A/N: 18 reviews for the last chapter. Whewie. And there I'd been thinking I wouldn't be seeing much of this story in the months to come…..

But you guys make me want to update. Which is perplexing. And confusing. And slightly awe-inspiring. Love you all ;)

EPOV

The chair was still swivelling as Edward walked past the front desk; still caught in the phantom ghost of its fleeing predecessor. He noted it down but didn't intend to do anything about it- thereby committing his fatal error.

He assumed the cleric had gone in search of a caffeine boost, an adrenaline rush that others sought elsewhere by clutching violet panties to their pocket. Edward couldn't help his fist involuntarily tightening over the fabric as he took the stairs two at the time, and then later on- three at a time as his impatience grew and festered.

But as he went to put the key in the lock, the door to Room 114 opened….

And Edward snarled.

BPOV

His name was James and he was the Big Bad Wolf to my red riding hood.

How do I know?

Well he told me so himself, right after he pummelled open the door and batted away the shower door like it was a piece of cake….being batted away. I didn't have time to mourn my inane lack of analogies though, because James was too busy mutilating my ear and telling me his name was….."James, the big bad wolf."

"And you must be little red riding hood, hiding from her death," he sneered before smashing my face against the tiled wall by the mirror. When he pulled me away, I noticed with some detachment that a trail of slick blood had been left behind.

Now that I did mourn.

I think James wanted Edward to know there had been a struggle, even though I'd done moot to hold up my end of the bargain thus far, because James bodily hoisted me into the bedroom and practically chucked me across the room to the over-turned bed.

Well, if he'd hoped for a gash to tear along my calf to join the decorated mess in my hair, then he was incredibly lucky. Because just for him, I began bleeding all over the place and leaving bloody handprints as I alternated between trying to rise pitifully and grabbing at my leg whenever a fiery spasm raced along it.

I was sobbing now.

And glaring.

Trying to do both whilst not having a cow. "Who are you?" I shrieked as James lunged into my personal bubble. Using the upturned bed to my advantage, I rolled of the mesh of mangled springs and sprite wood into a comforting layer of soft pillows and floating feathers.

"Geronimo!" I shouted after spitting one out, before attempting to knee him in the balls true and proper. It could've worked too, if James hadn't caught my ankles in a death grip and wound a short cord of rope over them. He then gouged his fingernails into the open wound just above it, and I didn't realise he was distracting me until the red-fuelled haze died along with the tears in my eyes, and my wrists were bound good and solid to my chest.

The bastard was good, I'll give him that.

Hell, I'd even applause if he let me go.

The rest of the journey after that was pretty mundane, because James literally threw my over his shoulder and walked out the room with a presence of mind that frightened me. Even when we stopped by the front desk, and the cleric continued reading his newspaper like a Neanderthal wasn't in front of him with a girl draped over his shoulder.

I knew we had stopped when my nose smashed into his butt.

"Help," I said. That's right, said. "Aren't you going to help?"

And the guy just sniffed and turned over a page in his newspaper. I could tell. I'd just heard the crinkle of pages rustling together.

It was the last straw for me though, because I slumped over (not hard) and wondered what the hell my parents could've done that was so bad, they couldn't even trade their lives for my own and skipped the country without so much as a "Goodbye, dear! Make sure you lock up and run!"

Because I'm finding it rather hard to believe all this effort was put in, just 'cos I didn't hand in my geometry homework to Mr. Yates last lesson, the only punishable crime I had against me.

Not Edward. Not James. And definitely not like this.

Not to mention, I'm feeling severely underdressed with this buttoned up shirt of…

Edward's.

Now that was a face I wouldn't mind to see at a time like this. I had felt I was about this close from letting him trust me enough to spend the night unchained in the motel. He let me watch him take a piss, for god's sake! Once that barrier's been broken, there's no going back.

Oh sweet lord mercy, why can't you just let me escape?

James threw me into the back of his car, a vehicle that looked so uncannily like Edward's, that I had to check to see if there was a cup of sweet tea in the cup-holder, to see if James had hotwired it.

There wasn't, so that meant he wasn't a car-napper.

Just a kidnapper, instead. The joy.

As I contemplated how to beat a child safety lock (a mechanism James has unfortunately mastered) I was totally surprised to blink, and find that James had released it long enough (or short enough, depending how you look at it) for the cleric to slip into the passenger, and idly lounge back.

His sinews creaked ominously. "The boy's just around the corner. He'll be with us in two minutes and then a further two, when he realises she's gone." He jerked his head back at me with emphasis, and I knew I should've trusted my senses from the start. Old you may be, sweet you're definitely not.

Whilst James contemplated the dark night sky, I wondered if I was strong enough to chew through my ropes and bite him like a rabid dog. But then I dismissed the idea because if it's anything I'm not, it's a bleeding vampire. Following James gaze, I squinted out the windscreen just as Edward rounded the corner and made quick work of the entrance.

I would've given anything for Edward to turn around and notice us, but even if he had turned, there was no guarantee he would've been able to see through the blacked out screens and see see us.

"Get out," James said coldly, and he cocked the gun he'd just retrieved from the glove compartment. "Gladly," I squeaked and thrust my shoulder against the back door, as if that would miraculously spring it open and leave me tumbling onto the ground.

"Not you. You."

It was the old man's turn to looked worried as the gun was turned on him, suddenly not sure of his standing. He threw a panicked look my way to see if I would speak up for him, but since I'd been hoping he'd do the same for me not an hour past, there was no chance. However the cleric seemed to relax when James handed him a cell phone, with the orders of handing it over to Edward.

Suddenly the tension was back at full force.

"Hand it over? But he'll-he'll kill me!"

"I'll kill you if you don't do as I say, pops. Now be a good little citizen and get the fuck out of my car," James growled and the whole car vibrated with the ch-lunk! of an empty shell being ejected from its cartridge.

EPOV

Was that car there before?

What looked like the duplicate of Edward's car stood parked a few miles down the road, with the engine ticking and the headlights off. It reminded him of the police car that chased him not long ago, and his suspicions were immediately aroused.

He began walking towards it, drawing the gun out of his waistband and pointing it steadfastly at the vehicle, not wanting to take any chances. His head was buzzing. The fuel was pumping.

Edward stopped his progression when the passenger door opened and a vaguely familiar man got out, his hand nearly getting caught in the door when he went to slam it.

"Put your hands up!" Edward yelled.

And the man obeyed, in a promptly manner.

"Don't shoot!" he called. "I come in peace! A delivery package for Edward Cullen?"

"How do you know my name?" Edward asked, raising his gun a little bit higher. "I never make a point of revealing my name to messengers."

Edward's eyes flickered to the driver's side of the car, and were unsurprised to find it blacked out. Whoever was behind it sure had some gall to come in firing distance of his weapon unless they were cocky enough to risk- that was it! The car was bullet-proof!

We're dealing with the government here…or the version the black market dealt with anyway.

"I'm merely repeating the information handed down to me. You've pissed off a lot of wrong people in your time, Mr Cullen; it was only a matter of time before it came and bit you in the ass."

"But why her?" Edward roared. "Why kidnap her, if it's me who you really want?She's a nobody! A gnat needing to be squashed! She still wears white virgin knickers for god's sake!"

Edward had no idea what the last exclamation had to do with anything, but a strange feeling was clenching his gut. The insignificance of white virgin knickers startled him, when especially Bella hadn't been wearing any since that shower she asked for so long ago. He remembered looking at her soiled knickers whilst she bathed, perched on top of the rest of her dirty clothing.

For a moment, he imagined them in their former glory, pearly white and all cotton. But then the dirt and the filth were back, and a part of him knew it was all down to him.

God, he needed to kill that bitch.

Right after he gave her the violet panties, of course- it would be a shame to put them to waste.

"I don't know who you're talking about," the man said shakily, and for the first time Edward glimpsed something frail behind the surface. Either the man was very perceptible to the chill….or he was really old. He lowered his gun slowly as the man shuffled forward with brittle steps that threatened to be his last.

"Here," he grunted, chucking over the package that Edward caught in reflex.

"You," he said, recognising the cleric from behind the desk. "It had to be you, didn't it? I bet you aren't even a cleric in real life. And a cell phone? Really? What the fuck are you playing at?"

The phone rang then, a chirpy ringtone chilling the night air and the cleric's expression to boot.

Diddledee…Diddledoo…doo…doo…

"Really?" Edward answered impatiently, finally ending the Mission Impossible theme tune. "You send an old man to do your dirty work? What next? Drowning kittens in a canal?"

"No," drawled a voice. "It's something much less heartbreaking."

The voice was somebody he knew- it was somebody close enough to trigger all the hatred in his body to overflow. Once upon a time he'd respected that voice-followed it's orders like a mindless fool- before his eyes opened up to the wider picture and realised hatred and respect were two very easy emotions he could mix up. Anyone who garnered enough of a violent reaction out of him was due a little respect.

Bright lights. Behind the old man. Headlights.

It had to be.

The ticking engine revved in anticipation.

"Say goodbye, Bella…" The phone was still stuck to his ear like an adhesive. Muffled screams that sounded out his name, got caught in Bella's throat as she tried to get through the duct-tape that James had probably slapped on her.

"Ed-mmfrgh- 'ard- Ed-mmdfs-fuu-fuu-ck-'ou."

He repeated the babbled language in his head, discarding the grunts and putting the rest of the words together to structure a half-decent sentence. Edard-Ed- fuu-fuuck-ou. Edward-Ed-fu-fuck you.

That was Bella alright, that unbelievable chit.

The black Sedan, the standardised car given to any reasonable employee in their cooperation, tore forwards in an attempt to probably kill them. But this was Edward they were dealing with here, and he shoved the old man away with a mile to spare.

He considered letting the car come at him, and then jump onto the roof in a dangerous, albeit acrobatic move. But then the old man, seemingly having lost his mind, staggered back into the car's path again, waving his arms in a deranged manner.

"James!" he cried weakly. "You forgot me! Take me with you!"

And the sedan ploughed into them both with the intensity of a freight train. The old man was sucked right under, his bones cracking under the pressure of a five hundred pound vehicle. A down-spray of blood splattered the concrete like a gruesome horror movie, before Edward had just enough sight of mind to twist his body, and bounce over the hood, the windshield (which true to form, didn't crack), the roof and finally the trunk.

The last thing Edward smelt was gasoline leaking out the tailpipe.

A/N: Oh no! Is Edward dead? Well if he is, it'll be pretty darn tricky getting Bella to fall for a corpse. Poor Edward will be pretty beat up though, so show him some love and review!