The Spider drives with one hand on the wheel, his seatbelt on. He checks his blind spot and moves over one lane.
“’Cause from what I hear you should be taking on?—”
“I’ve been paid an ample amount of money to bring a bitch who doesn’t know her place to Cade.” He flashes me a smile, his eyes warm like he cares.
I find this more fucked up than anything. He actually likes this job. If I didn’t already know his views on women, it’d be pretty fucking obvious.
There’s a drumbeat wracking my entire soul as we turn down a long road. We drive right down the tarmac, heading toward a plane, ready and waiting for us. Stairs lead up to it.
There’s the wrong type of thrill running down me as I stare at the piece of machinery that costs millions of dollars. It’ll drop an obnoxious amount of carbon pollution as it flies over the Atlantic.
The Spider parks the car, turning it off. He opens his door, his long legs stretching.
He rounds the car, opening my door for me.
You’re actually going to do this?I question myself as I stand on shaky legs.
The plane is already running. I wonder how many people are on it. Is it just the pilot?
The whispers I hear of the Spider are so faint, they’re almost silent. I know they prefer to do as much on their own as possible.
Less people that way. Less hassle. Less ways to fuck things up.
Guess he’s not willing to fly commercially internationally when he’s on prisoner transport duty.
Not that he takes it seriously. He turns his back on me and begins to walk up the stairs. It’s a given I’ll follow him.
The tarmac is wide open, the vehicle locked. There’snowhere to run that would do me any good. Not a single person in sight.
“Nah.” I stand a few steps from the bottom of the stairs. I’ll be fucking damned if I get on a plane after everything I’ve been through.
I don’t regret helping those girls escape Cade. I regret not stopping his operation entirely.
I didn’t come all the way to New York just to go back to London. Where Cade will terrorize me. Rape me. Slice my skin open and let me bleed out just until I’m on the brink, and then stitch me up again.
I can see it now. He’ll invite people to see me. The human Frankenstein who’s punished. A warning to some, a sick fetish to others.
“I’m not fucking getting on the plane, mate.”
The Spider stops halfway up the steps. There’s not even a sign of amusement or frustration.
He still takes it for granted that I’ll fall in line.
Most people do. Because who the fuck has ever gone up against a Spider and survived?
“I’m not going back.” I’m not sure who I’m telling—myself or him.
“Get in the plane, Matheson. We’re going to be late.”
“You really think I’m going to just get on the plane.”
“Yes.” He takes one step toward me.
My feet plant to the tarmac.
“Don’t make me do this,” he warns.
“Do what?”
