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Chapter Nine – Tank
18 Months Later …
Ninety-three, ninety-four.
Fuck, I hate pull-ups more than needles. In fact, if I could, I’d donate blood daily instead of doing one pull-up. But discipline is more important to me than just about any of my other morals, and if I miss one day, it’ll gnaw at me for a month.
Ninety-five, ninety-six. My shoulders throb with each rep. Four more to go …
At least our new place has this guest room we made into a gym—that’s good for both of us. We moved in together a few months ago. We would’ve done it a lot sooner, but after I got off five months of protection duty where I lived with Skyla, I was deployed. So, the moment I got back, we made quick work of getting this place.
Jess’s scream turns my blood cold. I take all of twenty seconds to retrieve my gun stashed in a desk drawer and charge down the hallway.
I race into the bedroom, my weapon cocked and frantically looking for someone to empty my chamber into, but I come up with nothing except Jess flailing around and swatting at her soaked hair. Water droplets fly all over the place.
“Angel, what’s going on?”
“Get it off me, Chris. Get it off!” Her voice not only grows louder but rises in pitch too.
“Get what off?” I’m across the room in moments, trying to figure out what the hell’s going on.
“The spider, please, Tank, get it off.”
Well, fuck. Shit is about to get real, and fast. The night of what was supposed to be a one-night stand was the last time Jess called me by my nickname, and the fact that she’s doing that now tells me she’s seconds away from losing her shit. I knew she was scared of spiders, but I had no idea it was this bad.
“Where did it go?”
“It… it came down from the ceiling. It’s in my hair. Oh God, Chris.”
I turn her around and see the spider resting on the top of the towel. It’s about the size of a pen nib. I reach out and pull the spider between my thumb and forefinger, squashing the fucker to death. I don’t give a shit that it was probably more terrified of Jess than she was of it. Nothing deserves to live after making her scream the way she had.
I sit on the mint and white striped chair that Jess often curls up in to read a book and pull her down onto my lap, kissing her on the lips. “It’s dead, angel. It can’t hurt you.”
I don’t tell her it was harmless. To Jess, it doesn’t matter if the spider was as harmless as a dead specimen in an entomology lab. It isn’t the venom that freaks her out. It’s the idea of eight furry legs crawling on her skin.
She nuzzles into my sweaty neck and quickly retreats.
“You’re all gross and sweaty.”
“Yeah, it was a tough call between rescuing you and taking a shower.”
“So, I guess it’s my fault you’re sweaty then?” she teases.
“Nah, we can blame the spider.”
“Wait… did you pull your gun?”
“I did. You sounded like you were on fucking fire.” I wait for the lecture. Jess hates that I have my gun with me at all times, but it’s something I refuse to budge on. I just can’t, not with everything that happened to Skyla.
“Thank you.” Jess interrupts what would only become a downward spiral of dark thoughts and turns into me again, wrapping her arms around my neck.
I let her snuggle into me for as long as she needs, relishing the feel of having her in my arms. After a while, she shifts and looks at me.
“What would I do without you? Shit! Look at the time.”
I turn my head to where Jess is looking and see the clock on the oak bedside table.
“We need to be at Skyla and Jensen’s in half an hour.”
