Chapter Seven

Edward thought it was best to end the call before finishing, since he was positive Jake would kill him for it. But in his haste he dropped his phone on Emmett's concrete driveway. "Was that her?" Jake asked as Edward picked up the phone and realized the screen was cracked and blacked out, dead.

Edward had a few People Choice Awards, two MTV Movie Awards, two Golden Globes, and four Emmys, so he knew how to act, but Jake was an expert in detecting bullshit.

He needed to think fast. "Was that her who?"

Jake was an inch or two shorter than Edward, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in mass. The man was huge, with dark skin and darker eyes.

Edward had gone toe to toe with some of the most horrible reporters in his career, and after a few years, he had learned how to deter them from a line a questioning that made him uncomfortable.

"Was that Bella on the phone?" Jake crossed his arms over his chest—those guns looked about the size of the anacondas of legend. They were the reason Edward hired Jake personally after being mobbed on too many occasions.

"Bella," Edward said, his brow tightening in confusion. "Do you mean the artist? What was it again—Ms. Swan? The one that makes movie replicas?"

Jake stepped closer, his thick eyebrows meeting between his eyes. "Don't bullshit me, Edward."

He had to switch tactics. "Why didn't you tell me you were gay?" The hurt on his face was not fake; it hurt to know Jake kept it from him.

"I wasn't sure about your reaction," Jake said simply. "Bella hates when I hide it, especially since I'm with her assistant, Seth."

"I've known you for two years, you know everything about me."

"I didn't tell you for a reason. My last job before you, he found out, started to act differently with me. I didn't want things to change between us." He pointed a thick finger at him. "Now quit changing the subject. I know Bella was on the phone and that she warned you."

"Are you going to try and stop me from seeing her?" There was nothing Jake could say to change Edward's mind. Nothing.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Was Jake as well versed in mind games as he tried to be? "What are you talking about?"

"I came here to tell you that it's my job to protect you—"

Edward was really fucking confused by this point and interrupted Jake. "You're not here to kill me for trying to get in Bella's pants." Even coming from his mouth, the words sounded wrong; he needed to talk to Bella about it soon.

Jake shook his head, but the death glare in his eyes remained. "If I was trying to do that, Bella would hang me by the balls. She can take care of herself. Trust me on this, Edward."

Why that sneaky little she-devil. Bella had made it sound like Jake was going to kill him. It might still be the case, but it wasn't because he wanted to find out if her lips tasted as sweet as they looked.

"Might as well find out now. Bella holds a grudge, and she's all about payback sometimes." Jake nodded, as if he was giving Edward sage advice. "She's creative as fuck on punishment."

Do not picture her with a whip. Do not picture her with a whip.

"If you're not here to kick my ass because of Bella, then why do you look ready to throw me in the back for your truck and dump my body?" Edward realized the real reason a while ago; he just needed to buy some time to come up with a few good excuses.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Jake stepped closer. "You're not going to Comic Con. Are you fucking out of your mind? Do I have to remind you of the last time you went off on your own and got mobbed by hundreds of crazy fans. Including one in particular, remember your dear old, James aka DarkMonster."

Edward shuddered, looking around just in case he lurked in the shadows. He honestly loved his fans and was thankful for them, but there were a few in the bunch who gave fans a bad name. The show that made him a household name, The Dark Files, had a near cult like following, reaching millions of fans in the five years it was on the air, and continued to grow as reruns started up again.

DarkMonster had been a loyal fan since day one, visiting the set often and insisting on pictures every time they crossed paths. However, as the years went by, his sudden popping up everywhere Edward went was eerily heading toward stalker level. The one time he managed to sneak past Jake to get away from it all, DarkMonster had been there to take another picture.

"If he finds out you're attending Comic Con, you can bet your ass he'll figure out where you are, no matter what you're wearing."

"He won't find out. Bella is the only one working on the costume, none of her employees know about it. Other than the three of us, Rosalie and Emmett know about it. You know they won't tell anyone. I'll be fine, most of my face is covered and with the wig or extensions no one will know it's me."

"DarkMonster can pick your ass from a line up, Edward. I don't like this."

"I know, but I need to do this."

Jake's eye narrowed. "Because of Bella?"

"She seems to be the best person to take to something like this. Honestly, Jake, I'm tired. I need to do things like this, and this is something I've wanted for years to do for years. If I don't I'll burn out soon."

Jake seemed to understand, his last protection detail had ended up in rehab. "I'm going then, but I'll go in disguise, too."

"No. If my fans find out you're in San Diego, they'll know I'm nearby and send a search party for me."

Jake shook his head. "Edward, you need to stay safe. Think about Bella. If they find you there, she could get hurt."

"Fuck, that's hitting below the belt, asshole. You know I wouldn't want anything to happen to her." He groaned and rubbed his temples; the headache was turning toward full blown migraine. "No one can know you're there."

"Don't worry about a thing, you and Bella won't even know I'm there."

Edward doubted it.

AN: Sorry! I know I said shirtless Edward, but these two got wordy. Also, DarkMonster, Edward's stalkerish fan is a figment of my imagination, really, he is...