4

Watching her perform on stage had been the most erotic experience of Edward's life. The way she moved on stage, the way she owned every inch, enticing each and every one of her fans into feeling like she was singing unswervingly to them, it wasn't hard to see what her stalker seemed to feel they had a personal connection with her. She was beautiful and sexy and confident. Edward hadn't been able to take his eyes off her.

After the show, Emmett wanted to leave immediately, but Edward refused. He knew she would be signing autographs afterward. They always wanted to make sure the fans got another piece of the artist, and he wanted . . . No, not wanted. He needed to see her in her element, and boy, did he. She greeted each and every fan with a smile — a genuine, real smile. Her 'security' was lazy, unprofessional, and careless. They were too busy checking out every hot chick wearing a short skirt and tight shirt to protect her. They left her vulnerable, open, and accessible — too accessible for his liking. Her manager, Rosalie as she had told him to call her, seemed to stay close to her side, though she was on her phone more than he thought she should be.

"Dude, let's go," Emmett said, slapping his hand on Edward's shoulder, startling him and causing him to flinch. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he murmured, closing his eyes and trying to calm down.

"Hey, let's get out of here. It's late."

He opened his eyes just as she pushed herself out of her chair, her eyes locked directly onto his. "Yeah, all right."

Edward grabbed the front of Emmett's shirt and dragged him down the hallway, away from her. He released his hold, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as they walked down the corridor and outside without saying a word. In fact, they didn't speak as they walked through the parking lot, climbed into Edward's truck, and made the ten mile drive to Emmett's apartment. He parked in front, but Emmett didn't make any effort to climb out, which Edward had expected.

"Been a long time since you flinched when we touched you."

Edward nodded.

"I'm worried about you, man," he said.

"I'm fine," he lied. The last thing he felt was fine, but he wasn't going to admit that to his brother. "Just . . . I just wasn't prepared to feel like this when I saw her again."

"Maybe you shouldn't take her case."

Edward opened his mouth to argue, but Emmett put his hands up in front of him.

"Just hear me out," he insisted.

"Okay."

"Maybe you don't remember what you were like when you came to us, Edward, but I do. I remember every fucking detail. How scared you were, how you refused to sleep for days at a time, and when you did sleep, you'd scream from nightmares so bad it took Mom and Dad to hold you down to keep you from hurting yourself. Or how it took almost a year before you would even let me or Jay be in the same room with you for more than thirty seconds before you took off and hid in the closet. If being . . . if being this close to her is too hard, then let someone else help her. We can refer her to Harper's team, or, shit, Malcolm."

Edward shook his head. "I can't . . . I can't not help her, Emmett. Not again."

"Yeah, I suppose it is kind of personal for you." Emmett reached over and placed his hand on his shoulder, ignoring the way Edward tensed. "Just don't let helping her cause you to lose yourself. You worked too damn hard to pull yourself out of that pit to let yourself be dragged back to Hell again."

"I can handle it, Em."

Emmett gave him a look before he climbed out of the truck, but before he shut the door, he said, "Jay and I are going to head over about ten in the morning, give you a chance to get settled, or whatever. Just . . . Just think about what you're doing, okay? There's no shame in letting someone else be the hero."

"I know, Emmett, I do, but . . . I can't stand back and watch her get hurt. Not again."

"But what if you end up getting hurt again?"

Emmett didn't wait for him to respond as he closed the door and hurried up the front walk to his building. Edward waited until he was inside his building before he drove away. He stopped and grabbed some hours old pizza and chips from the convenience store around the corner from his office/apartment. He tossed his food on the counter before he started a fresh pot of coffee, knowing he wasn't going to be able to sleep. Not without finding himself back there. She'd turned his world upside down. Again.

—TB—

Three pots of coffee later, Edward was seated at his desk when he heard the sound of the front door to his office open. Instinctively, he reached under his desk, curling his finger around the handle of his gun, but when he heard, "It's me, son," he released the gun and stood up, walking out into the hallway, finding his father standing at the other end of the hallway.

The tall, slender man with wavy blond hair and deep blue eyes had his hands up in front of him, as he always did when he showed up to the office when Edward was there alone. A precaution, he said, as not to startle him. It was something he had done since Edward was a little boy, to keep him from getting too scared at the sudden movement, loud noises, touches.

"Hey," Edward murmured, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Kind of early, don't you think?"

"Not when you've been up all night," Carlisle Cullen quipped, folding his arms in front of him. "Al said you were heading over early. Figured I'd tag along. See her for myself."

Edward nodded. "Going to make sure I'm not losing my shit, too?"

"Yes." Carlisle smiled. "Can you blame us for being worried, Edward?"

"No," he admitted, turning and leaning against the wall. "Logically, I know nothing that happened to us was my fault, or her fault. We didn't ask to be there, we didn't ask for them to . . ." He closed his eyes, inhaling a sharp breath, clenching his hands into tight fists. "Finding out she was alive after twenty years was hard, Dad, but seeing her in my office, reading the letters that she's been getting, seeing the fear in her eyes, I can't leave her vulnerable. Not again."

"The letters are intense. Al dropped some off at the house for me. Mom and I read through them, and agree that her stalker is escalating quickly," Carlisle agreed, taking a few steps toward him, but keeping some space, knowing what Edward needed. "And they broke into her house. Masturbated on her bed?"

Edward nodded. "We'll get the video feed. Al can analyze it, see if she can get any hits on how he got inside, physical description, something. We'll need background checks on everyone around her. Her security team needs to be replaced. Every fucking one of them are worthless."

"And how do you know this?"

Edward shrugged his shoulders. "Emmett and I went to her show last night. I observed a lot. They left her unprotected."

"Hmm," Carlisle hummed.

"He had already told you, hadn't he?"

Carlisle grinned. "Yes, your brother called me the second you dropped him off last night. Said you were losing your shit. His words, not mine. Mom also expressed her concern for you, but it's Mom, so . . ."

"I shouldn't have gone over there yesterday," Edward muttered, under his breath.

"Of course you should have," Carlisle insisted. "We may worry, Edward, but we — me and Mom — we agree with your decision to take her on as a client, even if that means moving in with her."

"Mom said it was father like son."

"Different circumstances, of course, but I don't regret my decision twenty-five years ago. I gained a son out of it, after all. Just wish I could have saved her, too."

"Dad," Edward whispered, shaking his head.

"We'll find out who is after her, Edward. Together." Carlisle closed the distance between them, slowly brining his hands up and placing them on either side of his face. "You are not the only one who wants to keep her safe."

"Thanks," he whimpered, blinking back his tears. He inhaled a deep breath through his nose, exhaling through his mouth before he nodded. "I'm okay now."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, then let's go. We have a case to start."

—TB—

Half an hour later, Edward turned his truck through the gates and into the circular driveway leading to her house. Carlisle rode with him, saying he would get a ride back with Emmett and Jasper when they came by in a few hours. Edward wasn't stupid. They were curious about her, having heard Edward talk about her so much over the years. Of course, they thought she was dead, that she hadn't made it out alive like he did.

Edward and Carlisle climbed out, and looked around. The grounds around her house weren't big. She had a lot of trees along the fence, the lawn was well cared for, he thought. Edward pulled his bag out of the bed of his truck, slinging it over his shoulder before he walked around and stood next to his father as they appraised the house. For a celebrity, it wasn't a big house. There were cameras on either side of the door, on each corner of the front of the house. The windows were thick glass and the porch clear of any obstacles.

They walked up the small pathway, up the few steps to the porch, and Edward reached over and pressed the doorbell. A moment later, the door opened and he found himself face to face with Rosalie, who unlike the day before where she had been dressed very sophisticatedly, was wearing a pair of jeans with rips on the knees, a black V-neck T-shirt, and a red and black button up over it. Her hair had been pulled up into a long ponytail, and she had a pair of black and white converses on.

"Thank you for coming," Rosalie said, smiling though there was something off about it. She looked from Edward to Carlisle before taking a step backward and waving them into the house. "Isabella . . . Bella as she prefers to be called in private will be out in just a moment. She's on the phone."

"Okay," Carlisle said, tilting his head to the side as he looked around the large living room.

There was a large brick fireplace, but no pictures on the mantel. Two large red sofas, a red dresser holding a large television, and that was all. There weren't any pictures on the wall, nothing to make the room intimate, nothing personal, he thought. Stoic, almost.

"Did you enjoy the show last night?" Rosalie asked.

Edward looked at her. "I did."

"If we'd known you were coming, we would have made you sure you had backstage passes."

"I didn't want a backstage pass," he said, before gesturing to his father. "This is Carlisle Cullen, my father and partner. This is Ms. Hale, Bella's manager."

"And friend," Rosalie added before offering Carlisle her hand. "Call me Rosalie. Ms. Hale is my mother, she's kind of a bitch, so . . ."

"Duly noted, Rosalie," Carlisle said, wrapping his fingers around her hand, but before they could say anything else, the sound of a door opening drew all three of their attention to a long hallway.

Carlisle released Rosalie's hand just moments before she stepped out of the darkness, and Edward felt a lump in his throat. She was wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a grey T-shirt with the words Blacktail Ranch in thick, bold letters across her chest. Her long, dark hair had been pulled into a bushy bun, but it was her eyes that drew Edward's attention. They were red, puffy, and heavy. She'd been crying, he thought.

"Good morning," she said. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's all right," Edward said, clearing his throat before he gestured toward his father once again. "This is my father and partner, Carlisle Cullen."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Cullen," Bella said, smiling. "I'm Isabella, but please, call me Bella, when we aren't in public at least."

"Of course," Carlisle said, nodding. "I'm Carlisle, not Mr. Cullen. Do you mind if I take a look around? Just get a feel for what we might need to do to keep you safe?"

Bella nodded, her eyes shifting from him to Edward and back. "Make yourself at home."

"Thank you." Carlisle gestured toward Rosalie. "Would you mind giving me the lay down while Edward gets settled?"

Rosalie glanced at Bella before she nodded. While Rosalie gave Carlisle the tour, Edward turned his attention back to Bella, who stood with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, but her eyes were locked on him.

"Your room is down here," she said, gesturing to the hallway behind her. "First door on the left. My room is on the right. Your bathroom is next to your room. I have my own bathroom."

"Thank you."

Bella nodded, her fingers coming up to the silver locket that hung around her neck. Edward hesitated for a second before he walked toward her, noticing the way she moved so he wasn't too close to her, though her eyes never left him. Edward tightened his grip on his bag as he walked down the hallway and into the room on the left. Like the living room, the guest bedroom was extremely basic. There was a bed, a dresser with a television mounted on top. Edward placed his bag on the bed, but when he turned back to the door, he saw her standing there.

"You were at my show last night."

"I was," he said with a nod.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"I don't know." She released the locket. "I'm sorry your room isn't . . . nicer. Ro's the only person who stays here, and she doesn't stay very often."

"It's fine. It's got a bed. That's all I really need."

Once more, she nodded, her eyes shifting down the hallway before turning back to him, but before she could say anything more, her phone started ringing, surprising her. She scrambled to get it out of her pocket, sighing before she clicked the talk button and saying, "Hey," and walking away. A moment later, he heard the sound of her bedroom door opening and closing. Edward fought the urge to follow her. Instead, he made his way back into the living room and going to the sliding backdoor.

Her backyard was beautiful. Filled with flower beds filled with colorful flowers, rose bushes, and a beautiful stone fountain of an angel. There was a covered patio with a smoker, grill, and four metal yard chairs, all red. The patio was covered in Christmas lights, and there were half dozen Tiki Torches around the edge of the cement patio.

"Hey."

Edward turned and found Carlisle and Rosalie standing just inside the house.

"Where is she?" Rosalie asked, looking around.

"She got a call," he told her, watching the way her shoulders tensed and she glanced back inside the house. "Has her stalker contacted her by phone?"

"What? No, of course not," Rosalie said, waving her hand, but glancing back into the house. "Sorry, she'll be out in a minute, I'm sure."

"Who called her?"

Rosalie sighed, glancing over her shoulder. "Her father."

Carlisle immediately shifted his eyes to Edward, who barely shook his head. Her father? Whoever Bella was talking to was not her father, because her parents, like his parent, were murdered.

Thank you for all the AMAZING reviews! I am loving all the theories into the connection between Bella and Edward.