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When I woke up, it felt like I was in an unknown room. The usually empty wall near the door leading into the hallway was a crime scene board of sorts. Edward had taped most of our information to the wall, leaving several pages with big question marks where the links seemed to break.

I went over to inspect it.

His uncle was linked to most of the crimes, and Volturi's links overlapped his uncle's on some pages. I read names I didn't expect, such as Kate Midlands and her husband Garrett, who worked at my art gallery, and Alistair McFayre, who used to be my father's partner for ages. But the most shocking name was Renee Dwyer.

I quickly changed into yoga pants and a T-shirt before I went in search of Edward. Hopefully, he hadn't left. He had some explaining to do.

In the kitchen, I found Rose and Emmett in one of their intimate embraces, which I hated interrupting. Emmett was the first to notice me hovering in the doorway.

"You should check on your boys. We found them in a headlock earlier; then I explained there was a fully equipped gym downstairs."

"And since that gym is Jacob's playground, he followed Cullen, breathing fire," Rose added, laughing. "Coffee?"

I was already on my way to the gym. "Later," I called over my shoulder.

I hoped I wouldn't find them fighting because I couldn't understand what made Jake hate Edward so much. Rose and Emmett had given him the benefit of the doubt because they trusted me. Jake didn't seem to believe me when I said Cullen wasn't who we'd believed him to be for years.

I stopped a few feet inside the training room. Edward was only in a pair of gray sweatpants, with gloves on his hands, kicking the sparring machine as if it had personally offended him. Jake stood to the side, arms folded across his chest, scowling at Edward.

As I was about to make my presence known, Edward made an impressive flip and pushed the flat of his sole against the top cushion of the machine. Jake whistled, impressed. But Edward didn't seem to be done; he used his leg kicks a few more times before crouching low and throwing a string of punches to the midsection of the machine.

The whole thing shook and groaned as if protesting against his abuse.

I knew there was only one way to grab their attention without startling them. Knowing Edward from our nights out, it was better not to sneak up behind him when his adrenaline was running high. So, I hit pause on my iPod, stopping one of my favorite Disturbed songs at the bridge.

Both men turned to check what had happened, and I snorted.

"We need to talk," I said, looking at Edward.

"Uh-huh. Time to pack your bags, Big Boy." Jake shuffled closer to me, cupping my shoulder. "I'll be upstairs if you need me."

I rolled my eyes. "Grow up, Jake."

I waited until he closed the door behind him before unpausing the song and did my warming up on my way to Edward. He dropped the gloves and rested one of his elbows against the sparring machine, smiling lazily. Sweat dripped from his hair, and his chest and arms were glistening. He simply radiated heat from his intense workout, which awakened my hormones.

I tried to focus on why I was here, but it was difficult to think clearly when he looked so hot.

"Care for a live sparring partner?" I stretched my arms, stopping close to him.

"I'd hate to hurt you, Kitty." He had to use his soft voice, which made me dizzy.

"Afraid to get your ass kicked by a girl, Vengeance?"

His green eyes flashed with amusement, then, faster than I realized what happened, one of his hands wrapped around my still-locked wrists, pulling me into his chest. He bent over me, and I lost my breath. When he smirked, I realized he wasn't going to kiss me, but my instincts weren't as sharp as when I fought scumbags because I was high on Edward wrapped around me. One of his feet came around, making my knees buckle, but he held me against his chest, preventing me from crumpling to the ground.

"Fight back," he demanded in a soft voice filled with authority.

I managed to spread my fingers wide, making claws of them. Edward stared at them, amused, confident of his grip on my wrists. I liked fighting dirty, and he'd seen me in action often enough to know I always escaped sticky situations.

His words had helped me get in the correct mindset for training and leave my horniness for him at the door.

I jerked my right knee up into his balls, much gentler than I'd do with my usual suspects, but the result was Edward releasing my hands as he gasped, cursing loudly. When his eyes met mine again, they were liquid fire. I used the top side piece of the sparring machine to level myself as I jumped up, then used both legs to push against his chest.

Of course, I'd forgotten he wasn't human because he barely swayed on the spot. He wrapped his hands around my calves, pulling me to him before twisting me in the air, then pushing my face down to the mattress-covered ground. He paused for a fraction of a second when the breath was knocked out of my chest, but then he immobilized my arms behind my back while straddling my ass.

I struggled uselessly. In that second, I realized all my training with Jake had been a walk in the park. Edward knew so much more, and that's why he had his enemies tied in a knot in a matter of seconds.

"You don't lack technique; you lack efficiency." He released me, helping me into a standing position. "You need to focus on how to incapacitate your fighting partner, not to block him."

"I'm usually better at this," I mumbled.

He took a fighting stance, crouching forward. "Imagine I'm my uncle. Just stay away from my face," he pleaded.

I rolled my eyes, but I focused on visualizing his uncle in front of me. The clearer the picture in my head, the more my blood boiled in my veins.

I snarled before charging at him. Edward wrapped his arms around me, trapping my arms to my sides.

"No, no, no," he said gently. "Never let anger rule your fights. You always have to be ten steps ahead of your opponent."

I struggled into his arms, breathing hard.

"Try again. Focus on the end result. You want me out cold, not dead."

I took several steps back, bouncing from one foot to the other. Edward waited in his defensive crouch. I created a pattern of well-placed kicks and punches in my head, before I narrowed my eyes on him. He nodded, a playful smile on his lips.

I started my attack with a feint to the left, which took him by surprise, but I wasn't done. I continued my attack with a foot to his stomach before I tried his flip in the air. But my foot never hit his shoulder because Edward caught it, and before I could lose balance, he had me flush against his chest. I could feel his heart thumping wildly, just like mine.

"Do you trust me?" he asked seriously.

"In theory." I didn't know what to expect from him at the moment, but I knew he would never hurt me.

He barked a short laugh before he ran toward the wall of mirrors. I grabbed his hair and pulled because he was going to break the mirrors with my body. I didn't manage to deter him, and when my back hit the mirrors, the breath was knocked out of my chest again. I was aware he barely put any force into his action, but it still left me feeling dizzy.

His mistake was to let go of my legs. I pedaled them into his chest, surprising him because he stumbled back. His sweaty foot slipped on the mattress, and I followed him to the floor, straddling his chest, one knee pressed to his throat.

"Fuck," he choked out. I moved my leg over his body to sit on his chest. His hands came to run up and down my thighs. "Fuck, you're good, Kitty."

I dragged my long nails across his cheek as gently as possible. He shuddered under me, which was an unexpected reaction. "Kitty's got claws, or did you somehow forget that?"

"I didn't think you'd keep going when I backed you in the mirror," he said thoughtfully.

"Should I have capitulated? Did you expect me to wave a white flag and beg for mercy?" I rolled on my back next to him.

"It was silly of me, now that I think of it," he admitted. Edward turned on his side, propping his head in his head. "You wanted to talk?"

"Right…" I reached up to move his wet hair out of his eyes, playing with the ends. "You put a name on my wall…I want to know what led you to Renee Dwyer."

"Her family is one of the firsts to have planted bad seeds in the system."

I stared at him incredulously. "Do you know who she is?"

"I don't know much about her past. It's like her life during her early twenties never existed. I've been digging around ever since I found out the Higginbothams were one of the big names in the city thirty years ago."

"Higginbotham? That's her maiden name," I said, perplexed.

"I'm aware." Edward sat up, running a hand through his hair. "After the death of her parents, she disappeared from the face of the earth…only to reappear seven years later as Renee Dwyer. And trust me, Phil Dwyer is just a minor league baseball player. Nothing corrupt about him or his family."

"What do you know about her family?" I insisted, mirroring his position. I wasn't sure what he'd do when he found out she was my mother. We were estranged, and I had no connection to her, except…by blood.

"Her family co-founded the art gallery downtown with my mother's family. My mom never spoke ill of others, but she often said nasty things about Renee Higginbotham. If I could get into the gallery to…Wait … you own the gallery," he gasped. "How did you get in its possession?"

I kept our eyes locked, trying not to cower under his intense stare. "It was my father's present for my twenty-first birthday. I'd always loved going to the gallery."

Edward's eyes narrowed infinitely. "Do you know how he got it from Renee? Are there any documents? I refuse to believe he was part of this too."

"It might have been easier than you believe," I said cautiously. "She owed me as much."

"She owed you," he repeated slowly, his eyes searching mine, confusion evident in them.

"You see…" I looked away, unable to say it while holding his gaze. "Renee is my mother."

"What?" Edward spat, standing so fast, that he was almost a blur. "What the fuck?" he roared, pulling me up by my arm.

"Ow!" I wrenched away, but his grip was of steel. "Let go of me, Cullen. Before you start accusing me of anything, let me tell you that I don't even know her. She left when I was a toddler. Rose and Emmett raised me, along with my dad, since he was always busy at the station."

He dropped his hand and started pacing. "Everything makes sense…But why did your father associate with her … she ran away from him when her family's secrets were coming to light probably…"

"Stop mumbling, and let's talk about what you know," I demanded.

"I don't know anything," he groaned, turning to face me.

"You know more than me about her," I pointed out. "And I know why she married my dad."

Edward lifted a brow. I didn't want to be the first to give information about my mother's background, but it seemed he wouldn't budge.

"Isn't it obvious? They were young and silly. I don't know what she was after when she slept with him, but whatever plans she had went down the drain when she became pregnant. Dad told me how they had countless fights about her desire to end her pregnancy. And then, after she had me, he'd insisted she try being a mother to me. When I was three, she packed her bags and left. One of your dad's friends got them divorced away from the spotlight."

"Jesus Christ."

"He probably also helped to shove their whole relationship under the rug…along with me. No one has ever questioned the chief of police about who was the mother of his daughter." I shrugged.

"Fuck. But it still doesn't explain the gallery…"

"It does. Think about it. I was already old enough to understand exactly what sort of person she was. I wanted emancipation. I wanted a confrontation with her. She gifted me the gallery as her way of making me shut up. And it did. Fuck, I'm so stupid." I dropped my head in my hands.

"I want a tour of the gallery. That's the piece of the puzzle we're missing. Are you involved in what's displayed or what's sold there?"

"I'm aware, but not…" I trailed off, realizing where he was headed. "You think my gallery is part of their dirty business? Fake paintings?" I felt like fainting.

He lifted a shoulder. "I've heard of worse. Drugs inserted into the frames."

"Oh, God. The auction. I always see the same faces buying similar paintings. There was a struggle several months ago. A rich tourist out-bought one of my usual customers. I'm sure you saw his busted face all over the news and how he said his painting had been stolen. I tried to cover up the whole thing and offered him another of his choosing."

"The auction is exactly what we need, but until then, let me look around."

I nodded seriously. "We're going to be making an awful lot of public appearances in the near future, Mr. Cullen."

"We're engaged, after all, Ms. Swan."

"You're a smooth talker."

"You're a vixen."

I slapped his chest. "I'm a cat."

His head bent closer to mine. "Say meow."

I refused to let my knees buckle. "You wish," I mumbled, spinning around and heading to the door.

"I can always make you," he threatened lightly.

"I'd love to see you try."

He was onto me, pushing me against the wall near the door. "Careful what you wish for, Kitty." One of his hands cupped me over my pants, and I bucked into him.

"If I meow, what sound would you make? A Neanderthal yell?" I asked, amused.

"Anything you want me to," he whispered, pressing open-mouthed kisses on my neck.

I arched into his touches, gripping the hair at the nape. I could feel him twitching against my leg, knowing we were about to have another hot episode.

But the door banged to the wall, and Emmett stopped in his tracks, staring at us with wide eyes. "You have to see the news."

I braced myself on Edward's arm when I felt the world tilting. I wasn't sure what to expect.

"To be continued," Edward whispered into my ear on the way upstairs.

I leaned into his side, nipping at his jaw. "Meow."

He tripped over the last step, and I led the way into the living room with a smirk on my face.

I could play dirty, too.

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