Chapter 18 Madison
Madison
It’s exactly what the SpyderMan I miss talking to so much would do.
SpyderMan never came back after he left to check on that alarm. I half-expect to find him waiting for me outside my door in the morning, and I’m equal parts relieved and disappointed that he isn’t there.
He’s right. Someone wants me dead. Someone who is only spoken about in the wrong parts of the internet with terrified, hushed reverence—my contact wouldn’t even speak his name, as if it would summon the boogeyman himself.
How do you fight the boogeyman?
Well, research is half the battle—you Scooby Doo his ass, rip off the mask and reveal that he’s just a man. Men are flesh and bone. Men can be blackmailed or exposed or sent to prison or—if worse comes to worst—killed.
Still, I have to think about more than just my own safety. I told myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t let Abuela become collateral damage. I won’t let the danger of my choices impact her. I need to lead whoever is after me away from her. That means getting the hell out of Dodge.
There’s only one problem, and he’s about 6’1”, inked, infuriating, and so fucking dominant that my knees quiver a little thinking about it.
He wants to protect me. Be my bodyguard.
And sure, swoon—but I don’t want to be protected.
I want to get this motherfucker who thinks he can put a hit out on me.
And I can’t do that with tattooed Q on steroids breathing down my neck, telling me to stay away from the windows and only answer the door to him. Controlling me. Telling me what to do.
Okay, I fucking loved when he told me what to do. Yes, Sir.
But that’s part of the problem. He wants to protect me, and I’m so hopelessly drawn to him that part of me wants to let him. But that would be making a deal with el Diablo. He’s got a concerning amount of power over me—I’m practically wet just at the memory of his voice so close to my ear.
I’m going to claim and worship every inch of you until you’re dripping and writhing.
I’m going to make you come until you beg me to stop.
By the time I’m done, there won’t be any question of who you belong to.
The fire in his eyes and the feeling of his hot, heavy hand on my throat make me shiver in longing. Dios mio, it’s always the quiet ones—the nerdy guys you’d never suspect. The ones with their pocket protectors and tousled hair and quick fingers.
I’m beyond disappointed that I finally met the spy of my dreams and I can’t stick around long enough to try his spotted dick.
Then again, if SpyderMan is half as good as he thinks he is, he’ll find me. I’m already vibrating with excitement at the thought of the chase—of more cat and mouse games.
After last night, something tells me he isn’t going to let me go without a fight. So, I need to stay a few steps ahead of him and slip away before he realizes I’m gone. I just need to take care of a few things—one of which is pretty easily solved with a quick text.
mermaidav: Will you take care of SB for me? I’m leaving town for a bit, but I’ll come by to drop him off and chat with you before I go.
NoBody: Sounds like you probably know what I need to talk to you about, then. Yeah, okay enana. Be careful. Talk soon.
As much as I want to bring my cat with me, it’ll be a lot easier to lie low if I don’t have to worry about him. I don’t want him getting hurt, so I’ll send for him when I’m settled. If only my other responsibilities were settled so easily.
There’s a reason Abuela is in the system with a different last name than me—and it has nothing to do with my stupid bio-dad and his legacy.
I’ve been paying for her care from a dummy account with money that gets cleaned overseas.
No one will be able to connect her to me unless they know me personally, and I picked a care facility with the strictest visiting rules I could find.
No one gets in to see her unless they’re approved.
Dread and guilt twist in the pit of my stomach because it doesn’t feel like enough to keep her safe, but it’s the best I can do. She’ll be okay. I just hope she remembers our conversation. It makes me feel sick that she might wake up next week, wondering where I am.
As I make my way down the hallways of Sunset Hills, I see Manny isn’t at the nursing station. So when I approach Abuela’s room and hear masculine laughter, it brings a smile to my face. Some of the nauseating anxiety dissipates.
Good, okay. It’s obviously a good cognitive day, and she sounds like she’s in a good mood. Maybe this will go better than I thought.
Thank you, Manny, for buttering her up.
I shift the bag with two bagel sandwiches to the hand holding my coffee so I can have one free to push the door open, and nearly drop everything as I gasp.
?El Diablo!
SpyderMan turns in his seat to face the door, wearing that same infuriating smirk that’s officially burned into my memory.
“Madison!” Abuela greets me with a larger smile than I can remember seeing in a long time. She’s sitting upright in her puzzle chair, eyes sparkling and alert as they dart between me and the man sitting next to her.
And dammit, he’s just as handsome as ever, even though he’s forgone the badass biker disguise and today he’s wearing a suit.
With a tie. Like he’s some sort of businessman or CEO.
He’s so… buttoned up, with layers of grandmother-approved silk and wool hiding all his gorgeous tattoos.
Almost like he knew she wouldn’t like them.
Kiss-ass.
Trying to shake off the sudden boss-secretary kinky roleplaying scenario occupying every single one of my misfiring brain cells, I glance between the two of them, back and forth a few times, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing.
There’s an assassin in my abuela’s room, and he’s… helping her with a puzzle.
She seems fine—better than fine, actually—but my heart thumps hard and heat rushes to my face because I’m so caught off guard by his presence that I’m embarrassed by it. And angry.
How did he find out about her? What the fuck is he doing here?
“This is Wesley. He works here,” she says, sending me a sly look while his back is to her and he can’t see. She waggles her eyebrows. Deep in matchmaking mode, it would seem. “Wesley, this is my granddaughter, Madison.”
Wesley, eh? Wonder if it’s his real name.
“Lovely to meet you. I’m just doing the rounds on our favorite residents,” he says, turning back and winking at my Abuela.
Her lips curve into a flirty smile, and she giggles like a schoolgirl. I roll my eyes, swallowing down a gagging noise because I need to be cool. I can’t freak out at him in front of Abuela because I don’t want to upset her or have to explain the real reason I did.
“Nice of you,” I manage.
Silently fuming, I enter the room, plopping the bagels down at a free spot at the table, but remaining on my feet to make a point that he’s not welcome to join us for breakfast. I need to say goodbye to Abuela but I’m sure as shit not doing it in front of him and revealing my plans.
“Sit, Madison,” Abuela urges.
I open my mouth to argue, but she cuts me a look. So, I dial back my planned retort in favor of something less antisocial. “I assumed Wesley was just leaving?”
“I only just arrived, actually,” he counters easily, then gestures to the empty chair. “Please enjoy your meal. I don’t mind.”
Oh, he doesn’t mind? This… jerk! He sits there, all smiles and charm as he lies through his teeth, and I’m the one left standing, grappling for a good excuse and coming up totally blank.
Anything I say would either make me look like an asshole, or would make my obviously smitten grandmother leap to his defense.
Frustration boils under the surface as I take my seat.
Okay… fine. One point to SpyderMan. Well played, jerk.
His leg brushes against mine as I settle in my chair, and I jump at the contact, nearly knocking over my coffee. He swipes it—those damn lightning reflexes again—and instead of just righting it, he gives it a sniff, takes a sip, makes a face and puts it back down.
“Not sweet enough for you?” I guess.
“It’s not lavender. I was hoping to get a taste of something that would change my life,” he counters.
Damn, that was a good line. I kind of hate how good that line was.
His eyes dip to the cleavage below the neckline of my sweater, and he freezes, making me tense.
My cheeks heat when I realize what snagged his attention.
Fuck, I should have thrown this stupid necklace he won me at the arcade in the damn trash—I just couldn’t bring myself to throw away this reminder of our time together.
In my defense, I didn’t exactly expect to run into him today.
Oblivious to the sexual tension, Abuela launches right in.
“Wesley was telling me all about himself,” she says as I unwrap and set the bagel in front of her.
“He’s new to the facility, but has lived in America for four years, and he isn’t married,” she emphasizes, clearly proud of her detective skills to have learned how available he was after just a few minutes of conversation.
She adjusts the greasy paper in front of her.
I’m listening, but I’m trying not to care. It’s probably all made up anyway. I mean, I know he doesn’t work at Sunset Hills. My eyes drop to the little badge clipped to his breast pocket that proclaims him Wesley Parker with the Sunset Hills logo. A functioning electronic badge, no doubt.
I wish it didn’t impress me. I wish I didn’t immediately get the Peter Parker reference. I wish it didn’t make my insides squirm, because it’s exactly what the SpyderMan I miss talking to so much would do.
“How do you like working here?” I ask pointedly, taking a bite of my bagel.
“It’s an excellent facility,” he says, flashing a grin. A lie wearing the truth like a hat.
“It is!” Abuela echoes. “I love living here.”