Nine Billion Dollar Heist

*Co-authored with Lives in Dreams and TRDancer. They are my better thirds*

Chapter Four: BAM

"I would never compromise you honor. However, feel free to compromise mine." –Edward

BPOV

I exited the Masen house, a natural high sort of surrounding me. It was always like that when I hung out with my friends, as crazy and odd as we all were together. Strange enough, we all fit together pretty well.

I wore a smile as my hand dipped into the pocket of my jeans—ones I had changed into in Edward's room while waiting for Emmett, Alice, and Jasper to show up—and pulled the slender keys of my equally slender quicksilver Mustang Saleen. It had been bought by Phil, my step-dad, for my seventeenth birthday and had been my pride and joy ever since. Sure she was small, but great things come in small packages.

Just look at Alice.

The headlights flashed as the doors unlocked, and I slid in as the butterfly doors opened up. Closing them once I was seated, I inserted the key into the ignition and put my foot to the gas.

I loved the purr of my car. It was low and rumbling, and I couldn't help the smile that came over my face before I floored it and peeled down the winding driveway of Edward's house. Good thing dad was only here for a visit, and not actually working here, or I might be afraid of getting a ticket.

'Might' being the operative word.

Speeding down the long roads of Forks—because fast is the only way to take these curves—I fiddled with the controls on the radio until I found a suitable radio station. Not that hard, seeing as Rose had been amazing enough to install a satellite radio a few weeks after Phil bought it. Forks had the worst local radio stations.

Coasting along the bends and waves of the paved Forks mountain roads, I thought back to all the events of last night and today. I had known that Edward was serious from the moment the words came from his lips, but I still questioned him when we were at the hospital—an unfortunate yet regular occurrence.

But we all had agreed in the end. Really, it was foolish to think that anything other than that would have happened. Edward was… well, Edward. People just sort of… followed him without much resistance. Of course, sometimes our group was an exception to that.

The drive from Edward's house to mine wouldn't take too long; we didn't live that far from Edward—in fact, it was only about fifteen or twenty minutes driving. That was one of the few good things about living in such a small town; you were never too far from the people you loved.

I continued my drive, bopping my head to the heavy bass and bleating guitar movements coming from my Bose speakers. I thought about how to bring up Vegas to my parents, and briefly wondered if they would say 'no'.

Phil was pretty cool when it came to me and my life. He wasn't too over-bearing and he knew that his place as my not-too-doting-and-yet-not-a-total-ass-step-father. There were three rules he expected me to live by: Use Protection—that was easy enough—Be Sober When Driving—I was smart enough to know that by nature—and Respect Those Who Show Respect to You. His thing was easy enough, and as he was a pretty loose guy and not too much for 'rules', we got along smashingly.

Mom would be a slight problem. She was a little more 'into' my life, and she tended to dig into things more deeply than Phil. Phil was a simple creature: give him food, my mom, and a baseball bat, and he was pretty much set. Mom, however…

And then there was dad. He didn't really have a 'say' in what I did or did not do (after all, I hadn't lived with him since I was five) but he would still say his peace. He was more or less more of your typical 'concerned parent' than mom or Phil was. He didn't, shall we say, 'approve' of Edward. He thought he was a bad influence on me, and not to mention some of the things he thinks of Emmett, King of all Things Innuendo and 'That's What She Said'. I think the only people who were my friends that he did like—to an extent—was lovable pixie Alice, sociable Rosalie and charismatic Jasper.

Okay, so it was really only Edward and Emmett he had a problem with. Hard to see how: Emmett was one of his great nephew's-cousin's-aunt's-mother's-son's-kid. I think. All I knew is that Em and I were cousins, distant ones.

No wonder we got along so God damned smashingly.

The thought of how I was going to play this game of 'Let-Me-Go-To-Vegas' was fresh in my head as I rounded the corner onto my street.

In Forks, the houses were basically a part of the same community, but the houses were set comfortably apart. And by 'comfortably apart', I mean roughly a football field apart.

Living rich had its perks.

Pulling up to the front of my house, I saw mom's sleek black 300 was sitting out, shining like an automated piece of midnight against the lush green back-drop of the natural mountainous trees. Phil's giant H2 stood out, its flaming red paint looking even more vibrant and blood-red than what it usually did. Beside those, looking only slightly out-of-place was Charlie—the father's—little dark purple Miata. He had come down to visit for my graduation, and would be leaving tomorrow. The life of an L.A. cop is pretty busy.

Cutting the engine, I opened the door and then closed it shut gently as I made my way up the walkway. The wide curtains were thrown open, and the panes reflected my walking reflection as I made my way up to the door.

I could hear the sounds of a baseball game going on inside, and shouts of 'Yes!' and 'Well shit Fallen, just be an ass-pirating prick why don't you, you douche?' Have I mentioned that Phil has colorful vocabulary? Oh, he rivals Emmett and Rose in that department, as hard as it is to believe.

I skipped the steps up to the porch, and turned the shiny brass knob of the front door—because we only ever locked the doors at night; Forks was notoriously quiet on the crime radar—and stepped inside.

The scent of chicken parmesana and garlic bread assaulted my scenes. I briefly thought about the time, and then realized that it was almost five. Hm, we had been quite a while…

"Mom! Dad! Phil! I'm home!" I yelled as I kicked my shoes off in front of the door, leaving them precariously in the way of anyone entering or exiting the house.

"Bella!" I heard mom yell back. "In the kitchen!" she told me. Good, she didn't sound mad. Then again, she was used to me coming home at late hours over the weekend.

"Coming!" I hollered back.

I padded along the hard-wood cherry floors through the foyer and past the living room where Phil and dad were watching a baseball game from like, last season. Phil's obsession with DVR'ing the damn games…

"Hey Bella! How was your night?" Phil asked from the place on the recliner, cold beer beverage in hand—gross, he's drinking a Bud Light. Man has poor tastes—and then dad was on the love seat across from him holding—indeed a better choice—a slender green bottle of Heineken. Nothing like beer from Holland, I'll tell you that.

"Hey Phil, it was fun," I answered. I leaned over the back of the leather recliner, and gave Phil a hug. He patted my arm, and said,

"Good. We were worried that you guys might get a little out of hand," he remarked. Ha, he had no idea. Or perhaps a small idea. More of an idea than what Charlie would have.

I smiled, but didn't comment. I moved over to dad, and gave him a hug as well.

"Hey dad, miss me?" I asked, kissing him on the cheek and trying to avoid the bush of brown mustache that was on his lip. He chuckled.

"Sure did kiddo. I'm glad your night was good. You were out pretty long," he noted when I pulled away. He didn't sound too reprimanding, and that was good.

Of course, he didn't sound too approving, either.

I shrugged it off, playing my game.

"Eh, we stayed at Emmett's. We left before anything got too rowdy," I lied as smoothly as a hit of Courvoisier. It was sort of true. If passing out drunk at a VIP booth can be the equivalent of 'leaving before anything got too rowdy'. His smile fell just slightly, and wouldn't have been noticeable to anyone who didn't know how to read Charlie.

"Really? How were things?" he asked mildly. I answered with a nonchalant,

"They were fine. Uncle Gerald was out at the club, and so he just let us have free rein over the house. We just sort hung out," I said, being sure to supply just enough information without lying too much.

"Hm. I hope you weren't drunk when you drove," he said next, giving me this look that clearly said 'you better had not been drunk at all, because I know Gerald, and I know your cousin, and I know that they both have their ways'. I just smiled at him.

"Dad, I'm smart. I don't drink and drive." Oh, but daddy-dearest, do I drink? Hell yes.

"Good," he said.

Like he was at all entirely convinced.

To avoid anymore of his questioning, I said my 'I'm going to see what mom's up to' line, and darted out of the living room and into the dining room and straight into the kitchen.

Mom was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of something boiling and humming the tune to some 80's pop song. Who knew someone could recite a full rendition to 'What a Feeling' in their head?

"Hey mom," I said, leaning against the frame of the kitchen door. She turned her head towards me, her face alight in a smile.

"Hello Bella. How was your night dear?" she asked, the perfect 'mom-tone' coloring her voice. It was natural; she had had it ever since I could remember.

I peeled myself from the wall, and made my way over to her so I could give her a hug.

"It was fine. We hung at Emmett's, so it was full of entertainment." Ha, no lie in that statement. It was full of entertainment and we were at Em's.

She hugged me back. "That's great. You know, I had to convince your father than it was normal for you guys to stay out late like that. He wasn't pleased," she told me with a glorious smirk on her face. I chuckled.

"Oh, but he sounded so enthused when he asked about it," I chuckled lowly.

"Indeed. You should have heard him: 'Renée, she's only eighteen. She could be out doing God knows what with all kinds of people'," she said. I shook my head; you'd think I was out sleeping with people or something.

"That's dad. Just how he is," I reasoned. It was probably only natural for him. He had gotten out of 'raising' me. Any chance he got he acted as the 'parent'. Not like I could blame him, he was just making up for lost time.

Mom got a serene look on her face, and then smiled down at me. "That he is…" She turned back to her cooking, and I watched. I always loved watching her cook, and enjoyed eating it just as much. It was funny when Emmett was over to eat her cooking; he ate like a ravenous wolf that hadn't ever seen a T-bone in its life.

While she was momentarily distracted by whatever thought was running through her head, I decided to snag a pair of oven mitts form above the stove. As she bent down to open the oven door, I reached in front of her first, getting ready to bring up Vegas.

"So mom," I began, opening the oven door for her. "The gang and I want to take a trip this summer together. You know, before we all go off to college and everything."

She straightened up. "Oh? Where do you plan to go?" she inquired.

I shrugged nonchalantly as if it were no big deal. "Oh, just Vegas," I said, setting the piping hot glass dish of chicken parmesan on the top of the stove and putting the mitts beside it. She looked at me peculiarly.

"Vegas?" she repeated slowly and deliberately as if she thought that she hadn't heard me right. I nodded.

"Yeah. Just one last time to hang out, act like kids before college, you know?" I said, just as casually as I when I had brought the whole thing up.

She regarded me for a moment, taking in my innocent expression.

"You all talked about it already?" she asked.

"Yeah. We went over it all, got it planned out," I told her, she quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Well then I don't see why you asked me. I'll let Phil know," she told me, turning back to the food she was preparing. Good, she'll take care of Phil—I could only imagine how. Wait, on second thought, let's not imagine that—but that left me to tell Charlie, who though had little authority over me here was bound to bitch about it…

"And your father, too. Lord knows he'll throw a fit," she added at the end. It was nice having a mother who sometimes had the inclination to share the brain-wave that I did.

I smiled in victory, a Little Bella in my head making its own touch-down dance.

'Fuck yes, bitches!'

But I kept it cool. As far as mom was concerned, this was just an innocent little trip to Vegas.

Ha, innocent. Yeah right.

We continued to finish up dinner, adding the finishing touches to the salad and the chicken before helping her get down the plates and everything put on them before calling the 'boys' in to get their shit and eat.

We all ate dinner in the living room, trays holding our food. We never really used the dining room; it was mainly for show. I.E.: we used it for formal occasions. Really, what was the point of three people sitting a huge table meant for ten? We weren't the British royal family… Or Hugh Heffner…

After having stuffed ourselves thoroughly—mom's cooking was astronomical in its utter awesomeness and perpetual bliss—I helped out cleaning the kitchen (something I always did) and then we all sat in the living room watching random clips of TV with the channels being changed continuously.

You see, none of the 'grown and oh-so-wise-and-fan-fucking-mature adults' could decide what to watch.

Charlie wanted to watch football. (Replays, I might add)

Phil wanted to watch UFC. (Replays, I might add. Again.)

René didn't give a damn. "Just choose something."

And me? I was the good daughter, and sat back and took whatever. I didn't care what we watched as long as—

Buzz… buzz… buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz…

Okay stupid little Motorola Razr, hold on…

It was Edward.

'Hey my Loveable Edible, I'm coming over ;D'

I smiled.

"Hey guys, I'm going to turn in. Long night, long day, you know?" I said, standing up. Mom looked up at me.

"Okay, good night sweetie. Sleep well," she told me as I bent over to give her a hug. Then she whispered so Phil and Charlie couldn't hear. "They won't give you any trouble about Vegas. I'll speak to them later," she promised.

I smiled. God I loved my mother.

I hugged Phil and Charlie, giving them each the usual 'goodnight'. I didn't usually when it was just us—Phil and mom and I—because, well, we just didn't do that. It was just 'I'm out, see ya later'.

But, Charlie missed out on the years of 'goodnight daddy' and 'goodnight mommy'. So I indulged him when he was able to visit. You know, giving him the 'I'm a five-year-old' years that he missed, despite the fact that I was now eighteen, and the farthest thing from the 'sweet and innocent pig-tail-wearing-gap-in-front-teeth' four-year-old that had gone with Renée after their divorce.

But what the hell, what he didn't know wouldn't kill him. In fact, it would probably add years on his life.

Which was a good thing, believe me.

I ascended the stairs, pushing the thoughts of Charlie and the differences in how things were as opposed to the way they are now into the back of my mind and instead focused on something much more promising.

Edward was coming over.

Which when one took the time to think about it, really wasn't all that rare. It was either, me going out and sneaking to his house, him sneaking out to mine, or us meeting up somewhere in the middle.

We had been since, oh, eighth grade. Even before we were 'together'. It was an Edward/Bella thing.

I neared my room down at the end of the hall—and needless to say, the farthest away from any of the other rooms—and opened my door and stepped in.

It was a typical teenaged room—posters covering almost every inch of wall, leaving barely a hint of the incredibly light blue paint to be seen. I also had pictures tacked up—mostly of the gang and I—and bookshelves with much of the reading material of my high-school life. I also had a few C.D.s—the alt rock compliments of Edward, old school rap compliments of Emmett—and, oh, wait for it—classic signed vinyl of Queen. Did I have a record player? No. But Edward did…

And record players—and the guys that wield them—are hot.

But, possession of record and lack of the player required to put said record aside, I grabbed the thick, soft towel from its place on the chair positioned at my desk and absently plucked the cotton shorts and blue tank top that I usually slept in from on top of my bed and trekked into my bathroom that was adjacent to my room.

I clicked that light on, and moved over the hard tiled floors of it.

I loved my bathroom there was nothing else that could be said about it. The tiles were a plain white, but they had a pretty, elegant golden swirl in them, and the grout around them was dyed black. The sink was as long as the wall across from the door and beside that was my walk-in shower.

I tossed my towel onto the top of the sink, and then went to turn the water on. I let it run over my fingers and warm up before turning the handle and letting the water spray from the overhead faucet.

I stepped away, quickly pulling my shirt over my head and letting the rest of my clothes follow.

Getting into the shower, I let the steam surround me as I began to wash my body and my hair. The scent of my honeysuckle body wash wafted around me, and that coupled with the soothing heat was very relaxing on me.

I lathered myself in the sweet-smelling suds, grateful that I didn't have to share a bathroom with anyone but me, myself, and I... and on occasion, Alice and Rosalie, Edward too. Oh, and one time Emmett, but that was when he was on-his-ass drunk because he thought someone set his Jeep—when he had a Jeep—on fire.

It was a harmless prank, swear.

In fact, the only person I hadn't had to let use my bathroom was—

Nope, wait. Jazz used my bathroom as well.

Chuckling at the lack of even my own bathroom being my own, I finished rinsing off and then stepped onto the tile, careful not to fall.

Been there, done that. One of my many trips to the ER.

I grabbed my towel, patting myself dry and slipping into my PJs. I wrapped the towel around my head, shaking it thoroughly before taking it, my dirty clothes, and myself, out into my bedroom.

I dropped my dirty clothes into the little basket beside my bathroom door—it had to be there, otherwise my laundry would pile up on my floor—and then dropped my towel onto the chair at my desk. I was about to turn on the music to my iPod when a set of muscled, strong arms found their way around my body, hugging me tightly as a familiar scent washed over me. I smiled.

"Hey Edward," I said happily, turning around in his grip and reaching up on the tips of my toes to give him a kiss.

One he was eager to return.

His lips moved against mine, soft and sweet and with a hint of scotch.

Mmm, just the way I liked him.

Soon, his hands were traveling from around my torso down to my hips and over—

"Edward," I breathed against his lips. "I'm beginning to think that you've come here to compromise my honor," I teased. He put on a face of faux shock.

"Me? Compromise your honor? I would never compromise your honor, lovely Bella," he said. Then he put his hands on my shoulders, and moved me back at arm's length. He looked me up and down, a sexy-as-hell crooked smirk playing over his lips. "However, feel free to compromise mine."

'Oh, are you offering?'

I rolled my eyes and him, and slapped him playfully—and quietly—said, "Wouldn't you love that?"

He let out a laugh as quiet as possible, and then headed over towards my giant king-sized bed and plopped down, making it groan lightly underneath him. His long athletic legs hung over the edge, and it was then that I realized that he was wearing his favorite black Stewie pajama bottoms and a plain white wife beater. Damn sexy…

"You staying the night?" I asked, turning my iPod on and letting some new Irish band—The Script, I think?—taper into the background as I crawled into bed beside Edward on all fours.

He put his arm around me, pulling me closer to his body above the covers, taking my hair into his hand.

He sighed. "Yeah, but I gotta get out early. Mom and Dad said Vegas was a go—of course—but dad has this convention or something to go to tomorrow at the hospital, and so he wants me to go. Nothing too big, but I figured what the hell? So I agreed, and after I said my goodnights and changed, I climbed out of my window 'horrible teen-flick style' and rode my bike down here," he said absently, playing with a strand of hair. I smiled. He never drove the Vanquish here when it came to sneak into my house. He went old-school.

And rode this old, five-year-old bicycle down here, and parked it under the tree up to my window.

"Sounds fun," I teased. Without having to look at him, I knew that he rolled his eyes.

"I'm glad you think so… So, want to know why I came here, all in the hours of the dark and what not?"

I snorted. "To have me compromise your so called 'honor'," I replied sarcastically. He was over me in an instant, his hands on either side of my face and one of his legs in between mine.

"Hm, I thought it was me who was going to compromise your honor first?" he said dangerously. I rolled my eyes playfully.

"Whatever, Edward. Go on, tell me why you have come here, if not to have me sexually assault you?"

He shook his head, his mass of bronze hair falling into his eyes. "Now, I never said that I didn't come here to have you sexually assault me. There's just another reason," he told me, pausing to see if I was going to make another smart-ass comment.

"Well, do-tell, oh secretive one," I told him, moving my hands so I could run them along the lengths of his arms.

"Well, Emmett and I got to talking, and we realized a minor flaw in my plan," he began. I furrowed my brows.

"What kind of flaw?" I asked.

"Eh, just 'where are we going to stay', 'what are we going to drive', 'when are we leaving', and 'how are we getting there?'" he said.

"Hm. Okay, I see. So, what did the Masterful McCarty and Masen Duo come up with?"

Another blaring grin broke over his face. "We figured we'd fly. I mean, imagine all of us huddled in Em's Cadillac for 'X' amount of hours. Not only would we be all smushed together, but Em has a habit of playing old D4L and Snoop on road trips. Not fucking happening," he shuddered. I just shook my head; Emmett loved his old-school rap… Edward went on "Next, we just assumed rent from wherever we touchdown in Vegas. No use in shipping the cars with us when we could just as well get some sweet rides there and have no real obligations in them." Okay, that made sense. Not like I would put my baby in the cargo-hold of a five-ton box of bolts and machinery in the first place.

"Cool. It's good that's settled. So when are we leaving and where are we staying, or are we just winging it?" I asked. He smiled.

"Now, that was the only place where Emmett and I disagreed—" something not very rare "—because he wanted to leave like tomorrow." I chuckled. That was so like Emmett. "And I figured that a couple weeks would be fine. He thought it was too long—" total 'that's-what-she-said' moment "—and so we agreed on a week from tomorrow," he explained. I nodded.

"And we're staying where…"

He chuckled, and bent his head down to my neck, moving it up and down from my jaw. "Ah, another small discrepancy between us. You see Emmett wanted to stay at the MGM, or the one with the Eiffel Tower out in front of it. He even suggested the one with the Sphinx and pyramid. But you know what?" he asked, right into my ear.

"What?" I breathed.

"I decided on the Bellagio," he whispered sensuously.

I don't think I thought coherently for the rest of the night.

I mean, Edward was very distracting…

…informing me about the merits of Vegas. By what he said, we'd be partying our asses off like there was no tomorrow.

Soon, we'd find out how naive that thought was.

Lennixx: um, no Dream. You forget, my little spiel is first, therefore MY review is first. HA!

Moving on.

Okay, so this chapter was originally thirteen pages long, no lie. Now it is seven. Why? Because I edited out all the hot ExB parts of it. I know, stab me. A lot. And hard. (twss) Well, this 'editing' cause TRD to get mad at me, and thus, our newest project has come about: 'Tomfoolery of the Heist', which is a correlation with this story involving scenes that are edited out. i.e., the awesome hot and sexy scenes between our favorite couples of NBDH. So, if I am estimating correctly, this chapter will be the first up in that story! (Unless Dream wants to add onto her Alice/Jasper chapter… :D)

Hm… OH! And this story got nominated for the Sparkle Awards! For a list of nominees, a place to make nominations, and voting, go to www(dot)thesparkleawards(dot)yolasite(dot)com!

Yes, Dance, SEX WALL (will totals make sense when TOTH comes out, promise)

First reviewer gets a first look at this alternate chapter! :D SO REVIEW!!! (No, Dream, YOUR review does NOT count)

Dancer: Awesome chapter, I love it, I think it rocks all socks. And I'd just like to add: SEX WALL!! xD.

Please review! :D

Dreamer: BAM!!! Awesome!!! :D :D :D!!!! It's not long till one of my favorite parts comes up :D. I'se thinks my fellow writers here know what it is. I have one thing to say UPDATE GUYS!! Wait, it's me to update next, isn't it? Shit.

Anyway, who wants to tell them about the sparkle awardey? BAM!

I hereby count this as a review, making it the first review for this chapter. I win :D