Life and Death with the Original Succubus

by April Rane

When you meet a woman who makes you forget you're engaged, it's unsettling. When the man draws you in for reasons you can't understand, love can follow. So can sex and murder. Rated for SLV Mike/Tanya, Canon, post BD

8. Trust Me

a/n Before reading, I'd like to say that the first person's POV continues beyond the start of the second. Way beyond the start of the second…

Secondly, this has seriously dirty, dirty talking. If that's not your bag of chips, skip the sexiness. If it is, enjoy!

Third: This is a very M rated chapter. Crude sexual language, and the images to go with it. There is violence and crime ahead, as well as implied drug use and knocking out of a humanoid. Use good judgment.

CHAPTER 8—TRUST ME

It had been a month since she'd come home from Milwaukee, and nothing had been the same since she'd gotten back. If Mike had been distant and rude before, he was just indifferent now. They never had sex, and he'd been sleeping on the couch ever since. She never apologized to him about the fight before he'd gone. He'd screamed vulgarities at her and shoved her.

She had no reason to want to apologize. Because on top of everything else, she was suspicious that he was sleeping with someone else.

Every night, for about three hours, he left and disappeared for a while, not answering calls or texts. She'd checked the bar and the diner one night, trying do deduce where he was going. Both times she'd followed him, he'd gone to the bar. He'd raised his eyebrows at her when she'd driven by him, and waved sardonically. When she had left ten minutes behind him, she could never find him. She drove around for two hours, but didn't see his car anywhere. Maybe it was parked in someone's garage.

Today, she was going to do something different. She'd called at work every day for the last week during Mike's lunch break, and was told he'd gone home for lunch. This morning had been no exception, and she'd left the station to go home for lunch, herself.

Bile rose in her throat as she turned the last corner onto their block. She could see right away that something was off. That something was a sleek, expensive-looking red Ferrari in the driveway of their house. It was parked next to Mike's Mustang. She felt like she was going to be sick, but maybe…

But probably not.

She parked outside on the street and quietly closed the door behind her. It felt strange to be sneaking though her own backyard, but she wasn't really left with another option. She headed to the back door, grateful that she'd thought of this yesterday and squirted WD-40 on the hinges. It swung open silently, and she closed it just as silently as she could.

Once inside, she had absolutely no doubt, standing there in the hallway outside their bedroom, what was going on with her fiancé.

She stood, unable to look away from the train wreck of her own life. Heard the lust and the love in his voice.

"Look at me, baby. Look at me when you come."

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Tanya moved over Mike, rocking slowly, her head tilted back, loving how he felt moving inside her. His hands were on her tiny waist, just above the flair of her hips, controlling her movements. He moved to meet her at every thrust, his eyes closed and face screwed up in pleasure. A gust of breath burst from his lips.

"Uh," he groaned, and he threw his head back. "Yeah, baby. Grind that juicy pussy on me." His eyes opened, and they were glazed over with passion. "Look at me, baby," he growled. "Look at me when you come."

Tanya whimpered, and he let go of her hips. She went wild, bouncing up and down on him, her breasts jiggling with each rebound of his hips. She was trying to be quiet, he could tell.

"Scream, baby," he said, reaching down to press his thumb against her clit. "I wanna hear you."

"Oh, fuck!" A stream of obscenities flew from her mouth as she clenched around him. He groaned, spilling into her, still pumping until she collapsed on top of him, and he couldn't move anymore.

He chuckled. "Not too bad for five minutes, huh?"

"Mudak," she giggled.

Mike rolled her onto her side, grinning when she didn't stop giggling. "Excuse me?" he said, beaming down at her. "I don't speak Russian."

"I called you an asshole." She was smirking up at him now. "True, yes?"

Mike seized her wrists and put them above her head. She stared up at him with wide eyes, and he leaned down next to her ear. "Asshole?" he asked. "I hope that's where you'd like me to fuck you next and not an insult. I just made you come three times in five minutes." She shuddered, and he grinned. "Is that something you want?" Please let it be something she wanted. He'd fantasized about her ass, imagined fucking it when she called him at work to play on slow afternoons.

He was therefore elated when she nodded. Fuck yes! "You're a dirty little thing, you know? Wanting me to fuck you there." He let his fingers wander down to her center again, finding her still wet. He dragged his fingers across her before trailing them back to her butt. "You think you're such a sophisticated lady, and you like it up the ass?" He tisked at her, pulling her over to lay on her belly. Faster than he knew himself capable, he was on his knees and hard again. He thrust back inside her, his fingers going to her other entrance. She moaned, her face turning to the side so she could watch him. She pushed back against his hips, and watched hungrily as his fingers played with her.

"Please," she moaned. "Please, I want it."

He didn't ask her, warn her, or double check if it was okay. He didn't need to. She was begging him, watching his every move. Gently, slowly, he slid one finger into her, and her reaction was instantaneous. She bucked against him, reaching her climax immediately. Unprepared, he came with her again, groaning and panting like a teenage boy. She was screaming, and he heard his own cries of pleasure, loud and violent.

They landed, him still inside her, spooned together, her legs twined with his. He reached up to tuck her curls behind her ear so he could kiss her neck. She smiled and scooted closer to him, if it were possible. She was so perfect—willing to let him be in control, but entirely capable of putting him in his place when necessary. Beautiful, funny, extremely smart and sharp witted.

The words came out before he'd actually decided to say them.

"I love you," he whispered.

He expected her to bolt from the room, or to start crying. He wasn't prepared when she opened her eyes to look up into his, giving him a little smile. "I love you, too," she whispered, her sweet breath fanning across his face.

He felt dizzy, ecstatic, terrified, euphoric, shocked, and a million other indefinable emotions. He leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. They moved gently against his, never opening enough for him to really kiss her. He'd asked her about it, and she'd shrugged, smiled, and said she'd explain it to him one day—on the same day when she really kissed him and blew his socks off. Now, though, he was content with her chaste kisses, which opposed the way she thrust her hips back against him, laughing.

"Jesus, baby, you must really love me," she said, and she sounded as giddy as he felt. "You're so hard already."

"I'm always hard for you," he groaned, pulling out to roll her onto her back. He wanted to look at her. "You're so fucking sexy."

She put her cool hand against his hot cheek and gazed up at him as he thrust slowly back into her. So slowly, he thrust in and out, suddenly gentle. "I love you," she whispered, staring up at him as he moved.

His blue eyes, almost out of focus with pleasure, were attached to hers. It was like he was staring at something beyond her soul. What came after your soul? "I love you so much," he whispered, and he pressed his lips to hers again.

After their lovemaking and more declarations, Mike grudgingly admitted that he was late for work. He'd rolled out of bed, stretching his arms over his head. She pulled the blanket up to cover herself as she leaned against the headboard.

"When are you going to tell her?" she asked abruptly, her eyes following his every move.

"Soon," he said, heaving a sigh. She'd been asking him for so long now already. She was running out of patience, and he felt like he was running out of time.

"You said that two weeks ago," Tanya said, and there was undeniable venom in her voice. Her accent began to become heavier, and it caused the words to pull and stress in strange places. "What have you been doing? Picking out wedding china?"

"Why does the timeframe matter so much to you?" he asked, throwing his hands out. "I'm not speaking to her, or even sleeping in the same room as her. She has no idea what's going on, and she's going to go off like Mount St. Helen's!"

Tanya huffed and leaned back a bit more against the headboard. He crossed the room to her in three long strides, sitting down next to her and pressing his lips to her forehead. "I love you," he whispered. "Decades couldn't change that."

Her eyes shot up to his. "Forever?"

Mike laughed, cupping her face in his hand. "If we were still alive at the end of the world, I'd still be head over heels for you," he said, feeling a little surprised when he realized the truth of those words.

With surprising strength, Tanya wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. She took in a shuddering breath. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too, baby," he whispered. It felt so good to say, like he'd never really meant the words to anyone else before saying them to her today. "I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Yeah."

Work for the rest of the afternoon was slow. Isaac had given him an odd look when he'd shown up fifteen minutes later than he'd intended, but Mike had started him on several tasks to keep his mind occupied. He locked himself in the office and kept up on paperwork until an hour before the end of Isaac's shift, when he returned to the store to help Isaac on the floor. The kid seemed to have forgotten that Mike was late by the time he left, and Mike locked the store up, feeling pretty good.

The drive home was ordinary, at best. The wipers swished back and forth to keep the rain off, and the radio hummed softly in the background. Fuck it. Tonight, he decided, as he pulled into the driveway and parked next to her car. Another couple of days wasn't going to do any good. Feeling like shit, he shut off the engine and climbed out of the car. He stood in the rain for several minutes, just staring at the house. Vaguely, he wondered why she hadn't come to the door to meet him, if she'd heard the door slam.

Inside, he slowly removed his shoes, bending down to untie the laces. When he stood, he jumped a little.

Jessica stood at the end of the hall. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her feet were planted shoulder width apart. Her face was stony, but he could see in the dim light from the bedroom that her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. She'd been crying.

Fuck.

"How long?" she asked.

Mike blinked, still a little disorientated. "'How long,' what?" he asked, slowly straightening up.

"How long have you been sleeping with her?" There was no uncertainty in her voice.

Nothing would help now. There would be no easing her into this, sitting her down and trying to stay calm. "Since you went to Milwaukee," he said. "I've been seeing her for a month and a half." He closed the main door, shutting off the sound filtering in through the storm door. "How long have you known?"

Her chin jutted up a bit, a gesture he recognized. She was trying not to cry. "Since this afternoon. I came home to see why you weren't eating at work this week." He opened his mouth, every intention to apologize to her for hurting her—anything to make her hate him a little less. He didn't love her, but he still cared what happened to her. She cut him off, though, when she held up a hand to silence him and said, "I want half."

Mike blanched at her. "Half of what?"

"Half of everything, or I tell everyone what an ass you are." She glared at him. "Your reputation would be ruined and as for the store—" She laughed. "Well, maybe you should just close it up now."

"I don't care," he said. And right now, he didn't. He'd leave town. Go to Alaska with Tanya, open the new store. His dad had okay-ed a new store just last week. He'd agree that this was the perfect time to scout a location. "You can have whatever you want. Take the whole damn house, I don't care. I have an entire account you don't even know about." It was true. He didn't really think about it often, but there was a good chunk of change there. He'd been adding to it more since he'd started seeing Tanya. "I'm leaving." He walked down the hallway past her, and into the bedroom.

He was throwing shirts into a suitcase when she came in like a whirlwind. She was holding one of his basketball trophies from high school. She threw it at him and he ducked. It missed and broke against the wall behind him.

"What does she have that I don't have?" Jessica screamed. Her eyes were huge, and now that he was closer, he could smell alcohol on her breath. She'd geared herself up for this one. Great. "What is it, her tits? She's got a nice rack." She grabbed the suitcase from under his hands and threw it to the floor. Mike inhaled through his nose, trying not to shout back. It wouldn't make things any better. "Or, what, is she rich? Totally loaded, and you can live off her instead of working?"

"What, like you live off me?" He threw the suitcase back onto the bed and turned back to the closet for more clothes. "I have money saved up, and we're planning to open a second store. I'll just start over. There's nothing you can do if I don't tell you where I'm going."

"Oh, I'll find out," she growled. She stepped around the bed and shoved him away from the suitcase. "You call that whore right now and tell her you're not coming back. I will not be humiliated for you!" She was seething, he could see it.

He reached out for the suitcase, and she slapped his arm, hard, before using her other hand to slap his face. "You will not embarrass me." When he reached around her for the suitcase, she slapped him again. "You worthless piece of shit! She'll leave you!"

"She won't leave me," he spat. "She loves me."

Jessica laughed mockingly. "Oh, she loves you, does she? She's full of shit. She wants your money and your car and…"

"If you were really here today, you saw her car," he shouted, feeling the water start to boil. "She doesn't need anything from me!"

"You don't love her," Jessica said.

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't." She was glaring up at him, and he jerked when she slapped him again. "She's nothing more than a cheap whore." He turned away to reach for the suitcase again, needing something to do with his hands before he strangled her. "You look at me when I'm talking to you!"

She jerked his arm violently, and he spun. It was a reflex—he knew another hit was coming, and he was done. Past done. Burned. His hand flew up, the back of it slamming into her face.

It wasn't slow motion, like you saw in the movies. It was so fast he didn't even realize what had happened.

Until he realized what she'd hit her head against—the sharp corner of a table she'd insisted needed to go right there.

Then he saw the blood.

He did everything you were supposed to. He applied pressure—nothing. It just kept gushing. He tried mouth to mouth, but nothing, again. For five minutes, he tried everything.

He didn't have his phone on him, and God knew where hers was. He checked her pulse.

Nothing.

Panicking, hoisted her up, maybe thinking of going to the neighbors, but the gravity of what had happened sunk in when her head slammed limply against the wall with a sickening crack. More blood. Blood streaking the walls. His arms went limp, and she fell to the floor, blood pooling around her head. How was she bleeding so much when she was already dead?

He was going to be sick.

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One hour. One more miserable hour until she could see him again. Tanya paced back and forth again and again, flitting from the piano, to the couch, to the window, and back again, as if it would make him come any faster. It was getting dark out. He'd be here soon, in her arms, and she could tell him she loved him again, and get to hear him say it back.

The afternoon had dragged for her. After Mike had left, she'd dressed slowly, putting on the same clothes she'd worn when she arrived—hooded sweatshirt, jeans, rubber boots—and climbed into Bella's car. The drive home had been quiet and the silence was heavy on her sensitive ears. She had spent her afternoon packing and unpacking, the repeating the process, ending with one packed suitcase. Just in case he decided tonight was the night to leave her.

Her phone rang, and in her frenzied state, it was in her hand and answered before the first ring was half over. It was Alice.

"Hey, Alice," Tanya said, peering out the window. "What's—"

"You have to go to Mike's house, right now, before he calls the cops." Alice's voice was rushed. "Go—run through the woods to the back of his house. You've gone there before, just go, and I'll explain while you run."

Tanya had never questioned Alice once in sixty years, and now was not the time to start. She was out the front door and running an instant later, and Alice was talking top speed.

"No time for details. Just get there as fast as you can. Make up an excuse about the car. Tell him you were out jogging, or something. You'll have a chance to get it later. Just go straight inside, don't knock. The back door is unlocked and no one will see you. Whatever you do, hold your breath until you see. Keep running!" She was almost to the house. "All the way to the back door. No one will see you, just don't stop!"

She blew in the back door and skidded to a halt. "I'm here." A little held air escaped, but she didn't inhale.

"I'll call later." Alice hung up without as much as a goodbye.

Slowly, Tanya crept into the house. She heard a sound she was familiar with, but hadn't heard in a while—vomiting. Someone was violently ill.

Whatever you do, hold your breath until you see.

Did she have to see him? Was he hurt? She shot around the corner through the kitchen and into the hall and stopped as quickly as she'd moved.

She'd seen Jessica three times. Once, at the wedding. The second and third times were spying on her, once during the day, and once before she went to bed, when she fought with Mike.

This fourth time was nothing like the first two.

…hold your breath until you see.

Jessica lay in a pool of blood. Tanya held on to the remaining breath and surveyed the scene more closely. Blood matted Jessica's hair, and as she stepped a little closer, Tanya could feel and sense that this was spoiled blood. There was so much, though. She took a few steps closer to the door, prepared to bolt if she needed, and inhaled sharply.

The scent was still so tempting. This blood would sicken her if she were to partake of it, but it was like barely spoiled milk to a human—still okay to use on cereal. Tanya didn't move, trying to focus on other things. It smelled like her, almost too bittersweet and cloying. Just like her. And there was the strong tang of alcohol spoiling the scent, and something else. Cocaine. The bitch had been a junkie. The smell became bearable, and she gingerly stepped further down the hall.

A trail of blood went from the bedroom to the hall, and there was a smear of blood on the wall. Tanya's sharp vision noted a wiry black hair in the blood—her head must have hit the wall somehow. What had he done?

The man in question was huddled on the bathroom floor when she finally stepped around the mess in the hall to find him. He was drenched in sweat, and the bathroom smelled strongly of vomit. He groaned when he saw her.

"Go away," he muttered. "Not… you shouldn't be here."

Resolutely, Tanya located a clean washcloth and soaked it with cold water from the tap. She dripped the sopping cloth over his chest and face and he seemed to wake up a little.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head, staring down at his hands. "She kept slapping me and I just wanted her to leave me alone, and I just… snapped." He stared morosely up at her. "You need to get out of town, Tanya. You don't need to be in the middle of this."

"You didn't call the cops, did you?" Was she too late, after all?

"Not yet. My phone's outside."

Tanya's phone rang at that moment. She stared down at Mike where he sat, propping himself up against the wall. "Don't do anything or go anywhere." She leaned down and pressed her lips against his. He inhaled sharply, and his hands were on the front of her shirt. She pulled away. "I love you," she whispered, then answered the phone. "I'm busy, Alice."

"I know." Alice sounded a little exasperated. "I'm calling to tell you your options and see what happens."

"Okay."

"Alright. Have you seen Dexter?"

Tanya blinked. "The TV show?"

"Yes." Alice sounded relieved. "You're going to dump her body into the ocean, a la Dexter. Get rid of Mike for a while—tell him to get some rest or take a bath or something. Get rid of the body, but make sure not to leave a trail for the cops. Charlie'll track down anything."

Tanya grimaced. She hated the idea of doing this, but it was about all she could do.

"How?"

"Go north of Quielute territory. Jake's ordered everyone not to phase tonight, so you won't run into the wolves."

"Tell him thanks for me, yeah?" she asked, feeling a great deal of affection right now for Jacob.

"Of course. He's not real happy about it, but since we weren't directly responsible and he knows that Mike would make you happy, he's going along grudgingly." She could hear the smile in Alice's voice. "Get rid of Mike somehow so he won't see anything. It will take you twenty-five minutes to run north and dump the body, and get back. It will take you thirty minutes to clean up all the blood. Don't forget the trophy in the bedroom." Details. All she could do was give details, Tanya realized. With Mike right in front of her, she couldn't ask any questions. "Tanya." Alice's voice was cutting. "I can't tell you anything else unless you make a decision. Is this what you're going to do?"

Tanya thought for a moment. "Yes."

"Hold on, Edward wants to talk to you." Alice's voice was softer now. "I'm really happy for you, Tanya." Then she was gone.

Edward's voice broke in, and it was gentle. "You're going to have to tell him. Alice can't see when, or how, but you don't really have a choice."

"So what do I do now?"

"Get rid of Mike for an hour. That's enough time to get rid of the body, get Bella's car, and get him out of town. Tell him to leave everything behind. There can't be a trail, or anything that can point to him, or foul play. Clean everything."

"How am I supposed to get him to the car? I shouldn't show up at all."

"Carlisle's left some morphine in a drawer upstairs. Use that, knock him out, and carry him. He won't argue. Tanya," Edward said, "I know your head is spinning, but this will work. You're resigned to it. Alice can see that."

"Okay." Tanya took a deep breath and smiled weakly at Mike. "And the Italian police? Are they going to be looking for us?"

Italian police? Mike mouthed.

Tanya shook her head as Edward answered. "No reason for suspicion."

"That's good to hear," she said. "Glad to know they're not involved."

"Go," Edward said, "you're running out of time."

The connection died, and Tanya stared at the phone. She stared at it for a moment, and came to a decision.

"Mike?"

"Yeah." Mike clung to her hand.

"It's going to be okay," she said slowly. "I just need you to trust me. Do you?"

"Yes," Mike said slowly.

"We're not going to call the cops," she said firmly. "I'm going to get rid of the body and clean up while you take a long, hot shower. Can you give me an hour?"

Mike blanched at her. "That's not enough time."

Tanya grimaced. "Enough for me."

"Have you…" Mike swallowed, and frowned. "Have you killed someone before?"

"Just trust me, Mike," Tanya said softly, sliding her arms around his waist and holding to his side, "when I tell you there are things about me I can't explain to you right now. But I promise, when the time is right, I'll explain."

"How did you get here, anyway?" Mike asked. "I didn't hear your car."

"I…" Tanya trailed off. "I was jogging," she blurted, not thinking.

"In that?" He raised an eyebrow, and the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I've never seen anyone actually jog in heals."

Tanya glanced down and realized that she was still wearing a Baby Phat jumpsuit and Manolo's. "One of those things I'll explain later." She kissed him again. "Just trust me."

"I just killed my fiancée and you're offering to hide the body." Mike stared at her like she was nuts. "Why would I not trust you? You think I wanna go to jail? You think they'd believe I didn't mean to kill her, that the woman made me momentarily psychotic and I backhanded her and knocked her head on a table and killed her?" Mike shuddered. "I'm gonna be sick again."

"That's fine, just don't come out until I tell you."

Mike vomited in response.

Tanya darted to the garage. The first weekend she'd come here, he'd given her a tour of the house. It was attached to the garage, which held a large variety of camping gear, which he'd jokingly suggested they try out.

She quickly gathered two large tarps, some bungee cord, and a bucket of cleaning supplies, including bleach and ammonia.

Two minutes later, Jessica Stanley was mummified by a vampire. The irony was a little amusing, Tanya had to admit, as she tore out of the house, the corpse over her shoulder. It was wrapped in a tarp, bound up with bungee chords, and then wrapped again in a plastic sheet used for painting. She'd taped her up with clear packing tape so that nothing would come loose, and made her way quickly and easily forty miles to the north.

Skidding to a halt at the top of the cliff, Tanya frowned down at the body as she tied concrete blocks to her. "You know," she said, "none of this would have happened if you weren't such a bitch. Not that I wanted you dead, or anything. But this wouldn't have happened if you weren't so… pushy." She tied the ropes a little tighter. "I haven't had to hide a body in over twenty years, and I'm not looking forward to this. If I ruin these shoes, it's your fault." And with that, she dove off the cliff, the corpse in her arms.

Just like so many times in decades and centuries past, Tanya swam out a couple of miles and let Jessica go, not watching as she sank to the bottom. She turned, swimming at top speed, and was back in under a minute. She scaled the cliff and, without looking back, she was off, jetting through the trees at top speed. All she could think of was getting back to him. She'd been gone for a while already, and she still needed to clean the mess up before letting Mike out of the bathroom. Maybe she'd put it off for a while, go sit with him…

Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing. Alice again. "Yes, Alice."

"Don't wait," Alice burst out. "When he sees all the blood, he feels guilty and calls the cops to confess everything! Do it now." She was at the house, and she stared at the back door. "You're wasting time. The faster you get out of there, the better."

Tanya groaned and headed back inside, now unbothered by the smell of the blood everywhere. Fortunately for her, Jessica's hideous floor runners had soaked up a lot of the blood and had not soaked through, because for some odd reason, the bitch had left the plastic on the bottom. Nothing had soaked through. Thank God. There was just the matter of the blood on the walls and the table where she'd hit her head.

After wrapping the runners and blood-soaked paper towels in another tarp, she set them outside. There was no scent of blood that any dog could pick up on. The only thing missing were the carpet runners and Mike's broken trophy. She wondered when that had happened. She raced back to the big white house in the woods, dumping the runner into the fireplace and setting it off, the smell of the cheap carpet's burning filling her nostrils. The tarp went upstairs, and she quickly washed it off, clean of blood, before wrapping it up and storing it in a back corner of the garage. She said a quick prayer that the house wouldn't catch fire in her absence, and rushed back out into the rain.

By the time she arrived, Mike had finished his shower. He stood in the clean hallway looking around. He stared up at her, something similar to fear in his eyes. "Do I want to know how you did that so fast?" he asked.

Rule number one: Lie. "I used to clean crime scenes when I was in college," she said, pulling something that made sense. "It was good money."

Mike nodded, still staring at her. The fear was slowly ebbing away to be placed by a hard, unreadable mask. Tanya felt a little twinge of her own fear—what was he thinking? What would he say to her?

"Why haven't you freaked out, or anything?" he asked. His face was like stone. "A normal person would freak out."

"It's not the first time I've seen a dead body," Tanya said.

"But you weren't responsible for one." Mike was staring.

"Says who?" Tanya felt a bitter smile cross her face. "You have no idea who I am, or what I'm capable of."

"Should I be scared of you?"

"Probably."

He took a few steps down the hallway and pulled her into his arms. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. "I'm not scared of you," he whispered. "You're the only person I can trust right now."

Tanya took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his skin, the blood underneath it, and the fading tang of ammonia. "I need you to trust me a little more."

"How?" His lips pressed against her ear. "Tell me what you need."

"I need to knock you out for a little," Tanya said softly. "You can't see what I'm about to do, so I want to give you a morphine injection." She squeezed his waist softly. "Maybe it'll help you get some rest."

"Where'd you get morphine?" he asked, pulling back and raising his eyebrows. "You carry drugs with you when you jog?"

Jogging. Right. She was supposed to have been jogging, and she didn't have a car. His started loudly, so he would have heard it—it was parked outside the bathroom window.

Lie. Make something up.

Then Edward's words from earlier came back to her, and she paused. You're going to have to tell him. Alice can't see when, or how, but you don't really have a choice.

"Mike," she said, sighing softly, "there's a lot about me that just won't make sense if I tell you in bits and pieces. I'll tell you eventually, but for now, trust me."

"But where'd you get it?" he asked, looking a little concerned. "You didn't break into the hospital or something, did you?"

"No." She grinned. "Carlisle gave me permission to break into his home office."

"Huh." Mike's eyes glazed over a little, like he was focused on something else. "What was that about the Italian police?" he asked. "Are you some kind of international criminal?"

She shot him with a needle.

"Not a criminal," she said, smiling. "Just a pot stirrer."

He smiled and slumped against her.

a/n Whew! Long chapter, but it wouldn't cut down at all. Sorry the update was so slow. I haven't been connected to the outside world for over a week. At all. Ever. But I moved and I'm happier now! I know you're reading this. So go review. Peace!