DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the intellectual property of the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

-Chapter Forty-Three-

The morning sun, amber, and honey-hued, were streaming through the brown checkered curtains when Edward's phone vibrated off the bedside table. It was Alice. She was out of breath and frantic, calling to inform us that the organizers had switched Saturday to a Tuesday for the senator's appearance in Springfield.

Today was fucking Thursday.

We were two days behind, giving us less than five hours to get to Chicago, break into the senator's mansion, and stash all the drugs in the office desk drawers. What made matters even worse; we didn't have any fucking idea how we would do that.

Caius, the one person who could get us inside the house by raising a suspicious eyebrow and alerting the police, was dead. The double-barrel shot blast that displaced his skull kind of put a damper on his willingness to help us.

The blood lust was a lot like being in love: it didn't make for smart business.

But I digress.

With the clock ticking at an alarming rate, we packed up our things and left Rockford within twenty minutes of receiving Alice's phone call. We didn't even bother wiping down our room—and Edward always made it a point to wipe it down four to five times, ensuring we never left a fingerprint behind. It was a precaution he liked to take, but now, time was an issue, making even the most minor habits slip through the cracks.

I was uneasy. Edward pretended to be unfazed.

"It's a minor setback, but not the end of the world, kid," Edward said, waving off all my concerns and kissing me, assuring my compliance.

It worked like a push of morphine in the veins, all worry replaced with a relaxing calm.

Chicago was an hour-and-a-half trip from Rockford, and Edward spent that time formulating a contingency plan. He sat quietly with his hand on my knee and eyes out the window, but this was his process. By the time we entered the city limits of Chicago, he would have a way to get us into that mansion—even if that meant sticking a gun into someone's face and threatening them into silence.

Brutality was his reality, and the hustler with a crooked smile and a finger on the trigger was mine.

"Alice says their plane lands in an hour," Edward said, glancing up from his phone and over at me. "Ten minutes."

That was all he needed to say.

Tick, tock, tick-fucking-tock.

The rain was pouring down sideways in Chicago. Dark, gloomy clouds hung overhead. My breath fogged the car window, indicating how cold and miserable it was outside. I tried not to take the dreary day as a bad sign, but it was hard when Charlotte went on and on for about twenty minutes about her beliefs about the weather and its omens.

Rain wasn't a good one—especially in the morning when the sun was supposed to be low in the east. It predicted business hardships or death.

That part freaked me out, and Edward, sensing my unease, handed me an iPod. After that, I tuned her out. Life was easier to handle with music as the backdrop.

"Char and I will circle the block a few times, but if you're not out by..." Peter checked his watch, "one-thirty, we're gone."

Edward nodded, leaning forward and patting Peter on the back. "You do what you have to do, man. If me and my girl ain't out by then, go back to the hotel and destroy everything."

"Everything?" Peter turned and raised his eyebrow, clearly surprised by the suggestion.

"Everything," he sat back. "I don't want you guys getting caught with anything that ties you to us."

"Then what? Do we stay? Do we go?" Peter asked.

"You run. Get as far away from Chicago as you possibly can. When the shit hits the fan, I don't want you guys anywhere near the spray. Fucking vanish into thin air, you hear me?"

Peter's responding smile was weak and unconvincing, the direness of the situation shining through and weighing heavily on his shoulders.

He didn't want to desert us but knew he had to protect Charlotte and himself.

That uneasiness in my stomach returned, and I frowned. "Are expecting that we're going to get caught?"

"Fuck no! We're smarter than that..." He raised his hips and pulled out the Colt, checking the clip and chamber for bullets. It was fully loaded, of course, "but it would be stupid not plan for failure."

I nodded, but the reflective surface of the gun caught my eye. It evoked this tingling and throbbing sensation of need down below, possessing me. I crossed my legs to smother the fire, but it didn't work.

Edward, constantly aware of me, knew exactly where my mind and body had ventured off to, seizing the opportunity and raising it.

Sliding over in the seat, he took the gun and wedged the muzzle between my clenched thighs, trying to pry them apart.

I gulped and held my breath, wanting to give in to him but knowing where it would lead us.

"Edward," I hissed, grabbing the barrel of the Colt and shoving it back towards him. "Stop it!"

"Ssh," he mouthed, nodding his head towards the unassuming Peter and Charlotte.

"No!" I mouthed back.

Gripping me by the nape of my neck, he leaned down and whispered these sinful and spine-tingling words into my ear. "Let me play."

The devil was hard to resist when his argument was this convincing.

"Fine," I said, closing my eyes and giving in to temptation.

Smiling against my neck, he trailed the gun along my leg and slowly edged it back up to the apex of my thighs. I stiffened, only relaxing back when he applied more pressure and insatiable friction, rubbing me in circular motions. He was bringing me close to the edge, and I clawed the door and his jeans, needing to transfer the energy.

"Bite your lip," Edward said, sucking my lobe into his mouth.

And I did, teeth biting down so hard in frustration to the point of breaking the skin.

"So, Eddie..."

"Yeah!" he snapped to attention, removing his lips from my ear and gun from between my legs. His eyes were wide and guilt-ridden, like a kid who had just gotten caught stealing money from his mom's purse.

The car was stopped and pulled over to the curb, Peter shook his head in the rearview mirror, and Charlotte held back her laughter. Yes, we'd been caught in the act again, and I was beyond mortified.

"Unbelievable," I muttered, hiding my blush behind my hands.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," she said, but I could hear the snicker in her voice. "I'll…you know what, never mind."

I wanted to die.

"Oh, no, Char," Edward said, thoroughly amused by our predicament, "it's too fucking late now, you might as well ask."

She laughed. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I was just curious on what you would like us to do about Jasper and Emmett."

"Oh, man, I fucking forgot about those assholes. Can you text them for me and a let them know that shit went astray and to get the fuck out of the country as soon as possible?"

"Absolutely, Edward…" There was something about the way she spoke to him that made me take notice. Peering through my parted fingers, I watched her lean over her seat and grasp a hold Edward's hand, giving it a soft stroke and a gentle squeeze. "We're family."

It was instant.

The powerful ping of jealousy shot through me, pumping and pulsating in my veins. I felt it deep in my bones. A prickly and uncomfortable sensation irritated my skin, manifesting into this violent hatred for this woman, who continued to touch my Edward.

Mine!

My eyes narrowed with hatred, burrowing an expansive hole into her skull with my imagination. I relished in that vision, eliminating my problem with one trigger squeeze.

Caressing.

Smiling.

Muscles strained past comfort, and the seconds ticked by slowly as I waited for Charlotte to remove her hand before I acted on my murderous thoughts.

Embracing.

Laughing.

My fingers were twitching, and yearning for a solution, and the persistent voice in my head got louder and more enraged:

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

That deep loathing inside me burned until I couldn't take it anymore, and I snapped. "Why don't you fucking take your God damn—"

"Ah, fuck!" Edward interrupted me, clasping a hold on my coat sleeve, and dragged me across the seat. I was still telling Charlotte where she could put her hand when he flung me out of the car, like a rag doll, into the frigid and bitter weather.

"Let go of me!" I kicked and struggled, trying to break free. "Fucking..."

My foot caught the edge of the seat, and I fell out, face first into his awaiting chest, buried deep in a mixture of leather and cotton. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me still. I was warm, and he smelled good, but it was a ploy to keep me in line.

The rain had eased up, and only sprinkles of water, more like a mist, came down from the heavens, but even so, I was not too fond of cold and wet things.

"One-thirty," Edward said, kicking the car door closed with his foot.

I pulled away, and in return, he pulled me back in.

"Don't get sidetracked, Eddie," Peter said.

"We're good, aren't we baby?" Edward asked, leaning away and looking down at me.

He wanted our audience gone.

I smiled tightly. "Of course."

Peter rolled his eyes. "One-thirty."

"Yup," Edward said, pounding his fist on the car roof. "Get the fuck out of here."

Peter nodded, rolling up his window and easing the car back on the road. I watched the red tail lights until they were a blur in the distance.

"God damn it, Bella!"

I jumped, slightly startled by the sudden anger in his voice. I shot my head up, and he was staring down at me, eyes narrowed into thin slits and full of contempt.

Yeah, it was safe to say he was pissed.

"What?!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," I said, playing innocent.

"Nothing?"

I shrugged. "I don't know what you want me to tell you. I overreacted."

"You overreacted? Jesus, you were going to kill …" He stopped short and tugged on my coat. "You know what? We don't have time for this fucking shit. Come on."

The rain had picked up, pouring down and sideways, flooding the streets in a second flat, drenching us from head to toe. This sudden downpour only fueled my anger.

"No, I want to hear it." I yanked my arm away. "Just fucking say it, Edward! Don't be a pussy."

His eyes bug out of his head, and as expected, he unleashed.

"Okay, fine, tough guy. You drive me up the fucking wall. You're such a God damned lunatic! I can't keep up with you and your crazy ass, alright? Are fucking you happy now?"

I glared and shoved him with as much force as I could muster. "No, I'm not happy—and I'm not crazy!"

"Oh, no, baby, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you're off the charts insane, alright—fucking certifiable."

He stared at me with unapologetic eyes, meaning every word.

"Then why are you with me, huh," I smacked him hard on the chest, "if I am such a problem?"

"Fucking beats me, kid. I must be a glutton for punishment." he said, glancing away from me and down the street where Peter and Charlotte drove off. "I can't win."

Then, like a ton of bricks, it hit me, and it all made sense. The way she touched him, so intimate and familiar, like a past lover, would do, and I knew at that moment there was more to him and Charlotte than he was letting on.

It was a leap, a large one, that I took, and my emotions ran with it.

"Did you fuck her?" I blurted out.

Images upon images of blonde hair flowing over Edward's face as he gripped her waist and thrust his pelvis upwards, forceful and deep, causing her blue eyes to flutter close as the sensations overwhelmed Charlotte until she exploded.

It pained me, and I was crippled under its weight.

He spun back to face me. "What?"

"You and Charlotte," I said, my heart breaking with every word.

"I can't fucking believe this shit."

"That's why you're mad at me, right? You didn't want me to offend your fucking girlfriend."

"Jesus…woman," he squeezed my arms, "are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Why won't you answer the question? You know what, I don't need to know. We're done here…." I thrashed about trying to escape his hold, but it was pointless. He was too strong. "Fuck! Let go of me, Edward!"

"No."

"Get the fuck off me." I was screeching, fighting, kicking, and punching at him.

A crowd gathered on the sidewalk, and cars slowed down, weaving in and out to avoid hitting us.

"No," he said, withstanding all the blows of my fists to his chest. He glanced around at the curious eyes. "You need to calm down, crazy."

That enraged me even more.

"I'm not crazy—and stop telling me what to do! I'm not your Colt, alright? I'm not your property!"

Edward heaved me forward, tight and firm to his chest, and lowered his head, gaze intense and penetrating. He spoke in a low guttural growl. "The fuck you aren't."

"No, I'm not," I said, pulling away.

He pulled me back, lips achingly close to mine, and breathed me in deep. "Yes, you are!"

Weak for him, I felt that need to kiss and consume him, but I had to resist every bit of that instinct that burned and scorched my throat. He was an asshole, and I hated him.

"Let go of me!" I screamed and broke free of his grasp. Unfortunately, the weight shift threw me off balance, and I stumbled backward into the path of an oncoming car.

"BELLA!" Edward shouted and reached for me, but it was too late.

Brakes screeched, and a horn blared, echoing off the buildings surrounding us. I closed my eyes and tensed my body, waiting for the harsh impact of metal against flesh.