Two

Bella was safely back at table six. Edward saw her seated there as he scanned the room. He had stood behind Justice Roosevelt: listening, watching, attuned to an movement in the crowd, staying relaxed, ready to react. An older couple, a second look confirmed they were her parents, sat to Bella's left. Joshua sat to her right. A nice guy, her brother; young but protective. Not many men would have made that direct a silent challenge to him.

As an older brother himself, he had accepted the silent challenge with more amusement than personal irritation. Bella was frankly too open with strangers; she needed a Joshua in her life watching out for her.

He was going to enjoy having coffee with her. He liked her willingness to admit with self-directed humor to being directionally challenged and clumsy; he liked the confidence in her gaze when she met his. She carried herself with the ease of someone comfortable with who she was. He smiled just thinking about her comeback regarding sharing secrets unilaterally. Someone who could laugh at herself was rare and very appealing.

She was pretty; not classically beautiful, but pretty. When she'd walked into the Belmont room my mistake he'd captured details out of habit: brunette, chocolate eyes, five-feet-three, slender, midthirties; a small, white scare on the left corner of her top lip; teeth so straight she had probably worn braces as a child. A few minutes with her and she had his full attention. She reminded him of his sister Alice, someone who vibrated with life.

It was such a subtle sign, Bella reaching up to grasp her brother's wrist, but it shouted. In her world, family was close, special, and trusted. She had been given that gift by luck of birth; he had found it with the Cullens. They'd share at leas tone thing in common: love of family.

He wished he had bumped into her under different circumstances. This was bad timing. It wasn't like either of them lied in Chicago, it wasn't like he would get a chance to see her after this weekend if he wanted to follow up coffee with a more substantive invitation to diner. Unless…the back of Bella's photograph had given her name, listed her residence as Virginia.

He traveled constantly with work, was based out of Washington, but his apartment was in Arlington, Virginia, just across the Potomac river, north of Arlington National Cemetery. When he was in town, he took advantage of the hiking trails maintained on Roosevelt Island for his morning run. If Bella were interested, if she lived somewhere in his area of Virginia, maybe he wouldn't have to meet her once and then say good-bye…

"Movement on the right, yellow zone, subject unidentified."

Edward turned his attention toward the threat without appearing to move. If someone unidentified broke the red zone, ten tables from the speaker's table, they would be forcibly stopped. The waiters were not all waiters.

Nothing had happened; it was the best kind of evening. Edward stretched a cramp out of his right shoulders and rubbed his forearm. Ever since the Cullen baseball game on the Fourth of July when he'd backhanded a throw to catch Emmett out at first base, the muscles had been acting up. He smiled remembering Rosalie's outrage when Emmett had been called out. A sore arm was worth it.

Chairs fell with a clatter. Edward turned to see two workers move to pick them up. The hotel crews were beginning to take down the decorations in the ballroom, rearrange the tables. In seven hours this room had to be reconfigured for a breakfast meeting for six hundred.

"Edward, we've got a problem."

His partner Sam was striding across the room toward him. "The evening was going so well. Justice Roosevelt?"

"Thank goodness, no. He's safely tucked back in his suite of the secure floor. Washington just called. The president added Justice Whitmore to his short list."

Edward raised one eyebrow. "The president added him at this time of night?" He shook his head in answer to his own question. The decision had likely been made some time ago and they were only now hearing about it. His frustration showed in his scowl. "When are they going to realize they need to warn us first, before they take names to the president for consideration?"

"Exactly. Be glad they didn't leak the name during his speech."

"Is there a room free on the secure floor?"

"The East Suite."

Edward glanced at his watch. Rosalie would be here soon. "Let's go find the judge and get him moved to the nineteenth floor. Did you pull his threat file?"

"It's being faxed over now. Apparently it's pretty clean."

"That will change as his name leaks out." They left the ballroom and moved through the lobby, skirting past guests to the private corridor. "Do we have a deputy we can assign?"

"I was thinking about Chuck Nance," Sam replied. "He's covering the live television interviews in the Ontario Room; he'll be free within the hour."

"He's good; okay, get him assigned. How else is it going?"

"Besides a fender benter, a paparazzi trying to get a photo of Judge Frenston kissing the wife of Judge Burkhaven, and the hotel running out of imported caviar? It's just wonderful. You should have this job."

"Burkhaven's wife?"

"Don't worry. I was tactful when I suggested they might want to find some privacy."

"I wish I had been a fly on the wall."

"This keeps up, I'm going to ask for a reassignment. I hired on to chase bad guys, not to be a diplomat."

"But you're so good at it," Edward protested, chuckling at Sam's scowl. Edward saw Emmett ahead of them, just stepping into an elevator. "Emmett, hold the elevator."

Emmett caught the door so they could join them. "What's up?"

"We've got a judge to move to the secure floor. Can you give us a hand?"

"Sure. Who?

"Whitmore. Room 961," Sam replied.

Emmett pushed the button for the ninth floor of the hotel.

"Bella, you're pacing again." Joshua, stretched out on the couch, waved her out of his way so he could flip through the television channels looking for the late news.

"The phone is never going to ring."

"Would you quit worrying? The call will come. Carl is not even back yet. He was still talking to the conference host when we left to come up."
Bella knew he was right, but still…She walked over to the desk where she had temporarily set up shop for these three days, looking for something to do to keep herself occupied. Patience was a virtue she would one day have to work on. "How long before dinner arrives?" They had settled on ordering Italian, Carls' favorite.

"Fifteen, twenty minutes."

She rummaged to find a pen and pad of paper, deciding she might a well do some work. She was working on a major school reform speech. The same day the speech was given, a detailed position paper would be released. Getting the two to meld together with clarity was a challenge.

The suite she was sharing with her parents was like man hotel rooms she had stayed in over the years, and as usual her things had sprawled. Abandoning the desk since it did not have room for her, she settled in one of the plush wingback chairs, and set her glass of iced tea on the side table.

She had always found it easy to get lost in her work, but tonight it was a struggle. When she realized she'd scrawled the name Edward in the margin of her note page, she forced herself to turn the page. Edward was tomorrow morning's distraction, and if it was one thing she prided herself on, it was keeping her focus.

Not that she had heard a word of Supreme Court Justice Roosevelt's speech tonight, not with Edward standing behind him on the stage. She was almost certain Edward had looked her way more than necessary during the evening. She would like to imagine he had really winked at her, but she wasn't quite certain enough to risk asking him in the morning. Edward got better looking the longer she had looked, and she's sat there bemused for over an hour.

A cop. She was interested in a cop. She gave a silent chuckle. Given her profession, it was probably as good a choice as any. She'd love to have him at her side when the mud started to fly at one on the numerous social gatherings she attended as part of her job. She had a feeling politicians would temper their words around him.

Anne was going to enjoy hearing this news. John's deputy chief of staff, her longtime friend, had been encouraging her to get over Mike for months. Of course, it wasn't exactly going to be easy to find the right words…Anne, I bumped into this guy with a gun. She grinned. Yeah. That would work.

She glanced up when the sound of footsteps came her direction. Her dad had changed from his suit.

"Working on John's speech?"

Dad knew her well. "Trying to." He had read his first draft yesterday.

"You've got a challenge making the intricacies of bond refinancing clear."

"Tell me about it. I just keep reminding listeners it's money. Either pay now or pay more later. That always catches attention." A knock on the door interrupted them. Joshua got up to answer it. Room service had arrived with dinner. Bella set aside the work to help Josh clear the table so they could set it out.

"Is Carl back?" her dad asked.

Bella heard something from next door. "There he is now, right on time."

She walked across the suite to the connecting door with the adjoining hotel room, carrying one of the hot cheese-filled breadsticks Josh had ordered for an appetizer. The good news hadn't come yet, but his feast couldn't wait. She tapped on the door. "Carl, dinner's here." The connecting door had never been latched and it swung open under her hand. "Josh thinks your speech---"
The muted sound of a silenced gunshot echoed through Carl's room. Horror swelled inside Bella like a wave as she saw Carl crumble backwards to the floor, his face turning toward her. His eyes showed unspeakable fear, surprise, then a blank nothing. The breadstick dropped from her hand. The shooter stood to her left, less than six feet away. She had surprised him; that fact registered in the brief instant when she simply stood there.

He wore a dark suit, tailored, with a burgundy red tie, a white herringbone shirt, and black shoes polished to a high shine. His face showed angry determination, and his gray eyes as he turned to look at her were filled with intense hatred.

She tried to scream and when it came, it ripped from the back of her throat.

He was already firing as he swung toward her; the first bullet kicked up wood from the door frame inches from her face. Her hand flew up at the sharp sting.

Joshua hit her; it was a full tackle with no finesse, catching her low intehr bis and knocing her out of the doorway. She slammed into the side table, and the lamp crashed down with her as she tumbled over the couch. Her forearm hit hard wood, her right knee twisted, and her chin cracked against the floor, sending shooting pain through her face.

The shots went on and on, emptying into the room, and then it went deathly quiet. Bella could hear nothing but the pounding of her heartbeat. She lifted her head slowly from the carpet abrading her cheek, heard a door slam somewhere in the background, and turned her head, quivering.

"Josh!" He lay partially over her lower legs, crumpled to the floor with his arms outstretched. He wasn't moving. She tried to slip free without her high heels hitting his face.

As soon as she was clear, she turned and scrambled back toward him on her hands and knees, seeing a spreading pool of blood staining his white shirt around his right shoulder and his upper back. The sight terrified her. All her life she had watched him be the adventurous one, the athlete, and now he lay crumbled with his eyes closed as if all the strings had been cut. She turned him awkwardly so he wasn't lying on the wound.

She heard her mother moan and looked around, then froze as she watched her mom try to lift the limp body of her father into her arms. A streak of blood along the wall showed where her father had been flung back by the bullet's impact; he had crumpled there. He couldn't be dead. No! He couldn't be dead.

It registered and yet it didn't; disbelief was overriding what her eyes were telling her. Someone had killed Carl; tried to kill her; and shot her brother and her father.

It hit so hard she couldn't breath. Couldn't think. Words weren't connecting.

Joshua's eye flickered open: blue, dilated. Almost immediately they began to glaze over. He made no sound, but his eyes…

Her thoughts cleared. Her mind sharpened. The moment crystallized. An icy calmness settled across her.

"Mom, lay Dad flat. Get pressure on the bleeding," she said, hoping it wasn't too late for him.

She pressed her hands tight against Josh's shoulder, feeling them grow slick with his blood. "Hold on, Josh. Just hold on." She could see her hands shaking but couldn't feel it. "You're going to be alright."

He struggled to breathe. It was a frightening sound.

The table was on its side and she yanked the fallen phone toward her by the cord. She had to hang up the receiver to get a dial tone back. She hit zero, leaving a blood fingerprint.

"There's been a shooting in suite 963. We need medical help." She was stunned at how clear her voice was. She was so tense her muscles were going to break bones, but her voice was calm. Joshua and her dad couldn't afford it if she panicked.

"Ma'am---"

"My name is Bella Swan. Someone just shot Judge Whitmore. My brother and dad were also hit. I need help, now! Suite 963," she repeated.

"It's on the way." She rattled the reception desk attendant. "Stay on the line---"

Bella dropped the phone to the carpet, not hanging up, but needing both hands for Joshua. "Mom, how's Dad?" She swiveled around on her heels and saw her mom's face. If she wasn't already having a second heart attack, she was on the verge of o ne. Her mom was one of the strongest ladies Bella knew, but not in her health. A heart infection after surgery ten years ago had made her vulnerable, and a mild heart attack two years ago had worsened that outlook. A shock like this could kill her. "Mom, where are your pills?" Bella asked urgently.

"I'm okay for now. Stay with Josh."

Bella looked at Josh, then back at her mom, a sense of panic taking hold. Help wasn't going to arrive in time.

"Shots fired! Suite 963. Repeat, shots fired, suite 963!"

Edward, Sam, and Emmett flattened against the side walls of the elevator, realizing with a startled and then grim glance between themselves that the elevator doors were opening on floor nine at that very instant. Edward hit the emergency stop button, relieved they had silenced the alarms during the security preparations. Guns drawn, they moved out of the confined space, covering for each other.

The elevator opened into a small alcove. A gold plaque on the facing corridor wall showed rooms 930 to 949 and stairs to the left, rooms 950 and 969 and vending to the right.

A glance up showed none of the guest elevators were moving. The shooter hadn't gone out this way. "Freeze the southwest elevators," Edward quietly ordered the control center. "Three officers now on the floor."

Emmett slipped a small four-inch mirror from his pocket and used it to check both directions of the corridor. "Empty."

The only sound was the faint one of the ice machine down the hall. It didn't mean much. Edward knew these hotel rooms were nearly sound proof, having more than once opened the door to his suite to find that Sam had the television blaring so he could listen to the news as he shaved.

Edward touched Sam's shoulder and pointed left toward the stirs.

Sam nodded and moved that direction.

Edward tapped Emmett to help him investigate suite 963.

The vending area at the end of the hall worried him and he kept his attention on that danger point as they moved down the hall. A guest room door opened and they both pivoted, guns aimed, only to immediately check their movements. Emmett waved the horrified guest back inside his room.

Edward reached the closed door to suite 963, stopped, and Emmett slid past him to the other side. Emmett removed his master hotel card key and quietly tapped his knee, indicated he would go in low. Edward nodded.

Emmett silently inserted the card key; then pulled it out. The red light flashed green.

Edward met Emmett's gaze and in that intense moment knew Emmett was thinking the same thing he was. Rosalie would kill them both if either one of them got hurt.

Emmett pushed open the door.

It caught on the chain.

Edward, his momentum already taking him forward, barely checked in time to avoid hitting the door. They had the right suite number. A false alarm? No. The smell of gunpowder lingered in the air and it was impossible to miss the smell of blood. Someone had slipped the chain in place out of fear? Or had the shooter barricaded himself inside? "Police! Open up!"

Emmett prepared to kick the door open. Over the security net Edward could hear the coordinated response of U.S. Marshals, FBI agents, and uniform cops rushing to close the area. Backup was coming, but they didn't have time to wait.

The door chain jangled as someone tried to open the door.

The door swung open. Emmett and Edward instantly elevated their weapons to the ceiling. It was a lady in her fifties. Her identity registered at first with disbelief. It was Bella's mom, Renee Swan. Edward reached out and caught her elbow to keep her from falling. Her face had a distinct pale grayness, and there was blood on her dress.

"I've got her." Emmett wrapped his arms around her waist to lower her to the floor. Edward heard the grimness in Emmet's voice, the shared impact this was having on him. They had been talking about his family only a few moments ago.

A scan of the room showed carnage. Bella's father had been shot. Joshua had been shot. Bella turned from where she was kneeling beside Josh, desperation coupled with intense relief in her eyes.

Edward hated the fact he had no choice but to ignore her. First he had to know the rooms were secure. Emmett was moving to the left, checking the suite bedrooms. Edward moved to the right and through the open connecting odor.

He drew a deep breath. Judge Carl Whitmore lay on his back, the empty look in his eyes confirming the worst. Edward had never lost a witness or a judge on his watch and fury washed over him.

He forced himself to take a deep breath before he walked past the judge to check the bathroom, anywhere someone could hide. When he was sure he was alone, he knelt to confirm the judge was dead, careful where he stopped so as to minimize what he disturbed of the crime scene. "Judge Whitmore has been killed." His words over the security net quiet and cold.

Judge Whitmore had died facing into his room. Someone had been inside the room. Waiting. Edward hadn't known the judge and the Swans were friends, but the open connecting door suggested they were. The lock had to released on both side. Were the Swans just unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time, or were they targets as well and the hit had gone bad? It was an ugly thought.

The dead could wait, there were survivors to attend to.

Emmett was already working on Bella's father, Charlie. Edward skirted the overturned furniture to reach Bella and Josh. He closed his hand carefully around Bella's shoulder and looked her over swiftly, trying to tell if she had been hit as well. He had seen victims walking around so deep in shock they didn't even realize they were hit.

There was a nasty gash on her right cheekbone just below her eye and her cheek had been scuffed, but the blood staining her suit and her hands, some of it dark red, having dried, and other patches bright and wet, didn't appear to be hers.

"I can't get the bleeding to stop."

Her voice was steady but she was quivering under his hand. He wished he had time to wrap his arm around her and hug her, try to stop the shivers. That this should happen to her and her family the same night he had met her…it made him sick at heart. "It's okay, Bella," he said gently. He eased his hands under hers, wedging his fingers under her palm, keeping the pressure on Joshua's shoulder steady. "I've got him."

She was leaning forward over her brother and Edward was crowding her space now that they were so close together. Did she realize her eyes were wide and her breathing fast, that her heart was pounding? He counted five beats in the moment he realized the twitch showing at her throat was her heartbeat. Calm down, he wanted to urge and was helpless to help her do that. She's just lived through a nightmare. She blinked. Good girl. Come on, blink again. She finally did. Where are those paramedics? I need to get you out of here.

He turned his attention to her brother. He had to rip Josh's shirt to get a look at the injury. The bullet had hit him in his right shoulder, deflected off his collarbone, and come out at an angle just below it. Nasty, and bleeding heavily. Joshua's pallor was sharp; his eyes were closed and his lips were beginning to turn slightly blue. The young man he had admired earlier that evening was dying Edward realized with grim resolve, determined not to let that happen. One fatality was more than enough.

"I need to get Mom's heart pills."

Edward looked toward Renee and saw what Bella had. "Go," he said urgently.

Bella nodded and got to her feet, almost falling, catching herself with a hand on his shoulder. Her hand tightened as she drew a deep breath, took the first step away. His eyes narrowed as he watched her walk toward the bedroom. It looked like she was in danger of folding, but she kept going.

The sound of gunfire and someone tumbling and striking concrete burst over the net. "Shooter on the stairs. He's heading up!"

Edward jerked. Up toward the secure floor. "Sam? Come back."

"He winged me. I'm okay," Sam replied, his breathing ragged. "You guys coming down from nineteen be careful you don't shoot me by mistake and finish the job."

His partner was under fire. Edward looked over at Emmett, desperate to go. They had to be two places at once. Emmett, his face taut, shook his head. Edward hated it but accepted the fact Emmett was right. They couldn't leave Joshua and Charlie before help got here. "Where are those paramedics?"

"Coming up under escort. I told them to rush it and get medivac on the way."

"Mom, your pills," Bella said. "I grabbed Dad's prescription bottles too. The paramedics will need to know about the blood pressure medicine."

"I'll tell them. His medical alert tags, they'll need those too."

"Dad's wearing them," Bella said a moment later. "Mom, do you need to lie down? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. Go, help Josh. The man needs the extra hands."

He most certainly did. Edward glanced over, ready to tell Bella to stay with her mom despite that fact, only to meet Renee's firm gaze. The lady might be having a hard time physically coping with the suddenness of the shock, but there was steel in those soft grey eyes looking across the room at him. Renee was a fighter; that boded well. He studied her face for a moment, then gave a slight nod to her and looked over at Bella. He really did need her hands.

Bella rejoined him. She had thought to grab a stack of towels while in the bathroom. "Will these help?"

He took one, grateful. "Absolutely, thanks." He glanced over to see she had already given Emmett several.

"He just started shooting."

Edward looked sharply at Bella. In the back of his mind he had been hoping she had been in the bedroom, somewhere else, at least been spared actually seeing her brother and dad shot. Given what she had just said, he was surprised she had any composure left. "One shooter?"

She nodded and her brow furrowed. "Dark skin, late-thirties. Not tall, maybe five-foot-eight---" she visibly struggled with her words as she remembered--- "well dressed."

Over the security net he could hear each step of the hunt to pin the shooter down. Men were moving to seal the entire wing of the hotel. "What was he wearing?"

"A dark suit, navy, and a red tie."

He relayed the information as fast as she gave it. "Did you see his face?" When she flinched he momentarily hated himself.

"Gray eyes. They were so violent. And his hair was gray, really thin."

"Glasses, beard, mustache?"

"A mustache."

"Anything else about him? Did he say anything?"

She shook her head. "I remember thinking 'I surprised him,' then Josh hit me."

Edward glanced again at the open connecting door, the overturned furniture, and his time he was the one who flinched. Bella must have been the one to open the connecting door. The splintered wood on the door frame was level with the at gash on her face. The shooter had tried to kill her. Edward felt his hands go cold at the realization.

Sam swore over the security net. "He's out of the stairway. Repeat, the shooter got out of the stairwell. He's somewhere on floors eleven to fifteen!"

"Rule out floor fifteen, we've got the corridors covered," another deputy called.

Several moments later, another voice came across the secure channel. "I'm on fourteen. There's a merger meeting going on in the telecommunication conference center. The security guard says it's been quiet. The shooter's got to be somewhere on floors eleven to thirteen."

Three floors were still an eternity of space. There were service elevators, guest elevators, two sets of stairs, and that didn't even consider the hotel rooms. Edward broke into the security net traffic. "We need a hostage negotiator located. Now," he ordered. "See if Rosalie Cullen is in the hotel."

Emmett turned to give him a frustrated glance. "Why does it always have to be Rose who's around when trouble breaks?"

"Tell me about it," Edward replied, feeling a growing anxiety that this situation was so rapidly spiraling out of control. He knew the risk he had just potentially dropped into is sister's lap. "Nobody handles barricade situations better than Rosalie, we both know that. The shooter is pinned; he's not likely to give up without a fight when he's got rooms of hostages available to choose from."

"Someone shoot him before then, please," Emmett replied tersely.

Edward silently agreed, knowing if this became a barricade situation, they were facing high odds there would be another innocent victim. Rosalie had a nasty habit of putting herself between a gunman and a hostage. She was still getting over a hairline rib fracture from the last time she had done it. The Kevlar vest had stopped the bullet and she walked away from the situation annoyed with all the fuss he and Emmett made. Edward didn't think she had any idea how much gray hair she had given them in those twenty tense minutes.

He listened as men began to evacuate the hotel rooms one at a time. "How's Charlie doing?"

"Not good," Emmett replied. "Joshua?"

"Not much better," Edward replied grimly. "Bella, keep pressure right here." He took her hands to show here what he wanted, felt the coldness in her long fingers as he placed them over the towel. "I need to get his feet elevated." Anything to stop Joshua from bleeding out. Over the security net came word the paramedics were passing the seventh floor. Finally.

The bleeding was slowing. "Just keep it steady there, okay?"

She nodded.

They had a shooter loose. Judge Whitmore had died facing into his room. Someone had been inside. And according to Bella, it hadn't been a lady. Edward broke into the security net traffic again.

"The shooter may have a room pass key. Maybe even a master."

"Any other good news?" Sam asked.

"He likes to wait and take his victim by surprise."

"Wonderful. We'll try to avoid walking into one of his surprises," Sam promised. "Clearing these rooms is going to be slow work. It would be nice if we could get a sketch of this guy. From the description, it could still be one of many guests."

"It's a priority," Edward promised. He looked over at Bella. She was biting her bottom lip and her face was pasty white. He hoped she was a fighter like her mom. As soon as they got this situation stabilized, he as going to have to take her through the last twenty minutes in detail. There were times he hated what he had to do in his job. It was not how he had wanted to get to know here.

"Bella." She finally looked up. "The phone call to the desk, helping Josh, describing the shooter--- you did good."

Tears flooded her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.