MY GANGSTER

CHAPTER ONE - FROM PHOENIX TO BROOKLYN

Bella Swan

The Cullens were the most powerful and sought-after family in downtown Brooklyn, and they had been since the first Cullen arrived in America in 1899 with only a nickel and a gun. With each new generation, their power and resources rocketed, striking fear into all the neighbouring territories as the Cullens struck down anyone and anything that stood between them and their rise to the top. Rumours of their wealth and dealings spread like wildfire across the country, and anyone who heard of them was right to be scared. While the Cullens maintained that they were merely the owners of a few small businesses and the head of the Deadly Sin bikers, law enforcement knew better and had been trying to put them behind bars for years. For as terrifying as Carlisle Cullen's reign of terror and corruption had been, they feared more for the day his son and heir, Edward, would succeed him, for he was said to be the deadliest Cullen of them all.

Somehow I had remained oblivious to their relentless corruption. Nestled far away in the small town of Forks, Washington, where the family's many court appearances had not graced our screens, the only drama in my life was my parents' growing resentment for one another, causing me to sleep over at my friend's house more often these days in an effort to avoid the atmosphere at home. I must have been out of my mind to think that they might reconcile and we could go back to being the family we were before. The final nail in the coffin was delivered last week when my dad's debts, the second mortgage on the house, the gambling, and his debts to his old high school buddy Carlisle Cullen—were finally brought to light, the shock sending my mother to the hospital. That's when I first learned of the Cullens' and my father's dealings with them throughout the years. My father, a man of pride and nobility, was nothing more than a hustler, a smuggler, with no morals. Despite his efforts to maintain a strong relationship with Carlisle Cullen and keep his guns moving through Phoenix, my father's debts had continued to mount up, so much so that he now owed Carlisle Cullen half a million dollars.

I should have run, believe me I wanted too, I wanted to disappear flee in the night with nothing but the clothes on my back and a plane ticket to the other side of the planet. I found myself longing for the days when my biggest problem was failing a test at school or forgetting my locker combination. Now I had to grow up overnight and become someone else—a girl who had to survive life rather than live it. My father had met with Carlisle in California a few days later to discuss business, and when Carlisle asked the family, my father had innocently revealed a photograph of both my mother and myself, which in an instant set a whole new chain of events into motion. Within a week, my mother was meeting Carlisle in hotel rooms all over Phoenix, submitting to his every bodily desire as he ravaged her with promises of a better life should she become one of his women and leave my father. Carlisle offered to clear my father's debt if Charlie would agree to immediately divorce my mother, give up his parental rights over me, and from that moment on agree to never contact either of us again. A few days later, after drinking his body weight in alcohol, my father reluctantly agreed to the terms and conditions of Carlisle deal.

I vomited for two days following the news of my parents' separation, I refused to see my mother and hid out at a friend's house while she began packing up our family home. My father shut off his phone and refused to see me, I contacted his work only to find he had resigned and left no word as to where he was going, I tried a few of his friends to no avail. I just couldn't bring myself to go home and watch her pack up her memories into moving boxes. I thought my mother was a woman of good standing, selflessness, and morals, and yet she had completely altered her personality since meeting Carlisle Cullen. At first she had attempted to counsel their affair, she would make polarising excuses for missing dinner and going out in the evenings, but when she began being more attentive to her wardrobe and keeping her phone close by, it didn't take my father long to put two and two together.

Carlisle Cullen and I had only exchanged a fleeting glance the day my father signed the contract, but as he was leaving our house, he stopped to look up at the stairs, where he found me staring right back at him. There were men dressed in black suits waiting outside for Carlisle, I watched from the window as they escorted him into a black limousine that was followed by two vehicles. He was a handsome man, some might say. Anyone would think he had paid to look the way he did, his suit was clearly tailored to his precise measurements, and the sunglasses he wore complemented his face shape. This was the married man that my mother was now sleeping with, Carlisle Cullen, who was married to a Mrs. Esme Cullen, who, it would seem, had come to accept her husband's way of life, which allowed him to keep a wife and several girlfriends. I was disgusted by the prospect that my mother could lower herself so much as to sleep with a married man—a man with so little compassion for his own wife that he dated openly.

Although my mother had every intention of moving us to Brooklyn and starting a new life for us, I had no intention of staying. I was going to continue looking for my father, and I was going to save him from himself. He had done what he did out of sheer desperation, and I needed to let him know that I forgave him for it, that I still loved him, and that I would never ever give up on him. So I did what daughters have been doing for centuries: I put on a brave face, forced a smile, and returned home to help my mother pack up our lives. I felt like I was having that dream we all had as children: that dream where our parents are suddenly different people, that they no longer hug you or say "I love you," like you somehow used them all up and now must make do with the parent you have because the parent you loved is gone forever. My mother wasn't the same woman anymore; it was almost as if she wanted me to stay behind in Phoenix so that she might begin a completely new life in Brooklyn. I knew things were going to be different, but from the moment we got on that plane, I just knew that nothing was ever going to be the same again.

Dear Diary,

Brooklyn Day 1

Beside me, my mother sleeps soundly, as if she were Snow White, calmly awaiting her true love's kiss to free her from the misery that has been her life these past seventeen years. How could I have been so blind to her dissatisfaction? Had my father been as oblivious as I was? My mother had been an actress of sorts my entire life, putting on a fake smile and pretending to love my father when really she desperately craved more. Carlisle Cullen has brought something back to my mother that she lost a long time ago—a small part of herself that she may have lost when she married my father or perhaps when I was born. I had no idea that my life had robbed her of her own happiness. I assumed we were like any other family; we had taken care of each other, nursed each other when we were sick, overspent on Christmas gifts at times, decorated each room of our house together, and always taken turns with the dishes. Now the rug had been ripped out from under me, and I wasn't sure how to fix the mess that was now my life. I guess things wouldn't look so bleak if my mother would talk to me, but she wasn't herself anymore, and she didn't seem to care that I was screaming inside. Before all of this, she could see right through me. I could come home from a bad day at school, put on a fake smile, and before I knew it, she would be at my bedroom door with nothing but a smile that would break down all my walls. I just wanted the safety of her embrace, but she had not hugged me since she began her affair.

Now the man she loved had convinced her to fly across the country and take up residence in an apartment that he shared with his wife and sons. I worried for my mother's safety. I didn't know a thing about Carlisle Cullen's wife, Esme, and for all I knew, she meant to cause my mother harm. After all, my mother had managed to convince this man to allow her to live with him, even though it meant living with his wife too. But what I feared was the influence my mother had over this seemingly powerful man; despite Esme Cullen's efforts, it was indeed my mother who had convinced Carlisle to ditch all of his other girlfriends and be satisfied with only two women in his life. Carlisle would never divorce, for he feared it would kill his mother, who was a very religious woman who believed Esme to be enough for her son. Esme had also given Carlisle three sons, which apparently pleased him greatly. I prayed my mother did not have the same intentions in mind. Perhaps she will give him a son, or perhaps even two.

You'd think getting involved with a known mobster would have merited a conversation between my mother and me, but again, this wasn't the case at all. Had she bothered to ask me what I thought about living with a man and his sons who all possessed not only fire arms but criminal records as long as my arm, I might have told her that I'd rather take my chances on the streets than live with people who might snap and kill us in our sleep. The truth was she hadn't asked me about it because she didn't care to know my option on the matter; she had sought out a future for herself, and either I was going to be a good sport and walk the path with her, or I was going to get in her way and find myself with a one-way ticket to whatever corner of the planet my father had landed himself in.

How could I love someone so much who had so little regard for my wellbeing? Didn't she see how I feared for hers? Did my love even matter to her anymore anyway?

Today was my birthday, which meant I was only a year away from turning eighteen; as soon as the clock struck twelve, I'd flee Brooklyn. Until then, I would wait and not cause any ripples in the water. I would force a smile every single day for the next year, and it would be believable. I wouldn't reveal my plans to anyone; I wouldn't trust a soul with my secret. From the moment I get off this plane, the life I knew before is truly lost forever. The girl I was before was gone, and now I had to go into survival mode.

With...365 days to go

Four of Carlisle Cullen's henchmen greeted us at the airport, all dressed to the nines, each shirt freshly starched and pressed, no loss buttons or a hint of loss thread, clearly Carlisle Cullen's image was maintained from the ground up, and given the prison standard inked tattoos the men were sporting, I'm guessing these were hand selected by the man himself. I hadn't even spoken with him yet, and already I found myself entreated by the standards he expected from staff, for if he expected such excellence in something so meaningless as grooming and good hygiene, then I couldn't help but wonder what impossible standards he had set for his sons. We were taken from the airport straight to Brooklyn, driving through the luscious city blocks that were just as magnificent as you could imagine; a camera wasn't necessary, for there was no forgetting their splendour. Once we crossed the bridge, however, it was an entirely different story. The large, towering buildings of beautiful stone and marble, monuments, and parks had been replaced by buildings of brown, lacklustre brick, boarded-up windows, broken gutters, and turned-over trash cans; this was where I was moving.

I glanced at my mother from the corner of my eye and found that, unlike me, she wasn't even remotely hesitated; instead, I found her using a small hand mirror to touch up her burgundy lipstick. How was she alright with this? Had she grown up in these conditions? Was this way of life what she knew, and her life with my father and me her idea of the twilight zone? She was fixing herself up to meet with her married man, while all I wanted to do was lock the doors. Compared to this, my life in Phoenix had been extremely sheltered indeed; I'd never seen a homeless person before, but here they were everywhere, people from all walks of life just trying to make money to keep themselves going just one more day.

Everything was different here, there were clubs, liquor stores, and gun shops. You could always hear a police siren no matter where you were, but without a cop in sight, you could tell by the prostitutes freely walking the streets and the man whose jacket was lined with knives and who was attempting to hustle someone twice his size. It was fair to say that this whole place screamed one thing to me: "Go home."

But there was something else—something that, believe it or not, drew my attention—even among the prostitutes and other crimes, it was the Cullen name, which was all over the place. Cullen liquor, Cullen barbers, Cullen laundry matt, Cullen hardware store, Cullen bakery, they even owned the largest club I had seen as yet. This entire neighbourhood screamed poverty, and yet the Cullens were making money from it hand over fist, probably because they got their money-making fists. This family has a lot of authority around these parts, I had caught but the briefest of glances from those we passed on the street, they clearly knew Cullen's cars, it frightened me how afraid they appeared, leaving me only to wonder just what my mother had gotten us into.

It appears that all of the rumours and whispers about the Cullen family were true after all. My mother had gotten involved with a married, cunning, and seemingly legendary mobster, who lived in a place that would make coffee nervous and still turn a profit. Who was this man? Why did he insist on bringing us here? Suddenly I felt like the lobster in the pot completely unaware that they are already boiling to death. I was scared for us and practically hysterical at my mother's quiet and content demeanour as she rolled down her window and breathed in the Brooklyn air deeply, like she was breathing in her favourite wine. I had to say something now, say it before it was too late, speak openly about the mistake she had made and how we needed to get out of here before it was too late.

But the nightmare merely continued to march on as the car slowed its pace and our adjoining car followed suit as we pulled off the road then and up onto the sidewalk. Carlisle Cullen's men were climbing out of the front seat and opening ours without a hint of eye contact. I wasn't exactly sure when I had begun shaking, only that now it seemed impossible to control or counsel it, especially when my mother got out of the car faster than a hiccup before I could say a word to her. I followed her, of course, like a baby chick follows its mother; it felt built into me for my survival. The door was shut behind me, only making me jump out of my skin; this unfortunately did not go unnoticed by any of the henchmen or my mother, who came to my side as the large steel door behind us opened, revealing a rather beautiful woman.

One of the henchmen was quick to the woman's side, holding what appeared to be a very heavy door for her as she made her way towards us. She was stunning, around the same height as my mother, with perfect skin and deep brown eyes. Her figure-hugging dress and heel length caught my mother's attention, but her warm smile captured mine.

"You must be Isabella."

Oh my god, this was Esme Cullen.

"Bella," I corrected.

"It is Isabella." My mother then corrected, tucking her hair over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving Esme's: "We do have Italian blood in our background, I'm sure you know that."

"Of course I am aware. "My husband's taste is only found in Italian women."

Cringe Cringe Cringe Cringe.

I knew this moment was coming from the moment I heard we were Brooklyn bound. My mother was now coming face-to-face with her boyfriend's wife, who quite rightly did not appear to be taking the news of her husband's mistress coming to live with them well. Was it wrong that at that moment I was on this stranger's side instead of my own? I watched each of them closely, each refusing to blink and give up even a shred of power over the other. It would take hours to explain the dynamics of what was unfolding before my eyes, so to put it simply, my mother was a new mare eager to be mounted by the stallion; Esme, however, was the pack alpha, equally determined to keep the stallion by her side and away from any and all intoxicating mares. After all, this alpha has already given birth to three boys and has been devoted to her stallion for twenty years, and she isn't about to let some eager to please new face undo a lifetime's worth of hard work. It is disgusting to compare my mother and stepmother of sorts with animals, but it is a necessary component for this moment in time.

Do something to ease the tension; it doesn't have to be big, just do something. Defuse the tension before these henchmen have to pull these two off each other.

"Is it always so cold around here?"

Esme was the first to surrender to my surprise, she turned her attention towards me and smiled like a light had been switched on inside of her.

"This, believe it or not, is warm for us."

She had to be joking, right?

I was about to smile back when I caught my mother's glare from the corner of my eye and attempted to ignore it as Esme welcomed us inside. I was about to follow her when my mother pushed me behind her, taking my place. Had she really become so self-involved that I now had to walk behind her? Did being a mere foot in front of her give her the power she seemed to crave? Whoever this woman was who had taken over the mother I loved was starting to scratch at my nerve endings. This was day one, and already it was painful to play the doting daughter.

What was this place anyway? Esme led us forward, with my mother practically on top of her, trying to get to the end of this narrow hallway like there was treasure on the other side. The only thing on the other side was a door guarded by two new henchmen, one of whom gave Esme a small nod as she patted his shoulder and made her way past him. It was a club that immediately screamed two things: cigarettes and blood. Those were the two things you knew, by the end of the night, you would be sweeping up. To say the least, the conditions were deplorable; the bar stools were ripped and duck taped, the flooring tiles were broken, and the ceiling was black from cigarette smoke, if not years of caked on dust. The booths were each separated by dark wood panelling; in fact, the whole club was made up of some dark wood, which only made the large room that much more dense. There were some pool tables in the back, a room marked private with a noted double lock, and there were fruit machines on either side of the rest room doors.

Carlisle Cullen sat at the bar, going over paperwork, accompanied by a small, balding fat man with a cigar clasped between his yellowing teeth, who was taking notes as Carlisle spoke, nodding his head and agreeing to something or other. I watched my mother cross the room towards him, and then, with Carlisle turning to the sound of her heels against the floor, he was quick off his seat and had her in his arms before Esme had the chance to look away. Carlisle caressed my mother's ass with both hands at the same time as she ran her hands through his blonde hair, and I watched in horror and disgust. Esme Cullen made her way towards them in that moment, stopping my heart in fear of what was about to happen to my mother. For all I knew, this small and seemingly sweet woman was packing heat. But instead, Esme made her way around the back of the bar as Carlisle released my mother and returned to his work, keeping his hand in hers as she took the seat next to his.

I watched Esme pour her husband a brown drink of some kind—I wasn't sure what it was—and he, in return, leaned over the bar and placed a kiss on her lips. Seeing me left behind, Esme waved me over in encouragement, making her way to the end of the bar to give us distance from the others. As I took a seat, she grabbed me a can of cola from beneath the bar, snapping it open and sliding it to me before I could object. I took two large gulps and felt it course down my throat and to the pit of my stomach. When was the last time I had a drink? or even ate something? Everything had been moving so fast today and yesterday, come to think of it. My mother would have noticed things like this, and she would always claim I was skin and bones, but the truth was that she always said that when she was on a diet, any excuse for her to make something fattening for dinner and claim it was for my own good and not hers.

As I locked eyes with Esme Cullen, I found my barriers completely shut down, my mother was all over her husband, yet she was showing me kindness. She needed someone to show it to her in return; maybe that someone was me.

"I'm sorry about all of this."

I explained with a small glance up at my mother before returning my attention to her. My mother was practically in Carlisle's lap as he continued to talk business with that fat man.

"You don't have to worry about that."

Who was this woman? Why was this sort of thing acceptable to her? Why was I so curious to know more about her?

"It's not right."

There was the black-and-white truth of it all: what was happening was not right, and I would say it because my mother surely would not.

"I know my husband loves me; besides, it will be a cold day in hell before he divorces me."

She's covering, she's trying very hard to mask it all, she's not climbing the walls, she's pouring him drinks and putting on a brave face, she's very much in love, and she's not going anywhere anytime soon. But why stay? The money? The security? The fear of what would happen if she dared to leave? Perhaps it was her sons?

"My mother said you have sons."

"I have three." "My youngest, Jasper, should be here within the hour. "He's, erm, picking up something for his father."

No shop talk around the newcomer, which is a wise decision.

"Emmett, my second eldest, is at home with his girlfriend when he's supposed to be here."

Esme glanced at the gold band watch around her wrist. It was an antique, passed down from generation to generation, well maintained and newly polished, no doubt a gift from her mother-in-law, another visual reminder to her husband of their traditional values, divorce not being one of them.

"He's always running late for something."

She's not announcing to her husband that he's late; clearly, she's protective of her sons. No doubt Carlisle hasn't got the best temperament, and her sons have learned the hard way what happens when they fail to meet his expectations.

With that, the same door we had entered through opened, and two young men came through one after the other, the first one larger than the other two, especially around his shoulders, the other was blonde and very closely resembled Carlisle. The two boys immediately heading over to him, the blonde placing down a taped brown paper bag upon the bar before Carlisle slapped both of them on the back of the head. Damn, not even the bigger of the two attempted to dodge the blow.

"You come in here and show disrespect for your mother," Carlisle spat at them.

The two boys, completely oblivious to my presence after the blow to their heads, made their way towards us, each of them leaning over the counter surface to kiss Esme's cheek.

"Speak of the devil."

Esme fixed the hair of the blonde boy, who smirked and glanced over his shoulder, ensuring they weren't going to get a repeat performance.

"Boys I would like for you to meet Bella; she's Renee's daughter."

Speak of the devil was indeed right, so this was Jasper and Emmett Cullen. They weren't at all like I imagined; no, that was a lie; they were exactly like I imagined, and they lived in fear of their father and seemed eager to please him regardless. I could see a gun on the man, who I imagined to be Jasper, and hanging around the ankle of the larger Emmett. I'd seen a gun before, of course, and my father was a sheriff, so I wasn't exactly shaken by this, although I doubted very much that these guns were registered. They probably had their serial numbers scratched off of them with the safety off and at the ready.

Despite that, I kept it together. I knew better than to be scared of them.

After all, sharks were born swimming, and the biggest shark in this family had yet to make an appearance.

Where was the infamous Edward Cullen?

Remember my name is Katrina if anyone has any questions about the chapter just let me know. Or if you just want to give me a big shout out lol.