A/N: This chapter isn't beta'ed, but I like to think my comma usage has improved under the expert tutelage of the lovely Ninkita. Let me know if I'm delusional. Or not. :)

They passed through Spokane without stopping, although Masen carefully slowed down to match the reduced speed limit as they neared the city. The car directly behind them got caught in the semi-permanent speedtrap that snared so many interstate travelers every day. The flash of red and blue in the rearview mirror sent Bella's heart up into her throat.

She'd never experienced that visceral fear of 'the law' before. Growing up with a cop for a father, she had always been comforted by that sight. Those lights meant somebody was on the job, keeping the peace, enforcing the law for the safety and wellbeing of everyone else. She mourned the loss of that feeling. It was such a small thing. Insignificant, really. But it hurt to lose it. That innocent, naive burst of hope. . . gone. From now on, cops meant trouble for them and for their mission.

She breathed a little easier when they pulled off the interstate 45 minutes later. They followed the state highway south, their wide, low-profile tires gripping the winding, two-lane road. The scenery was breath-taking. She was feeling pretty confident about the next steps of their journey. Of course, the really terrifying stuff was still several thousand miles away.

Masen pulled off the highway onto a narrow, asphalt driveway. The lane was lined with ornate lampposts, carefully pruned shrubs and pockets of purple and white flowers. They stopped at a gate. The security guard stepped out from his post and Masen rolled down his window. He held out his ID and the fair-haired man took it, comparing the name to a list of preauthorized guests.

The man glanced over at Bella. His eyes paused with interest on her youthful face, then slid slowly down the rest of her body. Bella's reaction was completely instinctive - she folded her arms protectively across her torso. The movement inadvertently drew his eyes back to her chest. The corner of his lip turned up into a smile. He seemed to remember himself then, and jerked his attention back to the driver.

"Welcome, Mr. Cullen. We're glad you've come to visit again. Traveling alone, I see," he stated carefully.

"That's right."

"Cabin #28, just on the other side of the ninth fairway."

"I know where it is. Thanks. I appreciate your discretion," he said with a wry voice as he took his card back and slipped the guard a $100 bill.

"Well, you have a nice time." The guard took a step back, his thumb hooked casually in his gun belt. His hungry eyes darted back to Bella one more time.

"I intend to." He rolled up his window and pulled through the gate. "Asshole," he muttered.

"He didn't seem to have a problem with you."

"On the contrary. He was jealous. He probably sees rich pricks driving their foreign sports cars in here with their younger wives, girlfriends or escorts all the time. Men come here for two reasons. To play golf or to fuck around behind their wives' backs. It's a regular 'good ol' boys club'."

"And you disapprove."

"Actually, I don't give a fuck."

"You don't sound like you don't give a fuck."

He looked over at her, taking in her curious, searching eyes. "You are too observant by far. I'm annoyed because he took one look at you and knew exactly why a man like Edward Cullen would be bringing a girl like you here. And it didn't bother him in the least. He's probably going to drive home at the end of his shift, log onto his favorite porn site and jerk off to the idea of being in my shoes. It's perverse. And pathetic."

"He sounds like an number of other men."

"So maybe they're all assholes."

Bella laughed and shook her head. "I thought that was my line."

"We can share it."

"Hmm. That works for me."

She was still smiling when they pulled up in front of a gorgeous cabin. Her mind automatically classified it as a cabin because it was fashioned from rough-hewn pine logs, but it was nothing like the pencil drawings of Lincoln's cabin that she remembered from her American history textbooks. This cabin was two stories tall with big windows, a steeply pitched roof, a balcony that wrapped around most of the second floor and blue-gray slate walkways. It was a luxury, country retreat, not a simple cabin in the woods.

She looked around curiously as they got out of the car. A threesome was walking the fairway, uniformed caddies lugging their golf bags along behind them. Bella spied other cabins in both directions, and several across the expanse of manicured grass, all spaced about one hundred yards apart. Nobody looked their way. She followed Masen into the cabin, limping slightly on her sore leg, but relieved to finally be free from the confines of the Bimmer.

The outside pretended to be rustic. The interior was like a five-star resort. Polished woods, thick carpet, supple leather sofas and an ornate bar lined with top-shelf liquor. The dining area was elegant. The kitchen was set up like a gourmet cook's dream. A wide staircase led upstairs, but she naturally gravitated toward the kitchen.

"The fridge should be stocked. Help yourself to whatever you want. I'll unload the car."

"Okay," she agreed. It was almost nine o'clock and she was famished. The refrigerator really was well-stocked, and that surprised her. There were only two of them, and they only planned to stay one night. Bella poked around, looking for something quick and simple. Her tastebuds perked up when she saw a jug of orange juice. She suddenly realized how thirsty she was. She guzzled a glass of water at the sink, then refilled her glass with orange juice and topped it off with a splash of Grey Goose from the bar.

"Mix me one of those, would you?" Masen asked as he walked through the room and up the stairs carrying three suitcases.

"Coming right up," she replied cheerfully. This is so weird, she thought to herself. I'm at a luxury golf resort mixing a screwdriver, fixing dinner and plotting to overthrow an international crime ring. My high school teachers would never believe this.

It took Masen two more trips to get everything upstairs, then he joined her in the kitchen. She pushed a knife and a pile of vegetables toward him. He began chopping the salad ingredients while she seasoned two hand-trimmed steaks and dropped them into an oiled skillet.

"Where did all this food come from?"

"There's a restaurant on the other side of the golf course, but many guests prefer privacy. Anonymity is priceless. Some bring their own chefs, while others order food delivered to the door. This seemed like the best option for us."

"But we're not going to eat all of this."

"I reserved the cabin for three days. Just in case."

"In case of what?"

"In case our departure from Seattle didn't go as smoothly as it did."

"But we're okay, right? We're leaving tomorrow?" As tempting as it was to stay safely ensconced in a vacation cabin in Idaho, there was an insistent voice nagging at her. . . those girls needed their help. Yesterday. They couldn't delay. They couldn't take a second longer than was necessary to do it right.

"Better that okay. The APB went out at 2:37. A man with red or brown hair, late 20's to early 40's, between 5'10" and 6'3", weighing somewhere between 160 and 220 pounds, may have abducted a brunette between the ages of 15 and 25, 5'0" to 5'6", 100 to 130 pounds."

"130 pounds? Seriously?"

"Oh, come on. Some guys really like curves," he teased as he scraped diced tomatoes into the salad bowl.

"I'm 5'4". 130 would be a lot of curves," she groused. She carefully flipped the steaks, and the sizzle and pop of the oil and spices filled the room with a mouth-watering aroma.

"Ms. Swan, I think you're missing the point. With such unreliable data, there's no way anyone would match us to the descriptions. Even if they come up with a half-decent sketch of either one of us, they don't have names, missing person reports or anything else to go on."

"What about the car?"

"Black convertible. No plates, make or model reported."

"Ouch. The American people suck at observation."

"Easy there. It's not such a bad thing in our case." He pulled out plates and silverware while she popped rolls out of the oven and checked the steaks. They were a little bloody, but she was too hungry to care. Masen refilled their drinks, and they carried everything to the table.

"After we eat, we need to do some facial recognition training."

"Cool. I'm good with faces."

"And that's our problem."

Bella waited for him to explain.

"If you recognize somebody, you can't let on," he continued, gesturing with his fork.

"So I'll keep my head down."

"It's not always going to be that easy. Eat quickly and meet me upstairs."

Bella looked at his half empty plate. Half an hour to cook dinner, two minutes to eat it. She was surprised he didn't have an esophageal hernia by now. She pointedly chewed eat bite thoroughly before swallowing. She loaded her fork carefully and caught Masen staring at her. "What?"

"Your stalling."

"No, I'm digesting."

"Uh huh. Meet me upstairs in five minutes."

Bella grimaced but kept eating until her stomach and her pride were satisfied. She set her plate in the sink and took the steps one at a time. The second floor had an open bonus room with puffy couches, book-lined shelves and a writing desk. Four doors opened off the main room. Masen had his laptop set up on the desk with an open file full of photographs. He came out of one of the bedrooms blinking his eyes. Bella blinked, too. He had ditched the suit, glasses and contacts and was dressed very casually. . . in nothing but a pair of red boxer shorts.

"You never explained the contacts."

"What color are my eyes?"

"Green."

"No. Not the contacts. What color are my eyes?"

She really looked at them and then scowled. "How did you do that? Your eyes were green. Grayish green. I remember."

"But now they are. . ."

"Brown. Sort of. Hazel. I don't understand."

"I can't claim credit. My eyes are hazel, but they look a bit different depending on the colors I'm wearing and the lighting. Right now they appear brown because we're surrounded by dark, warm colors. Your apartment had white walls and CFLs, so my eyes appeared more green."

"So why the contacts?"

"Do they look natural?"

"Not really. Close, but they're a bit too green."

"Close enough to make you pause? Look twice?"

"Definitely."

"And while you're staring at my eyes, trying to figure out if they really are that color or if I'm wearing colored contacts, what am I doing?"

"Watching me?"

"Yes. But also, that split second that you are distracted by my eyes allows me to decide what to say or how to look. It's not much of an advantage in an introduction or confrontation, but you'll find that 'a split second' is just like 'a fraction of an inch'. . . In our line of work it could be the difference between life or death."

Bella's eyes dropped automatically to the knot of scar tissue that twisted and puckered the skin beneath his left collarbone. She nodded her understanding. And she realized that she liked him better without the contacts. She didn't want to be distracted. She liked seeing the shadows of thought that flickered across his features, even if she didn't understand them.

"Your suitcases are in that bedroom. There's an adjoining bathroom with everything you need if you want to freshen up before we get started."

"I'm okay. Let's go."

He offered her the chair in front of the computer and took the one beside her, but sat facing her instead of the screen. "Whenever you're ready, start the slideshow. No matter what you see, I want you to be relaxed and calm. Don't react. Okay?"

"Sure. It sounds pretty straightforward."

"Excellent. Begin."

Bella clicked on the play button and the slides began. They were full-face view head shots of random people. There was no pattern of age, race or gender. Each slide pause for three seconds, then automatically flipped to the next. After more than a minute, she was beginning to get bored, then a face appeared that she recognized. David something or other. . . she remembered him from one of Tanya's files. He was an assistant or a secretary to some businessman in Dallas.

"Stop."

"What? Why?"

"Stop." He sounded annoyed.

She clicked the pause button and took in her partner's stormy expression with a frown. "Why did you make me stop?"

"Because you can't follow directions."

"I did so! You told me to sit still and not react. I didn't move a muscle."

"Just because you don't think you did, it doesn't make you right. Hit play. And don't. Move. A. Single. Muscle."

"Fine." She was a bit pissed off. He was being temperamental. She hadn't so much as twitched! The slides were clicking through at the same boring, pedantic pace. She made herself calm down, breathing in and out in time to the slides.

Ten more passed, the eyes and noses, lips and chins starting to blur together. Then she was looking at Mary Alice Brandon and she gasped. Masen's hand slammed down on the desk beside her and she jumped.

"What the fuck!" she cried in alarm.

"That's exactly what I'm thinking. What the fuck? I said don't move. Don't react. If you can't control your response here when it's just you and me, how do you expect to keep your cool when you're surrounded by them?"

"I was surprised! I didn't expect to see her face staring back at me, okay?"

"Who's face?"

"Mary Alice's!"

"Who?"

"Mary. . . shit." She felt deflated. She couldn't let on to anyone, least of all Mary Alice, that she knew her, recognized her or was there as anything other than another slave. "Shit," she said again, only this time her eyes were burning.

"Go to your room. Take 15 minutes. Have a shower, wash the day away, then come back. We'll try again."

He stood and disappeared into his room, shutting the door behind him. Bella angrily wiped away the tears that clung to her lower lashes. She didn't need a break. She didn't give a fuck if she needed a shower. She wasn't going to flush all their hard work down the toilet because of an eyebrow twitch or a spasm in her diaphragm. She dragged the progress button to the far left, sucked air into her lungs until they burned, closed her eyes, blew it all out, opened her eyes, then started from the beginning.

When David's face reappeared, she looked through it. He wasn't David. He was just a face. A composition of skin and hair and other tissues that was identifiable as caucasian, male, late 20's. That was it. Just another face.

When Mary Alice's model-perfect features reappeared, she felt her own face respond. The tiny muscles around her eyes flexed, widening her lids. Her forehead tensed, raising her eyebrows less than a millimeter. Her nostrils flared and the corners of her mouth turned down. It wasn't much, but it was enough for her to sense it. And if she could feel it, she was certain Agent Masen would be able to see it. She was annoyed with herself, but she could feel it happening. If she could feel it, she could control it.

Bella let the slideshow roll on. Familiar faces popped up more frequently. She tamped down the part of her mind that wanted to catalog and record. She reminded herself that recognition was okay after the first meeting. It would be safe to look, think and draw connections once she had met somebody officially. They just needed her to get through the first introductions without giving anything away.

She was three quarters of the way through the slideshow when she felt Masen's hands on her shoulders. She tensed up automatically, but blew out the stiffness with her next breath. The photos clicked on by, a montage of flesh that held no meaning to her. Just faces. Everyday faces.

The slideshow ended and Masen squeezed her shoulders. "Incredible," he said softly. "You really are full of surprises. Feel up to stage two or do you want to wait until tomorrow?"

Bella looked up at him, then around the room. It was full dark outside. "Tomorrow night. We have other plans for tonight."

His hands lingered on her shoulders for one more second. "You're right. We do. Meet me by the front door in 10 minutes. Then we'll begin."

A/N: Last chapter I mentioned my compulsive use of random Twilight references. I can't help it. It just happens. For instance, I didn't realize that I colored a semi-truck bronze and green. JulieToo caught it. Wow! Other Easter eggs included Jacob the Shapeshifter (of course), Edward being a fast runner, 20 questions while driving, pizza (although we all love pizza, so that's a gimme), Edward liking her in a blue blouse, Edward's dark broodiness (Is broodiness a word? Oh well, it is now.), Edward's fingerprint bruises on Bella's arms (Breaking Dawn - nice catch, cctwilight!) and probably a handful of others. Yes, I'm a nerd and I love Twilight. And yes, it's 1 AM in Seattle and I'm highly caffeinated. Shutting up. Posting. Thanks for reading!