A/N: Thanks as always for the feedback!

Special thanks to my lovely betas/pre-readers, Ovie and Dinx. Love you girls.

Disclaimer: Rated M for language, violence and adult situations. Yes, there will be character death. Stephenie Meyer owns any names you recognize. I'm just playing with them.

Chapter Three

-BPOV-

"Good morning, Miami! The time now is six a.m. and it's currently seventy-five degrees…"

I groan and reach for the alarm clock, hitting the top of it to shut up the annoying DJ's voice.

What I wouldn't give for another hour of sleep.

But alas, I crawl out of bed and hit the bathroom, then the kitchen to get the coffee going.

I flip on the TV and am greeted with images of a drug raid that occurred the previous night. I smile, knowing that Jasper and Emmett were likely part of the takedown.

"A reminder to Miami-Dade County residents," the anchor says. "Today's the first day of school, so you'll all want to slow down on area roads and watch for school buses."

I sigh and drop my head into my arms, folded on the bar. "Don't remind me."

I love my job. I really, truly do. I love kids, and I love watching their little faces light up with glee when they solve a problem or create something brilliant. But I'm also one of those people who loathe getting up at the crack of dawn. It's a Catch-22, I guess.

I've already laid out my attire for the day – a sensible black pencil skirt and a red peacock top with ruffled sleeves. It says I'm fun, but professional.

My first-day-of-school breakfast consists of egg whites on an English muffin, a bowl of fruit and two slices of turkey bacon. I drop a blueberry Nutrigrain bar and an apple into my bag, then remove the apple and replace it with an orange.

Apples are so … teachery.

My school is in Coral Gables, which is also home to the University of Miami. I'd be lying if I said I don't sometimes think about walking through the campus – and I have driven through a couple of times. I kinda miss college life, even though it has barely been over a year since I was a student. Miami's campus is beautiful, with old architecture and a ton of shade trees. It reminds me of home.

Today, though, I drive my little Corolla on by the campus after I leave my apartment and head straight for the school. I lucked out last year when I moved here. I thought I'd end up stuck in an apartment complex, but I found an ad tacked to a bulletin board at Denny's, and later that day, I put down a deposit on a garage apartment at an upscale, old Florida home not far from the school. The home's grounds are gated, which put Jasper at ease, and it's hard to see the house from the street. Besides the fact that there's an eight-foot high wall around the property, there are palm trees and a giant banyan tree covering much of the front. I have no idea what the owners do, but I hardly ever see them, and that's fine with me. Part of the agreement says I can use the pool and sauna, but I'm not to go into the main house unless invited.

I've never used the pool, mostly because it kind of creeps me out, thinking that there may be someone inside the main house watching me.

The only downside to the place is that I have to park on the street, which is a bitch when it's raining, and since it's now rainy season, that's nearly every day.

I pull onto the school grounds and head to employee parking. I spot Principal Jenks' BMW right away, parked in its reserved spot.

Tara Jenks and I got off on the wrong foot the day I interviewed for my job. I was wearing a pair of ridiculously high heels, and there was a slight run in the edge of a carpet going into her office. Of course, because the gods in my world hate me, my heel found that spot, and I went tumbling in, knocking over what I later learned was a Waterford crystal vase. It usually adorned a bookshelf, but just this once, had to be sitting out in the open, holding prized calla lilies from Tara's mother-in-law's nursery in Homestead.

I offered to replace it, but she told me to forget about it. I tried to, but it's really hard to do that when she practically cringes anytime I enter her office. I swear I'm not a klutz. My parents granted me with quick reflexes and a solid footing.

But, thankfully, the carpet was replaced.

Tara is standing at the main entrance as I approach, lugging my heavy bag on my shoulder. She smiles, and I half-heartedly attempt one in return.

"Ready to go?" she asks, and I nod.

"As always," I reply, stepping into the cool air.

My classroom is four doors in, and I can't help but grin as I walk inside. I've put a great deal of effort into getting it ready for this year's batch of second-graders. There are fresh tablets and pencils, and the room smells of books. I place my bag on the desk and fold my arms as I stare out at my domain, its walls adorned with various inspirational posters. I hung colorful stars with each student's name above their desks.

The bell will ring in thirty minutes. I take a minute to double-check my appearance so that I make a good first impression on the parents who bring their children to school. Then, I set out to place workbooks on each desk. I make sure that everything is in order and finally move to the door, propping it open before stepping into the hall.

There are already students and parents walking about, their excited chatter filling the air.

A tall man in glasses is approaching, a little girl with jet black hair at his side. She's shyly clutching a backpack nearly as big as she is. His face lights up when he spots the correct room – mine.

"Well, there she is," he says, patting the little girl's head. "Miss Swan?"

I nod, smiling as I hold out my hand. "Who do we have here?"

"Tell her your name," the man says to his daughter – or who I presume is his daughter.

"Maria," she replies, looking everywhere but at me.

"We were hoping Maria would have you this year. Her brother Max was in your class last year."

"Oh! Yes, Max," I answer. "I remember him. He's quite an artist. He really loves to paint, doesn't he?"

He laughs. "Anything he can get his hands on. Shall we go in and find your desk, Maria?"

She moves forward and he follows, and I turn my attention back to the hallway. One down, fourteen to go.

-EPOV-

I swear to fucking God I'm going to kill the fucker.

I throw the newspaper onto my desk and groan, running my hands through my hair in frustration.

FOUR ARRESTED IN MASSIVE DRUG RAID

Quil Ateara. I should have known better than to rely on the little weasel. Up until now, he hasn't let us down, and I figure that if I ask him about it, he'll swear he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Well, it was certainly the wrong time.

I pick up the phone and dial Dad's number. He answers on the second ring.

"Before you say one word," he begins, "you should know that I've put up his bail."

I groan. "Why? Why would you tie yourself to that?"

"Because he's a kid, Edward, and he made a mistake. He didn't have any drugs on him. They really have no evidence against him as it is. He played dumb about everything, and they can't prove he's more than an innocent bystander who was sitting in the car waiting for a friend."

I sigh and lean back in my chair. The sky is an unbelievable shade of blue today, and I suddenly wish I were anywhere but at the office.

"Then why was he even arrested?" I ask, my patience wearing thin.

"He mouthed off to one of the cops, and had it not been for that, they probably would have let him go."

I tsk. Yeah, that sounds like Quil. "Who are these other guys? Should we be worried about them?"

"They're nobodies, Edward. I don't recognize a single one of them, but you can bet I'm going to ask Quil about them. I want to make sure we're all on the same page here. I can't afford any surprises this Friday, and Quil will have his head on straight."

"You sound so sure," I say, shaking my head. I'm not.

"Quil knows where his loyalties lie."

After we disconnect, I pull up Quil's jail record. His arrest last night was his first, and it's a misdemeanor charge of loitering. Loitering!

"Dumbass," I mutter, but I know it could have been worse.

If he had been inside the house, he would have been in even more trouble, and my father probably wouldn't have been so eager to bail his sorry ass out.

I spend the rest of my morning going over stock figures for the past week and begin the tedious process of cataloging the contents of Friday's shipment.

The legal contents, anyway.

The other stuff, the stuff that makes us rich, is off the radar.

Before long, it's lunchtime, and I'm meeting Tanya at The Capital Grille. She greets me with a kiss on the cheek, as usual, and I pull out her chair.

"Daddy was angry this morning," she shares, scanning the menu. "Something about one of your henchmen getting arrested?"

I scowl at her. "Not one of mine, and if it were up to me, he'd stay in jail. I tried to tell Carlisle that the kid is too jerky for this kind of work, but for whatever reason, he seems to think he's okay. Whatever."

"Come on, Edward. We both know that anyone who stays loyal and gets the job done is enough."

"That's just it," I reply, keeping my voice low. "I don't know that the kid will stay loyal. What if he'd gotten busted inside that house? He might squeal to save his ass."

Tanya smirks. She fucking smirked at me. "I must say, Mr. Cullen. You're quite sexy when you're worked up over business. I don't get to see this side of you very often."

I roll my eyes. "I don't like to mix business with pleasure. You know that."

"Hm. Touché," she says, grinning.

She offers after lunch to release some of my pent-up frustration, but I deny her. I'm really not in the mood, which says something.

Rather than go back to the office, I decide to finish work at home, on the balcony where I can enjoy the breeze.

I have a big investment to research, and for once, it has nothing to do with the underground. This is the stuff I really enjoy doing. Things that won't get me arrested, should someone like Quil decide to turn on us.

And for his sake, I really hope he doesn't.

-BPOV-

With the first day now behind me, I decide to relax on the patio behind my apartment. I have a call in to Jasper to ask him how things are going.

I don't need the details, but it would be nice for him to let me know he emerged from last night's bust unscathed.

I open the book of erotic poetry that I picked up at a garage sale down the road over the weekend. I've never read this sort of thing before, but it was only a quarter and the cover depicting a nude cartoon character was appealing.

My eyes widen slightly, and I'm surprised to see the first poem is by none other than e.e. cummings.

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which I will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh...and eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you quite so new

I close the book quickly and swallow. Oh my. I glance around, paranoid that someone will see the furious blush on my face. But of course, I'm surrounded by foliage and a wall that only a man on stilts or Shaquille O'Neal can see over.

I sheepishly open the book and begin to read some more.

I'm quite content being single, despite my brother's insistence that I should date more. Or rather, that I should date, period.

I'll admit it's been awhile. The last date I had was right before finals in college. I know, I know. Pathetic. But right after school, I moved to Miami and began the process of finding a job, so dating wasn't exactly at the top of my list.

Jasper likes to tease me about his partner, Emmett, who has made it no secret that he wouldn't mind seeing more of me. And by more, I mean all.

I shudder to think of it.

Emmett's a good guy, don't get me wrong. He's good-looking, in a football player kind of way, and fun to be around. He can make me laugh like no one else, but I'd like to have a man in my life who would rather watch Jeopardy! than Spongebob.

Not that there's anything wrong with Spongebob. I'm an elementary school teacher, for Christ's sake. Of course I can take a good cartoon now and then.

But every time I've been around Emmett, he's all cartoon and no business.

He even calls me Belly Bell. Which would be so bad if he weren't pushing thirty.

I close the book, take a sip of wine and lean my head back, staring up at the cloudless sky. The humidity level has dropped, thankfully, and the palm fronds above me are lilting in the breeze. It's nights like this that remind me why I love Florida, and why I'm so glad I let Jasper talk me into moving.

The rest of the week goes by in a blur. The kids are finally getting settled into a new school year, a new classroom. There haven't been too many complaints so far.

Except for a little boy named Jack, the classroom grump. I swear, the boy finds more things to complain about than I do. And he's six!

"Miss Swaaaan," he whines, "I tore a hole in my shirt."

"I don't want to use green, I want blue!"

I always plaster on a smile and deal with him as nicely as possible, wondering how the hell his parents manage him at home - or anywhere, for that matter.

Christ, I'm just a glorified babysitter, aren't I?

Come Friday, I'm so grateful for the end of the week that I call Jasper as soon as the last bell rings to see about maybe going to a movie and for drinks, but he informs that he's working.

I know what he's going to say before he even says it.

"No, forget it. I'm not going with Emmett," I say, realizing that I probably sound a lot like Jack at the moment.

"Aw, c'mon, Belly Bell," Jasper teases. "I promise he'll behave himself."

"Why isn't he working?" I begin separating papers into piles on my desk, which will make this teacher's homework for the weekend a lot easier.

"It's my turn tonight. He pulled last Friday night."

"Hm, yes. I can see how your job cuts into your rousing social life," I reply.

"Okay, so forget the movie. Maybe you can just meet him for a drink downtown. How's that?"

"Jazz," I mutter, laying my head back. It's then I spot a pencil precariously stuck into a ceiling tile. I snort and shake my head. "Alright, just one. But only because I hate drinking alone and I really need a distraction."

"Awesome. He'll call you." Click.

I pull the phone away from my ear and look at it in disbelief. "What … did he seriously just hang up on me?" I ask the empty room.

I walk to the storage closet and grab a broom, then climb onto a desk chair below the pencil. One swipe and the pencil comes down, bouncing and rolling across the floor. I look at the star above the desk.

Jack.

Figures.

Whiny little fucker.

I finally leave the school a little after five, stopping to drop off a book at the library before heading home.

My phone rings, and I know it's Emmett simply because the ringtone he set - Sweet Home Alabama - begins to play.

I finish stripping and grab my phone. "What's up, 'bama boy?"

"Belly Bell! Goddamnit, I've missed you!"

I smile a little as I walk down the hall to the bathroom. "Um, thanks. So, drinks?"

"Why don't we hit Waxy's? It's been awhile since we've been."

"Yeah, sure. Waxy's it is. Eight?" I turn on the tub faucet and test the water.

"Fuck yeah. See you then, Belly Bell!"

I disconnect and sit on the edge of the tub, staring as it begins to fill.

Waxy's is a quaint Irish pub nestled downtown on the Miami River. It's the very first place I had a drink in Miami – and also the very first time I witnessed a tipsy Emmett.

Let's just say that Emmett can't really hold his liquor, especially the whiskey. He had more than a few drinks in him, and I found myself helping Jasper drag the freakin' lumberjack three blocks to their high-rise.

He also gets really handsy when he's had too much to drink, and I will never forget the look on his face when Jasper cock-blocked him for me that night. And by cock-blocked, I mean clocked his block, if you catch my drift.

Apparently, Jasper forgot about that, or he wouldn't be sending his little sister off to be alone with the man.

I have trouble finding a place to park, so I end up parking a block away near a rundown dry-cleaning shop. The sound of an approaching Metrorail train and some seagulls are all I hear as I approach the entrance. I spot Emmett right away in the lobby, and he's chatting with a blonde that doesn't look much older than I am. She laughs, and he grins. I roll my eyes.

"Belly Bell!" he says loudly. "Come meet Shanna."

Shanna? Really?

"Shanna, this is my best friend's baby sister, Bella. Bella, this is Shanna. She just moved here from Texas."

"Oh, well, welcome," I say, offering her a friendly smile. Maybe I should let them have at it. That would benefit me greatly in the long run.

"I was just telling her which of the malls is best, but you might know that better than me," Emmett says with a nudge.

"Um, actually, I'm not much of a shopper," I explain. "Merrick Park is the only one I've been to because I live near there."

I can tell she really doesn't give a shit about malls, but if humoring Emmett gets me to a drink faster, I'll do it.

"Right, Merrick Park," she repeats, tearing her eyes off me and looking at Emmett. "So, maybe we can meet up sometime?"

"Yeah, I'll go find us a table," I tell Emmett, walking away from the burgeoning lust-fest.

For a Friday night, the place is dead. I easily slide into a booth and pick up the drink menu. If having to decide on a drink is the hardest decision I ever have to make, I'll be good.

I order an Appletini, because really, what else would a teacher have?

Emmett finally joins me, but not before proudly announcing he was successful in his endeavor to land a date with Shanna from Texarkana.

"Jealous?" he asks, wiggling his brows.

"Oh, definitely," I answer, scanning the dinner menu. "My heart is so battered right now."

"Aw, chin up, Belly Bell! You'll find your true love someday."

"But I was set on you, Em. Really, how can I go on?" I say dryly just as the server returns. "Can I get a Waxyburger, extra onion?"

Emmett gapes at me. "You don't like onion, Bell-"

"Correction. I never said I don't like it. I just don't eat it. But tonight, I'm going to."

"Er, okay. So, do you think your true love will be attracted to that?"

I stare at him before breaking into laughter. "For being so smart, you sure can be dense."

He sticks out his bottom lip, but recovers nicely once his Guinness arrives.

This is how we spend the evening, trading barbs and me trying to make sure he doesn't drink too much. There's no way in hell I can handle Drunk Emmett on my own.

It's just a little after eleven when I've had enough. Unlike Emmett, I can hold my liquor, and I can pace myself. I've had two martinis and four glasses of water. Emmett, on the other hand, has had four glasses of Guinness and a shot of whiskey. That's minimal on his drinking scale, and I'm kinda proud of him.

As we walk out, he slings his arm around my shoulder. I offer him a stick of gum, but he declines.

"Oh, Belly Bell. If only you and I could've worked out. Damn, I bet you're a little tiger in the-"

"Oh my God," I say, cutting him off. I push him away in disgust. "Don't you ever say shit like that to me again. Ugh. Gross!"

He starts laughing, so hard that I'm afraid he might lose the giant cow he just had for dinner.

"Whatever," I huff. "I'm going home."

"Wait, wait. Don't walk away mad," he calls out, laughter in his voice. I hear his feet jogging after me, and his arm is around my shoulder again. "I'm sorry. You're right, that was uncalled for. Jesus, Jasper would hang me by the balls if he knew I said that."

"Don't worry, I'll tell him," I say, smiling a little.

Once we get to my car, I offer to drop him at his high-rise, but he insists he'll be okay to walk, so I let him. I'm not sure T-Rex would fit inside my little car anyway.

I lock my doors before turning out of the parking lot. Navigating downtown Miami is not an easy task, and it's even worse at night. It's no surprise when I find myself circling the same block twice before finally figuring out where to turn.

Except then I end up right back where I started, underneath the transit line near Waxy's.

"Fuck," I mutter, grabbing my phone. I'm trying to pull up the map service when I hear shouting.

I double-check that the doors are locked and glance around. To my right, not six feet away, stand two tall guys. One has cropped black hair, and his tanned skin tells me that he's likely Miami born and bred. He also looks really young. Younger than me.

The other guy is maybe an inch or two shorter, with dirty blond hair. It's hard to make out their features, even with the glow of the towering high-rises and streetlamps.

My eyes widen when I see the shorter guy hand the other guy a money bag. He opens it and lifts it to his face as if he's sniffing the contents. A second later, he nods.

His eyes flash to me. I quickly look back down at my phone, trying to pinpoint how the hell I'm supposed to get out of here.

The two guys begin to walk away, and I breathe out a sigh of relief, but I'm fed up with the map not working, so I pull away from the curb and turn at the next corner.

In the shadow of the tall building I'm driving next to, I fail to see the figure as it darts out in front of me, as if he's going to stop me, but it's too late.

My car hits the man with a sickening crunch, and I scream as he crashes into the windshield and flies off the hood, rolling to a stop several feet away. I hit my brakes, a sharp pain working up through my foot from the force of it.

Tears are streaming down my face as I stare through the shattered windshield.

The man's body is twisted into an unnatural pose and he's motionless, lying there in the middle of the one-way street.

I think I've just killed someone.

-EPOV-

"Fuck. What the fuck?" I yell, searching for my ringing phone.

I finally locate it and glance at the time as I answer.

"It's three fucking a.m.!" I shout into the phone. "What's so-"

"Stephen's dead," Tanya says, but she's sobbing so loudly that I'm not sure I understood correctly.

"Tanya, calm down." I sit up and rub my eyes with my free hand. "Take a deep breath."

She sniffles, and I wait patiently for her to gather herself.

"Now, what's wrong?"

"Stephen's dead," she repeats, and I realize I hadn't misunderstood.

I stand quickly and head to the closet. "Where are you?"

"I'm with my parents at home," she whispers. "Can you come?"

"I'm on my way," I answer, already tugging on the first pair of jeans I grabbed. "What happened?"

"He got hit by a car," she wails.

Chapter End Notes: It's coming :)

Thank you so, so much for reading!