Chapter 10
I'm a spy in the house of love
I know the dream, that you're dreamin' of
I know the word that you long to hear
I know your deepest, secret fear
I know everything
Everything you do
Everywhere you go
Everyone you know
- "The Spy", Jim Morrison and The Doors
I'm sitting on the convertible top in the back seat, watching Edward as he switches out the plate again. He had suggested earlier that we ditch the car altogether, but I asked if we couldn't please just hold onto it a bit longer. I'm reluctant to let go of the place where we had our first kiss.
Just thinking about the way he possessed my mouth, my neck, all of me, makes me squeeze my thighs together. Passion is something I never experienced with Mike, in fact, most of the time I wanted to vomit. Yes, I'd let him kiss me, but a quick peck before he shoved it in was not something I considered remotely close to what Edward and I had shared.
I wish I was able to give him my first everything, but the kiss would have to do.
"Hand me the new one," he says, breaking me from my thoughts and I reach into the back seat to pull the Georgia plate off the leather, handing it to him over the trunk.
We are now laying low in Macon, about an hour and a half from the Piggly Wiggly and the scene of our latest violent crime. I chew on my Slim Jim, smiling around the beef stick as I think about how Edward stuffed everything I wanted into his hoodie before he came to my rescue.
I look around the empty school parking lot amazed it's still Saturday as I feel like I'm a hundred years away from my life in Archer. I watch the swings as they move subtly from a wind I can't really feel and try to recall if I've ever been happier than I am right now.
"Sharpie," Edward calls out, and I hand it to him, moving to lie on my stomach across the trunk to watch his handiwork. He sticks his tongue out again as he concentrates on painting new numbers on the plate, and all I can think about is the next time I might be able to taste it. Surely, we'll have to find somewhere soon to spend the night. Goosebumps travel over my skin at the thought of the many endless nights with Edward that lay before me.
He looks up and grins at me, pleased with his work and I stick the Slim Jim out for him to bite. His teeth rip off a piece and he chews before quickly standing. I roll over onto my back and look at him from upside down.
The blue sky is dotted with puffy clouds behind him, and his angle from my position makes him seem larger than life itself. A goliath watching over me, protecting and making sure no one will steal me away. No, I confirm, I've never been happier than I am when I'm with him.
He leans down and opens his mouth, indicating he wants more, so I lift the stick to him and he bites sharply, snapping off another piece. He braces his arms on either side of my head on the trunk and leans down towards me after he swallows, his lips barely touching mine as he says "Sangre", before covering my mouth with his in a backwards kiss.
"Sangre," I mimic when he lets me go, and my heart swells with the meaning behind our shared word. "Edward?" I ask, after he stands back up.
"Yeah?"
"Tell me something. Anything, about your family…or Mexico?"
Edward looks at me upside down a moment before hoisting himself up on the car next to me, his thigh brushing my hair that's splayed out on the blue metal. He looks out towards nothing while lighting a cigarette, blowing the smoke out before answering. "What do you want to know?"
"Anything," I repeat. I'm so desperate to know him, regardless of the fact that I've given him my heart and life despite my lack of details of his time before me. "Tell me why you stabbed your foster father," I add quickly, in case he doesn't want to choose, and before he can shut me down prematurely.
He sighs and takes another drag, blowing the smoke through his nose as he rubs his other hand against his hair.
"He didn't die." He shakes his head and continues to smoke. "But I wish he had."
"What happened?" I ask and search his face while he gathers his thoughts.
He waits so long to answer, I'm not sure he's going to. But finally he shifts on the trunk and speaks. "I was living in Texas with my fourth foster family. A couple of fucking drunks." He stops, seemingly lost in memory.
"How old were you?" I prod gently.
"Fifteen. There were four of us in that house, two boys older than me and a girl, Katie. She was my age. She was pretty, and boys from school had started to come around the house, you know, to do what fifteen year old boys want to do." He kind of smirks, and I immediately wonder if he was one of those boys as well, my stomach knotting at the mention of another girl in his life that he might've felt something for.
"Anyway, I guess that prick decided that he liked what he saw too. I noticed he'd started treating her well, better than the rest of us, fuck knows, so I started to watch him. He'd come home drunk, and I'd make her go into the only bathroom with the lock and I'd sit out there all night until he passed out. One night, I came home late; I was out smoking pot with a kid from school. When I found them, he was…on her, so I stabbed the son of a bitch." He ends the story quickly with a shrug of his shoulders, and I imagine he's said all he's going to say.
What he said in my trailer flits through my mind, about not getting to me on time.
"Edward, what did you mean when you said you were sorry for not getting to my trailer earlier last night?" He doesn't say anything, and I ask again. "What were you coming over for?" Thoughts of Mike Fucking Newton mucking up what might've been Edward coming to see me makes me upset, and I hate him all over again.
He gets up quickly and flicks his cigarette far out into the parking lot. "Fuck, Bella."
"What?" I ask, rolling back over onto my stomach, my eyes following him as he paces back and forth in front of me.
"I wasn't coming over to hang out." He finally stops and fishes out another cigarette, lighting it quickly and inhaling with his head thrown back.
"Oh." My heart drops, and I can't figure out any reason why he would've been in my trailer park.
Hearing my disappointed tone, he turns to me as he flicks his ash nervously on the ground. "I've been coming to your trailer every night since I stabbed him in the goddamn hand. I was making sure he didn't come to hurt you. Last night, I failed."
The correlation between Katie and me is obvious, and I open my mouth to speak but he stops me. "I fucking failed you." His black-smeared eyes meet mine, and they're tinged with regret.
My head is alive with thoughts of Edward just mere feet from me every night, with me having no idea he'd been out there. I scramble up onto my knees, grabbing at his hoodie as his head drops, avoiding my gaze. "That's bullshit, Edward. You did not fail me. Do you have any idea what it means to me that you were out there every night?" My heart sings like the teenager in love that I am, even though I feel fucking forty.
"If I'd just gotten there on time…fucking douchebag of an uncle," he curses, shaking his head, and I pull on his sweatshirt again until he looks at me.
"You did get there on time, Edward. You did. You got there just in time to get me the fuck out of my miserable life. Out of Florida for good. If you'd stopped Mike from ever entering my trailer, we wouldn't be here," I say, believing every word. "And I can't imagine anything better than this. It's us."
The crickets start chirping in the bushes as we fall silent, and I notice the sky has darkened around us, but I still cling to his hoodie and wait for him to get out of his own guilty head. "She was like a sister to me. We'd moved through the system together. The only family I really felt I had," he finally says, quietly. "They took us both away after that, and I have no idea where she ended up." He reaches out and grabs my neck with his hands, engulfing my throat and squeezing gently. "I refuse to lose you now that I've got you."
"You won't."
"Sangre," he says hotly.
"Sangre," I agree.
Macon is a rather large city, but I know we can't risk going into the heart of it, to a nice chain hotel, so I keep my eyes peeled for something like Edward described, small and off the road.
Night has fallen and I spot a motel with a flashing vacancy sign next to a Waffle House, so Edward pulls in, secures us another room situated around back, and we quickly make our way inside.
My eyes widen at the sight of a king sized bed standing in the middle of the room, instead of two doubles like we'd had the night before. Sensing my surprise, Edward quickly tells me it's all they had and assures me he'll sleep in the chair again. My heart sinks just a little. Old insecurities rise and regardless of the affection we'd displayed just hours ago, I feel dejected.
We take turns in the bathroom using toiletries Edward bought that morning with the backpack, but failed to give me when I showered, and I chuckle when I see the eyeliner tucked in next to the more necessary items.
Awkwardly, I make my way out of the bathroom to find Edward sitting in the chair the room provides instead of sitting on the bed, flipping through channels.
I know instantly what he's looking for so I sit and listen with him as he finds the major Georgia networks.
After settling on one broadcast that's in the middle of a weather report, it finally comes.
"Police are searching for a suspect in the stabbing of a Piggly Wiggly store manager in Sylvester earlier today. Video surveillance cameras captured two individuals, their faces obscured by hoods, outside with the victim prior to the attack." They play the video and my hand clamps over my mouth as I gasp at seeing the footage. "The victim, Roger Barnett, appears in the lower right hand of the screen talking to a female while a male comes behind the pair, stabbing Mr. Barnett and then grabbing the girl's neck, fleeing the scene. Cameras did not capture the vehicle but witnesses claim to have seen a blue convertible quickly exiting the parking lot. Mr. Barnett is listed in stable condition."
They go on asking for anyone with information to call the police. There is no connection to my disappearance, which means the cashier didn't recognize me. The video is grainy, but you can plainly see Edward lunging for the man's back.
"We need to get rid of that car," he says.
I nod in agreement, sad to see the car go.
"I'm going to go to the Waffle House and get us some dinner, you'll be okay? Don't leave this fucking room," he warns.
"I'm fine, I won't go anywhere." I watch him go and bolt and chain the door after him at his command.
Sighing, I sit on the edge of the bed and absently look at the TV, musing at the irony that Wheel of Fortune is on. I lie back on the gold bedspread and listen to Pat Sajak and Vanna White, my eyes feeling heavy and falling closed.
The sound of knocking wakes me, and at first I just sit dumbly, looking at the door. I glance at the clock and see that Edward has been gone for nearly two hours. The hairs on my arms stand on end, and I slowly go to the peephole and see the dark form of someone in a hood. Relief washes through me, but I ask, "Who is it?" following the instructions he gave me before he left.
"Your worst fucking nightmare," he answers, and I slide the chain off and undo the deadbolt, opening the door to let him in. The smell of chicken hits my nose and my stomach flips. "It's not gourmet or anything, but it's hot," he says, holding up the two bags.
We sit at the table and devour our food, the first real meal I've had since the night before. "You were gone a while," I say as I finish the last bite and point to the clock.
He looks at me from over a piece of fried chicken poised at his mouth. "I got rid of the car."
"Oh." Even though I knew we had to, I didn't think he'd do it tonight. "Where?"
"There's a garage a block away, I took one with a 'repaired' ticket on it and stashed the other one in the back with a bunch of wrecks, changed out the plates. We'll have to get out of here first thing before they open."
I nod and gather the garbage, throwing it in the wastebasket next to the table. "Are we going to see one of your contacts tomorrow?" I ask.
"I am, yes," he says, giving me a sharp nod of his head before biting into his chicken.
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Sit in the car."
"So you're not just going to leave me somewhere to wait for you?" I say, happy that it isn't his plan, which I assumed it would be.
He puts the chicken down on the paper, making it crinkle. "If you think I'm leaving you on some street corner out of my sight, you're fucking insane."
"Okay." I smile, and shift in my seat a little. "Works for me."
He barks out a laugh. "I'm glad." He finishes his chicken and we watch the news again, it's just a repeat of what we've already seen. I guess I'm glad the manager didn't die, as he didn't really deserve it like Mike did. Edward reminds me, however, that there's no way in hell the police don't already know that he recognized me.
"We'll have to be extra careful until we get out of Macon," I note, watching him pull out a cigarette and tapping it on the table.
"Swan, we have to be extra fucking careful until we get out of Georgia. You are not to go anywhere alone or talk to anybody, and never put your hood down, do you understand?" He puts the cigarette in his mouth and squints at me while he lifts the lighter up to the end.
"Where the fuck would I go, and who would I talk to?" I question back and he smiles at me, igniting the flame.
"Good girl." The snapping closure of his Zippo ends that conversation as he sucks smoke into his lungs and exhales noisily over the table between us.
The warehouse building in front of us looks standard; cement, bricks, a few broken windows. Nothing that would scream, "drug dealers work here".
We drive up to a security gate where he gives a fake name, Anthony Cullen, and they question who I am. Edward flippantly answers, "my girlfriend", and it's all I can do not to bounce like a maniac in my seat. I know it's a girlie moment, but to have that label put on me once in my lifetime is sweet and I relish it.
Upon hearing the fake name, I question him on the origins as he pulls the car past the manned entrance.
"So you have a fake license? Anthony Cullen? Who's that?"
"Anthony is my middle name. Cullen," he pauses, "is just a name." Edward sticks his cigarette in his mouth and moves his hand to the wheel, so his other can wrap around my neck the way he seems to like. "You know what this money is going to mean, Swan?"
"Please tell me it means a better hotel than last night?" I shudder, thinking of the large cockroach I found dead in the tub.
"That too, but more importantly," he pulls the car to a stop and puts it in park, just inside the gate, "it means Mexico. We need to get you a fake passport."
"Will I need a license too?" I ask, hoping that he'll make me a Cullen as well. "I've never had one."
Edward turns to stare at me. "You don't have a license?" I shake my head in response and he narrows his eyes. "Why the fuck not?"
I look at him and he looks back at me like I have two heads. "I don't know how to drive. I never needed to. And my father sure wasn't thinking of milestones to hit," I snort, fleetingly feeling derision and a twinge of sadness about my father at the same time.
"I'll teach you, baby. I'll teach you everythaang," he says suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows, and my heart skips.
He gets out and I follow orders to sit in our newly obtained car. It's an old maroon Buick, and I frown at the peeling dashboard, remembering my beautiful blue convertible while I fiddle with the radio. There's no CD player in here, but at least Edward remembered to pull our Doors CD out of the car before ditching it, and he promised me he'd get me another convertible with a CD player soon.
I look out the dirty window and eye the entrance Edward disappeared into and daydream about Edward's kisses on my lips, raising my fingers up to brush against the pink skin where I swear I can still feel his mouth pressed against them. I'm hoping maybe he'll feel the need to kiss me again soon.
A sound from inside breaks me from my thoughts, and I chew the string of my hoodie nervously waiting for him to return. I start bobbing my leg up and down, worrying about stray gunfire due to a deal gone wrong or cops surrounding the place with DEA vests and automatic weapons.
The bag of meth he had pulled from the backpack was large, and we have three more stuffed in the bottom. When I asked him how much it was worth, he'd said he didn't really know, as he never sold in amounts that large before, but would be going off of what he'd heard his Uncle Peter say. A pound of meth should go for about eight grand. More, once we get to Texas and Alabama. I find it interesting that drugs cost different amounts of money in different states. I guess I just never really had a need to think about it.
After what feels like forever, I see Edward hurrying towards me with his hood up and his penetrating eyes staring right at mine. A small smile plays at his lips, and as soon as he's in the car he drives out of the gates, the rolling fence with barbed wire strewn through the top makes a screeching sound as the metal wheels guide it closed behind us.
"So?" I ask, not seeing a bag or a briefcase or whatever you put drug money in. Edward reaches into his hoodie and brings out a fat brown envelope.
"Ten thousand, baby." His smile is infectious, and when he hands it to me I open my mouth in wonder as I feel its heft.
Edward lights a much-deserved cigarette, rolling down the window with the old crank. "They asked me why the drop-off was early. We'll be long gone before they realize this didn't come from Peter." He shrugs and looks like a proud little boy. His good mood is contagious and I laugh, peeking into the envelope and seeing all the green.
"So, how long until your uncle finds out?" I ask, thumbing the money like a deck of cards, causing the bills to slap against each other.
"He won't."
I smell the money, dazed by seeing so much in one place. "He has to," I argue.
"He won't cause he can't. He's dead."
I almost drop the envelope and look at him with my mouth open. "What do you mean, he's dead?" My brain starts working, coming to only one conclusion.
"I killed him," Edward confirms, and with a smirk, he gives my neck a squeeze.
When the phone rings next to Charlie snoozing on the sofa, he jumps immediately, hoping to hear his daughter's voice.
Charlie listens to the sheriff relate his latest information, and his face goes pale. After hanging up, he sits heavily back on the couch and wishes he hadn't decided to stop drinking.
A man in Sylvester, Georgia at a Piggly Wiggly had identified Isabella, where she was apparently shopping with a male. The sheriff believes that the male is Edward Masen, their prime suspect in the killing of Mike Newton and the abduction of his daughter.
The footage shows Isabella outside with the man, his hand on her arm, struggling slightly to shake him off. The man told police he was trying to help her after seeing her on the news, but that she seemed scared to accept his help.
It seems Edward Masen had then stabbed the man trying to help his daughter. The sheriff went on to say he had worse news, that upon arrival at Edward Masen's home, there was no answer, so they circled to the back of the house and found two bodies in the kitchen, those believed to be Edward Masen's aunt and uncle, both slain sometime Friday night.
Charlie swallows and drops the silent phone onto the floor, remembering the car lot video he had watched. Edward Masen was most certainly a danger to his little girl, but he couldn't get rid of the feeling that something felt…off. Even with the low quality of the video, Charlie most definitely noticed Isabella had a spring in her step that had been absent for years.
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From the planetblue Archive of Awesome Fic List:
Beyond Time by TKegl
After the Cullens leave Forks, a twist of fate lands Bella in Chicago in 1918. She thinks it's a second chance to build a life with Edward, but when she finds him, he's not quite what she expected. Can Bella create the future she's hoping for?
As always, thank you to Carrie ZM and LayAtHomeMom for their hard work.
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