My sincerest apologies for making you wait so long for this chapter. I was in a considerable amount of pain due to my accident and because of that, I was unable to write like I wanted to. I am feeling much better now, but I still have a lot of healing to do. So, because I have made you wait, I will keep my A/N short.

To all those who read, reviewed and PMed me, a great big THANK YOU, go out to you. I also want to thank those who sent me well wishes. You are all incredible. I will mention names next time, but as you can understand, I don't want to create anymore delays.

Just an update before I let you get on with the story. A Second Chance at Love tied third place in the "Best Villain" category in the 2009 Twilight Awards on this site. Thank you to all those who voted for me. Without you, I would not have won such an honour.

Happy Easter, and on with the story………..


Chapter 28 - Storm Warning

A flash of lightning arced across the sky, illuminating the room, the figure of the woman sleeping in the bed and the man who watched her. The distant rumble of thunder and the rain pounding against the windows drew his attention briefly, but the need to keep watch on his prize brought his eyes back to the bed. From his seated position across the room, he could see every movement Bella made, every breath she took.

She moaned and a choked whimper escaped her lips. He stiffened, afraid she would wake and find him there. It wasn't time yet. There were still things to be put in place. She tossed and turned a while longer, then fell silent once again.

He sighed in relief. In the past thirty minutes, Bella had cried out twice while he was in the room. She was in the throes of some sort of nightmare, but what was it about? He wondered. She muttered a few words, but being this far away, he could not make out what she said.

He stood and moved silently across the carpeted floor, stopping right beside the bed; his knees brushed against the sheet covering the lower half of her body. The tips of his sneakers disappeared beneath the space under the bed. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the thin material of her tank top. Reluctantly, he moved his gaze from the creamy tops of her breasts, up to her face. Her brow furrowed and her sweet, pink lips parted slightly; he had never seen such a beautiful sight. Bella wasn't the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but there was something about her that drew him to her. He belonged to her; he knew that now. Soon, she would belong to him too.

He reached out, and carefully curling his fingers so that they would not brush against her skin, gently lifted a lock of hair from her cheek. The dark mass was disheveled from her constant movements, and created an ebony halo against the paleness of her skin and the pillow. He liked it better short. Her hair had now grown past her shoulders. He would remedy that, once they got together.

As he continued to caress her hair, he fought off the urge to draw closer and bury his face in the fragrant strands. Her unique scent of freesia and vanilla combined had called to him from across the room. It drew him in like a helpless fish caught on a line. Blindfolded in a room, he could identify her by her scent alone. After the incident in Vancouver, her scent stayed with him, invaded the sanctuary of his mind.

Bella sighed again, causing him to drop the lock as if it had suddenly caught fire. He took a few hasty steps backwards until he felt the door's hard surface against his back. You need to leave. Now! the voice in his head ordered. He had been hearing it with increasing frequency, but this was the first time it sounded agitated.

He knew he should listen to the voice, but this was his time, and he did not want to be parted from her yet. He felt that she was about to awake soon. Her movements had become more frequent, her distress more apparent. Still, he could not seem to force himself to leave the room. There was no telling how soon he would have the opportunity again. He liked watching her. It made him feel powerful. He held her life in his very hands. He could extend it or end it as he wished, like he was God.

The thought boosted his confidence. However, his fascination and preoccupation with this woman angered him. The sentimental feelings he developed for her were both obscene and inconvenient. It was like the lion falling in love with the lamb; the predator falling in love with its prey. The thought stopped him cold. Disbelief hit him swiftly in the gut and anger sliced through him.

No! It can't be.His eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at the source of his distress. There was no way he could have fallen for Bella. It wasn't possible - not for him. For that to happen would be a fate worse than death. To think it would be the darkest form of blasphemy.

He drew in a deep breath and tried to quiet the anxiety growing inside him. He considered himself to be highly intelligent. He could analyse this and see it for what it was. It was an obsession. He nodded. Yes, that's what it was. She was his muse, and understandably, he would be obsessed with her. Wasn't that how all great thinkers were? Machiavelli? Nietzsche? They all had an object or person to focus their genius on.

His anxiety abated as his new theory took hold and brought him comfort. He must be losing his mind thinking himself in love with Bella. It was that sort of irrational thinking that put his life in jeopardy and made him sloppy. It was okay for him to have his fun, but in the end there could only be one conclusion in this story - Bella's death. A sliver of regret speared him in the chest at the thought of ending her life, but then clarity quickly took over. She was a minor inconvenience, unimportant. She was just another person who provided a source of entertainment for him. It gave him great satisfaction to know that he could "play" with her life and she had absolutely no control over the situation.

He glanced at his watch. The glowing hands confirmed his suspicions. He had been there for almost an hour now, much longer than he planned. When he first entered the house, he did it as a test. He wanted to see if Cullen's security was as lax as he suspected. He was able to gain access to the inside because the security system was not engaged. He smiled at the irony of the situation. In Vancouver, Bella's little dog posed more of a problem to him that the security system Cullen had in place here. He still had the scar on his calf where the mongrel had sunk its vicious little teeth into his flesh. Thinking back, it was worth it; he found his purpose again that night.

Leave, now! the voice commanded again. It was angry now, and for a brief moment, it reminded him of his father. He shook off his fear as memories of his father's brutality resurfaced. He pulled on the door to the hall, took one last look at Bella and then closed it quietly behind him.

He was still leaning against the door when a beam of light broke the barrier of darkness beneath the door. He gasped and shot off down the hallway, bumping into one of the walls in his haste to escape. As he took the stairs two at a time, he silently berated himself for his carelessness. A few seconds more and he might have been discovered. The voice in his head laughed with glee. Would serve you right, it chortled. He darted through the dark kitchen and bumped into a chair as he went by, then exited the house through the backdoor.

He sprinted through the rain, sliding on the wet grass as he made his way across the back lawn. He wanted to put as much distance between him and the house as possible. Once he reached the safety of his car parked behind a small group of trees, he relaxed and breathed easier. The voice was now silent, but he mentally flipped it the bird for good measure.

He unlocked the doors, and quickly tugged off the cold, damp jacket and shirt he wore. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of white sticking out from one of his jacket pockets. He smiled at the trophy from his expedition. Before finding Bella in another bedroom, he entered hers first and took a shirt from the pile in the laundry basket. Her sweet fragrance flooded the interior of the car.

He brought the shirt closer to his face, then groaned as the blood flow was temporarily cut off from the rest of his body and redirected to his groin. The image of Bella lying in bed, the dusky tips of her nipples peeping through her shirt, slammed into his brain. He gripped the soft material and drew in a ragged breath.

This had gone on longer than he planned. If he had stuck to his original plan, she would be dead by now. But she had changed that plan; she had changed everything - including him. She captured his soul like a child caught a jarful of fireflies on a summer's evening. Yes, she held his soul prisoner. However, unlike the fireflies, he intended to break free of his prison and exact his revenge upon his warden. It was time to rock that safe little world she cocooned herself inside. It was time to prepare her for the end.

~*~*~

Bella sat up, brushed her hair from her eyes and looked around the room in confusion. It was still dark, and she turned to squint at her alarm clock in its usual place on her bedside table. The glowing, red numbers were absent. It was then that she remembered she had fallen asleep in Edward's bed.

She flopped back against the pillows and rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. Something had awoken her, but she did not know what it was. She felt uneasy, and she squinted into the darkness as her eyes adjusted to the dim conditions.

She listened to the sounds of the night. The rain tapping against the roof and the wind blowing around the house sent a shiver running through her body. She longed to feel Edward's warm, solid body beside her, his arms around her keeping her safe and secure.

Another shiver ran through her body, telling her that the temperature dropped sometime during the night. The pajama pants and tank top she wore were no longer adequate for warding off the chill. Switching on the bedside lamp, she slid out of the bed and made her way over to Edward's walk-in closet.

After switching on the light, she looked for something warm to wear. She decided on a black, hooded sweater with the words University of WA printed across the back in red letters. The condition of the fabric told her that it was worn often. As she stood with the sweater in her hands, she had a flash of a younger version of herself slipping the sweater over Edward's head and stepping back to assess how it fit. She gave it to him as a gift. She buried her face in the folds of the sweater and inhaled. Edward's scent was permanently embedded in the threads of the fabric. A lump rose in her throat. She was touched that he kept it after all this time.

Slipping the sweater over her head, she sighed contentedly as the heavy material engulfed her. She rolled up the too long sleeves, switched off the closet light, and made her way back to the bed.

Sliding between the cooled sheets, a feeling of desolation came over her. She missed Edward so much, she felt like she couldn't breathe. When he confessed his love earlier, she almost begged him to come home. It took everything she had to resist the temptation. It would be unfair of her to place her wants and needs above his. Wasn't that what he had been doing all these months? Placing her needs above his? Taking care of her? His job was important, and missing him was not a reason for her to pull him away from it. He also had a lot on his mind and she did not want to add to the burden.

During their conversation, Edward told her about his friend and fellow agent, Mark, and how he was injured while working on an assignment he sent him on. She heard the pain and frustration in Edward's voice when he said Mark's name. She knew he blamed himself.

Bella was still thinking about the effect of this incident on Edward when she felt sleep tug at the edges of her consciousness. She settled against the comfortable pillows, and felt her eyelids grow heavy. She blinked and tried to force her eyes to stay open, as the fear of falling asleep engulfed her.

The past few nights, she could not remember her dreams...until last night. The dream was hazy and fragmented, but she remembered darkness, fear, the smell of blood and pain - gut wrenching, mind numbing pain. Tonight disjointed voices were added to the scene. The darkness was terrifying enough, but not being able to understand what the voices said was even more terrifying. She got the feeling that what they said was important, but the harder she listened, the harder it was for her to concentrate. After a while, the voices blurred into one and then fell silent, leaving her trapped in the dark.

Bella drew the sweater closer and tried to put a stop to the tremors coursing through her body. She would have loved to go to Alice and lay her fears at her feet, but Jasper decided to stay over and she did not want to intrude.

Over dinner last night, Alice loosened up and they actually had their first normal conversation in what seemed like ages. It was almost like old times, and Bella hoped it was a sign that their friendship was on the mend. She loved Alice. It would break her heart if the friendship came to an end because of the change between her and Edward.

A muffled thump coming from the hallway made her sit back up. She waited and listened for any sound that would identify what she just heard. Other than the wind blowing through the trees, the rattling of the windows and the steady rhythm of the raindrops on the roof, there was nothing else.

Thinking it was her imagination, she relaxed and was just about to drift off when the sound came again. This time, it came from downstairs and was louder.

Consternation went through her as she realized there might be an intruder in the house. She couldn't remember if anyone had engaged the alarm before they retired for the night. All she could remember was watching Edward disengage the system before he left for work.

A flash of bravery coursed through Bella, and she reached beside the bed and grabbed her cane. Her feet made no sound as they touched the carpeted floor. As she crept towards the door, she wondered if she was losing her senses. She was one woman - a disabled one at that, with a cane. If an intruder was in the house how much of a threat did she pose? He would probably laugh at her and proceed to club her to death with her own cane. She shook her head to dispel her fears and continued towards the door. She would not go down without a fight. The least she could do was to inflict some damage while she screamed her head off. That would surely wake Alice and Jasper, as well as the rest of the neighbourhood.

Reaching the door, she drew in a deep breath before opening it a crack. She peeked out into the hallway and found it empty. She stepped into the hallway and using the right wall as her marker, made her way towards the stairs. The sound of her wildly beating heart pounded in her ears like a bass drum. The noise was so loud that she could hardly think.

As she passed Alice's door, she considered knocking but thought better of it. If it was just her overactive imagination, then she would feel foolish waking them for no good reason other than being afraid of the dark. She was officially on her own.

Another muted thump stopped Bella in her tracks as she descended the stairs. This time the sound came from outside. Maybe that's what I heard the first time. Maybe the sound originated from outside and not inside like she first thought.

Gripping the smooth, cool wood of the banister, Bella continued down the remaining steps. The voice of reason told her that this course of action was stupid. She should not be doing this alone, especially in the dark. She might fall and break her stupid, stubborn neck.

Just as her foot was about to hit the bottom stair, her entire perspective shifted. The sound of the falling rain disappeared, and silence permeated the room. Suddenly, she was at her house in Vancouver, staring down a set of steep steps that disappeared into the bowels of the basement. Bella tried to catch her breath as fear coursed through her, but there seemed to be steel bands across her chest, growing tighter by the second. Her brain told her that she was standing on the stairs in Edward's house in Washington, but her fear and her perceived surroundings told her otherwise.

Everything then happened like a movie. She stepped across the threshold of the doorway and onto the first step. The darkness enveloped her, pressing at her from all sides like a living thing. It was malevolent, and it scared her. She knew something was waiting for her, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from playing out the scene.

By instinct, she reached for the cord for the light switch and tugged it. She heard a click, but the light did not come on. A noise to her left made her turn towards it, and she heard her voice say in the darkness, Charlie, is that you? This is not funny, Charlie. I'm going back upstairs and it's no biscuits for a week.The sensation of being trapped overwhelmed her, so she took a step backwards. Then it happened. Arms grabbed her from behind and cold, sharp metal was pressed against her throat.

As quickly as it began, the memory ended and her surroundings changed once more. The sounds of the rain and the wind dispelled the eerie stillness and Bella felt the cool, comforting surface of the banister beneath her hand. She froze, her eyes rolled beneath her lids and her skull seemed to split in two. A scream lodged in Bella's throat as she felt herself falling backwards against the stairs. A sharp pain exploded in her hip and back where the sharp edge of the stair caught her on her way down. She landed with a thump and then slid down the remaining stairs until her rear end touched the cold, flat surface of the floor. She sat there dazed and trembling as the room swam dizzily around her.

Slowly, the swirling room steadied and she realised where she was. She wasn't in the basement in Vancouver looking for Charlie with her attacker waiting to end her life, she was home in Washington. She was safe.

As the realisation of what just happened came to her, Bella shoved her fist into her mouth as a gurgling sound tried to force its way past her lips. Without a doubt, she just remembered her attack. Tears streamed down her cheeks as terror and bone-chilling fear tied her stomach into knots and sent her entire body into a spasm. She grabbed her head and clenched her teeth as the pain increased, causing her stomach to pitch like a tiny boat in the middle of a stormy ocean.

Moving quickly on all fours, Bella crawled towards the guest bathroom. She barely made it before her stomach revolted. She kicked the door closed so the noise of her throwing up would not carry and wake Alice and Jasper.

Straightening her cramped body, Bella leaned against the wall beside the toilet and gasped for breath. She reached up with one hand, flushed the toilet, and rubbed her still trembling stomach with the other. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. The memory was intense and terrifying. It seemed so real. She rubbed the area of her throat where her attacker had placed the knife. She could still feel the cold metal on her skin, feel his body against hers. She felt her fear and helplessness try to drag her under again, until she was a sobbing, useless mess. Would this ever be over? Something told her the worst was yet to come.


Alice watched as Bella scooped the soggy cereal at the bottom of her bowl into a pile with her spoon. Using the utensil, she molded the cereal until it resembled a crudely constructed version of Mount Rainier. She stared at it, and finding something lacking, swung the spoon from her fingers like a pendulum, demolishing the mountain.

Alice took a sip of her orange juice and continued to watch Bella as she went about repeating this for the third time. She sensed something was wrong from the moment she and Jasper stepped into the kitchen at 6:30am and found Bella vigorously mopping the kitchen floor. Cooking she could understand, but mopping was an entirely different affair. Cleaning house at such an early time in the day usually signified Bella was troubled about something.

She was also unusually preoccupied, and at first Alice assumed it was due to Edward's absence. But the more she watched her friend, she realised that it was something else. Jasper picked up on the vibes and told Alice that he would get breakfast at the hospital, kissed her and left. He could see that something was bothering Bella and wanted to give them some time alone.

Alice reached over and plucked the spoon from Bella's fingers. She turned to Alice, a questioning look on her face.

"Bella, what's wrong?" Alice asked softly. "And don't tell me it's nothing. I know you better than that."

Bella stared at the cold, congealed mass that was her cereal and drew in a shaky breath. She clenched her free hand into a fist and gently pounded the tabletop beside the bowl.

"I heard something last night, and I came downstairs," she began, her voice trembling. "I thought it might be an intruder..."

Alice's eyes widened. "You did what?" she thundered, standing. Her sudden movement rocked her chair, sending it crashing to the floor. "Are you insane? What if someone had been in here? He could have killed you! Why didn't you wake me and Jasper?"

Bella's cheeks grew red. "I thought it was my imagination," she reasoned. "I would have felt foolish waking you for nothing."

"I don't care," Alice screeched, leaning across the table, her face inches from Bella's. "You should have come to me. What if something happened to you? What if you had fallen?"

Bella's face grew redder and she averted her eyes from Alice's piercing gaze. Her trip down the stairs had given her a nice bruise across her lower back and her hip. She was still thinking how she was going to explain it to Edward when he returned. Telling him the truth was out of the question; he had too much to deal with already. She promised herself she would never lie to him. There were too many lies and misunderstandings between them already.

"You fell, didn't you?" Alice accused, her grey eyes narrowed into slits. She reached over, placed her index finger under Bella's chin and forced her to look her in the eye. "Didn't you?"

Bella nodded reluctantly. "But it's not as bad as you think. Just a few bruises."

Alice closed her eyes and shook her head. An image of finding Bella at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck went through her mind. She should have been there for Bella. She felt guilty that in her time of need, Bella chose to face the unknown danger rather than come to her. They never lived like that, but then it was her fault. If she wasn't being such a bitch about Edward's and Bella's rekindled romance, Bella would not have hesitated to come to her.

"Alice, I'm okay, I swear," Bella protested, grabbing her bowl and taking it over to the sink. She tried to shove the new memory into the back of her mind, but she suddenly had the urge to talk to Alice about it. She turned, wrapped her arms around her body to ward off the shivers. "But I had another memory." She licked her dry lips. "I remembered the night I was attacked."

Alice gasped and quickly came over to her. "Are you okay?"

Bella shook her head as the tears came to the surface. "N-no. I went to get Charlie. He was in the basement, I think. I tried to switch on the light, but it wouldn't work," she cried. "H-he was waiting, in the dark. He grabbed me and put a knife to my throat. I remember thinking that I hoped Charlie was still alive." The tears streamed unhindered down her cheeks. "How dumb is that, right? I was about to lose my life and I was worried about a dog?"

Alice drew Bella's shaking body to her and held on tight as she cried. All the pain and fear she experienced that night came out in her tears. It was a while before she quieted, but all that time Alice just held her, whispering soothing words in her ear.

"I can still feel the knife on my skin, feel his body on mine," Bella sobbed, her voice muffled by Alice's shoulder. "I can't get it out of my head. I was so scared."

"It's okay, Bella. It's over," Alice promised, trying unsuccessfully to hold her own tears inside. She could not begin to imagine the horror Bella had been through that night. There were no words that could soothe her fear and pain; no magical cure to make everything better. This was something that Bella would always live with. "I think I should call Edward."

Bella pulled away and shook her head vigorously. She quickly wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. "No! He's got too much to deal with right now." She drew in a deep breath, "Besides, there's nothing he can do. Dr. Masen and Carlisle warned me this might happen. I'll have to get used to it."

The words spewing from her mouth sounded brilliant and brave, but she knew it was all false bravado, and apparently so did Alice.

"Bella---" Alice pleaded.

Bella turned away and gripped the edges of the counter. Her shoulders slumped forward. "No. I need to deal with this. I can't go running to Edward every time something bad happens." She knew Alice disagreed with her method of handling this, but it was her choice and she was sticking with it. She turned to Alice and gave her a steady glare. "I mean it, Alice. You're not to tell Edward about this."

Alice took a step back under Bella's heated gaze. She had not seen her this way in a long time - not since the night she told off Liam and Edward at the club. This was the Bella she was accustomed to—the stubborn, pig-headed woman who faced everything head on. So much had changed since the night Bella was attacked.

"Okay, I won't tell him," Alice said stubbornly, her chin tilted defiantly. "But if it gets worse, I will. You can't go through this alone and as much as it galls me, you need Edward and he needs you."

Bella raised a questioning eyebrow at Alice's cryptic statement. Alice pressed her lips together hoping that she hadn't said too much. She knew that eventually, Bella and Edward were going to need each other in order to heal. Bella still had no memory of Hayley, but when she did, it would be as if she lost her little girl all over again.

Before she returned to Washington, Alice hoped that Edward was now better equipped emotionally, to deal with the loss of Hayley. But, she realised he was no closer to dealing with it than he was four years ago. In fact, he had not dealt with it at all. He just pushed the memory of the little girl into the back of his mind, and shut his emotions down. For that, Alice wanted to beat the crap out of him. When Bella finally remembered the reason she left Edward, it was going to be worse than before - way worse, and she knew she was going to be caught in the middle.

Alice sighed. She once had a premonition of this thing bursting wide open, obliterating all parties involved. That was one of the reasons she was so pissed with Edward. He was actively carrying on a relationship with Bella without being completely honest with her. When Bella finally remembered, she was going to feel incredibly betrayed.

Alice remembered when Bella first moved into her apartment in Vancouver after returning from Renee's funeral. She was a complete mess. Losing her daughter, her marriage and her mother in the span of eighteen months was too much for her to handle. She completely broke down. On the days when she couldn't manage to convince Bella to accompany her to the café, she always worried that she would find Bella hanging from the roof when she returned home.

Those first few months were the worst, but eventually things got better, and Bella took control of her life. She started taking photos again, tutored at the university and helped her manage the café. She began to live again. Alice was afraid that when everything finally came out, Bella would go through that period of depression again. But this time, the pain would be a hundred times worse and maybe she wouldn't survive.

"I'll be okay," Bella said, her voice bringing Alice out of her thoughts. 'Don't worry too much about me."

But Alice worried every moment of every day. She knew this was going to end badly, and when the dust settled, she might lose her best friend.

~*~*~

Edward closed the door behind him and took a seat across from the man he had come to the prison to meet. The man responsible for putting Mark in the hospital, and who might have been in on a plot to assist in Jacob's escape from custody. The man was already seated, his arms secured with handcuffs to the arms of his chair. It reminded Edward of the last time he was here, watching the guards chain Jacob Black to prevent his escape. It all struck Edward as being extremely ironic now.

Nathan Hunte was not what Edward expected. He expected a large, brutish man with a surly disposition, anger and hatred pouring from him in waves. With his thinning chestnut coloured hair, brown eyes enhanced by the lenses of his wire-rimmed glasses, and nose a shade too long for his thin face, Nathan reminded Edward of a librarian or an accountant.

On his way to the prison, Edward glanced briefly at Nathan's file and immediately knew something was wrong. A few things did not add up.

Nathan Hunte was being incarcerated for the brutal murder of a man. Transcripts of Nathan's confession and testimony stated that he killed the man in self-defense. He came home and found the man in his house, his wife bound, beaten and gagged. A fight broke out and he killed him. However, some evidence surfaced that implicated Hunte's wife as having an affair with the intruder. By the time the prosecutor finished presenting the evidence, it looked as if Hunte walked in on them, killed the man in a fit of jealous rage and then physically abused his wife. Both Hunte and his wife denied it under oath, but in the end, the jury found him guilty and sentenced him to fifty years in prison.

Something about the entire trial and the so called evidence struck Edward as strange. Where did the evidence come from? Why weren't there any proven ties connecting Nathan's wife to the intruder? The entire thing screamed of a set-up.

Edward pulled out a digital voice recorder from his pocket and positioned it on the desk between them. He noted that Nathan's eyes followed his movements as he pressed the "on" button of the recorder. But other than that, he sat unusually still. It reminded Edward of a small animal trying to make itself invisible to a predator.

"Mr. Hunte, my name is Edward Cullen, Special Agent with the F.B.I. I have a few questions to ask you."

Nathan looked at him, and then his gaze went to the one-way mirror behind Edward's left shoulder. He frowned and quickly dropped his eyes to the table-top.

"I know who you are," Nathan said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "You're that agent that put Black in the hospital a few months ago."

Edward winced and cleared his throat. "Yes, but we're not here to talk about me. We're here to discuss your attempt on Jacob Black's life and the attempted murder of a guard. I want to know what happened."

Nathan shrugged, his gaze still on the table. "What's there to tell? I tried to kill Jacob Black and the other guy got in the way. It's as simple as that." He spoke as if he had rehearsed his speech - possibly even been coached.

Edward leaned across the table and rested his elbows on its top. He stared at Nathan in silence until the man was forced to look up at him. Nathan's eyes widened and he swallowed convulsively.

"Is it?" Edward asked. "From my experience, things aren't always what they appear to be."

Disbelief flashed across Nathan's face. "I told you, I tried to kill him. Why all the questions? It's as plain as the nose on your face."

Edward stared Nathan in the eye and what he saw was at complete odds with what was coming out of his mouth. He sounded flippant, hostile, angry, but his eyes reflected his true feelings - he was scared.

The hair on the back of Edward's neck stood on end. It was as if someone was watching him. He glanced over his shoulder towards the security glass. He caught Nathan doing the same, confirming his suspicions. Someone was watching them and Nathan was fully aware of it. That's why he was being so evasive and defensive. He knew someone was listening.

Edward suspected that Nathan had information pertinent to his investigation, but there was no way to get the information out of him in this environment. An idea came to him. If Nathan was unwilling to talk here, then he would need to take him somewhere else.

He stood up quickly and watched Nathan shrink back against his chair, like he thought Edward would hit him. Almost immediately, the door flew open and two guards stepped inside. They both wore wary expressions, their hands in close proximity to their weapons. Edward assumed that they had been instructed to keep an eye on him given his behavior last time.

"Something wrong, Agent Cullen?" one of the men asked politely; a little too polite, as far as Edward was concerned. The diplomacy sounded forced.

The other guard he had met during his last visit. He remembered Mark calling him Frank. Frank eyed him suspiciously before giving Nathan a sharp, warning look. Nathan grew pale, and Edward filed the guard's name into his mental rolodex for further investigation.

"No, I just need to stretch my legs for a bit and I want Mr. Hunte to accompany me," he said, his tone indicating that he wasn't in the mood to have any discussions about the matter.

The two men looked at each other with uncomfortable and surprised expressions on their faces. Edward's request was unexpected and unwelcome.

"Uh, that's not allowed," the polite one muttered, his eyes shifting briefly to the one way mirror. "It's not procedure."

"Neither is having one of your own practically stabbed to death and an inmate on the loose, but there you have it," Edward retorted, eyeing the men with disdain. "If you have a problem granting my request, then maybe I should talk to my superiors and have them make it for me."

There was no mistaking what Edward meant, and the two men bristled under the threat. They glared at him with angry, resentful eyes. Edward glared back, his eyes never wavering. If they wanted him to call in the big guns, he would. But he was not stepping foot out of that prison until he spoke with Nathan alone. He needed to find out how he was connected to Jacob's escape and who provided him with the weapon that hurt Mark.

The stand-off between Edward and the two guards continued as Nathan stared from Edward to the men and back to Edward again. Finally, Frank relaxed and nodded.

"Wait here," he instructed, grudgingly. "I'll have a word with the Warden."

"You do that," Edward said through gritted teeth. Frank gave him another dirty look before disappearing through the door.

The other guard continued to stand in the doorway watching them with a grim expression on his face. He kept sneaking furtive glances towards the mirrored wall and Edward wondered who was standing in the room behind the glass watching them. Was it the same person who orchestrated the attack? Was that person working for or against Jacob Black? Edward had two theories, but he needed to question Nathan before he could confirm either.

Frank returned fifteen minutes later with a frustrated look on his face. He nodded to the other guard who stared at him in disbelief. Frank then turned to Edward and narrowed his eyes.

"We've been instructed" -- he placed emphasis on the word like it was something dirty and distasteful— "to escort you and Hunte to the exterior recreation area. You have thirty minutes, so make it count."

Edward nodded. Thirty minutes was all he would need. By the time he was finished, he would have the answers he sought and the appropriate heads would roll - beginning with Frank's. There wasn't a shadow of doubt in Edward's mind that Frank was dirty.

Dirty law enforcement officials disgusted him. It was people like Frank who eroded the foundation of the justice system. It was people like him that gave them a bad name and made their jobs more difficult.

Edward and Nathan were escorted to the empty recreation area and left alone. As Frank turned to return inside, he gave Nathan another warning look. When he caught Edward observing the exchange, he quickly disappeared through the doors.

The recreation area doubled as a courtyard and was half the size of a football field. It was equipped with metal benches and tables bolted to the floor, and various pieces of exercise equipment. The wide area was completely enclosed by a ten foot high, chain-link fence topped by double coils of razor wire.

Edward escorted Nathan across the concrete floor to one of the benches at the far end of the yard, then took a seat opposite him. He stared out through fence where the rest of the prison compound went about their daily business. Vehicles rumbled across a lot to the east sending clouds of dust into the air, while a few prisoners were being shuttled to and from another red painted building.

The bite of the wind against his cheek reminded Edward that they were now into the start of winter. He was surprised that the air remained dry and the sky clear. Colorado was known for its extremely unpredictable weather, and as he made his way over to the prison, the local weather forecast predicted a heavy snowfall within the next twenty-four hours. Edward hoped the impending weather would restrict Jacob's movements, making it easier to catch him before he left the state. Once he left Colorado, it would be more difficult to track him, and the danger to other civilians would increase.

"Do you feel more talkative now?" Edward queried, his eyes still on the activities happening beyond the fence.

Nathan was silent, and when Edward looked at him, he was shaking his head slowly. "I know you think you did me a favour back there, Agent Cullen, but what you did actually makes my life more difficult."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "How do you figure that?"

Nathan sighed. "From the moment I stepped through those doors with you, my life was over." He didn't sound upset, just accepting of his fate.

"That's not going to happen," Edward reassured.

"'Course it will," Nathan scoffed. "I'm no longer useful to them. I've become a liability." He gave Edward a sad smile. "But that's okay. I accepted my fate a long time ago."

Edward glanced at his watch. Time was running out. "Like I said, nothing is going to happen to you as long as I'm here."

"What about when you leave? Unless you intend to sleep beside me in my cell, I'm as good as dead."

Edward frowned. "Tell me what happened," he instructed. "Tell me what you know and I'll try to keep you safe."

Nathan stared off in a distance, his eyes focusing but not really seeing his surroundings. Indecision and uncertainty warred on his face, but then the look disappeared and was replaced by resolve. When he returned his attention to Edward, his lips were set in a firm line, his eyes steady.

"I'll make a deal with you," Nathan said. "I'll tell you what I know, but you've got to do me a favour in return."

Nathan's decision took Edward by surprise. He went from accepting that he was going to die, to wanting to cut a deal to save his neck, in the space of a few seconds. Maybe he was wrong about the man after all. Maybe he was just a common thug who deserved to be exactly where he was. Nathan stiffened when he saw the look on Edward's face. His eyes narrowed behind the reflective surface of his lenses.

"It's not for me," he said through gritted teeth. "It's for my wife and daughter. I talk and you make sure they're safe. That's all I ask."

Edward was silent and then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He shifted position so that his back was to the main building, to block prying eyes from viewing what he was about to do. He quickly dialed Shannon's personal cell phone, waited for the man to answer and then placed the call on speakerphone so that Nathan could hear both sides of the conversation.

"I need a favour," he said, his eyes never leaving Nathan's. "I need you to arrange for Nathan Hunte's wife and daughter to be placed in protective custody."

"How soon?" Shannon barked into the phone.

"Now," Edward said. "But I want my people on it and no one else, okay?"

Shannon was silent. "I'll send Wynters."

"No, not him," Edward blurted out. "I need someone whose mind is on the job. I'll explain when I return."

"Fine, it's done."

Edward disconnected the call, returned the phone to his pocket and looked at Nathan expectantly. "I did as you asked. Now's its time you kept your end of the bargain. Tell me what you know."

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Why did you attack Jacob Black?"

Nathan smiled grimly. "Because I was told to. Well, not told exactly, I was given a choice. Put him out of commission temporarily or my family would be put out permanently." He shrugged. "I figured it was better him than my family, so I did as they asked."

Edward was taken aback by Nathan's nonchalance at the entire matter of putting another human being "out of commission." His surprise must have shown on his face because Nathan chuckled.

"Don't give me that look, Agent Cullen. I'm quite sure if you were placed in my position you would have done the same thing."

Edward was silent as he thought about how his situation almost mirrored Nathan's - except, he was never given the chance to save his family. That choice was taken away from him, along with two of the most important things in his life - his wife and daughter.

Nathan smiled knowingly. "You don't have to say, I can see it in your eyes. If you had to kill Jacob Black to protect your family, you would in a heartbeat."

Edward shifted uncomfortably. It was as if Nathan was reading his mind. "That's not the point now, is it? The point is, you made a decision that affects countless lives. While I understand why you did, it was still selfish."

Nathan looked sad and horrified. "I didn't have a choice, don't you understand that? They said they would kill Amy, a-and do things to Allison. She's only fifteen, Agent Cullen. Fifteen! She has every right to live, to be happy."

Edward stiffened. "Who threatened them, Nathan? Help me out here so I know what I'm dealing with."

"This is bigger than you or me," Nathan argued, clenching his fist. "There are too many people involved."

Edward smiled grimly. 'You're right. And those people used you to help Jacob Black escape. Do you understand that Nathan? They used you and your family," Edward leveled his finger at Nathan's chest. "And given the chance, the same man you helped to escape will kill someone else's wife and daughter. I'm protecting yours, but who's protecting all the other wives and daughters out there?"

Nathan went ghostly pale when Edward informed him of Jacob's escape. His mouth opened and closed like a large goldfish. From Nathan's reaction, Edward finally had his proof. The man had no idea what he had done when he attacked Jacob, but now his role became clear.

"H-he escaped?"

Edward nodded. "This morning. He killed a nurse and two F.B.I agents. One of those agents had a six month old son, but thanks to you, he no longer has a father. Thanks to you, the guard you stabbed might not live to see his child come into this world. His wife is pregnant, Nathan. Do you fully understand what you have done?" Edward's voice was hard and biting. "Do you understand that because you put yourself and your family first, you condemned others to suffer and die in your place?" Edward slammed his fist onto the tabletop. "Help me. Tell me who's behind this."

Nathan dropped his face into the palm of his hands and sobbed. He muttered the words, Oh my God, oh my God! What have I done?over and over. When he raised his eyes to meet Edward's, they were desolate.

"Frank," he blurted out. "He's the one who threatened my family and gave me the knife. He's the direct link to the person who's doing all this."

Edward frowned. "When you say direct link, are you talking about Jacob Black?" Nathan shook his head. "Warden Chase?"

Nathan snorted. "Warden Chase is a paper-pushing, politician. He has no idea what goes on in this place." Nathan's voice dripped anger and resentment. "That man only thinks of ways to further his political career. We're nothing to him but stepping stones on his way to the White House."

Edward knew Nathan was right in his assumptions about the warden. From the first time he met him, he knew what type of person he was dealing with. Warden Andrew Chase was an aspiring politician and would do anything to make his prison shine amongst all others. But Edward did not think he would go as far as to help Jacob Black escape. Andrew Chase was a straight-laced, by-the-book, sort of man who valued his squeaky clean reputation above all else. There was no way he was involved in this.

"So, who?" Edward asked, running through the chain of command at the prison in his head. The leak had to be someone in authority, someone close to the top.

"Try Deputy Warden Thomas," Nathan shivered when he said the man's name. "He's a nasty piece of work. You need anything in here and you have enough money, he can get it for you. How do you think he can afford his lifestyle on the salary he makes?"

Edward's eyes widened. "How do you know all this?"

Nathan grinned. "I used to be an Accountant, so when I first came here, he asked me to fix something for him. I had to take a look at his financial records in order to do it. He's loaded, and unless he has a very rich, very dead aunt, he can't afford to live like that." Nathan looked down at Edward's shoes. "Kenneth Cole, right?"

Edward gave Nathan a surprised look. "Yeah, how did you know?"

Nathan shook his head. "Check Thomas's shoes. He wears Armani Classic Lace-Ups. They're about $450.00 a pair." Nathan looked smug. "What Deputy Warden do you know can afford to wear shoes like that to work?"

Edward shook his head and smiled. "Were you a shoe salesman and an Accountant?"

"And a Pharmacist, at one point in time," Nathan said proudly, a new respect for Edward showing in his eyes.

Edward sat quietly as he thought about all Nathan told him. If it was true - and he suspected it was - the man's life was in danger. The moment he left, Nathan would be dead in a matter of minutes. He had to admit, he liked the man, regardless of what he had done. It also made him realise something.

"You're innocent, aren't you?" Edward's words were more a statement than a question. Nathan's eyes widened in surprise. "You were defending your family when you killed that man."

Nathan lowered his eyes and shook his head. "No one believed me. Then the evidence came out of nowhere and everything just went downhill from there." Nathan's voice was rough. "My family had to move away after I was convicted. People believed the lies, tormented them. They called my wife a whore and said bad things about us to our daughter." He looked up at Edward again, his eyes beseeching and moist. "That's why you have to keep them safe. They've been through too much because of me. I don't want to die worrying about them. Understand?"

"You're not going to die, trust me." Edward took out his cell phone once again and made a call. "Shannon, I need another favour, and I need you to send back-up to the prison. We've got a situation."


Jacob walked into the bathroom at the back of the diner and locked the door behind him. He looked around the surprisingly clean area and placed his bag on the counter beside the sink. He glanced briefly at his reflection in the mirror before gingerly drawing the black T-shirt he wore over his head. Blood stained his skin and soaked the bandage covering his shoulder. He placed the T-shirt beside the bag, washed his hands and began removing the soiled bandages.

He hissed when the gauze stuck to the stitches and sent pain shooting through his shoulder. He pulled the gauze away and with shaking hands, he twisted the top off the bottle of peroxide and poured it over the wound. He gritted his teeth as the solution bubbled around the stitched edges of his skin and seeped into the cut.

When the burning subsided, he ripped open a new bandage and placed it over the area. Blood immediately stained the white material, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to bandage it and be on his way.

His escape from the hospital was not as difficult as he thought it would be when he first planned it months ago. Actually, it had been obscenely easy. During his overnight stay last time, he realised how lax the security was in the hospital. It hadn't been difficult to trick the nurse into coming to him to administer more pain medication. Her kind heart and the need to care for her patient resulted in her death.

As for the two F.B.I agents on guard duty, they were a bit more difficult. But they were no match for him, despite his injury. A broken neck and a stab wound to the jugular put a halt to their valiant efforts to thwart his escape.

However, the altercations partially reopened his wound. By the time he made his way downstairs and into the car Deputy Warden Thomas arranged to have waiting for him, the front of the doctor's coat he stole was soaked with blood. The open wound throbbed like a son-of-a-bitch. His driver, a man he had never seen before, took one look at him, grunted and threw a bag at him. The bag was filled with first-aid supplies, toiletries, clothes, and a set of new identification documents. A wad of dollar bills in various denominations was also tucked into the bag.

After bandaging his shoulder, Jacob slipped on a black turtleneck shirt and then covered that with another long-sleeved checkered shirt. He popped into his mouth two of the broad-spectrum antibiotic pills he found among the first-aid supplies and washed them down with a mouthful of the raspberry flavored iced tea he purchased from the gas station across the street. It was of a significantly poorer quality than what he was accustomed to, but in comparison to what he had been forced to consume during the past three years, it was heaven. He quickly emptied the contents of the bottle and instead of throwing it into the trash, he stuffed it, the used bandages and soiled T-shirt into a plastic bag for proper discard later. Leaving them there could pinpoint his whereabouts to the authorities, and eventually lead them to him. He still had a few loose ends to tie up before he left the country, and he wanted to have them done as neatly as possible.

A knock on the door startled him. He shoved the plastic bag into the bag containing his newly received gifts. He pulled a cap down over his brow, and glancing around the room to ensure there were no traces of him left, unlocked the door. His driver was standing there, a disgruntled and impatient expression on his face.

"We're going to have to leave now if we want to make it to the state line before dark," he said, turning abruptly and walking towards the car parked across the lot. "From the report I just got, all hell's broken loose."

Jacob got into the car and stared at the man. He got the distinct impression that the man did not like him. He could not comprehend why, but whatever the man's reasons, Jacob's patience was wearing thin. He had had to take other people's orders for the past three years. Now that he was free, he had no intention of taking orders from anyone - especially a lackey like this man.

"What's happened?" he demanded as they drove out of the lot with a screech of tyres and the smell of burning rubber.

The man frowned, his eyes still on the road ahead. "Seems like some big-shit F.B.I agent locked down the prison. Thomas and a few of the guards have been taken into federal custody. The whole place is in an uproar."

Jacob gritted his teeth. "This F.B.I. agent have a name?"

The man gave him a dirty look out of the corner of his eye. "Don't know, don't care. All I know is that I'm supposed to get you across the state line and you're on your own after that." The words "good riddance" were unspoken but obvious.

Jacob frowned. He knew it was Edward Cullen he spoke of. The man had taken perverse delight in reminding him what a precarious position the attack placed him in. Jacob smiled. He wondered who was laughing now. He was free and Cullen was miles away trying to pick up his trail, figure out how he managed to escape and where he was headed next. Well, let him wonder. By the time he figured it out, it would be too late.

They drove in silence for another ten miles on the way past Fort Collins. His driver constantly switched radio stations in search of news. The sudden bursts of music and talking coming from the radio irritated Jacob to the point where he felt like smashing the instrument into silence. However, he needed to know what was happening in the outside world. He needed to know what he was up against.

Finally, the man found a station that gave a few details on his escape. The announcer's perky voice was at complete odds with the type of news she read. The report was centered mainly on his escape and the murders he committed at the hospital. A nationwide manhunt had been called for him. Good luck with that, he thought. He grinned and relaxed against the seat as a popular Christmas song replaced the announcer's voice. By the time the authorities figured out where he was, he would be long gone and on his way to some sunny island in the Caribbean.

Shortly before they crossed the state line into Wyoming, the man pulled off the lonely stretch of highway and into an old, abandoned gas station. He quickly got out of the car and disappeared behind the dilapidated structure. The building had seen better times, but now its windows were either broken or completely covered in dust. A part of the roof had caved in and one of the front doors hung by its hinges. One of the two gas pumps was missing. The entire place was an accident waiting to happen.

Favouring his shoulder, Jacob grabbed his bag and stepped out of the car into the shadows of the quickly approaching evening. He drew in a lung-full of the clean, fragrant air and sighed. Freedom had an entirely different flavor than that of incarceration. He couldn't wait to get a steak and a bottle of beer. Those were two of the things he missed while he was in prison. Placing his bag on the hood of the car, he leaned against the door and waited for his companion to return.

The man marched around the building and frowned at Jacob. In his hand he held another bag and a set of keys. He threw both of them at Jacob and then opened the driver's side of the vehicle.

"Are these all the items I requested?" Jacob snapped, rubbing his shoulder. The pain had intensified during the trip, and all he wanted to do was take a few painkillers and lie down. However, that would have to wait. He had other more pressing matters to attend to.

The man did not answer. Instead, he leaned into the vehicle and extracted a cloth covered item from the space between the seat and the drink-holder. The man's attitude was tiresome before, but now it just made Jacob angry. He had no respect. Does he have any idea who he is dealing with?

The man came over to his side of the car and reluctantly handed the item over. Jacob casually opened the flaps of the material. Tucked away in the folds, was a cell phone, a 9mm handgun with a short, snub-nosed silencer and two sets of ammunition.

"I'm assuming you know how to use it?" the man asked, crossing his arms across his chest. He gave Jacob a condescending stare.

Jacob slid the magazine home into the handle of the gun, screwed the silencer onto the barrel of the gun and quickly made the necessary checks. He raised the gun, took aim at a discarded soda can lying on the ground and squeezed the trigger. With a muted pop, the can shot into the air and landed a few feet away.

'Yes," Jacob said, sardonically. "I think I remember how it's done."

The man rolled his eyes. 'Yeah man, whatever. There's extra ammo and a few other items in the bag. Car's around the back." He turned and walked away. "Now, if we're finished here, I have a life to get back to."

"Actually," Jacob said, turning towards the man's retreating back. He raised the gun and aimed it in the direction of the man's head. "There is one other piece of business we need to get out of the way."

"What now?" the man snapped, turning. Anger slid from his face and his eyes bulged in their sockets. His face turned a sickly shade of grey. He raised his hands in the air in surrender. "H-hey, w-what are you doing?"

Jacob smiled. "Tying up a loose end." His finger squeezed the trigger.

There was another pop and a ragged hole the size of a dime appeared in the middle of the man's forehead. His body jerked under the impact and a shower of blood, bone and brain matter exited the back of his head and sprayed onto the car. He was dead before he hit the ground, his eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky, his lips twisted in a surprised grimace.

"Asshole," Jacob muttered, grabbing the two bags and walking around the building.

Twenty minutes later, Jacob was rolling down the blacktop highway, a wide smile on his lips. Everything was going according to plan, but first, he needed to make one important call. He knew the man should have heard about his escape by now, and was expecting his call. He grabbed the cell phone from the passenger seat and dialed the number he committed to memory. It rang twice and then the man's voice came on the line.

"Well, hello there," Jacob greeted pleasantly. "Remember me? I'm the man who paid your ass to do a job. A job you still need to complete."

The man paused. "You're out?"

Jacob snorted. "Like you didn't know." He paused, but was only met with silence. "Well, you need not worry yourself about it anymore. I'll take care of the Cullen bitch myself. I just need you to meet me when I get to Washington."

There was a choking sound on the opposite end of the line. "You're coming here? Are you insane? Cullen will..."

"Cullen is in Colorado trying to fix this mess," Jacob snarled. "By the time he yanks his head out of his ass and figures out what I am up to, the woman will be dead and I'll be long gone. All I need you to do is meet me, find me a place to stay for a few days and provide me with one or two girls. If you don't fuck this up, I'll forget about the money you owe me and leave your life intact. Got it?"

"Anything else?" the man asked, anger barely contained in his voice.

'Yeah, one more thing. You try to disappear or even think of pulling any stupid stunts, and your life is over. I'll have shit raining down on your head so fast you'll think it's a freaking hail storm. I'll call you when I hit the state line." He disconnected the call and threw the phone back into the seat.

His instincts told him to let this one go. Just forget about Edward Cullen's ex-wife, follow through with the rest of his plan and get the hell out of the country. But he couldn't. He still had visions of Edward beating the shit out of him months ago, and of the man laughing at him during his visit to his room yesterday. It was also because of him that he spent three years of his life in that stinking hellhole, surrounded by degenerates, murderers and all the garbage from the bottom of the heap. It was because of Edward Cullen that his life had been cut short, his dreams unrealised. Now, it was payback time. Edward took his dreams away from him. He was going to take his...again.


Once again, I want to thank you for being so understanding about why there was such a delay on this chapter. Chapter 29 is in progress, and I assure you it will not be long in coming.