Sunshine and 2browneyes pre-read this for me. All mistakes are mine!

Gore rating—0

Friday morning dawns with Emmett banging on my bedroom door way too fucking early, but if he's here, he's got important shit to share. I kiss Bella's neck and mutter for her to "go back to sleep" before tossing on a pair of Versace briefs and my silk robe. As I come up the hall, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee fills my nostrils, drawing me toward the kitchen.

Emmett's seated at the bar with an open folder in front of him and a cup of too-white coffee in his hand. He lifts his eyes, and he looks like shit. Dark circles line the lower rim of his glasses and his baby blue are red and tired.

"You look like shit." I pour a cup of the steaming brew and approach him. "But I take that to mean you have me some fucking answers."

"Sort of," he answers, blowing out a heavy breath and shoving four pieces of paper my way. "Two of those are old emails; the first is an exchange about Rose, her job at the club, the hiring agency is even mentioned under important details about Midnight Sun and a picture of her is included. The second is a small exchange where Esme is briefed on Rose's real identity and encouraged to befriend her." He claws a hand through his messy curls. "But that's also the problem. I can't find any future mentions of Rose or anything relating to this request."

"What about the other two?" I bark, lifting the next piece of paper and scanning the date and content. "This was the day Esme died."

"Exactly," he concurs with a nod. "It's a feeler email. Looks like maybe Esme missed a contact, and they were reaching out. Nothing incriminating, almost like a code sentence." He grabs the last piece of paper and shoves it into my hands. "But this one, although also a code, definitely reads like her non-answer put something in motion."

My eyes move from him to the piece of paper, dated two days after Esme's death. Vengeance for your loss. The sun will no longer rise.

"There were four days between this email and the shooting at Midnight Sun," I murmur, mostly to myself, as I try to work through this cryptic bullshit. "The sun reference is a given, but did they really have enough time? And how did we time it perfectly to match their plan?"

"Think, Edward." Emmett taps his temple. "It was Jasper's death that set everything in motion. Esme's penance, which led to her failure to reply to these emails, and my fear for Rosie's life, which led to her abandoning Midnight Sun. I don't think it's a very far leap at all to assume we'd need a new manager." He pauses, tapping his chin in thought. "My only real concern is there's another conversation somewhere that we don't have here. Very pertinent information is both eluded to and excluded from this string of conversation."

My jaw fucking tightens as his words circle around my brain. "Almost like we were meant to gain access to this information."

Emmett shrugs. "Maybe not meant per se, but if information ended up being sacrificed, this is what they wanted us to see."

I rip the sheet to shreds and follow through in my fit of rage by doing the same to the other three pieces. "Fuck this shit!" I yell, slamming my hand on the bar as tiny pieces of paper flutter to my pristine floors. "They're trying to guide us by a fucking string, just as Demetri suggested. Well, not any-fucking-more." I get up and start pacing, my fists opening and closing steadily to try and work through some of the tension. "I'll make my intentions clear in Boston tomorrow, and by Tuesday, Miami will be a problem of the past."

"You really think it's going to be that easy?" He gets up and stands before me, delivering a derisive snort. "These fuckers are playing the long game, as has been proven time and again. They're ready for us, Edward."

"Then it'll just be a bloody battle in the streets," I snarl, disgusted that he has no faith in my skill or the skill of my men. "Royce and Ronald King will die, and it'll be at my hand."

"My brother, the charging mule," he spits, literally almost spits. Fucker. "You go do your thing, whatever that may be, and I'll stay here and make sure both of our women live to see another day whether you return or not."

I turn away to keep from slugging him, but he does have a point when it comes down to it. Bella, and I fucking guess Rosalie too, will need to be protected while I'm off eliminating the threat. I'm both disappointed that he has so little faith in me and appreciative at the same time.

I pace a few rounds to work off the conflicting emotions and turn back to him, grasping his shoulder tightly. "You're right. Bella will have to be taken care of, and I trust you to do an exemplary job, but make no mistake about it; I will return for her."

His eyes fill with moisture, and it reminds me so much of when we were kids. This is the Emmett I've always known. He's fucking terrified of what's to come. "Please do that, brother. I'm not ready to lead this organization."

"Like I'd ever put you in that position." I laugh, making it sound lighter and freer than I feel. "Bella and I will return from Boston first thing Sunday. We'll spend the day on a plan for both taking them out and protecting the women."

"The penthouse, Edward." Emmett widens his arms. "It's impenetrable. I can lock this baby down and no one can leave or enter without my express consent."

I scan my eyes over the place, taking note of all the windows that provide such an extravagant view. "Not even through those?" I ask, pointing to them.

"Not even through those," Emmett replies with a smirk. "Do you really think I'd allow any stone left unturned when this penthouse was designed? It's a fortress for a reason."

"All right," I concede with a nod. "But I'll still keep the building under heavy guard."

"Sounds like a plan." He stifles a yawn.

Without thought, I reach over and hug him tightly. "Thanks for working through the night. Get home and rest." I pull away, my brow furrowing with a new thought. "Maybe you and Rose should stay here while we're gone."

"Eh, maybe." He shrugs. "We'll talk before you leave in the morning."

"Sounds good."

As Emmett makes his way to the elevator, I head to the kitchen. Since I'm up, I might as well make myself useful by reminding Bella I can be thoughtful. I've tried this shit before and it wasn't very successful due to interfering relatives, but maybe this time can be different.

I work on freshly squeezed orange juice in between making omelets and toasted, buttery brioche. Once everything is done, I grab a wooden tray and load the two plates along with two glasses of juice. Just as I go to lift it, the flower arrangement on the bar causes me to pause, and I look through the cabinet for something vase-like. When I'm satisfied with the vessel, I add water and turn to the bar to select the perfect bloom.

The clearing of Bella's throat nearly causes me to jump out of my skin. Not jump in a scared way—I'm never scared—but I somehow feel like I've been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. The romantic cookie jar, and that's not really me.

I gather myself and turn to her, my eyes greedily taking in her long, bare legs. She's wearing one of my shirts with only two of the buttons closed, exposing way too much fucking skin and not enough at the same time.

"Good morning," I say when I finally drag my eyes to hers. "I was just about to wake you." I motion to the tray of food still sitting by the stove.

"Smells good," she says, barely offering it a glance. "But I'm not really hungry." She takes a slow step closer and her eyes are fucking predatory. Lucky for her, I'm a willing ass prey. "For food, that is."

I toss the knife and flower to the floor and go to her, skimming my hands beneath the shirt to her bare ass beneath. With a fucking growl, I lift her and pivot to the bar, my mind recalling and eerily similar scene; except this time, there'll be no interruption. The buttons scatter across the marble as I rip open her shirt, and my robe falls limp at my sides as her fingers tug the tie.

Fuck the food.

Two hours later, we're finally settled at the bar, eating cold toast and drinking lukewarm orange juice. Our scant clothing is back in place, and my eyes constantly trail to the swell of Bella's fucking gorgeous tits. The morning is almost perfect, and I can't wait to get this goddamn war behind us so every day can start this way.

"What has you thinking so hard?" Bella asks, trailing her finger across my thigh, just past the edge of my robe.

I grab her hand to prevent her from roaming too close—not that I couldn't go again—and give her a crooked grin. "I was actually thinking about the future. How I want every morning to be like this one."

"But," she prompts, angling toward me which causes her shirt to reveal more of her left tit since it's only buttoned at the bottom.

"You're very insightful." I shake my head, my grin lifting into a smirk. "That future's not truly feasible until the threat has been taken care of."

"Ahh," she murmurs, leaning close to whisper in my ear. "I'll still be here long after the threat has been wiped from existence." Her teeth latch onto my lobe and she tugs, sending a growl from my lips and a twitch beneath my robe.

"Fuck!" I grab her head and attack her neck, my lips, tongue and teeth seeking to take control and conquer.

Just as I'm ready to rip her shirt open a second time, the fucking house phone rings through the sound system, causing my head to drop against her shoulder in defeat.

"Ignore it," she pants, attempting to guide my lips to hers.

"I can't," I mutter, pulling back to look into her dark eyes. "House calls are always important."

As I get up to answer the phone, she seeks to tidy her errant clothes as best as she can. "This better be fucking important," I bark into the line.

"Boss," Jenks says. "I'm in the lobby with the information you requested."

"Why didn't you call my cell?" I demand, my eyes straying to Bella as she stands and approaches me with concern.

"I did," he replies. "Several times."

"Fine," I snap, motioning her closer. "I'll send the elevator down." I hit the off button and take Bella in my arms. "That was Jenks. He's delivering urgent information before the meeting tomorrow. Why don't you get dressed and I'll be in as soon as he leaves to show you what clothes I'll need packed for the trip. The rest of my day will likely be spent in my office."

She nods and lifts her head, and her eyes are sparking with mirth so I expect a smartass remark. "Will you pick my clothes too, please, sir." She's batting her lashes ridiculously fast and speaking in such a non-Bella tone that I can do nothing but bark a laugh.

"If you wish." I smirk and kiss her pretty mouth. "Go. I need to send the elevator down." I smack her luscious ass and send her on her way—well, I do stare at the sway of her hips for another minute before finally turning toward the elevator with a sigh.

Jenks' visit is short, but the binder he leaves behind is large and filled with tons of information. After my initial glance, I want to sit immediately and start poring over the material, but I refrain and tuck it under my arm as I head to the bedroom.

After selecting my clothing and suggesting some things for Bella, I retire to my office. The next four hours are spent studying every little detail on every single fucking person associated with the Miami Mob. Once I have a general overview of how they operate, I mark motherfuckers for death. Anyone close to the leadership will need to be iced and then I can select a strong, suitable candidate to become the new Boss.

Late in the evening, Bella comes through the door with a sandwich and chips. "Knock, knock," she says, approaching hesitantly. "I thought you might be hungry." She places the plate on the corner of my desk and stands there quietly.

"Thanks," I tell her, rocking back in my chair. "I'd rather hold you for a minute." I flick two fingers and pat my leg.

She smiles softly as she perches on my lap and nestles her face into my neck. "You've been in here a long time."

"I have," I murmur, running my hand down her back. "I still have a while to go. This meeting is crucial, and I have to be prepared."

"I'm not sure I understand the logistics," she replies, lifting her head to look me in the eye. "Do you need their permission?"

"Fuck no!" I snap, but that's bullshit. In a fucked up way, I sort of do. I heave a heavy fucking sigh. "In a way, I do. Even though our organizations all run independently, we live by certain codes and even sometimes join in mixed ventures. So, as you can imagine, there are certain guidelines we live by when one organization feels wronged by another. It's essentially forbidden to take out the leadership of another organization."

"Oddly enough, that makes a lot of sense," she replies, her expression thoughtful. "By having those protections in place, it prevents one organization from basically infiltrating every other organization and becoming a super-mob, of sorts."

I chuckle at her term, but she's hit the nail on the goddamn head. "Not in those words exactly, but yes, that's the basic principle."

"Do you think they're going to allow it?" Her eyes are dark and very interested in my response.

"They don't have a fucking choice," I say a little snider than I should. "I'm going to be respectful and insistent, but if that doesn't work then I have no issue switching my tactics to defiant. The Miami organization, as it is now, is fucking done."

"Should I worry while you're in this meeting?"

"Not in the least."

"Okay," she replies, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my cheek. "I'm going to double check our bags and take a shower." She stands, brushing her fingers along my jaw. "Wake me when you come to bed."

I smirk, giving her a heated once-over. "Definitely."

After watching her saunter from the room, I get back to work on choosing the leading trio of the new Miami Mob. Their structure is similar to the Outfit, except they have six crews, with two of them overseeing practices heavily fucking frowned upon by most of the American mob organizations. Both of those crews will be dissolved, their Capos among the dead, and the soldiers will be left with the option to choose loyalty to the new leadership or fucking death.

With five targets scheduled for execution and three others selected for leadership replacement, I'm ready to put my winning proposal together. I spend the next couple hours making copies of crucial documents and compiling a folder for each Boss. Confident in my arguing skills, all I can do now is present my fucking case.

And if that doesn't work, there's always Plan B—go rogue and kill the motherfuckers anyway.

I slip the folders into my briefcase and turn out the light as I head to the shower. With business behind me, I can look forward to what the rest of the night will bring. What I find when I finally slip beneath the duvet is naked skin and a groggy, but warm and willing, partner.

The alarm clock blares early as fuck the next morning, but instead of feeling tired, I feel fucking determined. Bella and I are up and dressed in no time with our bags sitting by the elevator.

My phone buzzes and I pull it from my inside pocket. "Any new information I need to know before I leave?" I say in lieu of hello.

Emmett chuckles, and it's much lighter than when I last spoke with him. "Nothing on my end, though I'd love to get a look at the stuff from Jenks."

"The master file is in my office, you're welcome to it," I reply. "Why don't you and Rosalie come stay in the penthouse and you can go over it while you're here."

"Nah," he says, and I can picture his nonchalant head shake. "I'll come over and pick it up in a little while, if that's okay. You're only going to be gone overnight, and I'll probably do some work at Grizzly."

"You're going to leave Rosalie alone?" I say in mock horror.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he says with a chuckle. "She'll be guarded the same as she has been. It's not like I'm some badass who can save the girl with his bare hands."

"You never know," I muse, picturing the Emmett I remember from Esme's execution. "The right motivation can turn almost anyone into a badass."

"Or get a dumbass killed," he responds with humor. "I trust the protection detail to take good care of her."

"They do get paid well," I agree, my eyes catching on Bella as she taps her wrist. "Looks like it's show time. I'll call you after the meeting."

I end the call with Emmett and join Bella at the elevator. She grabs the small bag and I take the larger suitcase. The ride down is spent with light-hearted teasing as we both ignore the mounting tension. In the garage, Demetri, Caius and three crew members are awaiting us beside two black SUVs driven by Seth and Garrett.

After helping Bella inside one of them, I turn to Riley. "I want this garage locked down as soon as Seth and Garrett return. No one enters and no one leaves. Station men in the lobby of Cullen Place, as usual, but I want the bulk of security at Grizzly HQ as my brother and Rosalie are staying there."

"You got it, Boss," he replies, snapping into work mode. "Would you like me to take up post over there since it'll be quiet here?"

I nod as I consider this. "Contact Emmett and tell him I said to set you up at Grizzly Armor. You can do overall surveillance from there and keep an eye on Emmett while you're at it."

"Will do."

On the plane ride, Demetri, Caius and I discuss strategy while looking through the folder of information I plan to share. Both for the meeting, which Demetri will attend at my side, and for Caius and the soldiers whose primary role is personal security. It's highly unlikely that a meeting such as this will produce disastrous results, like you might see in a movie with everyone being fucking slaughtered, but it always pays to be cautious.

"I want two soldiers stationed with Bella," I say, nodding to the men several rows back. "And, Caius, you'll keep one and wait outside the meeting room with the other Boss' men to keep an eye on things. I trust your judgement enough that if anything smells off, you'll spot it."

"Jacob Swanatori has insisted the security of everyone in our party is guaranteed by Killa Masen himself," Demetri says, interrupting my thought process. "Of course, trust is earned, but from what I've been able to glean, I believe Mr. Masen has already made up his mind to back our request."

"You believe, or you know?" I snap, irritated that his diplomatic demeanor doesn't align as well with my brash approach as I originally thought. "Because that can be the difference between life and death."

"Edward," he says, and it almost sounds like an admonishment. "Son, I've been working very hard and very closely with top men in each organization to set up this meeting. I've stated our reasons and intentions clearly. At this point, I can assure you full support from everyone, except Vegas. Boston and Seattle both see this meeting as a formality and nothing more."

"Why is Vegas resisting, then?" I ask, still skeptical but wanting to trust his judgement. I should trust his judgement. I chose him for this position because I fucking knew I could count on him to offer wise advice.

Taking it is another matter entirely.

"My best guess is they share a common enterprise with Miami." He lifts a brow as he waits for me to figure it out. When I do, he smiles knowingly. "Now you see why they might be opposed? What's to stop us from going after them next, citing our distaste for one of their money-making channels."

"Maybe we will," I muse, disgusted that any organization would make a living off the backs of stolen children.

"One thing at a time, Boss," he says, closing his folder and handing it over. "I know Bella's safety is paramount for you, and I promise it has been addressed. Killa Masen's wife was kidnapped five months ago by his own brother, so he understands your concern and has vowed to protect her with all the power of his organization."

"Is the motherfucker dead?" I ask, lifting a brow in both shock and seriousness. If the rogue brother isn't dead, then I can't trust Killa with shit.

"Very," Demetri supplies.

"The soldiers will still stand as her guards," I reply, my voice hard.

"I never expected anything else," Demetri says, smirking.

The plane touches down not long after we're done, and as arranged, several SUVs are already awaiting us near the runway. I quickly lead Bella from the plane and toward one of them, until a voice calls my name.

I pause momentarily and turn toward a tall, dark-haired man. "Mr. Cullen," he says, holding out his hand. "My name is Jacob Swanatori, and Killa has sent me to escort you to your overnight accommodations."

I look from his still untouched hand to his eyes. "My men are capable of navigating to an address." I turn away, ready to pick up Bella and run her in the other direction. Unfamiliar faces make me wary as fuck.

"Molto bene, farò in modo di arrivare in sicurezza," he replies, telling me he'll make sure we arrive safely.

I pause and glance back at him, the Italian somehow comforting. "Grazie."

Demetri greets Jacob like an old friend, which feels fucking strange, but I suppose there is familiarity there, as they've been in steady contact over the past week and a half. The name Swanatori is notorious, as Charles "The Chief" Swanatori is the retired Boss of the New York Italian Mob. He initiated the merger with the Irish, or more specifically the Masens of Boston, by agreeing to an arranged marriage between his daughter and Killa Masen, who's now the sole Boss of both organizations.

That makes them powerful—along the East coast—but that doesn't mean I shouldn't be leery as fuck. A concentration of power like this, almost all the Bosses gathered in such a small vicinity, has the potential for serious consequences if we aren't vigilant, so until I've made my own personal assessment, everyone is suspect.

Thirty minutes later, we're settled into a three-bedroom, high-rise condo in Boston, and the meeting is scheduled to happen twenty floors below in a little over an hour. I prepare my men by making sure everyone has their marching orders, and then I double check my briefcase to ensure all the files are in order.

The doorbell buzzes, and Caius cautiously approaches with his gun at the ready before looking through the peephole and standing down. He opens the door, and Jacob stands on the other side. "I'm here to see Mr. Cullen."

I push Bella behind me and take a couple steps toward the door. "Can I help you?"

"I'm here on behalf of Killa," he says, looking me in the eye. "He's requested a private meeting to discuss Ms. Swan's security." He pauses and peers around me to Bella. "Both of you."

Agreeing to this craziness nearly fucking kills me, but I eventually give in to Demetri's prompting as he insists we won't be in any fucking danger. We follow Jacob into the hallway, and as he speaks, I realize Killa's home is only two doors away. Now I feel fucking stupid for being so suspicious—no Boss would kill another in his home.

Jacob motions to the door and steps back, tilting his head down the hall. "I'll join the guards at the elevator."

He walks toward two armed men already stationed at the end of the hall, and I shift my eyes to my beautiful Bella. "You sure you're okay with this? I promise nothing is going to happen to you."

"I'll always trust you to keep me safe," she replies, fingering the Glock at my waistband. "I also trust Dem's judgement." I roll my fucking eyes, albeit playfully, and she lets out a small giggle. "You know you do, too, or we wouldn't be stan—"

The door swings open, interrupting her. "What took so fucking long?"

Whether you've read the O/S "Killa Saves the Bee" or not, I tried to make sure all the info you need to know about them as characters is here. For those who have read it, I hope the timing is clear now? This is 5 months after the end of the O/S.

Now, onto better/worse news. The better is that I'll be meeting Ceceprincess1217 (Killa/Bee author) and Sunshine1220 tomorrow to spend an afternoon with them ahead of the TFMU! The worse is that I haven't written a word this week and won't be home tomorrow, so it may push both my stories back 1 week. TSB may be a week late and the next O chapter may take 3. I'll try my very best not to, but it's looking like a possibility. I apologize if it happens, but also know, we're closing in on big action with a swift ending afterward.

See you as soon as I can :)