Another Bella-Jasper Kidnap Story

The usual disclaimers – Stephenie Meyer owns all. I just like to play with the characters. Especially Jasper.

I want to thank the amazing beta readers at Project Team Beta for helping me with this story. You guys have been phenomenal.

Chapter 2 – We're in Texas?

Recap - Bella, on her way home from the Forks library, was knocked out by an unknown assailant. She wakes up in the desert and starts walking to civilization. The first person she meets is a lone woman on a motorcycle, who gives her a lift.

After about an hour of riding, Charlotte pulled up to a house. We still seemed to be out in the middle of nowhere, but this was a long ranch-style house, made of wood. It looked well maintained, but old. I looked around, thinking maybe this was a ranch, but didn't see any stables or fenced areas for livestock.

I slid off the motorcycle after she stopped next to the wrap-around front porch. "I can't thank you enough," I said gratefully.

"No problem," she responded, gracefully walking up the steps leading to the porch, without removing her helmet. As she got onto the covered front porch, she finally took the helmet off and shook out her hair before glancing back at me. God, she was beautiful. She had pale skin and blonde hair. And red eyes. Freaky contacts, even for out here. She didn't look pale enough to be an albino. On the other hand, how could anybody be that pale out here in the desert?

"Can I use your phone?" I asked as she opened the door. She didn't answer but motioned me to enter the house, then closed the door behind me.

"Phone isn't working," she replied casually. "My husband has been doing some work around the place, and he managed to cut the wires. He's going to fix it, believe me, but he hasn't yet. Come in, let's get you some water and find something for your sunburn."

This was beginning to feel weird. A woman, even with a husband, living alone here in the desert without a phone? And where, exactly, were we?

I took a quick look around and noted a spacious living room. The front door opened onto the center of the long house, so there was a large living room with a fireplace and seating area to the left, and a dining area with a series of bookcases to the right. Both sides of the house had several doors that promised more rooms behind them.

The décor was western and tastefully done. There were lots of bronze statues of standard western themes, including horses and men riding them. The sofas and chairs were all covered in dark leather, and the end tables and dining room table were made of what looked like cedar, finished to allow the wood's original grain to show through. There were large windows with neutral-colored, heavy, floor-to-ceiling drapes covering each one. I could see what appeared to be a kitchen on the other side of the dining area, and a computer area in a hutch with a large TV.

Charlotte walked into the kitchen, and came back carrying a bottle of water, twisting the cap off of it as she returned. She offered it to me, but I noticed she hadn't brought one for herself, which seemed odd considering the heat and the long, dusty motorcycle ride. She motioned for me to sit down at the dining room table. Her red eyes seemed to bore into me; it was disconcerting. I shook my head and reminded myself that eye color was something you were born with, I shouldn't stare. If she had contacts, well, her fashion sense was her own business.

I sat down, and took a deep drink from the water bottle, then set it down. I decided to start asking questions. "Um, I was driving at night," I began, "I'm kind of lost. Can you tell me where I am?"

"Not too far from El Paso," she answered. "Where did you start out?"

I jumped at her response. El Paso was in Texas! How long had I been out? No wonder I felt dehydrated. I started to feel dizzy, and she caught me as I started to wobble. Her hands felt cold, very cold, despite the heat of our surroundings. There was something weird going on here.

Behind me, I heard the sound of a door being opened. I turned around and was shocked to see Jasper Hale, a boy from my high school. What was he doing here?

Jasper was one of the Cullen kids. They were the cool, rich kids who sat at a table by themselves, and looked and dressed like movie stars. On my first day at Forks High School, Jessica had pointed them out in the cafeteria. At that time, there were five Cullen kids, but the one named Edward had left school the next day, and we hadn't seen him since.

Now I was in a house in the middle of nowhere with a strange woman and Jasper Hale, who was leaning back against the doorway, staring openly at me. He wasn't in any of my classes, and I had never actually spoken to him. In school, he dressed somewhat preppy, usually wearing Dockers and some kind of an informal jacket. He always looked tightly wound, like he was holding something back. Here, he was wearing a black, form-fitting t-shirt, perfectly fitted jeans, and boots. There was nothing casual about either his intense stare or the way his body appeared gracefully poised against that doorway.

I took a sharp breath and started to back away, but there was really nowhere to go. I grabbed on to the back of one of the dining room chairs, pulling it with me, with some vague notion of blocking myself into a corner behind the chair. Suddenly, and rather surprisingly, I felt very relaxed.

"Easy, darlin'," Jasper drawled, moving towards me from across the room.

"There'd better be a good explanation for this," I said, my voice shaking. I wanted to sound firm, but I was starting to fall apart. I rethought this, and decided to soften my statement, while trying to regain my composure. "I mean, there's probably something here I'm missing?"

Jasper looked at me steadily, and said, "Well, Charlotte's husband thought he would give you to me as a birthday present."

"What are you saying?" I began to stammer. "What for? I mean, what did he…what are you going to do with me?"

"I haven't decided yet," Jasper replied, gazing at me intently.

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