Along Came a Spider
She’s shaking like a leaf when she leaps into his arms. Or rather, she’s shaking like a leaf when she screeches like an owl and clumsily climbs across the couch until she’s practically sitting in his lap. For a moment Frank has no idea what is happening, his adrenaline shooting through him, heart pounding against his sternum. The handle of his glock is pressed against the palm of his right hand before he registers what she’s frantically yelling.
“Kill it!”
He blinks, flicking the safety back on and reholstering the gun under his arm. It takes him a beat longer than it should to untangle their limbs and deposit her back on the couch. She’s all soft hair and smooth skin. A hint of something he’d rather not give a name too causes the muscles in his lower abdomen to tense before he takes a deep breath. “Kill what, exactly?”
The question comes out softer than he’d intended, getting caught in the back of his throat halfway through. She’s oblivious, her eyes still wide as saucers, darting back and forth as they search for the thing that sent her into a frenzy. “It’s a spider, Frank. A big, disgusting, hairy spider.” She shudders at the description, goosebumps cascading across her skin.
Frank glances where she points. Sitting on top of her most recent file is the biggest wolf-spider he’s ever laid eyes on. It darts across the coffee table in his direction, and he grabs the nearest book, ready to turn it into a brown smear.
But a hand stops him. Karen’s delicately boned fingers curl his wrist with surprising strength. “Don’t kill it.”
Frank side eyes her. “Kill it. Don’t kill it. What exactly is it you want me to do here ma’am?”
She’s blushing now. The heat of embarrassment crawling up her neck to her ears. Watching it makes Frank’s own cheeks feel warm for some reason, the unknown feeling twisting in his gut for a second time in less than five minutes. She stammers, “Uh.. c-catch and release?”
This time he laughs, snorting out an unexpected chuckle. Karen Page, the crime beat reporter for Hell’s Kitchen, a woman who unflinchingly put half a dozen bullets in a man who was threatening to kill her, a woman who regularly galivants around with one of the country’s most wanted murderers, thatKaren Page is asking him, Frank ‘no half measures’ Castle, The Punisher, to catch a release a spider for her. It’s borderline hysterical. He can’t help but poke at her. “You’re lucky I relate to the wolf spider, ma’am.”
She watches him swish the spider into one of her coffee cups with a discarded file folder, gently laying it atop the cup so the creature can’t escape. The tension rolls out of her shoulders as soon as it’s out of sight, her attention finally landing on Frank again. “You what?”
He almost wishes she was still too scared to pay him any mind. He shouldn’t have said a damn thing. Now she’s looking at him with her head cocked to the side, interested piqued, affection making her blue eyes glow. Shit.
He moves to her window, opening it to release his prisoner onto the fire escape. He tells himself he’s not going to say a thing, that he’ll just turn around and point her back toward their investigation. His voice echoes against the walls before the window is even completely shut. “Wolf spiders eat those asshole spiders like brown recluses and black widows, but they would never hurt an innocent lady.”
Like you… Shit.
Her hand is back on his wrist again before he can even turn around. She thumbs the sensitive skin at his wrist, the heat of her body radiating behind him. “So… they’re good then?”
Her voice wavers slightly, tone far too serious for this stupid conversation. His skin burns where she touches it, and the desire to twist around and let the heat at his back envelop him is a strong one. The closest he can get is to turn slightly and look at her face, her slightly parted lips, the soft expression in her eyes. Nodding, he disengages from her, growling, “A spider’s a spider, ma’am.”