingly restless. It’s been four days since my injury, and though it still hurts, I am healing with every day that passes. I’m still careful not to make any sudden movements since I’d discarded the sling yesterday, but the pain is manageable.

  I need to do something.

  “You can’t see Nikolas. He’s not on the premises,” Tomàs repeats, his tone aggravatingly patient.

  “Who’s in charge when he’s gone?”

  He remains silent.

  “Not you, I’m assuming since you’re following me wherever I go,” I say almost sourly.

  Tomàs just gazes at me with that expression of indifference that I’ve grown to hate.

  Okay, fine. There are other tactics that can be tested. I turn on my heel and walk away, knowing full well that he’ll follow several paces behind. I wander the first floor until I spy one of the estate’s security coming down a hallway.

  “Excuse me,” I call out, gaining the man’s attention.

  He hesitates and walks over to me. “Ma’am?” he asks politely.

  “Who do you answer to when Nikolas is gone?”