A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed and favorited this story!
A big shout-out to patsyrobinson for being a super-awesome, wonderful and incredibly helpful beta! Seriously, she rocks – this story wouldn't be half what it is without her!! Be sure to check out her story A Long Time Coming…it's a fantastic read, you won't be disappointed!
As always, everything Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I just toy with her characters for my own sick and twisted reasons.
One final note, I have started a thread over at Twilighted's forums. A teaser for Chapter 5 is up over there, so if you're into that type of thing come join the party!
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Bella
I woke up, stunned momentarily by sleep, and glanced at my alarm clock. 12:33 pm. I could hardly believe it was past noon. It had been years since I'd slept in so late.
I stumbled to the bathroom, nearly tackling Rosalie as she came around the corner.
"Hey, sleepyhead," she taunted, playfully.
"Rose, just one sec." The beers and coffee from yesterday seemed to be waging war in my bladder. A few minutes later I went to the kitchen, hoping some more caffeine might kick-start my sluggish brain.
Rose was there, sipping coffee herself.
"Thanks for staying with me last night. I'm glad it was you and not Mike." I grimaced, and she laughed easily.
"There's no way I'd leave you with that lapdog." I laughed at her expression. Apparently I wasn't the only one Mike had tried to charm. I could only imagine what Rosalie had done to keep him away from her. I never really thought about it much until now, but Mike did keep a pretty far distance from Rose. She must have scared him shitless. That thought cheered me.
"I got a call from Cullen today. He said there's some more info he wants to review with you. Are you free tonight?" The look in her eyes said more than her words. I wonder what type of conversation she'd had with Edward Cullen.
"Uh, I guess so. Mitch made me promise not to work on the case though."
"Cullen doesn't want to meet at his office. He wants to meet us at Citronelle."
"Citronelle? Why does that sound familiar?" I thought I'd heard of the place before, but I was usually so absorbed with work that insignificant details slipped through the cracks.
"Maybe 'cause it's only the hottest restaurant in town right now. The waiting list for a reservation is insane."
"Oh, I wonder why he wants to meet there instead of his office?"
"Hmm, I wonder too," she said, far too suggestively for my taste.
"Rosalie Hale, this is not a date!"
"Well, it certainly won't be if you're planning to wear that," she retorted, pointing at my sweats.
"Oh crap. I don't have the slightest idea what to wear!" I moaned.
"I can help with that." She flipped open her phone. I waited, wondering who could possibly help me out of this jam before feeling foolish at the second word out of her mouth.
"Hey, Alice, it's Rose. Look, Bella has a hot date tonight and nothing to wear. Can you help a girl out?" I could hear the shrieking from the other end. Alice would be pleased to no end to clothe me. Ugh. I hated playing dress-up.
I mentally chastised myself for ever introducing Rosalie and Alice in the first place. They had gotten along far better than I ever imagined possible. They even hung out together without me from time to time, mostly when I wasn't available.
Rose snapped her phone shut. "Alice will be over around six. What do you want to do in the meantime?"
"Well, do you need to go home?" I wondered.
"At some point."
"Don't you have to get back over and watch Cullen again? I thought you were the agent on duty."
"Actually, no. I got a call this morning while someone was still snoozing," she paused, rolling her eyes playfully at me. "Cullen managed to convince Mitch that his guy would do a better job of protecting him. I think Mitch was just happy to pull the protective detail so he wouldn't have to talk to Cullen as much." She grinned, wickedly. She could be a truly intimidating person. But, for some reason, I wasn't scared.
"In that case, let's do something," I begged, "or else I'll go crazy just sitting here."
"Mitch said you couldn't go into the office today, but did he say anything about the gym?" I'd already filled Rose in on everything that had happened with the case up to this point so she knew that I was prohibited from working.
I caught on immediately. "No, he did not." This was probably stupid considering the aches I felt when I moved even an inch. But I was desperate for a distraction—and even one involving exercise would help.
We skipped breakfast—well lunch really—and headed to the gym housed within the J. Edgar Hoover Building. Every piece of exercise equipment imaginable was available in triplicate. Dozens of treadmills and exercise bikes lined the back walls. Rosalie hopped onto an elliptical trainer and began right away.
I eased into jogging on a treadmill. It'd been a little while. I decided to do 7 miles, keeping up a slow pace of about 8 minutes a mile. An hour later I was done. My leg throbbed a bit, but I ignored it. At least I hadn't sustained an injury to any joints.
We lifted weights together, silently. She had her iPod blaring in her ear, no doubt something aggressive. I preferred to listen to classical music when I lifted; I found it soothing. My hands were aching by the time I was done clutching the bar. Maybe weights hadn't been such a great idea.
Rosalie wanted to cool off a bit so we swam a few laps. The water felt good. She gasped a little when she saw my stitched up leg. I thought that was odd because she hadn't winced at all when she saw my bruised neck.
"Dude, they really got you, didn't they?"
"It's not so bad. Believe me, they look far worse than I do," I smirked.
"You rock, Bella."
"I know."
Our playful ribbing continued on the way home. We stopped at Rosalie's place so that she could grab a dress and some makeup. I wondered aloud where she'd hide her gun when I saw the skimpy red number she planned to wear tonight.
"Easy, thigh-holster," she winked. "I'll be carrying my own compact 9mm."
Great. I hoped Alice wasn't expecting me to fit into something so…revealing. She had to know me better than that.
Apparently she didn't. I all but gasped when she pulled out a black dress that had to be smaller than Rosalie's. "Alice, I am not wearing this!"
"Oh, come on, Bella!"
"No, absolutely not." Normally my argument would've been met with much resistance; Alice was very persistent. But when I showed her my scraped knees and the slash on my leg, she acquiesced, albeit grudgingly. Apparently bodily injury didn't hamper Alice's enthusiasm for fashion.
"You're such a spoil-sport," she grumbled, pulling a more reasonable dress from her bag. She me knew so well.
"Much better." I tried it on, grateful that its length more than covered my knees and the stitches on my leg. It was also long enough to allow me to strap my government-issued Glock to my thigh.
"Kill-joy," she glared at me murderously.
"I need somewhere to keep my gun. Mine's not as small as Rose's."
She wasn't convinced. "Why don't you try your purse?"
"Alice, I need to keep it on me at all times. Besides, this is not a date. I'm meeting Cullen to discuss his case. That's it. And, the last thing I need is for him to see how badly those guys banged me up. He already thinks I'm incompetent."
"It never hurts to look good," she muttered. Her sour mood was short-lived once she got me into the bathroom. She spent hours buffing, painting and dusting my face with a huge assortment of products. She was careful not to aggravate my bruises. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had so much goop on my face. Yes I could—it was when I was posing as a prostitute to bring down an international arms-dealer. Great.
"There! All done," she announced. The proud grin on her face really was heart-warming. I looked at myself in the mirror. Not bad. At least I didn't look like a hooker. My hair was pulled back tastefully. Warm shades of shadow accentuated my eyes. Soft lipstick and perfectly matched gloss plumped and highlighted my lips. My skin looked creamy with just a hint of rosy color. And, she'd done a phenomenal job of hiding the ugly purple-green that fanned across my jaw. The bruise on my neck was also skillfully concealed. She'd also given me a silky hand-balm that did wonders for my tattered hands and a pair of elegant gloves to conceal them.
She insisted that I wear jewelry, pulling out vintage earrings and a matching necklace. I had to give her credit, they did pair nicely with the black dress. Its v-neck revealed just a hint of cleavage, though the push-up bra Alice all but forced me into fabricated a bosom-size that was not realistic. Matching flats completed a beautiful ensemble.
"Alice, thank you. You did a wonderful job." She beamed at my praise.
"Wow, Swan, I didn't know you could clean up so nicely," Rosalie said. She had finished applying her own makeup in record time. She looked fabulous, like a movie star going to the premiere of her first mega-hit flick. I definitely paled in comparison, and not just because the shade of my skin was so much lighter. Rose was a definite hit to my self-esteem. But, I had never put much stock in my looks, so my ego wasn't bruised for long.
I glanced at the clock as we finished grabbing the necessities for our evening, not least of which were our guns. Rose carefully strapped her weapon to the inside of her thigh. I tossed an extra gun from my own collection into my purse for good measure, fingering the one already strapped to my thigh.
"Rose, we have to go. It's almost 8:45!"
"Chill, Bella, we'll make it with time to spare—as long as I drive." Rosalie enjoyed speed more than anyone I knew, aside from Alice. She used her status as an FBI agent frequently to get out of speeding tickets. When that didn't work her beauty usually did.
We hopped into her red convertible. It was more than flashy—the word ostentatious came to mind. But, it did the trick. We were at Citronelle less than eight minutes later. She had cut a fifteen-minute trip nearly in half, terrifying me in the process.
"You know, Rose," I said, "your driving was scarier than the men who assaulted me!"
"Pssh!" she blew my words off with a flick of her wrist. She knew I was teasing…sort of.
She eased out of the car and handed her keys to the valet. As we stepped inside the restaurant I was overwhelmed by the rich colors of its décor. Warm shades of amber, caramel and cinnamon soothed my senses. Saliva pooled in my mouth at the decadent smells. I hadn't realized how hungry I was truly was.
"Cullen," Rosalie told the hostess.
"Right this way, please." We wove through tables filled with guests enjoying food and conversation. I spied an empty table in the back and assumed we'd be heading there. Instead, the hostess took us to a private room.
Cullen and one other person were there—though I barely noticed. Edward Cullen was beyond ravishing in his designer suit. I was suddenly grateful for Alice's efforts earlier this afternoon and almost regretted choosing the less-sexy dress. Almost.
Mr. Cullen and his friend rose as we approached. "Good evening, ladies. I hope you don't mind, Agent Hale, but I took the liberty of arranging a private table for you and my bodyguard, Emmett McCarty. Agent Swan and I need to discuss the details of the case alone."
"We do?" I said, dumbly.
"Yes," he replied, positively smoldering at me from beneath his lashes. Forming coherent thoughts was going to be hard—of this I was certain.
"No prob, Cullen." Rosalie looked positively giddy. That's odd, I thought, until I finally noticed Mr. Cullen's companion. His face was nearly as stunning as Cullen's, but his body was what I knew lured Rosalie. She had always had a thing for well-muscled men, and to say that Emmett was well-muscled was the understatement of the century. He was ripped, muscles bulging from beneath his suit. I was sure Rosalie would get along just fine with Emmett.
Mr. Cullen held my chair, sliding it underneath me as I sat down. Wow, he was really being a gentleman for once.
"How are you tonight, Bella? May I call you Bella?" he wondered. Yes, you can call me anything you want as long as you keep staring at me with those big, beautiful eyes. Stop it! Focus!
"Uh…S-Sure," the word tumbled from me. Way to go, Bella.
"Great. Pleaes call me Edward." If he noticed my discomfort he didn't let on.
"Okay," gulp, "Edward." I let the name roll off my tongue. It felt nice, intimate.
"Would you care for a glass of red?" He poured as he asked.
"Yes, thank you."
"So, Bella, how are you feeling?"
"I'm fine. Why do you ask?" His odd expression brought me back down to earth. Duh! He's asking about the raging bruise on your face, dummy! Well, a bruise he could no longer see thanks to Alice's handiwork.
"Oh, uh, I'm fine. Much better than yesterday."
"And why is that?"
"I finally caught up on my sleep," I grinned, sheepishly.
"Sleep is always good." I appreciated his effort to keep the conversation light.
"How about you?" I asked.
"What?"
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, why do you ask?" he echoed my recent question verbatim, chuckling.
"Well, it wasn't too long ago that you were almost a victim yourself," I reminded.
"That was nothing," he said defensively, harshly, like somehow I'd maimed his manhood with my simple reminder. I knew he'd revert to the Mr. Cullen I'd met not so long ago.
"Just checking," I all but whispered, embarrassed that I had thought this dinner might be a chance to get to know Edward Cullen. I felt oddly exposed, defenseless tonight. Maybe it was the dress, or the new tenor of our conversation. His actions didn't anger me, for once; they confuddled me. The long seconds stretched into minutes until he spoke again.
"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, "I promised myself I'd be a gentleman tonight. That wasn't very nice. I'm fine, just frustrated at the situation. Honestly, I'm used to death threats. They come with the territory. Though no one's actually gotten as close as they did a few days ago, I've had precautions in place for years for just this type of scenario."
I nodded.
"But enough about me. Tell me about yourself." He wanted to talk about me? Why? I really didn't feel like prattling on and on about myself.
"What would you like to know?"
"Well, for starters, why did you decide to become an FBI agent?" People always thought that question was easy to answer. But it wasn't. I couldn't stop the pain that was always simmering beneath the surface from boiling over.
"I prefer not to talk about that." Surprise flickered across his face, but he let it drop. Maybe he saw the conflicted emotions in my expression.
"Okay, how about this one. What did you study in college?"
"I can do that one," I smiled tentatively. I wasn't about to incinerate the olive branch he'd so recently extended. I appreciated his effort to be more personable. "I studied English literature, with a minor in Italian." He seemed surprised, like he expected that I had studied criminal justice. In fact, I almost had. But the FBI likes well-rounded agents who are fluent in at least one language. So I figured I'd study what interested me. And, with a name like Bella, Italian wasn't a hard choice to make when deciding what foreign language to study. Recent terrorist activity in Italy made Italian a sought-after language in the Bureau, so it was a win-win.
"Com'è il vino?" he asked, as if testing me. His pronunciation and inflection were flawless, but I didn't want to play along. I was too drained, physically and emotionally, to break out the Italian full-force tonight.
"Bene, though I'm not usually a huge fan of French wines," I replied.
He seemed to get a kick out of my response. "I'll keep that in mind," he said cryptically.
The waitress came to take our order then. I hadn't even looked at the menu. Then I realized there was no menu. "Uh, I'll just have whatever you're getting," I told Edward, somewhat sheepishly.
"Two orders of filet mignon, please. And, let's go for the 1990 Cascina Francia." That sounded suspiciously like a bottle of Italian red—and an expensive one at that.
"So, English, huh? That's a far cry from caging criminals in back-alleys," he pressed, obviously curious about my career choice.
"Well, it wasn't my original goal. I always wanted to be an English teacher," I admitted. He seemed amused.
"I can't see you as a teacher." He looked at me for a moment, evaluating the person behind the badge. I didn't let his perusal go on for long.
"Why did you study Biology in college?"
"I was hell-bent on becoming a doctor like my father." He didn't seem surprised that I knew about his background.
"Really? What changed your mind?"
"I took a summer internship with Northrop Grumman in between my junior and senior years of college. I fell in love with the work they do and wanted to get involved."
"How did you come to run your own defense contracting firm?"
"I realized that I could operate more efficiently and reduce the cost of production. A lot of contractors milk the government for as much as they can get. I prefer to make a modest profit and handle business matters fairly. There's no need for taxpayers to shoulder more of the defense budget than necessary." That was surprisingly patriotic of him. "It's been that obligation to fairness that has grown my company from a meager start-up to the largest defense contractor in the country."
I didn't know what to say, so he continued. "For instance, Bella, I'll bet anything you've got a Glock 22 strapped to your thigh right now, correct?" Damn, he was good. My face flushed suddenly when I realized that he was thinking about what was between my legs. I hoped he didn't notice the extra color in my face, if it was even showing through the layers of makeup Alice had all but forced upon me.
"Yes, that's correct," I answered, working hard to keep my voice even. The last thing I wanted was for him to get the notion that I was the least bit impressed by him, let alone attracted to him.
"If the latest deal goes through, my company will be replacing all government-issued firearms with a lighter but sturdier model. Uncle Sam will save millions and we'll make a tidy profit as well."
"I wouldn't like a lighter gun. The weight of my Glock helps it shoot straighter."
"Ah, but that's the beauty of our newest firearm. It's a 9mm but it doesn't have the same kickback as Glocks. My gun shoots straighter and more accurately than any other weapon on the market."
"Interesting. I'd love to test-drive your new model." I blushed as I thought about other parts of Edward that I wanted to test-drive.
"Done. How does tomorrow work for you?" His eagerness to show me his work was endearing but surprising. I wasn't sure what had changed between us, but he was actually being pleasant.
I was so surprised that I stupidly said the first thing that came to mind. "Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?"
It was his turn to be caught off guard. He paused, obviously trying to formulate a response to my question. Finally, he answered me. "I decided it was too much work to stay away from you."
That was cryptic. "What exactly does that mean?"
He seemed slightly embarrassed, like I had somehow asked him precisely the question he didn't want to answer. But, he did. "I realized that we'd be around each other for as long as it takes you to solve this case. I think it's best if we have a working relationship, don't you?" I paused, my mind fumbling over the word "relationship."
"Yes. But," I wondered, "does this mean you'll stop trying to get me removed?"
"For now," he grinned, though I wasn't sure if he was joking or serious.
"Thanks." I think.
He jumped back to our previous train of conversation. "It's settled, then. So, what time works for you tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?"
"Yes—shooting?"
"Oh, ten? As long as Rose doesn't have any objections. She'll likely be my babysitter tomorrow as well."
"Ten it is," he said. "I'm glad, you know, that they're having someone watch you."
"You weren't so happy when the tables were reversed, were you?"
"No, you're right. But I have a certain degree of security in my office and home. Adding another person to the mix is superfluous. I would wager that you, on the other hand, don't have the world's most state-of-the-art security system or armored vehicles at your disposal. Am I right?"
"I can take care of myself." This conversation was becoming uncomfortable.
"You've more than proved yourself, Bella. But why take any unnecessary risks?"
I decided to dodge this line of conversation. "Speaking of risks, are you ready to talk about your case? I mean, I thought that was the reason we were meeting tonight." He grinned like a schoolboy at my words.
"Actually, no, I'm not quite done asking you about yourself. Where are you from?" Oh great. That last thing I wanted to do was talk about myself more. He stared at me, expecting an answer.
"Well, I'm really from two places. I spent a lot of my childhood with my mother in Phoenix. When I was in high school I moved to live with my dad in a small town about three hours from Seattle."
"And are your parents still in Arizona and Washington?"
"No, my mother lives in Florida now and my father has passed."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." And he did look genuinely sorry.
"So was I."
Silence invaded our conversation for a few moments. It was awkward. I hadn't wanted to talk about Charlie. It brought back too many painful memories.
"Bella, are you alright?" Edward asked, gently. He was staring at me. Those few moments must have been more like minutes.
"I'm fine. I just…it's hard…thinking about Charlie is hard."
"I understand. It was inconsiderate of me to ask."
"No, no. It's okay, you had no way of knowing." I paused, gathering my errant thoughts and banishing them. "How about you? Where are you parents?"
"They live in DC, actually. We are originally from Chicago, but when I moved to attend school on the East coast, they followed." That was interesting. I could never imagine Renee moving to be closer to me. She was always so wrapped up in her own life.
"Sounds like you are close."
"We are. Carlisle and Esme are just wonderful." Of course he'd have a model family life. What about him wasn't perfect? The name Carlisle stuck out.
"Carlisle? Wasn't that the doctor you wanted me to see?"
"Yes, my father is a doctor…one of DC's best. And my mother is an architect." His parents' occupations gave a few clues about the way Edward carried himself. He was confident, intelligent. He was a product of his breeding, which was obviously exemplary.
Dinner arrived just then, interrupting the flow of our exchange. The meal was scrumptious and the new bottle of red was beyond amazing. He certainly knew how to pick his wines.
We shifted to discussing the case. There really hadn't been much progress. Nothing had turned up so far in the background checks of the two men I had apprehended. The photo David was working on only revealed the two men who were sitting in FBI custody, so that had been a dead end as well. Edward didn't have any more of an idea of who might be responsible than I did.
We ended the evening at around midnight. I was surprised it had gotten that late.
"Well, Edward, I need to get going. It's rather late." He stood when I did. "Thank you for a lovely evening." I meant it—I did have a lovely evening with him. He surprised me by carefully grasping my gloved hand and placing a gentle kiss on it. His eyes glowed as they reached my own, effectively liquefying my insides. His scent assailed me, nearly finishing the job started by those two thugs. He was beyond incredible.
"Believe me, Bella, the pleasure was all mine." I knew I shouldn't succumb to his charms; heaven only knows how many other women he'd bewitched with them before. But I couldn't help it. This man was more intoxicating than a thousand bottles of the world's best wine. And I couldn't seem to drink enough of him.
After stammering some nonsensical reply, I caught Rose's eye. We had to get out of there!
If I thought I might get some peace on the way back, I was wrong. Rosalie was raving about Emmett. "He was so hot! I can't believe how much muscle that man has. And he was so charming. I could simply eat him up!" I put up with that for the fifteen minutes it took us to get back to my place. Apparently Rosalie's obsession with Emmett slowed her driving considerably.
"We're meeting Edward tomorrow morning at ten so he can show me his newest firearm."
That stopped her cold. "So, I'll get to see Emmett then?"
"Most likely."
"Sweet!"
"I'm going to hit the hay," I said, when we finally made it inside the door. I really didn't want to keep hearing how hot Emmett was. "Goodnight, Rose."
"Night, Swan."
---
Edward
After bidding Bella goodnight, Emmett and I went back to my DC loft. It was a bit excessive to have two homes, but I wanted the option to be either downtown with all the action or far way in the confines of my large colonial house outside the city. Since the loft was closest to Citronelle, we went there. I generally preferred the loft anyway.
I paused outside my impenetrable door, allowing the palm scanner to recognize my unique print. It greeted me as I punched in the 6-digit access code. Finally, I inserted my key directly into the slot on the keypad and twisted. The metal door receded into its frame long enough for me and Emmett to slip past. With the push of a button, it snapped shut. I doubted if a small army could break into my apartment.
I looked around, surveying my bachelor pad. Steel, reinforced walls ran around the interior. Floor-to-ceiling bulletproof windows, lidded with heavy curtains, furnished a fantastic view of the city. A panic button glowed in every room, including the bathrooms. A few guns and other weapons were strategically placed in various corners. I really wasn't paranoid…too much.
Emmett had spent countless nights here, even when in an unofficial capacity, since he moved to DC four years ago. He was my best and oldest friend. We had grown up together in Chicago. He joined the military straight out of high school but we kept in touch. After 10 years as a Navy Seal, he was honorably discharged and transitioned to the private sector. I'd snapped him up immediately. A man with his knowledge and skill set was an invaluable asset to my firm. Not to mention the fact that it was great to work with a buddy. It was a bit ironic that I'd take a bullet to save his life, considering the fact that he was technically my "bodyguard." Agent Scott didn't need to know that Emmett was more for show than actual functionality. I would never put him in danger.
My mind replayed the last few hours as I got ready for bed. Bella had stripped the air right from my lungs when she entered the room wearing a simple but tasteful black dress. It had twisted flatteringly around her figure, cradling her bosom. I caught a few glimpses of her shapely legs. She worked out, but not to excess. I loved women who took physical fitness seriously.
I was relieved that she didn't have any other visible scrapes or bruises. She had done a remarkable job covering up the bruise on her face and her gloved hands hid all traces of damage. Maybe I had been a little too aggressive in trying to force Carlisle on her after all.
I had almost declared my affection for her on the spot, but somehow managed to contain myself. She was mesmerizing yet puzzling. I couldn't figure out why it was be so difficult for her to articulate her reasons for becoming an agent. Usually people spout off typical drivel for joining the public sector: devotion to country, desire to see evil abolished, really good health care. But Bella was different. It seemed that her decision to enter law enforcement was deeply personal, painful even. I could still have Jasper dig up her past like I originally planned, but now it felt too intrusive to do so. I wanted Bella to trust me enough to tell me herself.
That night I fell asleep that night to images of a brown-haired goddess smiling at me as we danced together.
---
Bella
Sunday dawned brightly and cheerfully, pulling me from sleep sooner than I would've liked. I hopped in the shower before Rosalie could commandeer it for her morning ritual. She was nearly as bad as Alice when it came to cosmetics.
I brewed some coffee and caught up on the week's events. After reading the paper for nearly an hour, I decided to call Alice. She would want to know the gory details. I repeated, nearly word-for-word, my conversation with Edward, punctuated now and then by her shrieks. "Bella! He sounds so dreamy! And perfect for you!" On and on it went until Rose finally emerged and I bid Alice goodbye.
Rose wolfed down a bagel and two cups of coffee before even speaking to me. Finally, she said good morning to me in her own style. "So, Swan, all set?" She was all business.
"Yup." So was I.
It was just after nine-thirty. We made it the Cullen Corp by ten and were greeted by the weekend receptionist. She seemed nicer than her weekday counterpart.
Instead of meeting Edward in his office, he and Emmett came down. Edward ushered us to the elevators, dismissed the security guard, and inserted a key into a slot on the same panel as the buttons. We lurched downward.
The doors opened up to a small room. Row upon row of guns rested behind glass, itching to be used. Edward went to a case that had an impressive-looking lock on it. He punched some numbers into the keypad and retrieved a few handguns. He handed one to me and one to Rose. Emmett had already snagged a large rifle. Rosalie smirked at him and he grinned from ear to ear. There was definitely something going on between those two.
Edward chose a larger version of the gun he had handed to me. We each donned protective glasses and noise-canceling headphones. No one else was on the range. I wasn't sure if this was Edward's personal range or one used by Cullen Corp. employees. Whatever the case, it was nice to have some privacy.
I loaded fifteen rounds into the magazine and cocked the gun. When I'd originally learned to shoot the kickback had been almost more than I could handle. I would grimace every time I fired a shot, seriously impairing my aim. I'd finally gotten used to the heavy gun that was standard-issue for government agents, but it had taken weeks of practice.
I emptied the first clip as I marveled at the smooth machine in my grip. It was a beautiful weapon, all things considered. Edward was right; it fired like a beauty. There was a definite kickback, but it wasn't anything near my Glock. I was in love.
I turned to find Edward staring at me. I couldn't read the expression on his face. "Do you like it?" he shouted above Emmett and Rosalie's shots.
"Yes! It's great!"
Rose and Emmett had finished firing. Edward took off his headphones and tapped Rosalie and Emmett. "Anyone care for a little wager?"
A wager. I knew where this was headed. I'd always been a good shot, but nothing impressive. "What sort of wager did you have in mind," I asked.
"If Emmett and I get more shots through the center of that target fifty meters back then I get to take you out to dinner again," he said. I was stunned. Why would he want to take me back out to dinner? We had exhausted discussing the case.
"And if you lose?"
"If they lose," Rose interrupted, "we get to decide how to spend the rest of today. You boys will be at our beck and call." Emmett ate her words up and Rosalie ignored my glare. This was not my idea of a good bet. If I had to spend a whole day alone with Edward I wasn't sure if I could contain my animalistic attraction to him, or refrain from punching him.
"Deal," Edward confirmed. "Ladies first?"
Rose, ever the confident one, stepped up. She was an excellent markswoman, a small part of her qualifications as a field agent. She landed eight out of ten, a great score by any standard especially considering the fact that she was using a gun foreign to her. But she was pissed, fully expecting to nail a perfect ten out of ten.
Emmett went next for the guys' team. He nailed nine out of ten. The murderous glare Rosalie directed at him would've intimidated a man bigger than Emmett. But he just grinned, again.
I put Edward's prototype on the tray in my stall, opting for my own weapon. I'd had years of firing each week and knew it inside and out. Maybe if Rose had used her own gun as well she would've hit more targets.
"What are you doing?" Edward puzzled.
"You have the home-court advantage. I think I'll use my own gun, if you don't mind."
"Nope, go for it," he said, smiling. I took an extra second to clear my head. His smile had left me reeling.
I fired off ten quick rounds, leaving five in the magazine. Each hit the center circle. Edward only had to miss one for our scores to be evened out. Of course he didn't. Rose was positively fuming by the time he stepped away.
"Looks like we're going back out to dinner tonight, ladies," Edward chuckled. Obviously this whole exchange had been wildly entertaining to him.
"Hold on just a second," Rose all but shouted, whipping out a gun identical to mine. She emptied the clip, each one hitting the very center of her target. Her shots were definitely closer to the mark than mine, though only by millimeters. "I didn't want y'all to think that my aim sucked." If possible, Emmett grinned even bigger at her words. Oh yes, he was smitten. I sort of had a girl-crush on her at this point too.
"It's too bad for you boys that you won," Rose continued, "because what I had in mind would've been a whole lot more fun." We had moved back to the gun-filled room. Rose and I made sure to refill our clips. We didn't exactly want to be caught in a dangerous situation without ammo.
At Emmett's pleading look, Edward asked Rose what she meant.
"Well, you both seem to know your way around weapons. But do you know anything about true self-defense?" Oh no, Rose, no. This was too much.
"As a matter of fact," Emmett hinted, "we do."
"Great, it's settled. Do you have mats here or should we go into our office?"
"What kind of defense contractor would Edward be if he didn't have a decent gym in the building?"
"Lead the way."
It was clear that Rose and Emmett had taken over.
Edward looked at me—hopefully? "Are you game?" he asked.
"Sure, why not." But, truth be told, I wasn't game. I hated sparring with men. They always reacted one of the two ways. Either they took defeat way too seriously, like somehow losing to a girl cost them a certain percentage of their manhood. Or they held back, too polite to hit a lady. I was sure Edward wouldn't be any different, though I figured he'd err on the latter option. He was in for a wake-up call.
Edward
I was in deep, deep trouble. If I thought I was attracted to Bella before, I was wrong. Watching her ease with my gun in her hand blew my mind. She gripped the handle of her weapon with confidence and pulled the trigger time and again with expert precision. I was so hot for her I had to hide the growing bulge between my legs before it betrayed me to everyone, including her.
I was looking forward to what she could do on the mat, especially given her recent run-in with the fuckers who had attacked her. I would have to be gentle though. The last thing I wanted was to hurt her any more than she already was. Still, I knew I was in for a wild ride.