Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
Beta'd by HollettLA.
Quiet Storm and Weather the Storm were both nominated for Eclipse Awards. Woot Woot! Go vote for the Skip! TwilightEclipseAwards (dot) blogspot (dot) com
Best Drama and Best All-human, I think.
Next few chaps are a bit heavy, and time has slowed . . . This chapter, 51 and 52 will all be the same day/night. A LOT happens
Remember to have faith in me :)
Weather the Storm
Chapter Fifty: This Woman's Work
We worry so much.
Sometimes, it feels like that's all we do.
Yet, in the end, when the drama is over . . .
It's as though it all gets washed away.
We go back to our lives.
We live . . . love, and experience many pleasures.
And we have all these moments.
We find those short snippets of time inconsequential.
We rarely give them thought: a smile, a giggle, an embrace . . .
We never count our blessings until our cherished are threatened.
We live in fear; the soldiers stand guard at the doors.
We must look over our shoulders at all times as we seek vengeance.
Days before, when we stressed over the most trivial of circumstances . . .
They mean nothing now.
When what truly matters are the little things . . .
Tiny fingers, laughter, warmth, hope, love, and . . . comfort.
My children shouting "Mommy!" when they're excited to show me something.
The condescending tone that follows "Mom . . ." when I just don't understand.
The giggly squeal of "Mama" when they're getting tickled.
While my son is languished in pain, nearly slain, I've longed for those titles, moments, and trivial thoughts—something other than the worry, the sorrow, the hurt, and the anger . . .
I'd take it all away.
If I could, I'd take all his pain and make it disappear. And if that weren't possible, I'd lay in bed—wincing, crying, and, trying to no avail, to get comfortable—for him.
I'd go back in time and take that bullet, too.
Time machines . . .
Now, there's a thought.
Apple should work on that.
Amongst the anguish, there is plenty to be thankful for, though. In five days, Sonny has made leaps and bounds in his recovery. The first two days he was heavily sedated. I think those forty-eight hours were the worst—wondering, waiting, and praying.
On day three, they lessened his medication and he started to come around—talking and moving, although still in a great deal of pain. Yesterday, with Edward's help, he walked to the bathroom on his own, which took a lot out of him—weak from it all.
Today, he's much better. Overnight, Sonny is almost back to his old self. He keeps yelling at his father, telling him not to make him laugh—it obviously hurts his side—where his rib is broken. He also keeps taking off the nasal cannula that feeds him oxygen. It's not doing much but making his nose itchy.
Overall, I know my son is masking a great deal of agony, and I wish he wouldn't. Sonny cries when Edward leaves the room, not because of what happened, but due to his discomfort. He's actually blasé about the whole ordeal.
"It happens," he said.
"I made sure to cover Kylie," to which Edward and I . . . hailed him a hero, because that's what he wanted to hear—something to make him feel better.
"At least it wasn't Dad." He took my hand, as if he did me a favor.
My little boy . . .
In this atmosphere—the world in which we live—he's growing up too goddamn fast, and there isn't a thing I can do to stop it.
I have grown accustomed to the way things are.
They just are . . .
Because of who my husband is, there will always be trouble looming, no matter how well they all play peacekeeper.
But now it's different.
My child was harmed. I'm still holding my breath, holding onto an unknown fear.
Worry follows me . . . while I long for things remembered, for this moment in time to be washed away.
I resented my life, my husband, myself, the world . . . God, and the day it fucking happened.
I blamed myself.
After accusation comes infuriation, an anguish so powerful it doesn't have a name.
The multitude of emotions I feel is overwhelming. All of which, I believe, made a numbness encompass me.
However, there's one sentiment that stands out from the rest.
Rage.
Pure, unadulterated rage courses through my veins.
Whoever hurt my baby . . .
I want their blood on my hands more than I have ever wanted anything. I don't care about what their gripes were. I want them to hurt . . .
"You okay?" Edward shook me, breaking me from my thoughts.
"Fine." I cleared my throat, adjusting the newspaper.
My husband flicked it. "What'cha reading?"
I stared down, my gaze still unseeing. "Nothing important." Of course, Edward is so nosy, he left his chair to stare over my shoulder.
"Stocks?" he asked, his tone condescending. "Legalized gambling . . . When this is all said and done, you and me . . . we should go to Vegas," he laughed, giving me a nudge and a wink.
"Now . . . there's a pipe dream." Before I folded it neatly, I fanned it to get him out of my face. He leaned back, surprised, while he gave me a look.
We haven't left this hospital either.
And the three of us in one room . . .
Truth be told, I'd rather he was out there doing something—getting the answers I sought. After Sonny and I fall asleep, I think he sneaks out nightly. I can't be sure, though. I'm always so tired and drained . . .
"What's with the attitude today?"
"I don't have one," I sighed, sitting back.
Movement caught my attention and I looked to Sonny. He took an earbud out. "You kind of do . . . have an attitude."
Edward laughed, and I grasped my son's hand. "I don't—I'm fine, baby." I smiled.
Sonny groaned, reaching for his upper arm. He has a fractured humerus, and a cast that goes down past his elbow. "It's itchy." He grimaced. The doctor used screws and a plate, which will be removed when the bone has healed. Sadly, they can't do anything for his ribs.
"Take a deep breath." I instructed, inhaling one of my own—knowing and hating that when he breathes deeply it's painful. I also know that breathing deeply is good for him, regardless of how uncomfortable he is. The doctor said that . . .
"Bella," Edward pulled the hair away from my shoulder, "why don't you . . . take a break? Go home and soak in the Jacuzzi. You're so tense."
"Stop," I said. "I'm just fine here."
"You should go." Sonny nodded but looked to his father. "I'm okay—tell her."
I shook my head. "What is this?" Now, I was getting annoyed as I turned to my husband. Since when do they both want me gone?
"Nothing." He put his hands out. "Look—" He paused, staring at our son. "Can I talk to you in the hall?"
Groaning, I stood out of the chair and marched to the doorway. "We'll be right out here," I told Sonny.
He didn't reply, not giving a shit as he stared at his iPod.
"Bella-"
"What?" I hissed, keeping my voice down while I looked around. Sonny was moved to the Pediatric Surgical Unit yesterday, and these halls were busier. Not to mention, there was a suit from the firm and Lou, who sat outside the room, right next to us.
Edward massaged my shoulders. "We're on the same team, remember?"
"I remember." I made up that rule.
"What has you so upset?" he whispered.
I let out a short chuckle, exasperated. "Two of my children are across the country, while another is lying in a—"
"He's fine. He's going to be fine. We're out of the woods. Remember that, too." He smiled, embracing me and roaming his hands down my back. "That shrink doesn't even think he'll need counseling. He's okay, but now I'm worried—I'm more worried about you." He kissed my nose. "You're . . . It's like you're not you. Where's my Bebella?"
"Who did this?" I asked.
Edward let go of me and wouldn't meet my gaze. "Again—"
"Again!" I nodded. "Until you tell me, I'm going to ask." Poking his chest, I advanced toward him. "Do you understand? Do you—can you imagine at all how I feel?" My voice broke.
"He's my son, too . . . so, calm yourself." He spat, coming back and holding me once more. "Everything is under control. I have some answers, but none—"
"You won't tell me." I pushed him away. "You promised."
He gritted his teeth, getting in my face. "I promised you shit. You want the kids back from Cali? Fine. Sonny's okay. He'll be getting out of here soon . . . Fuck that." He grabbed my chin, making me look at him. "We'll have him transferred. You and the kids—you guys go wherever the fuck you want."
I pulled my face from his grasp. "I'm not going anywhere."
"You are and you will." He leaned into me. "Shit's about to get real. Understand? And I don't have time to worry about your feelings or if you'll comply. You'll leave because I am telling you."
"Fuck you."
"Fuck you!"
I raised my hand and then placed it under my arm, squeezing it to my body, so I wouldn't hit him.
"Go home. Take a bath and a fucking nap. I'm heading out, too, but Carlisle's on his way. He'll sit with Sonny." He dug his cell from his pocket. "I'll call Aro. That'll make you happy, right? Seeing your man." He rolled his eyes, placing his phone to his ear. "Since I'm so fucking useless to you—"
"Don't go there. Why are you . . . ? You made me a promise," I cried.
"I did not—"
"I'm not going anywhere," I said. "My place is here with Sonny."
Edward groaned, grabbing my bicep to bring me into Sonny's room. He just tossed me inside. I opened my mouth to speak, but he had already closed the door and started speaking to Aro.
I swallowed my scream, my anger—that misguided rage.
"Mom?"
Taking a slow breath through my nose, I turned to my son. "What's up?" My smile was fake, my stomach queasy.
"What time did you order my food? I'm hungry."
"Um . . ." I took my chair again. "Like twenty minutes ago. Dinner should be here soon."
"The burgers here are awesome." He was the calmest of us all, and he's the one who got shot.
I reached for his hand. "You can talk to me." Even if Edward wasn't my favorite person at the moment, Sonny is always one of them.
"I know." He scrolled through his play list. "If you go home, can you bring me back my laptop? They have Wi-Fi."
"Um . . . I guess, but I don't think I'm going anywhere."
"Mom . . ." He had that tone, giving me a look, and he actually resembled his father.
I patted his hand. "I don't want to leave you. You had us so scared . . ." This time, I swallowed my tears. "I just—I keep asking if you're okay because—"
"You're worried," he whispered. "But I'm okay. It hurts, but . . . I don't know. It's to be expected?" He fed me the same words his doctor did earlier. "My ribs hurt more than my arm." He widened his eyes.
"I bet." There was a knock, and I turned to look. Edward doesn't knock. "Come in." Through the small window on the door, I saw Carlisle.
"Hey!" He seemed happy, holding a bag from McDonald's. "Got us some supper." My brother-in-law came in like he owned the place.
"Awesome." Sonny was happy.
"Got you a few of those wraps you like," he told me.
"Thank you," I said. "We just ordered his dinner . . ."
"I'd rather have this." Even with one working arm, Sonny was fast to drop his iPod and quickly unwrap a cheeseburger.
"Whatever you want." I winked. "Save that other burger for later. If you get hungry, or Dad will eat it."
"You should eat." Carlisle gestured to the bags.
"In a minute, whatever." I wasn't hungry and I now had another objective. Maybe I couldn't get answers from Edward, but Carlisle might slip. I needed my husband to go home and "take a bath". "How are you?" I asked.
"Good. Can't complain." He was still dressed as though he worked today. Carlisle wore a suit and a large bandage on his hand, on the side and under his pinky. I noticed it when he started eating.
"What happened to your hand?"
He was chewing as he stared down to look at them. "I fell—scraped them up bad."
Once upon a time, my husband had similar wounds. And back then, he actually used to tell me things. He had choked some guy out with wire, and that shit always digs into the skin.
"Huh . . ."
"No big deal." Carlisle stuffed a few fries into his mouth. "Spoke to Alex before. They're having a good time."
"I know." I smiled. "Damion sounded happy. I spoke to them this morning." My stomach rolled.
Even if they're having the time of their lives, I wished they were here. Ed Sr. says they're doing just fine also, which eases my mind. I was never too worried about Kylie since there's only so much she understands. I worry about Damion—when Disney stops being fun . . . the scars he'll have after the fact. It's the same with Sonny. Being in the hospital is sort of a novelty. I keep reminding myself that when this is over, we'll all be together, and we'll all work through it . . . as a family.
"Did Alex ask about me?" Sonny inquired.
"You? Of course she did." Carlisle grinned. "She's worried about you."
Sonny beamed. "You can tell her I'm fine."
I smiled, genuinely smiled. "You can tell her how brave he is." Which was what he probably wanted her to hear. "How wonderful . . ."
His face was red. "Mom, stop."
I did, sitting back but still staring. "You are, you know? Wonderful and brave . . ."
Sonny nodded, engrossing himself in his meal.
"She already knows that, but I'll bring it up again," Carlisle laughed. "So, what's up, B? You're heading out, too?"
"I—no. I'm staying. I think Edward needs to relax." I winced. "He's so high-strung."
"I heard it was the other way around." He wasn't going to be easy to play today.
While batting my eyelashes, I grinned. "It's to be expected."
He sipped his soda, laughing.
My face fell, folding my arms across my chest.
"Aro's picking you up, right?"
I rolled my eyes. "Supposedly . . . but I'm not leaving."
"Mom. I'm fine." Sonny had a mouthful as he stared at his uncle. "Tell her."
"He's fine," Carlisle said. "This room is tiny—no wonder you two are going crazy." He shook his head. "Emmett stop by today?"
"No," I whispered. "He was here yesterday and the day before . . . He and Rose stayed in a hotel, against Edward's wishes. Jasper was here earlier. Alice hasn't been here since the day of his surgery. My mother . . . Forget about it." I waved a hand. "Don't get me started on her. Alice said she'd be here early tomorrow. It's hard for her to get away because of the kids." I shrugged. "Trust me; there's enough traffic—going in and out of this room."
Carlisle looked to Sonny, who was still eating and listening to his iPod again. "E thinks the apocalypse is upon us," he said so low. "But it's not that bad. Don't let him psych you out, tell you that you have to get out of town. It's not that bad, although . . . taking precautions isn't a bad thing."
"New Jersey?" I whispered.
Carlisle shook his head. "Nope." He reached for the remote and turned up the volume on the television.
I got out of my chair to sit next to him. "Um." I leaned forward, having overheard something. "The ones who did the drive-by . . . They had Jersey plates."
"It's not another . . . family." He had his gaze settled on the floor.
"So, then . . .?" I waited.
"Aro's coming here . . . gonna talk to you for a reason."
"Oh." I blew out a breath and, suddenly, my frustration dissipated a bit. Edward has a reason for everything. Whether it's the Feds or the small possibility that this room is wired . . . Everyone and everything has been very hush-hush. It wasn't another family, which is something to be grateful for. There won't be a war but there was still a mark placed on Edward, and my son took the hit.
"Bella." Edward poked his head in, waving me over to him.
And instead of fighting . . . instead of arguing, I grabbed my purse to place it on my shoulder as I put my greasy hair behind my ears. "I'll be back later." I kissed Sonny's cheek.
"Whatever." He didn't seem to care.
"I love you." My voice broke.
His phone dinged, and he reached for that device. "Katie's worried about me," he giggled.
I rubbed his cheek. "She cares about you."
"And I didn't even have to buy flowers." He made his phone dance.
I shook my head, staring at my handsome boy.
"Just like his father—that one." Carlisle sounded like Nanny.
Genuinely, I laughed, for what felt like the first time in days. "I'll be back as soon as I can." I kissed my son again, aware of the IV and other wires attached—made sure to be gentle as I hugged him.
"Bella." Edward raised a brow.
"I'll be back." I squeezed his good arm, and I didn't want to leave—no matter what answers awaited me. For some reason, I didn't think I was looking at the bigger picture. I should stay here by Sonny's side. "I love you."
He was texting. ". . . you, too," he mumbled.
I kissed my hand and placed it in the air as I walked farther away.
"Come on." My husband had pulled me out into the hall.
"Easy," I scolded, adjusting my blouse.
Edward put his arm around me and walked us down the hall. I noticed Lou following, and when I turned around . . . I saw someone enter Sonny's room. Nervous, I pulled on Edward's arm. "Who was that?" I stopped short, staring hard down the hall, but Edward held me in place. It was a woman—a tall blonde wearing some tight ass scrubs, only I didn't recognize her. "Edward!"
"It's just the nurse." He kissed my hair.
"That's not a nurse." I fought to get out of his embrace.
My husband chuckled. "Please relax . . . When did you stop trusting me?" He held me tightly by my biceps, searching my eyes while his looked a little watery. "When did you stop having faith in me?" He let go.
Honestly, I had no fight left in me . . .
"I—I trust you." My head whipped between Edward and Sonny's room. "But who is that?"
"Carlisle is in there. What the fuck do you think is going to happen?"
I held my forehead. "He's twelve."
Edward shrugged. "No touching—she won't put a finger on him. Okay? That's Tammy from the club . . ." he laughed. "That's Dr. Tammy to Sonny. She's here to, uh, lift his spirits a bit." He coughed.
"Funny." I was back at that place . . . I wanted to slap him. "I'm going back." I turned around.
Edward stopped me. "Bella."
My shoulders slumped and I looked down.
"What's the harm, baby? Tell me. Tell me how to make it better," he whispered. "I know how miserable Sonny is . . . and not for nothing, Bebella, you've been hovering—getting on his nerves."
"I have not." My heart broke. "I help him—He's my kid."
"You don't let the nurses do their job. Quite frankly, you're mean to them . . . and do you honestly think Sonny wants a sponge bath from his mother?"
"He's my baby. I wiped his ass back then, and I have no problem doing it now . . . what the hell?" I wanted to shout, but I didn't.
"He thinks it's embarrassing. Just relax. Sonny's going to be fine, and it's you I worry about now." He poked my nose. "Tell me how to make it better."
"Tell me who—"
He groaned.
"You said I'd get my ten minutes." My lip quivered and I bit it down. "Carlisle says it's not that serious."
"To him," he said.
I swallowed, looking around us. No one paid us any attention, and Lou stood quite a few paces away. Not even he could hear us, and there was no way the entire hall was under surveillance. "We're not at war?"
He shook his head. "I made a mistake . . . I lost a friend because I was misinformed. Well, I jumped to my own conclusions."
"Who?"
Edward sucked his teeth; I was wearing on his nerves. "You sound like a fucking owl, you know that?" He snapped, but under these circumstances . . . the two of us constantly bumping heads, I couldn't even hold that against him. "I'm sorry." And I knew he was.
"You wanna know the who, the why, and the when?" He hugged me tightly. "Aro will be here any minute . . . You want your ten—fifteen minutes of fame?" He leaned back to hold my face and grit his teeth, wearing a hint of a sinister smile. "We'll get there . . . You just have to trust me."
"He's—whoever is mine."
Edward kissed me—crashed his mouth to mine and kissed me so passionately. I was out of breath, no matter how brief it was, when he let me go. "Not if I get to him before you, but get in line . . . Aro wants first dibs."
"Aro?" I asked.
He squeezed my ass so tight, I whimpered. "Let's go . . . Anton and Paulie should be here soon to get me."
"I haven't seen Mauro," I commented, looking around. "Lou said—I heard he couldn't be trusted."
"You didn't see him, but you saw Carlisle's hands?"
"Oh!" I covered my mouth. "Really?" I had a strong feeling he was dead. "Was he . . . involved?"
Edward shook his head. "Not at all, actually." He pursed his lips. "Like...early spring cleaning? And it made Carlisle happy, so . . ." He shrugged, too fucking nonchalant. "Tell me you love me, Bella . . ." He looked down. "Tell me you love me the same as you did last week. You still want me?"
I reached for his hand, and we were by the elevators now. "Of course. I love you so much—too much," I cried, staring up into his eyes. "I'm angry at everyone—myself included."
"Me too." He blew out a breath. "I want to leave with you . . . It's just not safe if we leave together, not safe that we talk too much. You understand?"
"I do," I said.
"There are eyes and ears everywhere, and I'm not just talking about the F.B.I. And Luke's working with us—no fear from them, like, if you see a Jersey plate don't shit your pants." He smiled.
"But Jersey plates—"
He kissed me again, and I shut the fuck up. "I opened a can of worms for jumping to conclusions . . . but it's not that bad. The fact that I don't exactly know who's affiliated with who . . . it's a huge wild card."
I didn't understand that, but I nodded my head anyway.
"Take this." He pulled me close, fiddling with my blouse. He did it so fast, and yet I still jumped when the cool steel hit my stomach. I knew what it was, and his eyes were jumping everywhere. "It's like . . . Barry's nephew." He winked. "He's quiet, too."
I gulped. "Baby . . . where am I going?"
"Home . . ." He grinned, pushing my hair back. "I'll be right behind you, actually."
Speaking of that, I turned to see if I could spy Sonny's room from here. I couldn't. "Should I go—"
"This is the safest place, believe it or not. Sonny's fine."
"Okay." I hugged myself. "And that woman-"
"Won't lay a finger on him."
"He's so young," I sighed.
"It'll make his week, his year." He chuckled.
Edward hit the elevator button before he wrapped his arms around me again. While we rode it down to the lobby, my phone started ringing.
"Who's that?" he asked.
I puffed my cheeks, declining the call. "Derek. He's been calling nonstop. I don't know if he's heard . . . He probably wants to reschedule that dinner date." That weekend we put up the Christmas tree—had a quiet weekend at home, and thinking of it . . . those few days, they made me miss Damion and Kylie so much.
"Call him back—see what he wants?"
I shook my head. "Huh? No . . . I don't know what he knows, and I don't want to get into it." Honestly, Sonny's had many visitors, and I didn't want to add to the list.
"I'd like to know what he knows . . ."
"Why do you care?" I went to step off the elevator, but Edward held me back—partially shielding my body with his. "Edward?"
We walked fast. "Just call him—I'm curious. He called me, too, but you know I've been using the prepaid."
"Right . . . I'll call later—when Sonny goes to sleep, or I'll just leave a message." I held my stomach, or mainly, Barry's nephew. I knew this gun had a silencer attached. It kept hitting my thigh as I walked, and I still had a nine in my purse—a legal handgun. Edward didn't give a fuck whether the Feds were watching or not. He made sure to hide at least two on his person. Edward was strapped, and so was I at all times.
Edward jerked his chin to Aro who stood right outside the lobby. He was speaking with Anton and someone else I didn't know. "Call sooner rather than later. Okay?"
"Fine." I acquiesced. "Did you mean what you said before?" I stopped us from getting too close to his guys. The street was pretty crowded, hospital personnel and regular people alike passing us by.
"About?" He nipped my lips—licking his own before diving in for another.
It made me smile, although I didn't want to feel happy. I didn't want to feel anything other than what I was feeling. "All of us going away?"
"If shit isn't settled before Sonny gets discharged . . ." He trailed off. "We'll have time to discuss that later."
"You're coming home, too? You'll be behind us?"
He nodded. "Yes, now go." He slapped my ass, nudging me in Aro's direction.
As I made my way to the car, shielded by Aro now, my eyes were going in so many directions it nearly made me dizzy. When I sat in the back, I had to adjust the nine in my waist.
But then Aro hopped into the car, which was already running, to rapidly speed away from the curb.
"What's going on?" I leaned between the front seats.
"Get down," he said. "It's a short ride to your crib, but get on the floor."
I followed instructions quickly, hiding my head while my heart pounded away in my chest. "What's going on?"
"Just being careful. I was followed on my way here. I lost them . . . Bet they found me again, though. But there's nothing to worry about." He rushed that last part out.
"The Feds?" I asked.
"Nope."
I shakily took the gun out of my pants and took the safety off before I pulled the mag back.
"Good girl," Aro laughed.
"Tell me what's going on!" I shouted.
"Look, I was followed here . . . but we didn't change our plans. I think the Skip wants to box them in . . . follow those who are following us. He said to still go to your crib. I don't know. Your husband likes to play shit by ear."
"What?" I was more confused than ever. "Are we bait or something?"
"No. He just wants to know who's following me. As soon as we get to the 'hood, they won't be close no more. They might've clocked Edward and veered off course. I don't . . . Shit. I still have a tail." Aro let out a breathy chuckle. "I'm being followed, and I see the Skip two car lengths behind them." He guffawed.
"This is funny?" I asked. "You almost died on the highway last year!"
"We're on the streets. And that's not going to happen. We have eyes and ears everywhere." That was sort of like what Edward said.
"The eyes are on our side?"
"Yup . . . Don't you worry, MC. Do you honestly think the Skip would have let YOU leave with me if there was any danger?"
"I guess not," I said.
"We're almost there. Relax."
"Who shot Sonny?" My voice surprised me; how frantic it sounded. "Please tell me."
"I'm going to take care of it—just give me your blessing," he said, and I felt the car turn right.
"I want to—"
"Don't get your hands dirty, MC . . . I'll take care of it. Let me do this, not only for you, but—"
I sat up, crossing my legs behind the passenger side seat. "What the fuck does any of this have to do with you?"
"Check you out," he laughed.
"I'm not fucking around." Anger bubbled inside of me. "My hands are already filthy, and I want the sonofabitch who—"
"You know I can't deny you," he whispered. "Do whatever. And when you can't do it, I'll be behind you to finish the job." He spoke in riddles.
"Who did this? Can you please just tell me what the fuck is going on?" I studied his profile from an angle, my eyes pleading although he couldn't see me. He drove with one hand, while his other held his heat.
"It's a long story."
"Then . . . slow down and tell me," I said.
He laughed again. "The short version . . . We thought it was The Skip's buddy, Laurent, who teamed up with Eleazar—you remember them?"
"Of course." I shook my head. "Tzahalla—whoever. Um, she's from Israel?"
I saw him nod.
"Laurent . . . I remember him from years ago. He had dreads?"
"Yeah, well . . . they're both dead. Neither group was as dumb as we thought. They had nothing to do with it." He winced. "Thus . . . we have a few enemies now. I hear Laurent's peoples don't want any beef with us. But it's the other one. That broad has a few peeps—hiding in the shadows, and since . . . Well, we truly don't know who's riding with who . . . It's tricky, but it's still not as bad as last year. Don't worry. Anyone who fucks with us is just a fool."
"So . . . who the fuck shot at Edward—Sonny?" My stomach tied in knots.
"We got him—that's all you need to know for right now. Okay?"
"Oh." I didn't know what to say. "The guy from the car place—"
"Skip got overzealous . . . although he didn't give us anything to go off of anyway." I heard the garage door opening. "We got the prick, though. Edward's heading into Manhattan in a bit—"
"What now?" I asked.
"Now, right now?" He turned to look at me. "You wait in the car until I tell you to go into the house. Don't move!" His voice was stern as he left the car, and I was a sitting duck—a sitting duck with two loaded guns.
The garage door opened and closed again, and I wasn't even sure if I was alone.
I had no idea.
With my heart in my throat . . . I couldn't see anything, and I worried about Edward. Did he pull into the driveway behind us or was he still . . . wherever he was? I wanted to cry—crawl out of my skin with just how panicked I felt inside.
But I didn't do anything, and then I realized how shaken up I was . . . seeing the tears fall down onto my hands.
What the fuck was going on? I asked myself as I tried to look—lift my head just a little. It was dark, save the dime light that turns on when the door opens or closes. My surroundings were quiet, and it looked empty.
My panting—my heart beating in my ears—was all I heard from the backseat.
Aro said to stay put, yet if I left the car . . . I could hear what was going on.
Slowly, I tried to juggle both nines and silently open the back door of Aro's SUV. I barely made a sound and I didn't dare slam it shut.
Inching farther to the entrance, my eyes were nearly clamped, squinting; meanwhile, I had a nine pointed directly in front of me.
Then I heard a gun fire, which made me jump. It wasn't loud. Whoever used their weapon had a silencer, and my bet was on Edward.
Over the years, I had never forgotten that sound—those small whip-like pops that ring through the air.
There were a few shouts . . .
There were two more blasts from a gat, only those weren't quiet.
Seconds passed.
It all happened so fast, and then the garage door started to lift from the ground.
Frightened and startled, I hopped back—crawling on my hands and knees while I tried to get next to the washer and dryer.
"MC?" Aro asked.
I peeked from around the drywall—what blocks my laundry area from the carport.
"Bella?" Edward sounded nearby.
"I'm here." I didn't have a white flag, and I didn't want to poke my head out any more.
"You can come out." My husband sounded amused, but then he spoke rapidly. "Get rid of the car and whoever the fuck that was . . . bring that other fuck in here."
Swallowing my nerves, I stood up—no longer aghast since I'd heard Edward's voice, no longer shaky until I'd turned the corner . . .
Aro was dragging someone—a kid—into the garage, while Lou and someone I didn't know did some shit outside. It was starting to get dark, and I was afraid of cops, the F.B.I., and I didn't know what to do.
I stood frozen in horror, trying to channel the tough person who lives inside of me somewhere.
But my eyes stayed on that kid. He had an olive skin tone, looked about eighteen at best, and he was covered in blood. He was shouting something in another language—shit I definitely didn't understand.
He was a kid, someone else's child . . .
And the police could be on their way.
What if the neighbors called 911 after hearing the shots? I was torn between being concerned for the teenager, and being worried for the rest of us, and I couldn't figure out why I cared about the boy . . .
"Close that door." Edward snapped. "You like following people around? You wanted to kill me, or her?" He turned the kid to me, and my hand, the hand that held the gun, was kind of limp. "What's your name?"
The kid spit in my husband's face, which earned him a blow to the gut. "Let's try this again," Edward said.
"Edward . . ." I stared.
"Don't you worry about anything—go upstairs—take that bath." He jerked his head toward the house.
"Come on, MC." Anton was next to me, and I hadn't even noticed he was here.
"I'm okay. The cops—"
"We own the neighborhood. No one will call it in—people know better," Anton informed me.
"Feds are still at the hospital," Aro said. "No worries."
I gawked at that kid. "Who is he?"
Edward shook him a bit. "Answer her."
He winced in pain, his arm bent oddly behind himself while leaning into Edward without a choice. "Amzi—I am Amzi Eleazar."
"Related to that cunt, huh?" Edward kneed him, making him fall to the ground.
"My mother—"
"Is that so?" Edward kicked him—just kept on kicking him, and I couldn't look away. The kid was curled in on himself, crying, and he looked like such a little boy . . .
"Stop!" I shouted.
My husband laughed at me. "Stop?" He dragged a weak, bloodied, and bruised Amzi over to the step—the one step in front of the door that leads to the house. "Open your fucking mouth!" He made the boy bite the step.
"Edward, please," I cried. "He's a baby—"
"MC . . ." Aro gave me a look, slowly shaking his head as though he didn't approve of my plea.
"Edward!" I thought I was going to be sick. The kid was looking for revenge—what I wanted, and . . . Tzahalla and her people didn't do anything.
"Fuck it!" My husband shouted, kicking down onto his head.
Teeth flew, blood splattered everywhere, and Amzi was no longer moving.
I dropped my gun to become violently ill into the garbage can. My stomach was empty, so nothing came out—only dry heaves.
"Ugh!" Edward tilted his head, cracking his neck and looking relieved. "You all right?"
I stared at my husband, horrified as I leaned over the pail.
"Turn around," Aro warned me.
I never did, and watched Aro shoot the kid in the head. Now, he was definitely dead.
"Get rid of it," Edward whispered, his chest heaving.
"Ant, grab me something wrap him in. Lou and Paulie should be back soon," Aro said.
I jumped when my husband touched my shoulder. "Relax. It's okay—everything's okay."
I swallowed down more bile, staring into his unseeing eyes. "I want to go back to the hospital." All I wanted was to be with my son . . . my little boy.
Edward rolled his eyes. "This will make you feel better." He dug into the dead kid's pocket, took out his wallet. "Look, he was nineteen." He actually looked relieved, like he wasn't a child-killer, although . . . two minutes ago, the rage I saw in his eyes, it wouldn't have made a fucking difference. "Look."
"I'm fine." I couldn't see it.
"Aro brought you up to speed?" he asked, pushing my hair away from my shoulders.
I cringed away from his bloody hands. "I think so."
"Stop. It's okay." He palmed my cheek. "Go take a bath . . . and bring me the clothes you have on. You know what? Just—come on." Without any fight from me, he lifted me into his arms while Aro unlocked the door.
I had my eyes closed as we walked over the dead boy.
"And you want ten minutes with that other fuck? What are you going to do? Cry—talk to him?" He was teasing as he brought me upstairs.
"No," I said through gritted teeth. "He wanted revenge—"
"Baby." He stopped in the hall to set me on my feet. "When someone comes to kill you, you don't slap 'em on the hand and send 'em in the opposite direction. He wouldn't have stopped, until I stopped him, or he killed me."
I nodded in understanding as we walked to our bedroom. The house—everything looked the same and smelled the same, no matter how different everything truly was. "Who else?"
"I don't know," he whispered. "He was lurking—whatever the fuck. I had to leave the hospital . . . and you want what you want, so . . . I was the bait, not you." He kissed me. "Aro said you thought that."
"Well, no." I saw that my hands were still shaking.
"You think I'm a monster." He went into the bathroom to turn on the water.
"No," I said, unsure. Guns are one thing, but I wasn't sure if I'd ever get the image of that boy biting our step out of my head . . .
I cringed in place, reaching to wipe my eyes.
"Give me this." Edward took Barry's nephew from me. "Come here." After placing the gun on our bed, he started to undress me.
"Why—Why did I—Why did I have to leave?" I asked. "If you're not going to take me to the guy who did it . . . Why—"
"Shhh." He kissed me. "It was a test . . . Sonny's getting discharged tomorrow, depending on his blood count—whatever." He shrugged and then brought my jeans down. "Aro hid you—he wasn't supposed to, but we got that kid and his buddy to follow anyway."
"But—"
"Another family, like our thing, would never—never go for wives or kids. This is a different beast entirely." He unbuttoned my blouse. "I miss you so much." He placed soft kisses wherever he popped a button. "We never have the chance to talk. We need to. I mean, I do—I need my Bebella."
"Um . . . Laurent's people . . . Uh—"
"They're not as fucking stupid." He pulled my bra down, exposing my breasts. "It's sad. He died, but it was bound to happen. His buddy, Christopher . . . has no qualms."
When he scraped his teeth along my neck, I moaned, enjoying the feeling while it also made my stomach tie in knots again. "Edward—"
"What's wrong?" He pulled back to look up at me. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," I cried. "I just—none of this makes any sense to me." My cry turned into a sob. "Help me understand."
Edward embraced me, gathering me into his arms again, and then he placed me in the large tub. I still had socks on. "Oh, let me get those." He took them off of me.
I giggled through my tears.
"You soak—relax. It'll be like it never happened before the water cools." He kissed my hair. "I'll be back." He turned for the door. "Then we'll talk. I have some things—"
I slumped low, into the hot water. "Edward . . ."
"I'm not going anywhere—"
"No!" I rushed out. "When is somebody going to tell me who—"
"I had to catch whoever followed us before we hit the highway—before Sonny was released." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The less you know the better, but—"
The last twenty minutes—well, it took nothing away from me wanting my own moment of time, when I'd get my own revenge. "You have the guy—Aro said. Who is he?"
He nodded. "We have him . . . and now, the streets are safe—safer." He shrugged. "It's not a war, but you will be going away . . . just to make sure."
"Can—um." I held my head.
"I can't leave," he said. "You guys leaving town is one thing. If I go, it'll look suspect."
"Right." I nodded.
"Love you."
"I love you, too." No matter what just transpired or will in the future, that fact remained true. "So much."
He grinned, closing the door behind himself.
For the first time in days, I was alone. It was quiet, and my brain was too full—images, thoughts, feelings . . .
The events . . . What happened in the garage, did not deter me. Although . . . it definitely distracted me from the other emotions I had been dealing with.
It saddened me because he was so young, and it made me think of Sonny. If it was someone older, I probably wouldn't have cared, which was a startling discovery.
I didn't know whether to be mortified or grateful.
I submerged myself into the hot water, cringing, wincing and screaming.
No one heard me.
And I thanked God for that . . .
That no one heard my weakness.
Only, I'm not weak.
Whoever took that shot at Sonny, whoever ordered it . . . It didn't make a difference. Edward wasn't telling me for a reason, and I still intended to pull that trigger.
Regardless.
A mother's work is never done.
Quiet Storm and Weather the Storm were both nominated for Eclipse Awards. Woot Woot! Go vote for the Skip! TwilightEclipseAwards (dot) blogspot (dot) com
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Fandoms4Autism - I am donating Quiet Storm Chapter One told in Edward's point of view. Ever wondered what Edward thought about Bella? What he and his brother were up to before they met her? It's an amazing cause. Please donate! It's really amazing. LOL. I LOVE the way it came out, and I actually like it better than the original first chappy.
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Crap. I'm sure there's more . . . something I forgot. Anyway, these are all great causes, and as a "thank you" for contributing, you'll receive great compilations filled with pieces written by dozens of kickass authors :)
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