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"Get out of here," I gritted out. The girls had never seen me in such a dire position before because I never allowed them to. It was only after our father died that they learned of my job outside of selling guns with Charles.
"No, stay," Edward demanded. "Have a seat. This is getting better and better." Looking bored with the entire situation, the girls sat on the empty sofa across the room. As I watched them walk toward it, I couldn't help but notice Emmett eyeing one of them, but I couldn't tell who.
"So you're the Dark Swan? Charles' personal killing machine?" I nodded. "Never thought Charles needed someone to do his dirty work," he spoke. "Let alone a chick."
"My father had a business. People paid us to do the dirty work-as you call it-that their guys were too pussy to do. Or who couldn't get the job done," I countered. "As a matter of fact, I think I've done a job for the Cullen organization once or twice," I lied, basically signing my own death warrant, but this whole confrontation was taxing on my body, and apparently, my verbal filter.
I hadn't done a job ordered directly by the family but by someone associated with the family. The only thing I knew about him was that, at the time the job was brought to me, he had just gotten his button. All I really cared about, though, was the money involved and who my target was; which in this case ended up being his wife's sister who didn't know how to keep her legs closed. Why that concerned him, I didn't know, but it wasn't my job to care.
He pressed the gun deeper. At the rate he was going, he was going to end up stabbing me with the thing. "You're a fucking liar," he seethed. "My people can take care of shit on their own."
"I didn't say that you couldn't," I agreed, trying to calm him down and hopefully getting him to release my throat. Something had to give because between his fingers wrapped around my throat and the gun to the underside of my chin, the pain was becoming unbearable. "But did one of your guys lose a sister-in-law about seven months back?" I asked.
"What the fuck?" Jasper gasped. "How the fuck did she know about Maria's death?" he asked Edward.
"Because I was the one who put that bullet through her brain," I told them.
"I call bullshit," Emmett interjected casually. "This is the fucking mafia; our people die by bullets every day. It was an easy guess."
"No," I gasped between breaths. It was getting hard to talk since breathing wasn't proving to be easy anymore. "But how many times do your sisters have their breasts cut off?" It wasn't a particularly appealing aspect of the job, but he wanted proof of her death in the form of her tits. Of course, he was charged extra.
"Eww, Bella. That's disgusting," Alice said.
Edward didn't loosen the grip on my throat but moved the gun from my throat to my forehead. Edward was known for being calculated and ruthless, so I was pretty sure I was about to die.
"Who ordered that?" Edward spat, completely squeezing with no regard.
"Can't … breath." Instinctively, my body switched to fight mode. My arms, which I had kept by my sides, began clawing at Edward's arm, unsuccessfully trying to extricate them. "Rose … ," I tried calling out. She wasn't much of a fighter, but she was better than Alice, and I needed help. Air supply was quickly becoming nonexistent, preventing me from fighting back like I usually could.
I heard Rose and Alice both get up from the couch only to be blocked by Edward's brothers. I could hear shouting and arguing, but it was taking up too much energy to pay attention.
My arms finally went limp, no more fight left in them, as my eyes began to droop. I could feel my body shutting down. Before I completely lost consciousness, he released his hold on my throat. My body slumped to the floor, landing on my injured knee, and I greedily began sucking in oxygen. My throat was already sore, burning with each lungful of air I took in.
Edward bent down to my level and steadied the gun, once again, to my forehead.
"I'll ask one more time. Who ordered that job?" he shouted.
I shook my head, continuing to breathe deeply. "I can't tell you that. You're going to have to kill me." If it was one thing my father taught me, it was loyalty and trust. It's what we both built our skills on. If I went off and ratted out all my clients, I'd be nothing. I'd be just as low as my clients themselves.
"Trust me, my finger is itching to pull the trigger. Before I do, though, tell me where my money is?"
I had forgotten about the original money situation.
I shook my head in earnest now. "I really don't know. I sent it with Alec hours ago. It should have been received at the scheduled time and place. Last week, too, but …" I trailed off, finally putting two and two together.
"Fuck!" I shouted hoarsely. "Alec. He has your money. He was supposed to deliver it today and last week. He went with my original guy, Austin, last week, but Austin never made it home. People die in this business all the time, so I never thought too much about it, but I should have since the money was Austin's only responsibility. He was a low man on the chain, so no one would gain much with his death. Fucking Alec."
I saw red. Something told me to watch out for him, especially after my father's death. Everyone thought everything would be handed over to him, so it came as a shock to everyone when it wasn't. I didn't realize how bitter he really was toward me. He wanted me gone–dead.
"What are you talking about?" Alice asked from her seat on the couch.
"Alec had to have killed Austin so he couldn't deliver the money. Obviously, the money never made it then or today. You don't play with Cullen money and live. He knew they would come and most likely kill me," I explained. Alec was probably wondering why I was still alive. The sad part was, when I died, the company would be handed down to both Rose and Alice. No one outside family would ever own it unless one of us sold it.
"So, what? You're gonna kill our sister because that asshole betrayed her and our father's company?" Alice shouted at Edward, who still had the gun aimed at my forehead.
"It's not my fault she employed a defector," he answered nonchalantly.
"I'll pay you back," I said, trying to reason from my submissive position on the floor.
"Of course you are, but now I want interest. Plus, we'll add time and labor to that. Make it an even two mil, and I'll let you live," Edward negotiated, adding a grossly inflated amount.
I nodded solemnly. "Let me just get my checkbook," I croaked. Between the burn under my chin and my throat, I didn't know which one hurt more. I had never gotten this messed up during an actual job.
Three deep laughs rang out in the room.
"A check, Isabella?" Edward laughed, his eyes still as hard as steel. "I'm not taking a check for two million. How would it look if I went into a bank with a check that large? Think, Isabella." He tapped the top of my head with the barrel of the gun; a sting with each blow. "I want cash." No longer was there any humor in his voice. "And I want it now."
"I don't have two million in cash."
"Don't fucking lie to me. I know that Charlie kept a minimum of four mil in the floor safe–the one the sofa is sitting on top of," he said, pointing over to where the girls were sitting.
"How …" I tried to ask. No one knew about that safe except for my father, my sisters, and me. That cash was strictly for emergency purposes only. And by emergency, he meant that we had to get the fuck out of dodge stat. Luckily, nothing like that ever occurred.
"It's not called organized crime for nothing, babe," Jasper joked as he continued to stand with his arms folded across his chest. Emmett continued to have his gun pointed at my sisters.
"Fine. Granted that there is money under there, I wasn't paying you with the business' money. This check is from my own personal account." There was no point in lying about anything since they probably knew even more than they were letting on.
"What? Bella, no!" Alice screeched from her position on the couch. "That's your money, and this is a business matter."
"Yeah, well, it became personal," I snapped back with a raspy voice. "I should have realized what the fuck was going on sooner. Besides, Austen was taking care of a sick mother. It's my fault that he's gone now. I still have to pay for her expenses, plus the salaries of my other employees."
This is why I hated this fucking job. I knew just enough to keep it afloat and not embarrass my dead father. No wonder Alec wanted me dead.
There was a distant chirping, a familiar alarm that was specifically set.
"Fuck," I groaned into my hands. This day could not get any worse.