A/N Stephenie Meyer owns all. I just own a sick fascination with making Edward run and get all sweaty ;)

CHAPTER THREE

BPOV

My heart was pounding louder than the rumble of the bus as I slid down in my seat, nudging myself away from the wide windows that gave such a clear view of me to the outside world. What the hell was Jasper thinking, putting a stupid bus on the escape route?

But then I shuddered, remembering the reason why the Cullen Group stopped getting me a car each time they moved me to a new location. The sound from the bomb blast deafened me for two days and the scar in my arm from the flying metal was never going anywhere.

Okay. So no more cars.

My heart rate shot through the roof as I realised the woman across from me was eyeing me suspiciously. Was she one of Aro's? A cold sweat broke out on my body, my palms suddenly clammy and mouth dry. My hand inched down until I could feel the heavy weight of the Taser in my pocket.

Then I realised I'd sunk so far down that my knees were almost on the floor and my ass was hanging off the edge of the bus seat. Added to to a complexion the colour of a fresh zombie, she was probably just looking at me like the crazy person I was.

Way to blend in, Bella.

Giving her a slightly sickly smile, which may have done more harm than good, I rose back up in my seat to a more socially acceptable level and angled my body away from the window. I nervously tucked stray brown curls into the baseball cap I was wearing as my genius disguise.

Yep. Definitely more harm than good. She was now clearly examining the inside crease of my elbows for track marks.

As discretely as I could, I scanned the road behind us for the blue BMW. Twilight had just begun to fall when I'd left the bar, and now the sky was darkening more as each second ticked by. Street lamps on the highway were flickering to life but my visibility was still poor.

Jasper picked this bus route because it had fewer stops per journey than any other in the city, as well as fewer passengers boarding during my scheduled evening shifts. I have no idea how he figures stuff like that out. I suddenly had an image of him pouring over maps and bus schedules in full spy gear, surreptitiously counting passengers and calculating the mean averages. I fought unsuccessfully to suppress the semi-hysterical giggle bubbling up in my throat.

The woman was looking more alarmed than ever now. Moving slowly, as if I were about to snap and inject her with a diseased needle at any moment, she relocated to the front of the bus. I could occasionally see her peeking over the top of her new seat at me with narrowed eyes.

Okay. I seriously needed to get a grip.

I closed my eyes and deliberately slowed my breathing, inhaling through my nose and releasing it slowly as I imitated the yoga class Renee had dragged me to so long ago. Whether it was the breathing exercise or the memory of home, I calmed gradually and reopened my eyes.

I went back to scanning outside my window. I couldn't see the car, but it was too dark now to make colours and models out clearly. Especially for me - despite the almost-photographic memory that got me into this mess, I have what Charlie always called 'car-related dyslexia'. If I couldn't see the hood ornament, or the make written on the back of the vehicle, I couldn't tell an Aston Martin from a Skoda.

As familiar downtown landmarks zipped past the windows, I knew we were only a few minutes away from the Crowne Plaza. Nervously, I double-checked my wallet for the card Jasper had given me that would get me up to the pre-arranged room with the minimum of fuss.

Then it happened.

The abrupt violence of the crash threw me forward, smashing my face into the high-backed seat in front of me.

Dazed and confused, I sunk down to the floor with a groan, fighting the blackness threatening to overwhelm my vision. Stars hovered at the edge of my vision and pain throbbed through my head. Wetness trickled down my forehead, leaving my fingers stained red when I touched it. The rusty scent of my blood made my head spin and stomach rise. I desperately fought for control.

"Miss? Hello, miss, can you hear me?"

Blearily, I blinked up at the man speaking. His voice to my ears sounded too slow, almost disjointed from the movements of his lips. He looked at least sixty and was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and khakis, his expression one of concern. While his age and dress quelled the panic bubbling within me, it was not enough to remove it. I'd learned from hard experience that appearances could not be trusted.

He reached for my arm, still asking if I was okay. I attempted to twist from his grasp, but the dizziness shook me again. Helplessly I felt him tug on my arms, sitting me back into the seat and gently guiding my head forward to rest between my knees.

"It's okay miss, the bus just had a minor crash with another car. Looks like you hit your head pretty hard. Can you tell me your name?"

Another car? My stomach tightened as the reality of current predicament hit me and my blood turned to ice in my veins. I ignored his question and croaked, "Can you help me off the bus?"

I could hear the frown in his voice. "I don't think that's a good idea. Just wait here, the paramedics have already arrived and they'll be able to help you."

What? How the hell could the EMTs already be here? Have I been unconscious?

I forced myself to sit up, beating the dizziness and nausea back. "How long ago did we crash? Did I pass out?"

"No," he answered, suddenly sounding puzzled. "It was less than two minutes ago. I guess we were lucky and there was an ambulance in the area."

Shit Shit SHIT!

I stood, stumbling slightly but pushing his helping hand back a little over-aggresively, too scared to be concerned with politeness or gratitude. I was deaf to his voice calling after me, the other groans and complaints of passengers on each side. My vision narrowed, all I could see was the centre aisle as I stumbled my way to the doors at the front of the bus and clung to the handle as I climbed down.

Some of the passengers milled around on the street, surrounding by concerned citizens and gawkers alike. I hunched behind them, pulling the bill of my baseball cap down further as I tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. An ambulance was parked next the damaged front fender of the bus, but the EMTs weren't helping anyone. They were scanning the crowd with narrowed eyes.

Then I saw it. Saw what the bus had crashed into and nearly collapsed again.

A blue BMW, the back slightly crumpled. Two dark-haired olive-skinned men standing next to it, offering cold distant apologies to the bus driver while their eyes dissected the crowd just as the paramedics' did.

I stumbled back from the scene, heart pounding in my ears. I was so dead.

Then their eyes met mine like a steel sledgehammer as I was backing away. They shouted something to the fake EMTs.

I whirled around, the ground swaying beneath me for a moment. I wiped blood out of my eyes, and I ran.

~ * ~

EPOV

She was taking too long.

I sat in the lobby of the Crowne Plaza, jaw clenched as I resisted to urge to pace restlessly. My eyes were locked on the entrance, waiting for the girl to show up. For anyone else I would have been waiting in the room upstairs, but something about this girl worried me and I wanted to get her the hell out of Arizona as soon as possible.

I checked my watch again.

The businessman opposite me lowered his newspaper to stare at me pointedly. That was when I realised I'd been tapping out a staccato rhythm on the tiles with my foot, my leg jerking like a cocaine addict in withdrawal. I returned his look with a dark, forbidding glower; he blanched and retreated back behind his paper.

That's right, asshole.

I checked the time again. Definitely taking too long.

I pulled my cellphone out and stalked towards the entranceway, ducking out into the dusty night air for a modicum of privacy as I dialed Jasper's number.

He answered straight away. I could hear the faint sounds of symphony in the background and I recalled where he'd taken my sister for their anniversary. It sounded like he was still out in the hallway; Alice was going to be pissed.

"What time did you talk to Bella?"

A rustle of cloth, then, "Eight twenty-two. She's not there yet?" He sounded worried.

"No. Would she have left immediately?" I asked, wondering if she had wasted time doing her make-up or some shit.

"Yes." Jasper's response for adamant and without hesitation. "The longest it should take her to get there is fourteen minutes, maybe sixteen."

"It's been over twenty three. Call her."

Jasper put me on hold while he dialed her. I scowled, annoyed with this unknown girl who was stupid enough to get involved with the Volturi then interrupt my first decent sleep in nearly a hundred hours. Goddamn her.

A click alerted me Jasper was back on the line. "She's not answering." A pause. "She always answers. Something's definitely wrong, Edward."

"I'll find her," I growled into the phone, not even waiting for his reply as I snapped it shut and ended the call.

I started running down the road, adrenaline shaking the cobwebs of exhaustion from my mind as I backtracked the route that Isabella should have taken to get her spoilt little ass here. No doubt I'd find her in a boutique along the way.

~ * ~

BPOV

My lungs burned and the muscles in my legs screamed with protest. I forced myself on, miraculously not even stumbling once despite the incessant dizziness assaulting me.

I sprinted faster than I ever dreamed I could, fear and desperation giving me wings. I periodically wiped my forehead with my arm, the blood and sweat dripping down my bare wrist and staining my clothes.

I barely had to shove anyone out of my way. I must have looked half-crazed as I fled through Phoenix's nighttime stragglers and people stood aside for me. The sound of my footsteps pounding the pavement were almost eclipsed by those of my pursuers.

I wanted to desperately to look back, to see where they were, but Jasper's voice echoed in my head. He'd always been unyielding on this point: if you're running from someone, never look back. It wastes time, will probably upset your balance, and there's nothing you can do anyway except try and run faster.

There was no sight that could have possibly sped me up, there was no physical way I could be quicker. I would have left Usain Bolt in the dust right now.

I turned a corner and could see the Crowne Plaza hotel in the distance. I almost sobbed in relief, my muscles shaking and nearly sending me tumbling into the wall. I pushed myself on, star-spotted tunnel vision focused only on the safety before me.

An arm like an iron bar grabbed me by the waist, knocking the air out of me with a startled whoosh. I choked, struggling to draw breathe back into my lungs to scream.

My abductor's other hand clapped over my mouth, large enough to cover the entire bottom half of my face. He dragged me into the alleyway as I struggled pointlessly against his inexorable hold on me. Eventually he picked me clean off the floor to carry me into the darkness easier.

I kicked back with my legs, trailing to disrupt his swift pace, but he paid me no heed as if the blows I landed weren't even happening. Blood loss, pain and fear began to override my adrenaline-fuelled energy, my struggles getting weaker as tears joined the wetness staining my face.

He spun me around, keeping his hand over my mouth as he pressed me into the brick wall of the alleyway. He released my waist, keeping me pinned by the solid muscled length of his body.

He was much taller than me, so my face was pressed into a chest of solid marble. I could feel him reaching into his pocket for something, a weapon?, and that memory sparked me back to life.

Wriggling my hand down I gripped the cold weight of the Taser in my pocket. Without hesitation I stuck the end into his lower belly and pressed the button, the loud click of the electrical charge sparking into him.

He yelped and stumbled back but did not fall, glaring back at me with terrifying intensity in glittering green eyes. He growled at me, knocking the Taser from my grasp and skittering down the alleyway before tearing the baseball cap from my hair, sending brown curls tumbling over my shoulders.

He slammed me back and slapped both his hands flat against the wall at either side of my head. I swear I heard him growl.

Nearly hyper-ventilating, I stared up at him, trapped by his intensity as much as by his body. His expression was dark and dangerous, bronze hair in tousled disarray framing a crystal-cut jaw and perfect features. Fury painted his eyes an even deeper shade of green.

"You really should not have done that, Isabella."

Oh crap.

A/N Reviewers get slammed into alleyways by Edward ;)

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