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Chapter 2

Two years ago:

Bella-

I'd been walking out of the restroom of the library downtown when the opportunity presented itself. A purse was sitting on the sink, and why on earth anyone would leave their personal belongings unattended was beyond me. They deserved to be robbed for being so damn ignorant. With very little regret, I snatched the bag, and after finding a hidden alcove outside, I rummaged through the contents.

Lipstick flew in one direction with pieces of paper flying in the other as I tossed useless crap out of the purse. Finally, I found what I was looking for, pulling a thick wallet free. Forty bucks were hidden in a pocket with numerous credit cards filling the sleeves. After pocketing the cash, I stared at the credit cards.

It was so tempting. Those little plastic squares could be the answers I'd been looking for, yet I hesitated. Credit cards were traceable, and I'd no doubt find myself in jail. With regret pinching my chest, I pitched them in the dumpster next to me. Forty bucks wouldn't get me far in a place like Chicago, but it was certainly more than I'd had a minute ago.

Yep. Two years ago, I'd become a petty thief. It'd started small, and when my desperation became more than I could control, it took on a life of it's own. After swiping a few more wallets, and grabbing myself a rank little hotel room, my blight took an unexpected turn. I'd just stepped out of the shower, and was studying my reflection the mirror when an idea struck me.

I had nothing in the world to sell. Well, I did, but how would I ever live with myself if I gave into that particular idea? The thought of strange men touching me … gag. It was too much to even consider. My entire body went rigid, and I had this insane urge to hide. How ludicrous would it be to turn to such an avenue when I'd done everything to escape Uncle John?

The tips of my dusky nipples tightened, and my skin rippled with repulsion. Bile crept to the base of my throat, and I had to fight the urge to throw-up. Even as I rejected the initial thought, it continued to grow. With very little effort and an offer of a good time, I could lift triple what I was able to do now. Biting my fingertip in deep consideration, I plucked the towel from the hook on the back of the door and wrapped it around myself.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I stared at the television screen, the black surface offering me a peek at the reflection of the girl staring back at me. I swallowed as a series of nerves were born. I couldn't do it, could I?

Lost in thought, I pulled my brush from the bag I'd taken from the Goodwill donation box, and raked it through the tangled mass of hair around my shoulders. My situation was becoming harder and harder with each passing day. I tried to sit in the park with a sign saying I'd work for food, yet the lewd response of men passing by had me stuffing that sign in the dumpster.

It was crazy. It was crazy and dangerous. If my plan ever failed, I could be put in jail, or even killed. Holy hell. What was I even thinking? I just couldn't.

Plopping backward on the bed, I watched the fan whirl around on the ceiling, the shadows colliding with what was left of the daylight. My stomach rumbled with the limited options I had at hand.

Fuck it. It wasn't like I had much to lose.

At least this would be my choice, and not forced on me. I would decide when, where, who, and why. My life would be my own making, and not predetermined by my circumstances. Fate might be trying to steal my future, but I wouldn't let it go without a fight.

I would not sit by and cry. I would not be a victim.

Bella

Present Day

It was nearing eleven o'clock on Saturday night when I turned into the darkened alley. When I'd first started running the streets, learning the ins and outs of the underworld of Chicago, it petrified me. As the days passed I'd gotten more familiar with all the dark corners–where I could roam and where to stay away from. Regardless, I was always armed, and the knife I carried on my hip below my short mini, was always–always present. I didn't go anywhere without the blade, making sure it easily accessible under my clothes.

A bright red glow caught my attention near the back door of Blinkers. A grayish-white cloud rolled as the shadowy outlined figure standing there exhaled. I might have been apprehensive, but I'd been down this alley hundreds of times, and nothing surprising ever happened there. The closer I came to the cocktail bar the more familiar the figure became.

"Hey, Chief," I called when I spotted Sam Uley standing in the back alley of Blinkers. Blinkers was a nice little cocktail bar Sam bought when he'd come to the city. This is where I did my business. What was the point of selling my soul for a meal if I did it for pennies? Nope, Blinkers catered to the best of the best, and what better way to fill your pockets than to hem up rich, perverted old men? "Got an extra smoke?"

The Native American barely glanced in my direction, digging into his pocket to produce a pack of smokes, and passing me one. I didn't even have to ask for the lighter that followed. Lighting the cigarette, I took a huge drag, letting the nicotine soak into my lungs. It was quite a rush, and the only one I would permit myself. Despite the months I'd spent running these streets, I'd refused to become a junkie on top of everything else.

"Is Alice already here?" He nodded with a grunt, and I passed him a half-smile. He was all sorts of bark, but he had very little bite. "Was she late again?"

"Yeah, and I'm about to can her ass. If your friend wants to keep her job, she better start showing up on time. There are a lot of people in this city who need a job." He pushed away from the brick wall, and tossed the butt of his cigarette to the ground. "What kind of scheme are you two up to?"

"Who says we're up to anything?" I asked, shielding my gaze with long lashes. "I'm just a broke girl trying to make a buck."

He passed me a long hard look. "You know, you could always take the job as a waitress. The tips are good, and it'd get you off the streets."

I had a feeling taking the waitressing job Sam offered came with a damn sight more than extra cash–if the tales from half the staff were correct. I shook my head with a shrug. "I do pretty well with what I do?" Not wanting to rub him wrong unless he prevented me from coming and going as I pleased, I gave a reluctant shrug. "Who knows? Maybe one day I will."

He passed me another long look before disappearing inside. Taking a drag off the cigarette, I rested against the brick wall. In a minute I would head in and talk to Alice, but for a second, I just needed to catch my breath. These fucking stilettos were killing my feet tonight, but they were necessary.

Doing what I did for cash wasn't easy. It required being stealthy and fucking smart. It also required me to maintain a certain persona. These fucking heels were just part of the image. Sorta like the fake smile and the sweet tone I used to deal with these low-lives I dealt with on a daily basis.

That's right. I was a phony, a fake, fraudulent if you will. My entire life was a huge facade, and sometimes I couldn't even remember what the fuck was real anymore. Oh, I remembered every second of what landed me in this particular position, but from the day I walked away from that two-story nightmare, everything was a blur.

A fight. A fight for survival they didn't teach you in school. I guess there was no good way to explain to half the class their preaching about hopes and dreams was bullshit. Out here, I'd had to formulate new hopes and dreams, new ways to fill my stomach that didn't leave me wanting to leap from the tallest building I could find. Maybe I should have a consciousness, but currently, I did what I had to do, and until the day came when I could put this all past me, I would continue to do what was necessary.

Flicking the cigarette away, I headed into the kitchen of the cocktail bar where Alice attended the bar. I'd met Alice one desperate night at the mission when the Goodwill box put a padlock on the snap door to keep me out. Apparently, their goodwill was only extended when they could profit a buck or two. Considering I had nothing to offer, I didn't fit the bill, and so they took my only form of the sanctuary until I was desperate enough to head to the mission.

"Hey, Bells," Paul called from his spot near the stove. Paul was related to Sam in one fashion or another, and was the cook here at Blinkers. We'd talked a few times, but like most men, I kept him at a distance. "What are you up to tonight?"

I ignored the suggestive wiggle of his brows. I knew what he thought. I knew what most of Chicago thought. Wouldn't they just be fucking shocked if they knew the truth? Passing him the same fraudulent smile I used on all the guys, I waved him off. "I think we both know what's up, or what will be shortly."

I didn't wait to hear his response as I trekked to the swing door. He tipped his head back with a throaty laugh, shaking his head. I skirted a waitress as I passed through to reach the bar, and slipped onto a stool. Alice was just putting drinks on a tray when she noticed me. "Where the hell have you been? I expected you here an hour ago. You missed some pretty good prospects. They came and went already."

Toeing the heels off my feet, I stretched my toes on the smooth cold bar, turning on the cushion to look at the occupants. Tucking my purse against my stomach, I searched for my next meal ticket. "I was meeting Riley. Fucker left me standing on that corner for twenty minutes …"

"Don't tell me he didn't have any?" She wiped her hands on a towel, walking toward me with a frown. "You know they are crucial."

"Relax. I got some." Fishing inside my tank top, I pulled a small baggie from my sidearm and wiggled them at her. Rohypnol. It was a wonder drug. If it weren't for those pills I'd be starving in the streets. My gaze darted around at the couple a few tables away to a guy sitting in the back. "You don't think there's anyone here I could …"

I saw him before I ever finished my sentence. Looking back at Alice, I gestured in the direction of the back corner. "What about that guy over there? He looks loaded and miserable. Think I could persuade him into having a good time?"

"With the way, he's been knocking back whiskey after whiskey, you just might be able to." Alice grabbed two glasses from the shelf, and a bottle of Jack. "Give me one of those roofy's. No time like the present."

"Sam says you were late again today. You better start showing up on time or we will both be out of good business." I fished into the small baggie and handed her one pill. While she went to work, I gave her a last fleeting glance before focusing on my target.

He looked preoccupied. He must have a lot on his mind. His gaze was rooted to a spot near his feet and he had yet to look up. I briefly wondered what could cause those worried lines on his forehead, but then, I honestly didn't care. He had plenty of money by the looks of it to get past whatever was weighing him down. I focused on the spark of gold near his wrists.

Cufflinks. They were sort of my thing. I had a cubby under the bridge downtown with a shoebox full of them. The ones twinkling under the dim light would make a welcome addition. I should sell them. They would provide a generous buck from the right person, but they were my trophies, and very hard to part with.

With a great amount of effort, I dragged my gaze up his lean form, feeling as numb as always. There was nothing special about this guy. Just another dollar in my pocket, hopefully, several. Blond hair, average height and build, and drunk. Perfect.

I came back to reality to hear Alice's excuse for being late. "It's not my fault that fucking subway was late. I thought those things ran on a schedule. Who the hell would I even complain to?"

"I don't know. Maybe write to the governor, I'm sure he couldn't give two shits if the subway is running late." My target pushed his glass away, and looked around the bar. He was getting ready to leave. Fuck. "Hurry up, Alice. I need that drink."

He was just scooting his chair back when the cool glass touched my fingertips. Without hesitation, I plucked the drink from the bar and was across the room in a flash, plastering the best smile I could manage. "Hi, handsome, leaving already? Before you even shared a drink with me? What a shame."

His eyes were already glazed over when they met mine. Perfect. His blond eyebrows drew together in a silent question. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet, but I'm confident we will fix that." I didn't wait for an invitation, settling into the chair closest to him, and setting the drink in front of him. Placing my hand on his knee, I leaned in, letting him smell the floral scent on my skin. "You look like you've had a hard day. What's your name, sailor?"

Right on cue, he reached for the whiskey I sat before him, and he attempted to shake the drunken daze away. "Mike. My day was shit, but it's starting to improve."

He tried to pass me a flirty grin, but it was clumsy and lopsided. Tightening my fingers on his knee, I slid my hand an inch up his leg. "Damn straight it's starting to improve." When he would've simply sipped the drink in his hand, I nudged the bottom of the glass, urging him to take a bigger drink. "Knock that back, and we'll take this party to your car."

Bile rose in my throat when the backs of his fingers grazed the skin of my throat, brushing my hair back off my shoulder. Goosebumps pricked my skin, taking me back to a place I didn't want to visit. It took all the willpower I could gather to remain in my seat, to keep the smile frozen on my face when all I wanted to do was deck him and cringe away from his touch. When his breath blew across my skin as his lips drew closer, I couldn't contain myself. I pulled back several inches, batting my lashes at him. "Now you know you can't sample the goods for free." To keep my reprimand light, I walked my fingers up his arm, coyly saying, "Everything comes at a price."

"Very true," he mumbled, "foolish me. You have the most incredible green eyes. I would love to see them beneath me for the night. How much?"

The roofy lacing his alcohol was starting to take effect, and his words slurred together. It was time to put this dog to bed. I didn't tell him what it would truly cost him, but if I hoped to make it back to his car before he passed out, we had to go. "How about we talk about the price on the way to your car, lover?"

By the time we stepped into the cool night air, I had to lean most of Mikey boy's weight on me, ushering him down the street to his car. I wound up having to dig his keys out of his pocket myself, he was too far gone for coherent thought.

Using the fob, I clicked the unlock button to locate his car. When a black Sedan honked at me, I hurried him to the passenger side, and dumped him in the seat.

While he slobbered and fought the drug, luring him to sleep, I went through my regular routine, unsnapping his cufflinks first, I shoved them into my bra. Since Alice and I worked this gig together we shared most of the profits. The cufflinks were mine, however, and since I wasn't selling them for a profit, they were fair game. Hurriedly, I unclasped his watch, and dumped it into my purse. Then I went to work on the rings on his fingers, the necklace tucked under his shirt, and the gold money clip with a diamond in the center I uncovered as I emptied his pockets.

Later, in a safer place, I would decide what to keep. I just needed to work quickly while I was in his car.

Of course, it really didn't matter. He was already snoring. Taking a deep breath, I slowed down, rummaging through the glovebox and center compartment. When I'd collected everything I perceived as value, I forced my hammering heart to calm down. I was about to leave the driver's seat and get the fuck out of dodge, but something prompted me to look in the backseat.

It was empty. Standing on my knees on the leather seat, I looked at the floorboard, my pulse quickening when I saw the bag nestled close to the passenger seat. When I unzipped the bag, my eighteen-year-old heart raced right out of my skin. Holy fucking shit.

My grip on the bag tightened. There had to be thousands of dollars inside. I should just take a bundle of cash or so, and leave the rest.

The hair rose on the back of my neck. If I took this whole bag it would go a long way, and I might be able to climb out of the hole I was trapped in. When would I ever get another chance for a miracle to present itself?

Licking suddenly dry lips, I contemplated the chain reaction that would occur if I gave into the impulse. I bit my lip, and I tucked the strap over my shoulder.

Fuck it. I spent days, weeks, years doing dangerous shit for pennies. How could I resist when it could help get me off the street?

Throwing the car door open, I looked at Mike one last time. He didn't appear to need the money as badly as I did.

He would survive.

I was just getting ready to hop out of his car when the trill of a cell phone caught my attention. Probably the guy's wife, I thought tracing the gold band I slipped from his finger. Curiosity getting the better of me, I dug into his pocket, and glanced at the screen.

I was wrong. It wasn't his wife. It was Edward Cullen, whoever the fuck that was. "Pfft."

Pressing the ignore button, I threw the phone onto the seat.

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