Hi All!
So, Edward didn't make the best first impression, huh? I promise he's going to get a chance to redeem himself! First, he's got some business to attend to. No one messes with the Cullens and gets away with it! ;)
Thank you so much for following Stronger Than Blood! It is awesome to see how many of you are connecting with the story!
It looks like there's been a flood of Mobward stories recently. Some you might want to check out if you haven't already are: No Angel by 2brown-eyes, Facade by AngelDarkness791, The Sparrow & The Skip by Izzy Nava (seriously bad-ass Bella), and Saints of Boston by DazzlinSparkle05. If I've missed one please let me know! I love me some Mobward!
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!
BPOV
"Ugh, Ange, he was such a total asshole!" I whined into the phone on Sunday morning. My poor blistered feet were seeking relief in an ice bath. Even after commuting in flats on Saturday, my feet looked, and felt, horrendous.
"So he just assumed you'd know who he was?" She laughed.
"Like he was a celebrity or something!"
"Maybe he is. What's the guy's name? I'm going to look him up." Leave it to Angela. She was a master at google. Before she even went on a first date with Ben, she knew his address, current and previous employers, the name of his high school prom date, and that his mother owned a flower shop outside Seattle.
"Edward Cullen," I grumbled, shifting my feet through the shallow water and melting ice. I didn't have the patience to refill the bucket I was using. It had taken twenty minutes to get it half full.
"Holy shit! He's stupid-hot, Bella! He might be an asshole, but damn!"
"He's not super hot when he's glaring at you like he wants to murder you."
"He's rich too! Wow, there are pictures of him from all over the world. He must travel a lot," she muttered.
"I think they have a lot of foreign clients."
"What does their company do again?"
"Some sort of consulting? I don't even know what that means."
"Hmmm… are you sure that's all they do?"
"I mean, that's what I was told. Why? What did you find?"
"There's an article from a few years ago… it's from the tribune. There's a picture of the whole family walking out of a courthouse. Jeez, they're all beautiful. Anyway, the article is talking about them having mob links. It says something about trading weapons? I don't understand it all."
"Not you too! My dad was all over this the other day. I met Esme on Friday and her husband. They are the nicest people ever. There is no way they are involved in the mob."
"What about Mr. Asshole? It doesn't sound like he's super nice."
"I think he's got a personality disorder."
"Maybe so," she laughed, "I searched the tribune to see if there were any more articles about them. All I found was a bunch of stuff from charity events and an article saying the case looking into them had been dropped."
"There was probably an issue with one of their clients. Mr. Asshole, his dad, and his brother all work for the company. It would make sense they would all be involved."
"You're probably right. I've just watched way too many movies."
"Alright, I've gotta get my feet out of this thing before they freeze off. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"You want to meet for lunch this week? I'll take you to Tony's for pizza, my treat!"
"Sure, Ange. Later."
Shivering, I pulled my feet from the cool water and patted them dry. A box of Band-Aids and a tube of Neosporin were calling my name, but I needed to air dry a bit. I limped my way toward the window to watch the snow flurries that had started while I was on the phone.
I made a mental list for the remainder of the day. As soon as I could bandage up my feet- and get a pair of comfy knock-off Uggs on them- I could head out to pick up some much-needed groceries. Payday from the library wasn't for another week, and if it weren't for the one hundred and eight dollars I had pocketed from pooled tips over the weekend, I would have lived off toast and ramen.
Let's take a minute to review that. One. Hundred. Eight. Dollars. That wasn't even my paycheck! It was just the extra from two nights of work! The money nestled safely in my purse made me giddy. Even with my new salary at the library, that much money would take an entire day to earn! I figured that if I could keep my groceries reasonable, I might even be able to stop by the thrift store to see if there were any cocktail dresses I could snag. Wearing the same dress every night was going to get obvious fast.
EPOV
The situation in Boston was becoming a problem.
The missing firearms weren't so much lost as they were… misplaced. After a "talk" with the ship captain, Emmett and Alec decided to look around, which led to them discovering our five missing firearms tucked behind a storage crate on a lower deck.
The guns weren't loaded, and there was no evidence they ever were. It made sense. We never shipped ammo with our product. The decision to grab the weapons must have been a hasty one. Perhaps the new crew planned a mutiny but gave up when they realized the guns were ineffective without proper bullets?
Emmett had another theory, which he irritatingly refused to tell me over the phone. An early morning phone call led me to a plane headed toward Logan International.
We made it a point to never travel commercial. Too many records- and witnesses. We owned two private jets, disguised as company expenditures. That gave us the ability to manipulate the documents showing passengers on board. As far as anyone was concerned, Tony Masen, one of the Cullen Corporation's account managers, was being flown in to meet with a client. The only problem was my brother tended to forget about the need to remain anonymous.
"Ed!" Emmet bellowed, running toward me as soon as I stepped off the stairs onto the tarmac.
"Mr. Cullen?" I raised a brow in Emmett's direction, hoping to get my message across.
"Oh yeah! I forgot!" he stage whispered. God, he was going to get us all arrested. "Tony! How you doin' man!"
"Good to see you!" I shook his hand as if greeting a business associate.
"Car is this way. Hey, thanks for flying in last minute!" If he was trying to make sure even the crew wearing ear protection could hear him, he was doing a fabulous job.
"Just stop talking," I said under my breath. He nodded and led me toward the black SUV waiting nearby. Alec sat in the driver's seat with a chauffeur's hat and aviators.
"Seriously? What the hell are you wearing?" I snapped as soon as I slammed the door.
"Emmett said I needed to look like a hired driver, so no one recognized me."
"Emmett, in what fucking world does anyone wear a fucking chauffer's hat? We aren't renting a goddamn limo for a high school prom!"
"I think we should bring the style back. It's badass!" He laughed. I glared.
"Look, just fill me in on what the hell has been going on that made me need to fly all the way out here. I thought the two of you would be able to handle things."
"Ed, chill! We did handle things, but we also stumbled across something we think you need to see."
"Explain."
"There was more than just our product on that ship."
"What the fuck does that mean? We've been chartering that ship for years. No other cargo is supposed to be on other than ours."
"That's the thing, the manifesto looks right. It only shows our decoy product. You know, the fabric and shit going to our friends in New York." We had a deal with another family who laundered through the garment district. We got them Chinese silk at cost. They let us handle their shipments. "Problem is, that's not what it looks like on the actual ship."
"Stop speaking in riddles."
"I think you need to see it yourself, Ed."
"It will take about twenty minutes to get out there, Boss," Alec said.
"Fine. Emmett, I hope you know I'd be bashing in your skull right now if you were anyone else."
"I know. You love me too much, and I'm too good-looking for corporal punishment." His cheeky grin made my hand itch to make contact with his face. I turned to the window. Our mother probably wouldn't like it if I permanently damaged her other son.
As Alec predicted, we pulled up at the port after twenty minutes. We used a private dock that connected with our warehouse. The ship still sat tethered.
"Where's the captain?" I asked.
"Upstairs in the offices. He's not going anywhere," Emmett said, pointing toward the second story of the warehouse.
"Let's take a look at the boat first. I get the feeling I'm going to have some questions for him afterward."
I followed as Emmett led our way down the dock. The old boat masqueraded as a deep-sea fishing vessel, outfitted with nets and industrial-strength rods. It was covered in rust and sea scum and smelled like the seagulls that made their homes on the top deck.
The metal ramp leading us onto the vessel shook as Emmett's massive frame climbed upward. I might have shot him if the damn thing snapped and sent us into the murky water of Boston Harbor. I shuddered at the thought.
"Alright, so our cargo was two decks down," he said once we hit the deck. I nodded, continuing to follow him down a set of stairs leading to the hull of the ship.
I looked around the empty cargo department. Wood shelves and heavy nylon straps sat against the walls. The space was exactly how it should be after a shipment.
"There's another deck I want you to see." Emmett turned back toward the stairs leading us down one more flight. In front of us stood massive wood doors latched together with an industrial lock. The space was meant to transport exotic animals, the sturdy door a necessity on the off chance the animals escaped their cages.
With effort, Emmett flipped the latch and slid the doors wide open.
"What the fuck! It reeks of piss, and BO! What the hell were they transporting down here?" I snapped.
"Look around. I want to get your take before telling you what I think."
I stepped around my brother, covering my nose and mouth. The stench was unbearable. It was immediately clear why he was so adamant that I came and saw for myself what was causing him and Alec so much concern.
Shoes and clothes sat scattered through the space. Remnants of food, simple bread and water, were piled in a corner, and a puddle of blood stained the floor against a far wall.
"Fuck! Cazzo di merda!" I cursed the man we held hostage back in the warehouse. "Let's go."
Fuming, I ran up the steps, Emmett and Alec close on my heels. No one, absolutely no one, fucked with the Cullens and got away with it. We had paid this asshole for years, a hefty sum too. Much more than he would have made working for a corporation or another outfit. He had one simple job, transport our goods across the Atlantic.
"Buongiorno, my friend," I greeted the man as I entered the dim office we used for specific occasions. The ones in which we needed answers, by whatever means necessary.
"Mister Cullen! Please, there's been a misunderstanding!" the man pleaded, his thick Soviet accent slurred.
"Hmm, and what exactly did my brother misunderstand?" I paced behind his chair as I spoke. I grabbed his dislocated shoulder and squeezed it roughly, causing him to cry out in pain.
"Please! Please, I'm begging you! I did nothing wrong!"
"Then why the fuck does it look like you were smuggling a shipment of fucking people on my God damn ship!" Tears slipped from his eyes as I screamed in his face.
"You have to understand. I meant no harm! I was told you authorized the shipment! That you were allies of the family that requested it!" He bawled.
"Let me get this really fucking clear- because apparently, your minuscule fucking brain can't comprehend it. The Cullen family does not ever condone trafficking!" I pulled my gun from its holster behind my back and whipped the barrel across his face. An apathetic moan slipped from his lips as blood trickled from his temple.
"They told… they told me…" he began slipping from consciousness.
"Who told you? Who fucking told you?" I screamed. I needed answers before he slipped away.
"Shit Ed, you hit him too hard," Emmett, so helpfully, said.
"Shut up." I glared at my brother. "Who fucking told you!"
"Jeeess utttii," the man slurred.
"Fuck!" I tugged my hand through my hair. I hadn't meant to kill him yet.
The man's body slumped with a final groan, and air whooshed out of him.
"Mother Fucker!"
"On to plan B?" Emmett quipped.
"Stai zito! God Damit!" He needed to shut up before I pistol-whipped him. "Who the hell is Jess Uti?" I rubbed my eyes, trying to come up with any name that could fit the bill.
"The only Uti I know is that arms dealer out of Seattle. His name is Sal, right?"
"That's Sam Uley, and there's no way he's gotten into trafficking. I'm going to call Jasper and see if he can make anything out of the name. You two clean this mess up."
"Yes, sir!" He saluted.
I ignored Emmett and went back downstairs to call my soon-to-be consigliere slash brother-in-law.
"This is Whitlock."
"Hey, it's me."
"What's up, Ed?"
"Can you make anything of the name Jess Uti?" I waited on the line as Jasper thought over the name.
"Are we sure that's the correct name?"
"It may have been a bit… muffled."
"Of course it was," he sighed.
"I'll start looking into it, but it doesn't ring any bells off the top of my head."
"Alright. We'll be headed back tonight, and in the office tomorrow morning. You can let me know what you find then."
I ended the call and went outside. Leaning on the railing of the dock, I glared at the ship. Who the hell was messing with us?
oOo
Half my coffee was gone before I stepped foot in the office the following morning. We'd landed back in Chicago at three am. Just enough time to get back to my penthouse, shower, shave, and get about an hour of sleep. Although, my shower was elongated when thoughts of that fuck-hot hostess slipped into my mind. I imagined her pushed up against the tile, back arched, ass in the air. I gripped her hair firmly in my hand while I buried my cock deep inside her pussy. It didn't take long before I was coating the wall with cum.
The memories of my fantasy dissipated when I arrived at the office. The sight that greeted me quelled any inch of desire the hostess had spurred.
Emmett's ass.
He leaned over the reception desk, propped on his elbows. Giggles filtered from behind him from whichever secretary he was trying to charm. This irked me. I hadn't been notified that Rosalie would be out. Staffing changes were supposed to be cleared through me.
"I can't believe you took on two guys all by yourself!" Wait. Why did the giggling girl sound exactly like Rosalie?
"You should have seen them, Rosie! One of them was even bigger than me!" Emmett's voice dropped to a whisper. "I had to save my brother from being shot, though. You know how it goes."
"Exactly how does it go, Emmett? And exactly what does Rosalie know?"
Emmett whipped his massive body around, revealing Rosalie- and her icy glare.
"I'm not a moron, Edward," she scoffed. "I do my research. I know who it is you're meeting with in this office. How stupid would it be for me to be the face of Cullen Consulting without being prepared!" She opened a drawer and pulled out a compact nine-millimeter Glock.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Besides, shouldn't you be grateful that Emmett was there to save your pretty face from being mauled by the big bad gangsters?"
"What the actual fuck are you talking about?"
"You know, Ed… how I busted my eyebrow open." Emmett's gaze pleaded with me.
"He tripped carrying… something. He busted his head on a doorway. I promise you I am capable of defending myself." I lifted my jacket to reveal my own piece, tucked into the side of my waistband.
"Seriously, Emmett?" She scoffed. "And Edward, should I be prepared to find out that 'something' has gone missing and that the Cullen's official stance is that you know nothing about that 'something's' disappearance?"
I grinned and motioned for Emmett to follow me. Rosalie brushed off his attempt to get back in her good graces and picked up the phone to answer a non-existent call. Emmett took the hint, sulking after me.
"Why couldn't you just go along with the story?" He whined, plopping down on a chair in front of my desk.
"Because I'm not going to have her telling people my brother had to save me. What's going on with the two of you?"
"I'm trying to get her to go out with me."
"Trying?"
"She keeps making excuses. Like she said she had to cat sit for her grandma. I know that's BS because her grandma lives in a nursing home. Last week she told me you sent her to a winery in Utica to find a particular bottle of wine for mom's birthday. Then I realized mom's birthday isn't until May!"
"Have you ever thought that maybe she isn't interested?"
"No. That's not it. She's just playing hard to get."
"And how do you figure that?"
"Because she gave me a blow job in the bathroom at the Christmas party."
"Jesus Christ, Emmett. You're a classy guy. You know that?"
"Hey, she's the one that offered." He shrugged.
"Am I interrupting anything important, boys?" Jasper teased, letting himself into my office.
"What did you find?" I asked, done with wasting time on my brother's sex life.
"Jess Uti isn't anyone we know. I played around with the name to try and see if anything could fit the bill, but I came up blank. I checked both our legitimate clients and associates of all the families."
"Could it be someone we don't know inside one of the organizations?"
"It could be. Maybe a younger guy trying to climb the ranks."
"Alright, for now, we keep our ears to the ground. Emmett, get guys on the street in other cities, see if anything pops up."
"Will do."
I dismissed them to get caught up on legitimate work for Cullen Consulting. I punched in the password on my computer and opened my email. Ninety-six unread messages. Wonderful.
At the top was a flagged one Rosalie sent five minutes earlier. I groaned as I opened it.
Edward,
Message from your mother:
Dinner with the Denali's Friday at six-thirty. Don't be late!
Your wonderful secretary,
Rosalie
God. Damnit.