A/N Stephenie Meyer owns all. I just own a massive sense of literary insecurity.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

Previously (EPOV)

I turned the car and saw him. The car lit him and his supplies in stark relief, headlights blazing through him in the dead Nevada desert.

"Is that..." Bella asked, leaning forward with a wide-toothed smile.

I pulled the car to a stop and pinched the bridge of my nose, ignoring the stupid-ass grin on our contact's face.

"Yeah," I huffed, grinding my teeth. "That's Emmett."

~ * ~

BPOV

The hot Nevada sun set the horizon ablaze as it half-sunk below the far line of the desert, still managing to scorch my retinas despite the dark-tinted sunglasses I'd commandeered from Edward. My face split in half with a wide grin as I recognised the hulking figure leaning against the hood of a dark blue Corvette.

Emmett!

His features were still mostly concealed by the glare of the setting sun behind him, revealing just his broad muscled outline and crossed arms. But I could just make out that that infectious, Cheshire Cat-style grin that was so at odds with his WWF-style appearance.

For the first time in what felt like forever I couldn't push the responding smile off my own face. Emmett was the first agent I'd met from the Cullen Group after Jasper had plucked me from the tender 'care' of the Witness Protection Programme. In the confusing turmoil of events that had followed Emmett had been a welcome anchor to cling to; he'd felt like the big brother I'd never had.

Growing up I'd always wanted siblings, but between my mum Renee's flighty butterfly-esque behaviour and my dad Charlie's borderline-psychotic obsession with his job it was always just me at home. Truthfully, it had been a little lonely.

I glanced over at Edward, smiling, and was surprised to see a look of consternation on his annoying-attractive visage as he pinched the bridge of his nose. While I'd only known my enigmatic savior for a brief time I was already familiar with his number one signal of irritation. What the hell was his problem with Emmett?

I rolled my eyes and decided that I refused to care. This road trip with Mr. Bipolar Sullen Cullen was more than enough reason for me to crave the simplicity and joy of Emmett's company. God, I half-hoped that Emmett would be the one escorting me to the next safe-house now.

Yet as soon as that thought crossed my mind I felt an unexpected pang at the thought of leaving Edward behind. The idea of not seeing him, not arguing with him was...strange? Hmm. I'm not sure my emotional calculator was equipped to deal with that one at the moment; serious battery shortage in the making.

Whatever.

Push it aside. Deal with it later. Ideally when men with guns aren't chasing me.

I suppressed the unease as Edward pulled the Porsche to a standstill ten yards in front of Emmett and the Corvette, a bow-wave of gravel and dust brushing Emmett's feet. Grinning I flung the car door open almost before the car had even stopped and ran with rare grace across the dry sandy road.

"Bella Luna!" he bellowed, matching my grin and pulling me into a bone-crushing bear hug. Minor hazard with Emmett - I swear one of these days he was going to crack one of my ribs, but right now I couldn't give a shit if he fractured my whole goddamn sternum.

He spun me round in a circle, making my head spin a little. Oops, forgot about the concussion. I squeezed Emmett's forearms, desperately trying to tell him telepathically to cease and desist before I threw up - again - all over his shirt.

Luckily, Edward did this for me. With his usual tact and politeness, of course.

"What the fuck, Emmett?! She has a head injury and you think it's a good idea to spin her round like she's at a goddamn carnival? Put her the fuck down!"

Emmett stopped straight away and set me down carefully, like I was a china doll, supporting my shaky balance with his meaty bear-sized paws on my shoulder. "Sorry, Bells," he murmured to me, breaking out the dimples.

I half-smiled and shrugged up at him. The human contact felt good, but I was too embarrassed to put the need into words. "S'ok, Em. I'm fine, really."

He winked at me before turning his attention to Edward, who was fuming in the dying light like a bronze-headed pagan god, silhouetted by flames and fire. The sight was enough to make my stomach clench and the pain in my head disappear for a moment.

Then the moment was broken.

"Jeez, Eddie, what crawled up your hole and died?"

Edward folded his arms, scowling darkly, his brows deeply furrowed. All he said was, "Emmett," in an intense, warning tone.

Emmett rolled his eyes and raised his hands sarcastically. "Sorry, Edward. See the personality transplant didn't take, huh?"

I smothered a giggle into Emmett's shoulder and was rewarded with his answering grin as I curiously watched Edward's angry expression from the corner of my eye. What the hell was his problem now?

Em turned me to the side and tucked me below his gorilla arm, gesturing towards the Corvette. "The standard kit's in the back, Ed, plus a few toys that Jasper added back at HQ. Should get you through to Washington no problem, especially once I give Bella Luna here one of Alice's patented makeovers."

Edward frowned. "Bella Luna?"

"What can I say, she has good taste." I snickered a little at that. Emmett and I had initially bonded over our mutual adoration of Jason Mraz and every time I saw him he always slipped me one of our favourite singer's new CDs. "Come on, kitten."

I turned to follow him, taking another look at Edward as I wondered once again why he looked angry. But now he looked almost...pained? His discomfort only seemed to intensify as Emmett tugged on my arm, beckoning me to follow him.

I sat in the back of the Corvette and watched the two men as they talked quietly behind the vehicle, their words indecipherable to me. Emmett pulled a small brown bag out of the trunk and smirked at Edward, shoving him roughly in the shoulder with easy familiarity before sliding into the backseat next to me.

"What's that?" I asked curiously. I was half-asking about the bag, half-asking about the exchange with Edward. He chose to only answer the former and, as usual, I didn't push. Of all people I understood and respected other peoples' secrets.

"Just a little care package Alice put together for us. She's a surgeon by day, fashion stylist to the spy-world by night," he quipped. I couldn't help but laugh lightly in response. "It's not much but it will change your appearance enough to get you through to Seattle. Just sit still, okay, Bells?"

I nodded and froze obediently. Emmett gathered my hair, his large hands surprisingly deft and gentle as he spun it into a flattened bun atop my head before securing it with an almost invisible net. He then pulled out a long blonde wig and fastened it expertly with a handful of bobby pins.

I eyed him with surprise. "Where the hell did you learn to do that?"

He grinned. "Two younger sisters growing up. And my wife trained me long ago in the art of hair management - just don't tell Jasper or Edward, or I'll lose my man card."

I giggled. "Your secret's safe with me."

He dug into the bag and brought out a handful of shining metal which I eyed curiously. My eyes widened with alarm when I realised what he held.

"Chill, Bella Luna. They're fake - I'm not going to pierce your face in the middle of the Nevada desert, okay." He leaned forward and slipped two of the surprisingly-realistic rings onto my lip and one to my eyebrow, the edges pinching uncomfortably. He then added another to the right side of my nose and a heavy one with a thick ball in the centre to my septum.

"You got a mirror?" I asked nervously. The metal was light but still felt strangely heavy and unfamiliar against my skin.

"Sure, kid." He pulled a small flip-mirror from the bag and handed it to me.

I looked at my reflection and was shocked at the difference it made. The metalwork drew attention from my features and I was amazed how authentic it looked. The difference was definitely worth a little discomfort. "Thanks," I breathed.

Emmett grinned at me and ruffled the long blonde stands of the wig. "No problem, Bella Luna. You see, this way when people see you they'll see the piercings first and you second. Should be enough to last as a short-term disguise."

Em opened the back door and climbed out, offering me a hand. Even though the sun had nearly set the heat was still brutal and I welcomed the assistance, smiling up at him. I tugged absently on one of the rings pinching my lip and turned to see where Edward was.

I gulped. He was on the other side of the car, looking for all the world as if he were posing for a portrait of a long, leonine predator. His hair was a wild tempestuous mess that stood in shocking contrast to the pale ivory of his skin and the piercing cat-like gleam of his emerald eyes. He was a study in danger and fierce frustration.

He barked out, "You done?" Even pissed, his rough was voice was still velvet gliding over rubble.

Emmett looked a little puzzled, but nodded, patting me on the shoulder. "Yeah, bro, we're all done. Car's ready to go, so...I'll see you in Seattle, yeah?"

Edward just nodded tersely and swung himself with uncanny grace into the driver's seat, revving the engine impatiently. Em arched a questioning brow at me, clearly surprised by Edward's behaviour. That was enough to tell me that he was acting out of character and I couldn't help but wonder how much of that was due to me...

But all I could do was just shrug in response, embracing Emmett for one last hug and smiling as he dropped a brotherly kiss on my cheek. "Take care, Bells," he murmured, helping me into the passenger's side. He closed the door for me and smiled down at me. "See you soon, right?"

I nodded, smiling, and he tapped the hood of the car in a move that I'd only ever seen in the movies. I couldn't help the little laugh that escaped me as I shook my head at him, waving 'bye' sarcastically and fastening my seatbelt.

The abrupt roar of the engine made me jump, a reverberating and sudden grunt that equalled Edward in its unpredictability. I had a scarce moment to wave a final goodbye to Emmett before Edward tore the Corvette back onto the road, leaving Emmett as a distant figure standing shocked beside the yellow stolen Porsche.

What the hell was going on? I was struck by the feeling that I was missing something, but lacked enough information to even articulate the question.

The road tore past, the sun slinking lower on the horizon until the only light was that blazing from the headlights before us. Silence reigned supreme in the car, growing more and more uncomfortable with each passing mile.

Edward was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that I was eyeing him with growing trepidation. I was becoming genuinely worried that he was going to snap it into pieces and have to execute a dramatic James Bond-style move and steer the car with a handful of wires under the dashboard or some shit.

"Um, Edward?" I asked hesitantly. Don't provoke the crazy person. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," he spat. I almost flinched from the acid whiplash.

"Okaaaaay," I said slowly, feeling vaguely like I was talking down a twitching schizophrenic from the roof of a building. "Well, not to be rude or provoke you any further but that answer is clearly bullshit. So, I was thinking maybe you'd like to try again and perhaps give me the real answer this time."

He glared over at me briefly, his fierce jade green eyes meeting mine for a split second before returning to the winding road before us.

Silence, thick and heavy, then -

"You do know he's married don't you?" Edward snapped eventually.

What the fuck?

"What? Are you talking about Emmett?"

"Who else?" he snarked.

I gripped my fists, eyes narrowed. "Then, yeah, of course I know he's married, Edward. Jesus H. Christ - I'm the one with the head injury, shouldn't I have the market cornered on amnesia right now? You must remember the big tantrum you threw over the fact that Emmett told me he was married only a few hours ago."

He grimaced a little at that and I had to bite down hard on my lip to stop my laughter. He looked like a kid caught in a shitty lie by his mother, furiously back-peddaling as he searched for another story to explain it all. It shouldn't have been funny in the circumstances...but it really was.

"Yes, well, you...fuck, Bella! If you are so aware that he's married - a fact which you seem to take great delight in repeatedly pointing out to me - then why the hell were you all over him?"

I gaped at him, speechless. As the miles and hours passed by I was becoming more and more concerned that Jasper had accidentally passed my case file onto the resident community service project who would be more appropriately situated in the local mental asylum.

My tone was deceptively even. "Are you accusing me of flirting with Emmett?"

He scoffed. "I hardly need to accuse, Isabella. You were all over him."

"I was not!" I seethed. "Emmett is a friend, a friend, Edward. Clearly the concept is foreign to you but I'm sure you have access to a dictionary - or at the very least a therapist."

He didn't reply, so I continued.

"When Jasper took me away from the Feds I really needed someone, someone to help me feel safe and he was it. Emmett talked to me, listened to me. He wasn't a giant fucking asshole all the time who constantly accused me of being some sort of gold-digging crime-family wannabe."

Like some people I could mention...

Edward growled - fucking growled - and slammed his foot on the brake so hard that I was jerked forward, my seatbelt ripping into my torso. The dull pain in my head exploded into a full blown brass band as the resulting force buried me back into the headrest behind me.

Fucking asshole!

"If he's such a 'friend' then why the hell couldn't you keep your hands off him the whole time we were doing the switch-over, hmm?"

That was it. I snapped. Before he could react I unbuckled my seatbelt and flung the car door open, whirled and yelled, "SCREW YOU!" before stalking away from him and the confused mess he made of my head.

FuckingprickassholestupidmessyhaireddickforbrainsASSTARD!

Christ. I wanted to rip his stupid sexy bronze hair out, to tug on his shirt and scream my fury at him. I was too tired to deal with this, the simultaneous draw that made me want to taste the salt of his skin while at the same time wanting to berate him for his unpredictable and abrasive behaviour.

Argh!

It was just too much. What was happening in my sorry excuse for a life, what he made me feel, the threat that constantly surrounded me. It made me want to fall to the ground and scream and cry like a spoilt toddler denied their sugar fix at the check-out line.

I heard the snap and slam of his door as he nearly tore it off the car in his anger, stalking after me with fierce jade eyes and a menacing growl. "Isabella, get back in the fucking car. Now!"

"No!" I was done. I would walk all the way to Seattle before I got back in a car with him.

His footsteps sped up as he caught up with me, his hand grabbing my shoulder. "I don't have time for your prima donna theatrics. I'm sure you're used to throwing a tantrum and getting your own way, but I'm not playing your game today, princess."

I whirled around to him, spitting out my words with childish impetuosity, annoyed that I was half-proving him right with my loss of temper. "Fine, Edward, just fucking believe whatever you like and see if I care that -"

The sky exploded in a rainbow of white-hot heat and searing orange flame, booming and eerily soundless. I was dimly aware of being flung forward as if by an invisible giant hand, swatted onto the pavement with a sick thud and my head spinning in flashing grey-black circles with the dizzying impact.

What the hell...?

Roughness against my cheek, my chest.

Asphalt? Gravel?

Was that smoke?

Heat on my face, blazing against my cheek.

I coughed, my chest strangely aching and sore as hollow silver stars slid across my vision like barely glimpsed mosquitoes swarming over me.

The sensation was eerily familiar, and I was terrified to lift my face from the ground and turn around. Terrified to remember.

~ * ~

"Blackjack? Again?" I scoffed at Agent Peterson. "Whatever happened to Snap? Or Rummy?"

He chuckled at that, the cards blurring between his hands with the skill of a Vegas croupier. "Snap?" he scoffed. The other agent at the table laughed good-naturedly; the remaining two of my guard were outside, prepping the car for travel. "I wouldn't disgrace this pack of cards with such a juvenile game. My dear old father promised me this pack once belonged to Sammy Davis Jr. Besides, we're not playing for cash, little Swan - we're playing for toothpicks. Even you can afford those," he teased.

I rolled my eyes, pushing a stack of my borrowed toothpicks towards Peterson and motioned for him to deal me in. "Fine! You asked for it, so prepare to be creamed." I grinned and beckoned sarcastically, imitating the cheesy Kung Fu movies I used to watch with Charlie when I was a kid. "Hit me."

Peterson smirked and flipped a card face down to me across the table. I glanced at it, curling the corner discretely: six of clubs.

"Hit."

He dealt another: jack of hearts.

I leaned back, ignoring their amused looks, and drawled, with mock confidence, "Hit me again." God, it felt like years since I'd just had a night of harmless entertainment.

"Playing dangerously, eh, little Swan," Peterson teased, tossing another card to me. He could read me like a book.

I turned the corner, over-exaggerating my secrecy, and then groaned when I saw the emblem for the nine of spades. "Damn it," I murmured, glaring at Peterson. "I'm bust. Happy now?"

He grinned and his lips parted, but he never answered. The irony of my casual phrasing wasn't lost on me later.

~ * ~

Happy now?

No. Never.

In truth, I never heard the explosion of the car bomb outside the FBI safe-house in Idaho.

I felt it though. As I lay face down on the scorching Nevada roadway with the argument with Edward buzzing through my head, the sensation was eerily familiar. The same feel, the same sounds. The same smell.

Back then with Peterson while playing Blackjack it had been a deep thudding bass shudder that jarred through my bones, knocking me off my chair at the card table as my chin collided with the floor. Everything felt as if it were in slow motion, such a bizarre sensation in retrospect.

It had taken me nearly ten minutes to come to the realisation that no one was being quiet. It wasn't until I was in the car with Peterson and the only other surviving agent - halfway down the freeway - that I realised that my ear drums were rendered deaf by the blast.

It was two days before I could hear again.

I'd welcomed the silence.

Peterson had dragged me by my waist from the room, his mouth moving soundlessly as he gesticulated widely and drew his weapon with his free hand. The slight spark from the barrel and the recoil against my body was the only indication for me that he was firing. I never even saw his targets.

As Peterson had tugged me out of the safe-house to the car and screamed without noise in my ear I was mute, my vision and voice overcome with the memory of the elegant fall and tumble of playing cards as they twirled onto the carpet.

Bust. The house wins.

The house always wins.

~ * ~

A/N Cliffhanger much? Yeah, well, give me feedback and I'll update faster :) Any questions - put them in a review and I'll answer!

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