Posted 2021-05-06 & edited by the truly amazing Eeyorefan12

Stepping out of the car into the underground parking garage, Edward paused to breathe deeply and stretch. He watched Felix help Bella out of the back and reach for the blindfold.

"No, keep it on for now," Edward told him. "Put her in one of the staff rooms and take it off there. Make sure the room's secure first—and keep the blinds closed."

Felix nodded, taking a firm hold on the girl's arm.

"Wait, where are you going?" she asked. He could hear the note of panic in her voice.

"To take care of business," Edward said. "Keep an eye on her, Felix." He turned to walk away, then hesitated, recalling what Bella had tried with each of them in the alley. If she made another such attempt, he had no doubt Felix would take her up on it. "And stay with them, Demetri," he called over his shoulder. There was little chance of her actually escaping the building, and if she did, the large, remote property was well guarded with men, dogs, and a sophisticated security system of his own design. Still, keeping her isolated and in the dark about their operation had been the whole point of bringing her here. Why give Felix the chance to screw things up—literally?

He walked briskly through the complex, wanting to talk to his father before the night's debriefing. He rubbed his hand over his face. This wasn't the way he'd anticipated his first solo mission for their organization would go.

Carlisle was sitting in his office when Edward pushed the door open. His father stood, moving to briefly embrace him. "Everyone okay?"

"Yes," Edward said. He knew he could count on his dad's love and support, but he wasn't looking forward to explaining how he'd managed to expensively mess things up. It would be easy to blame it on Felix and Demetri, but the truth was that it rested on him. Carlisle had offered to try to find a way around their presence. Edward had assured him that he could manage. Clearly, he hadn't. He dropped into a chair in front of his dad's desk and Carlisle resumed his seat behind it.

"Any idea what happened?" Carlisle asked after Edward provided the basics.

He shook his head. He hadn't dared to ask his men questions in the car. He still didn't know that the girl wasn't more than a college student but worse things had come in prettier packages.

"Do you have her phone?" Carlisle asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Of course," Edward mumbled. He pulled it from his pocket and set it on the desk .

"She's been cooperative so far?"

Edward snorted. "Let's just say I'm glad we all wear steel-toed boots."

"Yes, well"—Carlisle sighed—"not many people take kindly to being kidnapped, Son. As I'm sure you're well aware."

"No," Edward said. "They do not." He put his head in his hands. "I'm sorry."

"For?"

Edward let his hands fall to the table. "Please don't."

"Don't what, exactly?" Carlisle's voice was even, his face placid.

"Don't cut me any slack. I screwed up. I've brought home—" He hadn't finished the calculations yet, so he guesstimated. "Well, it's easily a $100,000 problem."

His father shrugged. "We've had worse. Big picture: our staff and our shipment are safe, yes?"

"Yes, safe. We'll have port confirmation within the next few hours. And we should be clear—well, we expect to be clear once we're on open water."

"Good. We'll find out what happened tonight and see where the mistakes were made. I don't doubt you'll remedy them well." Carlisle looked meaningfully at Edward. He nodded in reply to his father.

They both stood up, walking to the conference room where the rest of the team had gathered. When Demetri and Felix came in together, Edward bristled, asking, "Who's watching her?"

"Mitch," Demetri said, though it came out as "meetch".

Demetri and Felix had only been with them for a few months. While their English was excellent, their accents were thick. Edward operated under the assumption that their prior loyalties remained equally so.

"Never forget who they're working for," Carlisle had cautioned him. "We might be paying them, but they'll always be his men, putting his interests first."

Or the interests in their pants, Edward thought with exasperation, eyeing Felix. Maybe having Mitch watch their "guest" was the better option.

"Al, we'll start with you," Carlisle called.

Al began his recitation. "The plan called for me to park at 10:00 p.m., which I did, and to wait for Seveny to show up a minute later. He did. We called Demetri at"—he checked his phone record—"10:02, and then waited."

The next participant began his recitation and so they went around the table.

The weak link, Edward discovered, was Demetri. He'd seen Bella approaching and assumed she was drunk.

"Why?" Carlisle asked the man.

"Pretty girl, bad place, terrible coordination," Demetri said, sounding blasé. "She didn't see me, and I didn't expect her to go so far into the alley. It looked like she was drunk and lost. Or a whore."

"When did you find her?" Carlisle turned to Edward.

"10:04," he replied.

"The phone call distracted him."

"No." Edward shook his head and addressed Demetri. "You thought she wasn't a threat because she was a woman. You assumed she was drunk or compromised in some way. Did you even check?"

Demetri's response was a nonchalant shrug.

Carlisle put a cautioning hand on Edward's arm. "A mistake that could have been more dangerous, but I'm sure the lesson has been learned."

He disagreed and was about to open his mouth to say so when his father spoke again. "Edward will coordinate the handling of the young woman. Which room is she in?"Carlisle looked at him expectantly.

"Felix?" Edward asked.

"You don't know?" The reproach in Carlisle's voice was directed squarely at him, Edward knew—and so did everyone else in the room.

"I came directly here—"

"And you'll go directly there. I'll see you when you've fully completed this operation." Carlisle stood and so did everyone else around the table. They were dismissed.

The public criticism from his dad stung. It was mild, certainly, and he knew he deserved it, just like anyone else here did when they screwed up. He would've done the same thing in Carlisle's place.

Still, to be parked on babysitting duty for the next few days rankled. He'd worked hard for his father and for the organization, establishing his credibility on his own merits and not because of his familial link. But you did screw up. And you'll clean up your own mess, just like anyone else.

After finding out the girl's location from a smirking Felix, Edward summoned Al, giving him quiet but detailed instructions.

"No problem. Give me a few minutes and I'll bring it over."

"Thank you," Edward said. He sighed, watching the rest of the crew head out for the night, most of them to their assigned rooms. He went to his office and checked his messages and email for the more legitimate end of his company's enterprises, then tucked his laptop into his desk drawer and locked it. How he longed to go back to his room on the family side of the compound. The earliest he would be seeing it, beyond a stealthy late night visit to pick up clothes after his Mom and sister were in bed, would be in a week. Until then, it looked like he'd be playing host to their captive. His father had been clear that she was his sole responsibility. Truthfully, he didn't trust anyone else to do it anyway. It was on him to make sure that whatever she'd seen that night went no further.

He plodded up the stairs and then stopped in front of the room he'd be calling home for a while.

He knocked twice before opening the door. Mitch nodded to Edward and then swapped places with him. The so-called staff rooms were deceptively named, each more of a generously sized studio apartment than anything else. This was one of the nicer ones, with a large living area furnished with a sofa and desk, an en suite bathroom, and a queen-sized bed situated in an offset bedroom space. Bella was perched on the edge of the bed, one wrist cuffed to the intricate wrought-metal headboard, the rest of her body tensed in readiness. She looked terrified.

She also looked really young–a lot younger than she had in a dark alley. Given that she'd supposedly lost her wallet, he'd had no way to verify her age. She claimed to be a senior at Harvard, but who knew if that was even true. ID's were easy to fake.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Twenty-two." She shrank back as he stepped closer to her.

A knock on the door made him pause. "Come."

Al opened the door. "This should cover you for tonight." He slid a suitcase into the room.

"That was fast," Edward said. "Thank you."

Al nodded, closing the door again.

Edward set the bag on top of the living area's table, pulling out two small hotel-style toiletry kits and some clothes. He smiled, recognizing whose clothes the women's articles were. He wondered if his sister Rosie would know her wardrobe had been pilfered for his detainee's sake—picked through by one of his men to boot. Unlikely. He would have to make it up to her. He set the clothes and toiletries kit in the bathroom, then pulled out the cuff key Mitch had given him and started back towards the bed.

"What are you doing?" Bella was watching his every move now.

"I'm going to uncuff you," he said quietly, standing just outside of kicking range, "so you can use the bathroom to clean up and get settled in." He looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost two in the morning. "It's late."

She followed his gaze but said nothing.

"I'm assuming you'd like to sleep?"

She nodded warily. "I'll be in here?"

"Yes."

"Where will you be?"

"Also here."

He saw her eyes widen and her breathing pick up. Clearly, she hadn't expected his answer.

Nervous creatures were dangerous ones. It would be wise to remind her that cooperation was her best option here. "I'll warn you now: if you attempt to escape, fight, or trick me, I will put the handcuffs back on you and assist you with your hygiene myself. Do you understand?"

She swallowed hard and nodded.

Good.

"Please tuck your legs underneath you."

She nudged her eyebrows together quizzically but complied, appearing less agitated once he removed the handcuffs.

He kept a firm grip on her elbow as they walked towards the bathroom.

"There're clothes and toiletries on the counter for you," Edward said.

"Okay," Bella said, looking at them and then at him somewhat expectantly.

He leaned against the open door, arms folded.

Her cheeks flamed. Yes, she understood that he meant to stay.

"You can change in the shower," Edward said. "but don't touch the windows."

Her gaze went to the small frosted windows that sat over the shower enclosure. They weren't large enough to facilitate an escape but his greater concern was her seeing any distinctive parts of the landscape around them. This room faced the more developed side of the property.

"Okay," she said with a note of relief, stepping out of her shoes and into the bathtub. She pulled the curtain closed. The opaque white material didn't reveal any details, but there was enough light for Edward to catch glimpses of her silhouette. He trained his eyes on the bathtub, only looking higher when her motions drew his attention. Soon there was a pile of clothing on the counter. Her bra was plain and white and it stood out against the long-sleeved black dress before she hid it quickly under the folds of fabric. She patted her hand around on the counter, clearly looking for the new clothes, which were just out of reach.

Edward noted the silver heart and crown on her ring finger, struggling for the name he'd heard from his mother—a Claddagh, right. The silver emblem sat with the crown facing up. If Bella put any stock in the traditional meaning, this meant that she was in a relationship. Of course, it could also simply be a visual deterrent for any unwanted attention, though he'd expect her to wear it on her other hand if that was the case. She had denied any romantic attachments when he'd asked her. He'd have Jasper double-check on that.

When Bella retracted her hand behind the shower curtain, it reminded him of a turtle protecting itself.

"Um, can you pass me those, please?" she asked in a small voice.

"Sure," he said, grinning while he pushed the small stack to the edge of the counter for her. So damn bashful. Probably no romantic attachments, then, he mused. He thought about how far out of her comfort zone she must have gone with her attempt to seduce him—and especially Felix. He checked his pity there. He had no room for emotions with this girl. She was a liability to be carefully managed. Nothing else.

When Bella shoved the curtain open, she was dressed in Rosie's pajamas. She'd had to roll up the pants but the sleeveless top fit her well enough. Another blush swept up her cheeks as she saw him look at her. Her bare shoulders were slightly hunched like she wasn't comfortable with them being seen.

"The toiletries are there," he said, lifting his chin to the small bag.

"Okay," she muttered, finding the toothbrush and toothpaste and using them.

"Um, I'm done," she said, lifting her hands to wrap them around her upper arms.

He studied her body language, wondering how he could at least make her more comfortable. "Would you like a sweater or something?"

"Sure." Her eyes didn't leave him as he went back to the suitcase, and he made sure she was solidly in his view as he fished out a soft jersey cardigan.

"Here," he said, passing it over.

As she turned to slide her arms into the sleeves, he caught sight of her back and arms, where there were several angry red patches on her skin.

"Wait," he said, reaching for her and unthinkingly trying to pull off the sweater.

She jerked away in alarm, backing up against the wall, looking ready to defend herself.

Taking a step back, he held up his hands, letting her know he wasn't threatening her. "You've got some bad scrapes there. Can I take a look?" When she didn't answer right away, he said, "I have medical training. I just want to make sure you're okay."

It was still a good few seconds before she nodded, turning around slowly and pulling off the cardigan. He washed his hands and then took a cursory look before motioning her back towards the small table in the living area.

He'd asked Al to include his medical kit, and he pulled it out of the suitcase now. He snapped on gloves before gently nudging at a scrape at the top of her back. Her muscles flinched at his touch. "Is that sore?"

She shook her head.

"I'm just going to clean it, then."

She nodded, letting him work, even pulling her long hair out of his way.

"Can I see your wrists, please?"

She held them out to him like she expected him to cuff her again. He separated them, eyeing the red marks his zip-tie had left. Though he'd removed it in favor of handcuffs partway through their drive, the thin plastic had still done some damage. He dabbed her wrists with ointment and doubled the gauze around them, not wanting to injure her further when he put the cuffs back on. They didn't need to create more visual evidence that would have to be explained away once they let her go.

It was an uneasy thought, that—handcuffing a girl to a bed. She hadn't done anything wrong as far as he knew. It wasn't like the people he'd restrained before. There had been cause then, or at least circumstances warranting strong suspicion. But that had been war.

This was just a girl.

So you think, he reminded himself. She could still be just a damn good actress.

He'd dealt with more than a few of those.

"Which arm do you want free tonight?" he asked coolly.

"Pardon?"

"I'm handcuffing you to the bed. Which arm do you want free?"

"My right," she said after a brief hesitation, a nervous edge to her voice.

He stood up, returning the medical kit to the suitcase, and then gesturing for her to go to the bed.

"Um, can I pee first?"

He felt a flare of frustration. Why hadn't she before? Nerves and shyness, he supposed, trying to be understanding. "Of course," he said, waving his hand towards the bathroom.

When she walked that way, he followed, taking up his position at the door again.

Standing before the toilet, Bella turned around, staring at him. "You're going to watch me pee?"

"No," he said, feeling another unwelcome stab of pity and shutting it down. "I'm going to try not to watch you pee. But I am going to stand here because I don't trust you, and I'd be an idiot to leave you alone at this point."

He watched her face contort as she cycled through an array of feelings. Her discomposure was easily read.

"Why don't you pull the shower curtain around you?"

She drew in and released a breath, obviously still flustered, but she did as he'd suggested.

Edward tried not to pay attention to the details of what he was seeing or hearing, but it ran counter to his training. When he caught himself idly noticing Bella's legs, he forced himself to look away. Get your head on straight, he admonished himself. She's your prisoner.

And he had no idea what her motives were yet. She could be as likely to kill him as to give him the time of day. He didn't have a clue if she was what she claimed to be.

To this end, he let her move ahead of him on the way back to the bed, giving her ample opportunity to attempt escape or attack. There were several objects in her path that could become effective weapons: lamps, a heavy vase, metal candle-sticks. She didn't even seem to notice them. She sat on the bed, fidgeting with the hem of her borrowed cardigan, waiting for him.

When she turned towards him as he rounded the other side, he kept his voice gentle. "Please keep facing that way." She did, flinching when he picked up her left wrist and cuffed it near the middle of the headboard. "Do you need anything else?" he asked.

She looked towards the plastic cup of water by the bed. "No."

He nodded. "Alright, I'll turn the lights out in a moment." He disappeared into the bathroom, keeping the door open a crack so that he could hear her. His hygiene routine was brief and efficient—a holdover from his time in the military. The only difference tonight was that he put on a shirt and gym shorts, albeit with a frown. He normally slept in a pair of boxer briefs, but he didn't think his guest would find that particularly comforting.

She was wide-eyed when he emerged, to the point that he looked down at himself, making sure he was decent. No, all in order.

Then he saw her glance to the other side of the bed before returning her gaze to him. There was no mistaking the abject panic in her expression.

Nice going, Cullen.

He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. Yeah, he probably could've covered this earlier. "Uh, I'll be on the couch."

She didn't say anything, but he saw her shoulders immediately relax as he walked to the sofa. He pulled the spare bedding from the ottoman, not bothering to unfold the pull-out. When Edward turned out the light, he heard the sheets rustling as she got under the covers.

He could sleep on command—anywhere, and pretty much on anything. Tonight was no exception. His only difficulty was that he had been trained to react quickly even when asleep, and any abrupt waking was always a violent realization. So when he heard the crying, and then the distressed "No!", his body responded before his mind could direct it. His first thought was full of anguish and memory—of Rosie.

He was jabbering, "It's alright, I'm here," before he even remembered where he was. He bumped into the edge of the bed, putting his hand out, finding a leg instead of the expected arm.

There was another distinct "No!" at his touch, and that was when the girl's foot made full and forceful contact dead-center with his groin.

The bodily drop spared Edward the other frantic kicks she made. He lay on his side, curled over onto himself, trying to breathe through the nausea that was boiling upwards with the pain.

Not Rosie, was his first cogent thought. Idiot was the second.

His eyes watered from the agony, and he struggled to catch his breath. That was when he became aware of the other set of breaths in the room which were becoming very rapid and shallow.

"Oh my God! I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I wasn't trying to hurt you. I had a nightmare." Her tone was approaching hysterical. "Please don't—!"

"I know," Edward grunted out. "And that was stupid of me. I thought you were—I know you weren't trying to hurt me." Enough of his pain had eased that he could get himself onto all fours; he rested for another moment before he got to his feet. "Are you alright now?" he asked as calmly as he could manage.

"Yes," she said between hiccoughs.

And that would be a no.

He wanted nothing more than to stumble back to the couch, but instead, he pulled a chair closer to the bed, sitting gingerly on it. He turned on the small lamp on the nightstand and found Bella watching him with that now-familiar expression of trepidation.

"Are you afraid of what might happen to you here?"

She nodded hesitantly.

"Would it help you if I tell you what will happen?"

"I think so." She sounded hoarse.

He sighed, mustering his sympathy. He'd deadened so much of it in his work—and so much of it had needed to be deadened. Now, it was like resurrecting a part of himself. But she was afraid, and very likely she'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He made himself think through their current plan, repeating it to himself so that it made sense to his sleep-addled brain. "You'll stay here for the next few days while we check things out. I'm hopeful that by Friday you can go home. In the meantime, you can read, or watch tv, or—" he cast around for something else she could do— "learn Italian. No one here wishes you harm."

He hoped that her story checked out and that she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time because he was going to feel like an idiot, hand-holding her, if she wasn't.

"Okay." She sounded dubious but she was definitely calmer.

He wished his balls felt the same way. He hid his wince as he shifted in his seat.

She cleared her throat. "Can I . . . study? While I'm here, I mean?" If it wasn't an act, it was a good sign she was worried about schoolwork.

"Yes. We'll figure out how to get your notes and stuff tomorrow."

He could see that she was surprised by his offer. She stared at him for a long moment before she said, "I'm sorry I kicked you."

"Me too," he muttered before limping back to his makeshift bed.

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.