AN: Steph Meyer owns all. This has several chapters to it. We'll have some fun. By the way, I loooove getting Edward's perspective.
++Chapter One++
Jacey had fallen asleep on my bed. She gave up small favors, and in return, I'd supply her with plenty of drugs to sustain her habit for a few days. However, squatting in my house wasn't part of the deal.
I kicked the frame. "Get up." She didn't move fast enough, so I kicked it harder. The whole mattress shook. "Now."
"Edward—"
I threw her purse at her to cut the whining off short. She wanted more. They all did. Every single bitch that came to me wanted a relationship, but what the fuck was I going to do with a junkie? They sucked dick for a gram of coke. Not exactly girlfriend material.
"Get your shit."
She struggled to push herself into a sitting position. "Where's the stuff you owe me?"
I walked to my dresser, and she jumped to her feet, the excitement of the next high, giving her a purpose. The thought only occurred to me then that waking her up with a baggy might've been more time-efficient.
Maybe next time.
"Here."
She slipped it into the front pocket of her jeans. "Walk me out?"
If doing so got her out of my house faster.
"Yeah. Okay."
She grabbed her jacket and followed it up by grabbing my nuts. That fucking shit hurt, and I almost punched her in the throat, but I gritted my teeth instead.
As I opened the bedroom door, heavy metal music pounded from the living room and assaulted my ears. My best friend and business partner, Emmett, was on the couch weighing our product but also smoking more than he was dividing.
I sighed.
He was going to get the cops called. We had a lot of fucking drugs in the apartment that would land us both in Florence Prison for twenty years.
First, bad head, and then this fucking shit?
Squeezing Jacey's arm, I dragged her out of the house. She whimpered and complained, and the only solace I got was when the door slammed in her face.
Em laughed and coughed. "That's fucked up, man."
"Turn that shit down."
Picking up the stereo remote, he lowered the volume a few notches. The bass still thumped, but it wasn't obscene. I could hear myself think.
"Thank you." I sat next to him. He pushed a bong towards me. "I'm good."
"Suit yourself." He didn't hesitate to partake.
My phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket. There was a new text message, and I stared down at the screen, confused.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"It's blocked."
"What's it say?"
I turned it towards him.
He squinted. "Someone is stealing…"
"My car." I snagged the gun off the side table and headed for the door.
Emmett scoffed. "Bullshit."
"I'm going to go check it out."
"Nobody is that stupid."
I shrugged. "We'll see."
"You're hoping someone is out there trying to jack your ride, huh?"
I smirked.
"You are a murdering bastard." He laughed but did not attempt to stop me.
As I jogged down the stairs, I wasn't taking the situation seriously. I'd assumed the text was from a bored Rosalie or Alice in the hopes of getting my panties in a twist, but I wasn't going to blow off the warning. With the Glock at my side, I kept my eyes glued on the Chevelle. From a distance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but as I edged closer, I saw the driver's side door wide open and movement inside.
I stopped short for a split second from shock, but that fleeted and soon anger consumed me. There was no thought or reason, only red. That's all I saw.
My goal was to destroy.
Rushing upon the thief, I cocked the gun and pressed it into his left temple. "Get the fuck out of my car!"
My voice boomed off the walls and echoed. Porch lights flicked on, and a few people came out to investigate.
All eyes were on me.
"I wasn't stealing it," the thief said.
Glancing at the wires, stripped and pulled out from the steering column, I wanted to laugh. "The fuck you weren't."
Pressing the gun more forcefully into their skull, I eased my finger down on the trigger. It didn't matter what the wannabe thief said anymore or who witnessed the murder. Nothing would save them from my rage. If blood got all over the vinyl, so fucking what? I knew a guy who would reupholster my shit for a zip of weed.
The only thing that stopped me from ending this fool's life was the sudden revving of an engine and tires squealing. I looked up in time to catch a glimpse of a lifted blue Tahoe speeding away from the entrance.
It clicked.
"Did Jake send you?"
They nodded, but that's when my anger subsided long enough for me to notice the petite frame and high voice. The dude was a female. A young one, from what I could tell, but as I asked myself the question of why Jake would send a girl to rip me off, I knew it was a set-up. The Chevelle was the bait to lure me in. He knew me and knew what I would do. That made her his target and me the executioner, but I didn't work for that fucking asshole.
I let up on the pressure of the gun. "Did you cross him?"
She raised her hands. "I didn't do anything to him. I only met him a few times."
Either she was naïve or lying.
"Oh, yeah? Then why does he want you dead?"
Unmasking her from the hooded sweatshirt with the end of my Glock, I needed to see the girl Jake sentenced to die.
That was my first mistake.
I'm thrown off guard by her eyes. Even then, when faced with an uncertain future, they're filled with determination. So much fire in something so small and fragile piqued my interest.
"Because my friend owes him money, and he offered me a job to clear her debt, but I didn't mean to steal your car. Not really. I was just..."
She rambled on about something, and I wasn't listening. My gaze stayed on her mouth, watching it as it moved, and how occasionally she would scrape her top teeth along her bottom lip.
I liked how her voice would tremble with fear.
Shaking my head, I was annoyed by how she brought my defenses down. "Okay, okay. Calm down for a second, all right? Let me fucking think."
"Okay, sir."
Lowering my piece and tucking it away in the front of my pants, I aimed to put her at ease. She needed to know I wasn't a danger to her. Not anymore. "What's your name, kid?"
She rolled her eyes at me and huffed. "Bella."
I held back a smile.
She was fucking cute.
"Bella." The name rolled off my tongue. Not even knowing this girl, I knew it fit her. I crouched to get a better look at her face, and I cursed inwardly. She was young. "How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
Older than I thought, but not surprising. The girl had that virginal shit written all over her. I decided she was off-limits. Anything I started with her would be more trouble than it was worth, but since Jake wanted this kid murdered, I had to find out why.
Holding out my hand for Bella to shake, I was impressed to see her recoil away from me. It was a smart move. I wouldn't trust a fucker like me either.
Backing off, I rested my hand on the door's frame to balance myself. "I'm Edward."
Her eyebrows moved inward towards the bridge of her nose, creating his little bundle. I wanted to rub it out, and even my fingers twitched to do so, but I got my shit together.
"So?"
I couldn't hold back my smile at that time. Less than a minute ago, I had a gun to the girl's head, and she still came back at me with attitude.
No one in their right mind would do that.
"So…" I gave Bella a once over and prioritized her hierarchy of needs. "Are you hungry, kid?"
