A/N... I know...this is a lot to take in the first chapter. And like I told you guys, more and more will be revealed as time goes on.

Some of you are already hating on Charlie...some of you don't trust Carlisle...a lot of you like this Bella, especially after she handled her cheating boyfriend. What surprised me was that you liked a smart Alice... Well, brace yourselves, because it's going to be a bumpy ride for a few chapters. All of those people come into play...including my very hot, commanding, mostly no-nonsense Edward.

I need to explain that my imagination has taken over with some of the technology that I write about. Whether it exists or not, we will assume it does in this story. I'm pretty sure with the right equipment, most of this stuff is possible. LOL Anyway, don't judge it; just enjoy it.

Now...meet the crew...meet Carlisle's team...and we'll see how Bella does. And see? This is where I need to remind you about the violence...more toward the end. I need you prepared because I know most of you... Cliffies don't sit well with my regular readers. Just remember I love you. Mm'kay?

CHAPTER 2

EDWARD

I walked into my father's house, wandering quietly through the rooms until I heard his voice. He was on the phone in his office.

"Will you please trust me and do what I tell you?" he asked exasperatedly into his cell phone.

He motioned for me to sit in the chair in front of his desk, continuing his conversation.

"Good. When you hang up from me, turn off your phone. No email, no texts. Don't even answer the hotel's phone – or your door, for that matter. Until you see my face in the peephole, don't open it for anyone, not even room service. Got me?" he ranted, physically sagging in his seat with whatever answer he received on the other end. "Good. I'll see you tomorrow."

He set his phone down, rubbing the bridge between his nose – a family character trait – but he didn't say a word when he picked the phone back up, dialing someone else.

"Hey, it's me. Please get a message to Rosalie Hale. Tell her that Bella is safe and that she'll be in touch," he instructed. "No, I'm sure that's not the best way to say it. You're better than me at that shit..."

I chuckled, shaking my head.

"Yes, yes...you, too," he said with a grin. "Bye."

He hung the phone and looked at me. "Shut up, son," he snorted, rolling his eyes.

I laughed again but looked up at him. "I take it you've heard from Bella."

"Yes. In fact, as soon as we're done here, I'm heading to see her. She needs to know what she's facing."

I frowned, shaking my head. "Are you sure that's wise? I mean, telling her everything?"

"She's...um, well-equipped to handle trouble, Edward," he said cryptically, getting up when we both heard engines in the driveway. "Let's get this started. I want everyone in on this, got me?"

"Yes, sir," I sighed, giving him a strange look before following him to the back door.

My father made his way into the unattached garage as some of our team pulled into the driveway. I smiled as Jasper drove up in his truck, and Emmett practically skidded into his spot, the music thumping so loudly that I could feel it changing the beat of my heart.

"Damn," I growled, shaking Jasper's hand as I watched Emmett hop out of his Jeep. "You do know that's like audible rape, right?" I asked the biggest fucker I'd ever had the pleasure of working with.

"What is?" Emmett asked, looking like a confused child.

"You...forcing people to listen to your music," I snapped, rolling my eyes at Jasper's laugh. "It takes away one's choice. Unwanted music raping my fucking ears."

"He's right, bro." Jasper laughed, ducking Emmett's swinging arm. "Not everyone wants to hear every song Jay-Z has recorded, man."

"It's not about choice," Emmett reasoned with a shrug to his huge shoulders. "It's about the fuck-awesome sound system I have in that Jeep."

"You're totally making up for a small package," we heard behind us.

I laughed, spinning around to see Mickey standing there. She had a wry smirk on her face, and her arms folded across her chest. She was a tiny thing, with curly dark hair and a killer body, but she wouldn't touch the three of us if we were the last three men on Earth. Hell, especially if we were last three men on Earth. Still, there wasn't a lock, door, or safe Mickey couldn't crack.

"That couldn't be further from the truth, Michelle," Emmett teased, using her real name, which was equivalent to lighting a stick of dynamite. "Wanna see?" he asked, going for his zipper.

"Bastard, don't call me that! And no, I don't want to see it, 'cause I forgot my magnifying glass," she growled, punching him in the gut on her way by. "Now, what on this Godforsaken planet was so fucking important to pull me off the beach? Huh?"

"Kiss and tell, Mick," Jasper urged, nudging Mickey with his elbow.

"And add to your jackoff fodder?" She gave a pointed look at him before turning to glare at Emmett. "Not a chance in hell," she huffed, rolling her eyes.

I laughed, giving her a fist bump at her crass nature. She was tough, smart, and snarky. She'd also loved us all like big brothers since we'd met in Afghanistan. She'd lost her whole world on September 11, 2001 and had joined the Army for revenge and a place to live. She was a picky bitch, only dating non-military men, with a few women thrown in just to drive Emmett and Jasper crazy.

None of it made a difference to me. Anyone I'd ever worked with was off limits to amorous pursuits in my mind. I had a tendency to keep my conquests quiet and very short. My job and my past were too much baggage for a long-term relationship.

"Yeah, man...why'd you bring us in so early? I thought we were takin' a few months off," Emmett complained, looking at me, but before I could answer, a slam rang through the backyard.

"I'll tell you if all of you would get your asses in here!" my father snapped from the garage doorway. "Now!"

"Oh, damn," Jasper breathed, looking to me as we all walked into the garage and took the stairs down to our plans room.

The room was eerily quiet as we all took our seats in front of my father. Files were slapped down in front of us, but I didn't open mine. I had memorized everything that was in the file he'd brought me the day before.

"There's a hit on Charlie Swan? Isn't he your old friend?" Jasper asked, knowing that we got most of our weapons, computer equipment, and surveillance technology from Twilight Tech, compliments of my father being on the board.

"Yes, since we met in high school. And we stayed in touch throughout the years. He was the source I went to when we brought in those new bombs just before I retired. He's also how we get all of our equipment. Charlie is a very smart business man and an even smarter investor, and he thought he was doing the right thing by not agreeing to work with King on a weapons contract."

"He was right," I countered. "King's into all sorts of shit. He's the type of guy that would turn around and resell those same weapons to a foreign threat for a higher price, consequences be damned."

"That's true, Edward," Cheney said over the phone. "And we think that's what he's up to."

Ben Cheney was our computer guru and also our eyes and ears into the FBI. If we were involved in something, he knew it and could hide it fast. If we needed information, he had it at the tips of his fingers.

"King's been rumored to have had meetings with Alistair Corbin...you know, the one we couldn't pin that car bomb on a few years back. Corbin was accused of blowing up the childcare center that an enemy took his kids to. He was let off on some technicality nonsense. Luckily, the kids were absent that day. That enemy...was Senator Alvarez of California, the guy that's single-handedly trying to stop the importing of drugs into the US. Since imported illegal drugs are their main source of income, that makes Alvarez public enemy number one.

"Right now, though, Alvarez can't be touched," Cheney continued. "He's in the middle of a very nasty divorce. He's in the media just about every day. That's actually a good thing because no one can really do anything about him. They have to wait until the divorce is over."

"Weapons, drugs, divorce...a regular day at the office," Mickey muttered, shaking her head. "Who's the girl?" she asked, holding up Bella's picture.

"Charlie Swan's only daughter, Isabella," Cheney answered before Carlisle could. "She's kind of MIA...and that's a problem because if we can't locate her, then she could be in serious trouble. King is not above using someone's family as a negotiating tool."

"Thank you, Ben," Carlisle said coldly. His face was as dark as I've seen it, and for a moment, I wondered if there was more behind his motivation. "I've been in contact with her. I'll keep you posted."

"You'd better hurry," Cheney said, and I heard the clicking of his keyboard in the background. "Riley Miller called the office of Gravity Investigations just this morning."

My father looked at the picture of Bella and then to me. "I'm asking...no, I'm begging you guys to consider taking this job. It's not a paying gig, though I will compensate you myself...out of my own pocket. Charlie Swan was like a brother to me in school and even more so after. His daughter..." He paused, just shaking his head. "She's smart, and she'll figure out some of this blindly. We have two targets: Charlie and Isabella. Both are not to be touched. Both are to go into hiding, and we need to keep them safe."

"Why?" Emmett asked. "Why can't they just hire bodyguards? Not that I won't do it, but I'd like to know what I'm signing myself up for."

"Fair enough," Cheney sighed. "Charlie Swan recorded that meeting with King...for the FBI."

"Oh, fuck!" I growled, running a hand through my hair. "He's a walking fucking dead man! And the girl is as good as gone, Dad!"

My father winced but said nothing.

"No shit," Jasper muttered, shaking his head as he continued to flip through the file.

"Em and Mick...I'd like you to take Charlie. That man doesn't breathe without my say-so," my dad said, giving me a warning glance. "And Edward, if you aren't in this, tell me now."

"I'm in," I snapped. "You're not taking my team out on this without me. This will be high risk and...personal," I said, glaring at him.

It wasn't that I didn't want to help; it wasn't that I wanted out. It was knowing that if emotions played a part in the decisions that my father made instead of clear-headed thinking, someone could get hurt or killed. I'd been with my team now for almost four years; they were family. I couldn't let that happen.

"Do not forget who's in charge here, Edward! Yes, you run the show out in the field, but I still make every decision," he growled, pointing a finger at me. "You still answer to me. But I will give you the choice. I could really use you on this one. Are you in?"

"Yes," I seethed through gritted teeth. "If only to make sure nothing goes fucking wrong..."

"Good," he said with a stiff nod, turning back to a team that was used to this battle of wills. "Jasper, I'd like you to scope out Gravity Investigations. That's Bella's office. I want to make sure no one gets to them. Especially Riley Miller. Got me?"

"Yes, sir," he grunted, tucking the file folder into his inside jacket pocket. "Benny, tell me about Miller."

"Riley Miller is King's weasel, and he's deadly," Cheney answered without pause. "I'd say he was his muscle, but he doesn't use muscle. He uses the environment around his victim to get rid of them. If the target is a drug addict, they'll suddenly have an overdose. If the target has multiple women, he'll make it look like a woman scorned – poison, smother them with a pillow, knife to the throat. He's smart, he's lethal, and he's never been tied to a single murder, but there are plenty that scream his name. King likes to use him specifically when women are involved, because that's part of the...payment."

"Aw, you're kidding, right? He gets his kicks outta hurtin' girls?" Mickey growled, cracking her knuckles. "Oh, let me at him! Let him try that shit with me."

I snorted, but she was right. Miller was nasty. As my gaze fell to the photograph of Bella Swan, my mood darkened even more.

"We have one more issue," Cheney added, his fingers again tapping away in the background. "Isabella Swan may have more than one enemy. She's currently investigating none other than Senator Alvarez. Apparently, he's a cheating bastard that likes it...rough."

"Fan-fucking-tastic. This shit's gonna hit us from all sides," my father groaned. "Fine," he grumbled, looking around the room. "Any questions?"

We all shook our heads no.

"Good. I've got to hit the road."

"Not without me," I told him, standing up from my seat. "This isn't a job for one person. There's too much aiming her way."

He studied my face and gave a quick nod. "Then let's go."

~oOo~

BELLA

I loved hotel showers. The hot water never ran out. When I lived with Jake, we had what I was sure was the world's smallest water heater. You barely had enough time to get everything done before the warm water ran ice cold. However, hotel showers gave you plenty of time.

I practically drowned myself in the shower – washing, shaving, standing under the spray. I walked back into my room wearing sweatpants and a tank top, feeling more relaxed than I had in a very long time. I was looking forward to a good night's sleep in clean sheets, snuggled under heavy covers. I was happy to hear utter silence in my room.

There was too much quiet, though, I noticed as I stopped cold just outside my bathroom door. I made a quick scan of the room, not seeing anything, but that didn't account for the corner to my left – the wall that was beside the bed. I couldn't see anyone, but I could feel the hairs standing up on my arms and the back of my neck.

I looked to the desk by the sliding glass doors, knowing my gun was there in my bag and too far away. I looked for my phone, remembering that I'd set it on one of the nightstands – the nightstand that was right around the same blind corner I couldn't find the courage to turn.

I looked to my right, seeing the door. It was closed, but the chain I'd secured was cut, like someone had cut it with bolt cutters. The two pieces of chain were still swinging, just barely.

Fuck, I thought to myself, not knowing whether I needed to fight for my gun, camera, and phone, because all three things were vital to me, or to take the door to the hotel corridor and try to make it to the lobby. I was fast, but I didn't know what awaited me around the damn corner of the wall.

I made a split second decision to walk casually to the desk in the room. I knew exactly where my gun was, and I hoped that I could get to it before whoever was in my room made their move.

Rubbing a towel over my wet hair, I walked with purpose to the desk, sensing movement behind me more than hearing it. I spun, threw my towel at the guy's face, and grabbed my gun from the side pocket of my laptop bag.

"Bitch!" the man growled, throwing down the towel and lunging for me. He knocked my hand into the chair, causing the gun to fall to the floor.

At that point, all hell broke loose. With my knees to his stomach and his slaps to my face, no one was getting anywhere, but he brought his elbow up at just the right moment, catching my temple hard.

My vision blurred, and the man got the upper hand, yanking me up by my throat. "If they didn't want you in one piece, bitch, I'd end you now," he growled in my face.

"Try me," I sneered, squeezing my eyes closed as his hand constricted a little more at my neck.

"Brave? Or fucking stupid?" he chuckled darkly.

It was his laugh that pissed me off. I played weak for another few seconds, only to reach up and shove my fingers first into his eye and then his throat. He let go, and I let all my training – wasted training, according to my father – kick in. I spun a side kick to his head, chest, and balls, smiling when he grunted with each impact.

I tried to grab for my gun one more time, but he was quicker, and I heard the click of the hammer echo loudly in my ear. I froze, breathing heavily as I felt the cold metal against my temple, my fingers mere inches from my own gun.

"Shit," I sighed, slumping back onto my heels. "Who are you?"

"No one you need to fuck with," he said, his own breathing labored. "You're a nosy bitch. Someone wants you stopped, and I have a job to do. No hard feelings, honey."

"Right," I said through gritted teeth. "It's not personal, yeah?"

"Exactly," he said, smiling a touch. "Up you get. Let's go. We've got places to go and people to see."

He stood up, spit a mouthful of blood onto the carpet, and gripped my hair, tugging me to my feet.

"Damn, calm the hell down," I snapped, almost stumbling into him. "Will you at least let me put some socks and shoes on?"

"Yeah, sure, but don't try anything fucking funny," he said, aiming his gun my way while he picked up mine. With a few simple movements, he had the thing apart on the desk. "Socks. Shoes. Before I change my mind, bitch!"

I nodded, grabbed my bag, and sat down on the bed, my gaze falling to my cell phone that was sitting right there. I took out a pair of sports socks out of my bag, pulling them on. I looked around inside for my sneakers, but they were in the bathroom.

I started to go get them, but he stopped me. "My shoes are in the bathroom," I told him dryly, rolling my eyes. "You get them, then."

He huffed and walked away just long enough for me to pull a gift from Alice out of my phone. I shoved it into my sock, grabbed the hotel's pen and paper, and wrote, "Call Alice." It was all the message I could get to Carlisle because he wasn't going to make it to me in time. And I damn well didn't know where I was going.

Sneakers plopped down in front of me onto the floor, and I pulled them on, tying the laces tight so that what was hiding in my sock wouldn't come out. I looked up at the man that was about to take me and the gun that was still pointed my way.

"Can you at least tell me who hired you?"

"No. Let's go."

I nodded, looking around the room one more time.

The man shoved me hard toward the door, cursing under his breath.

"Come on. I don't want to have to drive all night," he growled, gripping the back of my neck and leading me down the hallway.

I took a deep breath, but when the elevator doors let us out into the garage, a sharp pain to my head caused everything to go black.

~oOo~

EDWARD

"I'll drive," I muttered, grabbing a bag out of my locker and tossing it into the trunk of my Challenger. I waited for my father to toss his own bag in the back and then slammed the lid.

"Where am I going?" I asked, taking the gun from under my seat and securing it in my waistband.

"South...and fast," he sighed, falling into the passenger seat as I cranked my engine.

Goddamn, I loved this car. It was black, sleek, and fast, with an engine that rumbled deep within your chest. I backed out, pulling out of my father's driveway.

"South, it is. How far?" I asked, trying not to floor it through the streets of Forks.

"California, just north of San Francisco."

I hit the button on my dash, linking up with Cheney immediately.

"Yeah, Ed..."

"I need clear roads all the way to San Francisco, Benny. Please," I said with a smile, knowing he loved fucking with local law enforcement.

He chuckled, typing away on his computer. "I got your GPS locked; you're good to go. Just...watch out around the Portland area. They don't always listen to FBI warnings. Got me?"

"Loud and clear," I chuckled, finally pulling onto the interstate and flooring it.

We'd driven out of Washington and pretty far into Oregon before my father's phone rang.

"Yeah," he said, but a smile played on his face as he listened. "No, she's a tough cookie. She'll be fine. I've got two heading to Charlie and one to Gravity, so everyone is covered," he told the person on the other end, pausing to listen to them. "I'm on my way now... I know. We're doing our best, I swear. She's a good kid, I know. And she's also strong. Give me a few more hours, and I'll check in again. Okay?" he verified, sighing and closing his eyes. "Yes...me, too."

I never asked about those phone calls, but seeing as how we were trapped in a car, I couldn't stop myself.

"Who is that? Who do you keep checking in with?"

"Patience, son," he sighed wearily.

I grimaced, knowing not to question him because I trusted him completely, but I wanted to know who else was involved in this situation. Who else was concerned about the Swans?

"Fine," I growled. "But at least tell me what you meant back in your office about Bella. About how she's well-equipped to handle this shit. She's a civilian; she takes fucking pictures of cheating assholes. How is she equipped to handle a hit out on her?"

He smiled softly and, I noted, a little sadly. He took a deep breath and turned to me. "Bella didn't want to be a PI, Edward, but she's got a talent for it. She was at Quantico a few years ago but dropped out of the program. She's...trained."

My eyebrows shot up, but I remembered a conversation when we'd met that she'd always wanted to be an FBI agent. It bothered me a bit that she didn't get her dream. Kids were supposed to have their dreams come true, especially someone as cool as Bella had been. I'd gotten mine, but my dream of growing up to be just like my dad wasn't all it had cracked up to be. Unfortunately, it was too late; my soul was sold.

"Why'd she drop out?"

"Not my story to tell, son. I'm not sure I even know the real answer, honestly. One minute, she's only got a few months to graduate; the next minute, she's back in Seattle. Charlie doesn't speak of it, and I've never asked her, though I have my suspicions."

"Why doesn't she speak to Charlie?" I asked, now dying for information on the girl.

"Why do you want to know?"

"We're going to get her, right?" I asked, unsure myself why the fuck I was so curious about a girl I'd only met one time – at thirteen years old, mind you. "So I want to know what to expect with this bitch..."

"Call her that again, and I'll break the nose on that pretty face of yours! Show some respect, Edward. I mean it. She's not one of your conquests, and she's not Mickey, who could give two shits how you treat her. She's the daughter of a man I've known my whole life," he growled, his hands balling into fists in his lap. "She's practically family, and she's a good kid."

"Shit, sorry." I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I slowed down the car. "I didn't mean it that way. Bad habit," I mumbled while keeping my eyes on the road.

He nodded in my peripheral vision and looked out the window. "Charlie is a fool. He was a fool when he was married to Bella's mother, and he's a fool with how he treats his daughter. He spent too much time trying to make his fortune and not enough time learning to live."

I frowned, looking over at my father. "You sound like you know how that it is."

"I do," he said, still looking out the window. "I'm sorry you lost your mother, Edward. I'm sorry that I got you into this life—"

"Don't," I sighed, cutting him off. "I'm a big boy, Dad. I've made my own choices."

"A soldier for hire isn't a choice; it's servitude," he said with a low tone to his voice. "You're a slave to the money, the adrenaline, the people who hire you, and it seems like there's no way out."

I snorted a humorless laugh. He was right, but it was who we were. It had taken me years to realize that the reason we moved from California to Washington when I was thirteen wasn't because my mother had just passed away from cancer but because my father needed to be closer to his team.

He'd started a small team of mercenaries right after retiring from the Air Force. He'd hired someone to take care of me, eventually enrolling me in military school. He'd traveled too much to be there for me, but he'd always been in constant contact.

Once I graduated, I'd been immediately sent overseas, and that was where I'd met Emmett, Jasper, and eventually, Mickey. We'd made an incredible team, a deadly black-ops force, and once my injury was healed and the Air Force released me, they followed me as soon as they were able. We'd been together for almost four years.

They were my brothers and my sister. They'd taken hits, punches, and bullets for me, and I'd done the same for them. We'd taken down small armies, dictators, and even whole governments, all for an unbelievable paycheck. We lived for the thrill, the adrenaline, and the money.

"It gets old," I sighed, my train of thought coming out of my mouth unfiltered.

"I wanted more for you—take this exit," he said just as we crossed over the California state line. "I want grandkids," he continued, turning his head to me and grinning.

I laughed, shoving his arm. "That may never happen. I can't do this job and leave a wife and kids at home. I'd get killed. They'd be all I could think of. And that's not fair," I admitted to him.

"You're twenty-seven, Edward. You're still young. And it's not like I'd stop you if you wanted to go..."

I nodded, knowing he was right.

"You just need to find the right girl," he chuckled.

"Would you have done this if Mom had lived?" I asked him suddenly, seriously wanting the truth from him.

"Nope, not at all." He sighed, an ancient sadness darkening his features. "I'd have bagged groceries for the rest of my retirement. Something safe, something boring. Because your mother...she wasn't boring." He smiled over at me, squeezing my shoulder. "You look just like her."

I chuckled, knowing this. I took a deep breath, but he apparently had more to say.

"One night stands are empty, son. It's the deeper, constant feeling that you want. Think about it."

"The things I've done...that I've seen..." I grimaced, shaking my head. "No one understands that shit. Fuck, I don't even understand it."

"The right woman...she'll take that all away," he said sagely.

"Did she for you?"

"Your mother did, yes. After the Gulf War. And yes, I've found solace..." He smiled secretively again. "But that's for another time. Pull in over there."

"It's really early. Should we..." I started, but he held up his hand.

"No, let's just go."

I parked the car along the side where he told me to, popping open the trunk. Opening my bag, I grabbed a few clips of ammo for my gun and then slammed the lid.

We walked through the lobby, taking the elevators. Silly-ass music played in my ears as we took it to the third floor. I looked down at my feet, frowning at a spot.

I knelt down, touching what looked to be...

"Blood," I whispered, looking up at my father and showing him the bright, red smears on my fingers.

"Shit," he cursed, looking up when the elevator doors slid open.

"What room?"

"Three thirty-two," he whispered, his hand already going for his gun.

We ran silently down the hall, and I stood to the side as he knocked, but there was no sound, no answer from the other side.

I looked at the doorknob, running a thumb across the card entry slot. I pulled out my Bluetooth, placing it in my ear, and dialed Cheney.

"Benny, I need a hotel room opened," I told him as quietly as I could.

"Talk to me," he said, typing away as I told him what hotel and what room number.

Carlisle snorted with amusement when the door clicked, the green light shining bright. "Unbelievable," he muttered. "What happened to old-fashioned keys?"

"'Old-fashioned' is the key in that question," I teased him, silently opening the door. "Benny, stand by, bro..."

"Ten-four," he said in my ear.

The first thing I noticed was the cut chain; the second thing...the entire room was destroyed. The desk chair was turned over, clothes scattered everywhere, and there was a nine millimeter taken apart on the desk. But there was more blood...all over the place.

"Goddamn it!" my father snarled, stalking about the room.

"Speak to me, Ed," Ben begged in my ear. "Tell me what's going on."

"She's not here...and there's been a...struggle?" I said, but it sounded more like a question as I looked to my dad.

"Fuck," Cheney breathed, his fingers flying over his keyboard. "Nothing's been reported. No disturbances in the hotel."

I looked through what seemed to be Bella's things, picking up a bag and rummaging through it. I found a camera, a laptop, and a few items of clothing.

"She did what you told her, Dad," I said softly because I could see he was about to lose it. "She shut down her laptop, locked the door, and... Where's her phone?" I asked, spinning on the spot.

"Here." He sighed, plopping down on the bed. He turned the smart phone over in his hands, but the cover to the battery had been removed. "Look at this," he said, pointing to the notepad on the hotel nightstand.

"Who's Alice?" I asked him, but it was Ben that answered.

"Alice Brandon," he stated, like he was reading it off the screen. "Arrested at twelve years old for hacking into the New York Stock Exchange, planting a virus that stowed away two-point-five million dollars into an off shore bank account – which, by the way, has never been recovered. She's a member of MENSA, a reject from the NASA program, and currently under the employ of Gravity Investigations as the computer specialist. Hmm, I'd like to talk to her..." He mumbled the last part.

"She works with Bella," my dad added, but he didn't look at me because he was currently turning on Bella's phone.

With a few touches to the screen, he made a call that was loud and clear on speakerphone. It rang a few times before a mumbling but rather fast-talking girl answered.

"Bells, don't you dare renege on an early weekend, you cow! Mack said you gave us today off," she said quickly, shuffling around on the other end of the line.

"Alice, I'm sorry, but it's not Isabella. This is Carlisle Cullen," he said.

There was a squeak and a loud thump on the other end. "Shit, Mr. Cullen, I'm sorry...hey, this is Bella's phone," she growled. "What the hell?"

"I need your help, Alice," my father said, trying to keep a calm voice. "I was supposed to meet Bella, but all I found was a note to call you..."

"Oh-shit, oh-shit, oh-shit," she chanted, and it sounded like she was running. "Give me a sec. Tell me, Mr. Cullen...was her phone taken apart when you got there?"

"Yes, and her gun," he told her, looking around the room. "And call me Carlisle. I have a feeling we're gonna be talking a lot."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chanted. "If she took apart her phone, then she's wearing the GPS chip I gave her..."

"Thank fuck," I growled, thinking that we may be finding Bella sooner than I'd expected after seeing the room.

"Not so fast," she sighed, typing furiously on the other end. "I have to decrypt it and then take the passwords off of it. You'll have to give me time. I'm not at the office."

"We don't have time," Carlisle growled. "She's been taken, Alice."

"Oh, damn! The first twenty-four to forty-eight hours are critical. I know, I know, I know... Ninety-five percent of kidnappers kill their targets within that time frame," she muttered, but it wasn't like she was talking to us; it was like she was just quoting facts to keep her mind focused. "I need...a few hours. Please."

"I'll talk to her," Cheney said in my ear, "but let me order a cleanup team for that hotel room. Take the girl's things with you."

"Benny, there's blood everywhere. Maybe you can—" I started, but apparently, he was on the same train of thought I was.

"I'm hoping we can get a DNA hit. Hopefully, Ms. Swan got a punch in...or two," he muttered. "But I need you guys out...and soon. And don't forget her fucking camera."

"We've got to go," I told my dad, throwing Bella's things into any bag I could grab and telling him what Cheney's plan was.

"Alice?" my dad said into the phone.

"C-Carlisle?" she said, and it was at that moment I could hear her emotions in her voice. "I...I need a few hours...please. I...I'm scared for her..."

"Me, too," he soothed her. "Listen, you're going to get a call from one of my people – Ben Cheney. He's going to try to help you track her. So listen to what he tells you. Stay calm for me, okay?"

"What about...I mean..." She stopped, sniffling just once. "What in the dark hell is going on?"

"In time, Alice. You might want to get to your office," he told her. "I have another man coming to see you. Do not speak to anyone but my men. Hear me, Alice? A Jasper Whitlock will be stopping by Gravity, and Ben Cheney will be calling you. If someone identifies themselves as someone other than those two men, call me. Trust no one else."

"Yes, sir," she said, but I could tell she was already distracted. She was trying hard to find Bella.

Carlisle ended the call and turned to me. "Let's get out of here before Cheney's cleanup crew shows up."

~oOo~

BELLA

I heard sounds first as I started to come around – scratching to my left, muffled voices above me, and the sound of my own ragged breathing through a blood-clogged nose. I tried to swallow, but there was something in my mouth – something dry, like a rag. I squeezed my eyes closed before opening them to a dark room, the only light coming in from a muted source above me.

I tried to sit up, but my hands were bound behind my back, and my ankles were tied together. With a few tries, I finally sat up, leaning back against a rough wall. Squeezing my eyes again, I opened them, hoping my vision was a little clearer.

I was in some sort of basement or underground room. The walls were rock, with no windows, and the floor was hard, like concrete. I was still in my tank top and sweatpants, my shoes had been removed, but thankfully, they'd left me with my socks because it was damn cold against that wall.

Thinking of my socks reminded me of the GPS chip I'd stowed at my ankle, but I couldn't tell if it was still there or not. I couldn't rub my legs together to check, and I damn well couldn't reach down to feel it.

I glanced around the room again, still hearing muted voices above me, but my breath caught when I saw what was sitting on the other side of the room. It looked like a hospital bed, without the mattress. Maybe a better description would be a morgue table because there were drains underneath.

There was a table beside it, but I couldn't see what was on it. I was too low, and the room was just too dark.

Just then, the voices upstairs stopped being muffled and became a loud argument.

"Not my fucking problem, Randy!"

"I need those fucking pictures, Miller," Randy argued.

"Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you left the fucking camera behind. Now...she belongs to me," Miller said, opening the door at the top of the stairs.

"You can't...not until I get those pictures," Randy whined, and I watched as he grabbed at Miller's arm.

It was the last thing he did.

With one swift move, Miller reached out, grabbed Randy by the shirt, and threw him down the steps.

"Don't fucking touch me!" he snarled, walking slowly down the steps as Randy tried to scoot away from him. "I don't care about your fucking pictures. I don't care about Alvarez. I have my own agenda, and I plan—" he paused, looking my way and licking his lips "—to get paid."

A chill ran up my spine as I looked Miller in the eyes. They were steel blue and cold. He had blond hair and was muscularly built, but he looked like a snake ready to strike. He had a scar across his chin, and as he rubbed his jaw, I saw that he was missing his index finger.

He broke his gaze away from mine, turning back to a cowering Randy in the corner. He reached down, punching the shit out of the man; he punched, and punched, and punched. A howl erupted from the man on the floor as Miller continued his beating, but that didn't stop him. Blood splattered all over Randy, Miller, and the walls and floor around them.

Miller stood up, pulled his leg back, and planted one hell of a kick to Randy's midsection. The man on the floor finally fell limp on his side.

I braced myself when Miller finally turned his attention back to me. "Isabella Swan," he crooned, taking his time walking across the room. "I've been looking forward to talking to you. And we have...tons to talk about," he said, reaching down to grab the tape on the side of my face.

With one swift jerk, he ripped the tape from my mouth, causing me to cry out.

"Fuck," I growled, spitting out a piece of cloth. "What the hell do you want, motherfucker?" I snapped at him, my voice raspy from not being used for a while.

"All in good time, Miss Swan," he said, roughly picking me up off the floor. "First, though...let's get you over to the table."

He bent down, picking me up over his shoulder only to suddenly slam me down onto the metal surface. I grunted, my lip curling when I looked up at him.

"Got something to say, Miss Swan?" Miller asked as he secured leather belts across my legs and stomach.

"You will regret this, I promise," I told him through gritted teeth.

He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I'm sure I will, but right now, I'm looking forward to all the fun we're about to have." He chuckled darkly, taking off the ropes from my feet and hands. "Now..." he started, turning to the table by his side. "Let's start with the first question, Miss Swan."

When he turned around to face me, he was holding a small leather flogger. So quickly that I was barely able to see him move, he brought it down on my bare arm. I cried out again, cursing the tears that leaked from my eyes from the sharp, stinging pain.

"Where's your father, Isabella? Where's Charlie Swan?" he asked, raising his hand again.

"I have no idea," I told him, my eyes closing when he brought the flogger down again on my leg. Despite the cover of my sweatpants, it hurt like hell. "I fucking swear that I don't know. We aren't talking!" I yelled at him.

"No, that's not what I meant, bitch," he said, lifting up the bottom of my tank top. "I mean, where does he go when he goes into hiding?"

"I have no idea. It's never happened. If he's not in his office and not at home, then I don't fucking know," I growled.

Miller paused, grabbing my chin roughly. "Don't fucking lie to me," he crooned. His voice was eerily calm, but his grip was fierce.

"I'm not, I swear," I panted, more tears leaking from my eyes when I closed them. "We haven't spoken in over a month."

"He owns that business of yours..."

I looked up at him, and I could see that he didn't believe that I was telling the truth, but his grip still held firm. "I don't know!"

"Fine," he sighed, smiling evilly. "Maybe time will loosen your tongue. Maybe lack of food, water, and the ability to move from this spot will jog your memory..."

He slammed the flogger down on the table and turned away from me. He stopped in front of a still-unconscious Randy, looking back up at me.

"I'll leave you a friend, though." He chuckled, shaking his head at his own joke because even I could hear the ragged, wet breaths Randy was taking. The young man wasn't long for this world, and soon, I'd be alone with a corpse.

He laughed again, jogging up the stairs and turning off the lights.

Plunged into darkness, I gave way to my tears, and now, despair, because in all honesty, if my father wasn't at work or home, I had no idea where he was, and that lack of knowledge could very well get me killed.

A/N... Yeah...cliffie...I know. Believe me, this isn't over.

I need to tell you that this Carlisle is harsher...and I really like him. I saw him this way from the beginning. I know he's got secrets, but give him time.

Edward and the whole crew are a little rough around the edges, but that's okay. They are brilliant at what they do.

Ben Cheney... Yes, he works for the FBI and for Carlisle. That will be explained soon, as well.

I wanted to thank JenRar for betaing this...and with a quickness these days! Thanks!

I am posting this earlier than I said because my RL work schedule is a little screwy this week...so the next post will be Thursday. So review for me! I know you're gonna yell about this one...and that's okay because I'd probably yell, too. Let me hear what you think.