A/N PearlyFox pre-reads my madness, and Fran S-Flower makes it sound better, both are angels. Enjoy!

Chapter One: Nickels and Dimes

Edward

xXx

Sirens wail and feet fall heavily against the pavement as I navigate through the back streets of downtown Queens. The air is thick with smoke and pollution, but it feels damn good to breathe that shit in, to walk freely down the street, knowing I can go anywhere, knowing I'm not trapped.

I find the garage easily, the big sign out front labelled 'Monty's', the dead giveaway I'm at the right spot. It's humming with activity, the metallic whir of machinery hums, low voices laughing, talking. I bypass the front shop and go straight round back to where the cars are, looking for Ricko. I've never been here, but I know it well enough from his descriptions over the years.

I spy his blue mohawk and wander up to him. He's bent over a workbench, rewiring something. Half these guys probably know fuck all about cars, shit is about cleaning money, not making it as mechanics, but Ricko knows his shit; loves to work on engines.

"Stop pretending you know what you're doing, you dumb motherfucker." I say around my cigarette, leaning against the pillar next to him.

Ricko turns to me with a sly grin. "Masen, you fuckin' asshole." He greets me with his fist held out, the letter spelled out above his knuckles in black ink.

I touch my fist to his, pulling the cigarette from my lips and chucking it on the ground, stamping on it. I go to pick it up, but Ricko waves his hand. "Shit is fine, man. You sure you want to do this?"

"Yeah," I mutter, crossing one leg over the other, my fingers already twitching for another cigarette, "I think so. I don't fucking know. As long as it's clean shit, no drugs, no hits, I'm not fucking with that again."

Ricko's gray eyes meet mine, and he nods, scratching the large phoenix across his chest, red flames peeking out from his dirty white vest top.

"I know where you stand, asshole. It's strictly protecting the girl, nothin' else."

"And none of your boys wanted to take it on?" I ask curiously, giving in to my addiction and taking out another cigarette.

Ricko ignores the one I offer him. His vices are pussy and coke and not necessarily in that order.

"Nah. Too risky. Big man's daughter? Shit is dangerous. You even look at her wrong, and you know you're choking on your own dick. Shit, half of us 'ain't even seen her before; he keeps that shit locked tight. Not to mention she's jailbait. Seventeen."

I inhale the smoke, letting it drift deep, relaxing my chest and stilling the anxious tap of my foot against the floor.

"I hear she got some big tits and a fuckin' nice ass." Ricko laughs.

"Who you talkin' about?" I turn my head and see Big J walking towards us, bronze skin dripping sweat, his black hair in a ponytail. He was in with us for six months last year, but he and Ricko go way back to when they were green.

"Mace, you out finally, I see." He nods at me, smirking.

"Been out two weeks." I shrug.

"Where you fuckin' been then, asshole? Too busy getting balls deep in some pussy again? Or do you prefer cock now after taking it on the inside?"

I ignore his jab, not in the mood.

As if any fucker would have dared touch me with Ricko's crew watching my back. If I believed in any fucker, I'd send up a silent prayer of thanks that I got bunked with that asshole when we were both picked up at eighteen.

Five years in the slammer together, and I trust Ricko and all his boys with my life.

"Mase is gonna interview to be the new cagna for the big man's daughter," Ricko tells Big J.

J lets out a low whistle. "You crazy motherfucker; that girl s'posed to be a major fuckin' bitch."

I grimace, "Money is dope though,"

"For a reason, brother." Big J points out, clapping a large hand on my shoulder. "You don't gotta risk it like that; come work for my crew if you need cash; you used to run for Marcello, no?"

"He 'ain't about that no more." Ricko says for me, "he wants to stay clean."

"For real? You know you might have to shoot a motherfucker if you guard her."

Wouldn't be the first time I killed someone. I shrug. "So I shoot a motherfucker, or several, but I'm not fuckin' with anything else. I can't go back inside, man."

"You know you get caught with a gun and a dead body, and you're in for life." Big J points out, quirking a brow.

"Shit won't be like that, and you know it." I defend. "I shoot a motherfucker protecting her; then shit is self-defense. 'Sides, it's peace times; no one will fuck with Swan."

"All hangs in the balance, brother, you know that."

"A'ight, he gets it." Ricko cuts in. "Mace has less chance getting caught being the cagna, and you know it. He'll take home triple if he can stick it out a few months." His eyes meet mine with a slight glint.

Ricko knows what I need the money for. He's the only one who knows.

I consider taking Big J's offer for a moment. I swore the night I got picked up, covered in James's blood, that I wouldn't do that shit again, wouldn't risk it, but shit is different now, now I need money.

Bad.

Still, Ricko is right. I do this bodyguard shit, and I get triple what they're making. Plus, unless shit gets tight, all I gotta do is put up with the boss's daughter. Once I make enough money, I can be out, can get a job in a coffee shop or a bar, or some shit like that. For now, I need to make cash and quick.

Ricko packs up his shit, and together we start walking towards the subway.

xXx

Charlie Swan has a lot of names in New York. I heard about him the first time when I was just barely sixteen, running drugs for Marcello, one of Cinna's guys. Cinna Marquez is a hard motherfucker, head of the Marquez family, and back then, he was top dog, the Mafia King of New York, head of the Five Families. In those days, people called Swan 'The Snake', or 'Mamba,' depending on who was talking. Some of the boys running with me told me it was because he was sneaky as fuck, but I overheard Marcello tell Nico, his number one, that it was because Swan only ever struck once, and only if he was sure he'd make the hit and get the venom deep.

Nowadays, he isn't The Snake anymore. Two years ago, he took the crown by striking everyone, and not just once, making that name redundant, un-fucking-suitable. Now they call him Seven Bullet Swan or SBS. Rumor has it that he took seven bullets from Cinna and then planted one in Cinna's face, right through the left eye. That shit is bygones now, Cinna is still alive, just with one eye, and he now answers to Charlie; they all do.

But that shit isn't common knowledge. In the media, SBS is Charles Swan, the philanthropist, and successful realtor, owning half of Manhattan's high-rises.

The place Ricko takes me to, isn't what I was expecting. I'm glad I wore a clean T-shirt when I see the swanky-looking restaurant, big shiny glass windows, ceiling to floor with the name written on the glass in some fancy fucking script. There aren't any seats in front of them, cos' who would want to look out at the dirty street when you're dining fine.

"You waiting out here?" I ask Ricko, less of a question and more of a statement. No way would they let this blue-haired motherfucker in those doors.

"See you when you get out, brother." Ricko shrugs.

I don't look back at him as I walk tall towards the main doors, my chin tilted up slightly. Seven Bullet Swan, Charlie, whomever the fuck, people like that respect someone who doesn't roll over and take shit lying down. If I'm gonna protect his daughter, I want him to trust I'll stand in front of a bullet for her. Shit, I'll stand in front of seven myself if it gets me this money.

As my hand meets glass and I push it open, the warmth of the interior hits my face, along with the mouth-watering smell of cooking meat, fresh bread, fresh fucking food. I'm surprised for a moment when I see the restaurant is empty, but it fades fast.

Of course, it fucking is. The empty room is a relief, my slight stress over my appearance disappearing. These jeans are worn in, and god knows where the fuck Esme found them 'cos they never belonged to me, and I'm much bigger than her current boyfriend, Mark. The black T-shirt, that's newer, stolen by Tommie, though he'd argue until he was fucking blue in the face that he paid for it.

Yeah, fucking right.

I wait patiently at the center of the deserted room. I know there are eyes on me already. I spotted three different cameras on the walk through the door, and as I glance around subtly, I see another two at the back. I've always been good at shit like that; it's why I was a good runner; perceptive and vigilant. Of course, none of that mattered in the end, not when I was holding my hand to my best friend's stomach as he started to bleed out in the alley, sirens wailing towards me.

Guilt aches under my ribs as I recall the wet slaps of my feet against the pavement, running hard, running for my life. The collision with black asphalt felt like a fucking train barrelling into me, winding me more than the body that landed on top of mine, twisting my hands behind my back.

"You must be Edward Masen." I hear a deep voice to my right.

"Yes, sir," I say respectfully, keeping my eyes forwards. "Everyone calls me Masen."

"I'll call you Edward." Charlie Swan says coolly.

I nod, fighting the urge to shrug. He can call me whatever the fuck he wants, just so long as I'm paid. He comes to a stop in front of me, and I meet cool blue eyes, set in a middle-aged, clean-shaven face, his gray hair short and neatly cut.

We're around the same height, which surprises me; I'm almost six foot four and usually the tallest man in the room.

"You're a good-looking son of a bitch." Charlie says distastefully. "I would imagine my daughter will think so anyway."

I don't know what he wants me to say to that, so I say nothing.

Charlie turns and walks over to a table, sitting and gesturing to the chair in front of him. I follow his lead, placing one arm on the table as I look at him dead on. He holds my stare for a moment before a slight smile tugs at his lips. "A cocky motherfucker too, yeah?"

I clear my throat. "Confident maybe, sir."

"Fuck off with the sir shit," Charlie says, leaning back in his chair slightly and surveying me. "You don't need to kiss my ass."

"Wasn't trying to," I say honestly. "Just being polite."

Charlie laughs, holding up a hand. A woman rushes over from an adjoining room. She's hot, and I notice, but I don't react as she places two scotch glasses on the table in front of us.

"I'm going to be blunt, Edward," Charlie says casually, "this is less of an interview and more of a … meeting. I've had several guys vouch for you, and I've run your background, spoken to Marcello. You were on the rise to be one of Cinna's guys, a strong candidate, I'm told."

I nod, and he arches a brow. "You got loyalty to that family still?"

"No," I tell him honestly. "Never did have, just to Marcello and to be 'blunt,' he fucked me."

Charlie barks out a laugh. "Yeah, Marcello's a son of a bitch. You sure you want to do this for me? I could have you working on different things if you want? Strong record like yours, I could use you."

I feel my jaw tighten and try to relax. "Respectfully," I say carefully, "I don't want to do that shit anymore."

Charlie looks at me with surprise but then shrugs. "Okay." He picks up his glass and drinks some. I copy his lead, the amber liquid burning the back of my throat a little.

Fuck me, that shit tastes expensive.

"So, here's the thing, Edward," Charlie states, "my daughter has a fucking death wish. Refuses to be guarded, sneaks out, sneaks people in, goes every-fucking-where she's not supposed to, and I can't have that shit." He places his elbows on the table, meeting my eyes head-on.

"Every single guy I've assigned to her has quit, and of their own volition, not because I made them. When I tell you, she will give you hell, I fucking mean it."

I shrug, "I can handle it."

Charlie hums, "Well, we'll see. Isabella is quite aware that if she were to try to sleep with you, she'd be killing you, but I can't promise she won't try, so I'll explain to you what will happen if you lay a single finger on my daughter…" His cool blue eyes flash, "Wherever you touch her ...whatever you do to her? I'll put you in a room with ten men and have them all touch you the same way, for a week straight. Then, if I feel like it, I'll let them kill you, or if the mood strikes, I will personally cut off your dick and leave you out in the street to bleed to death. Got it?"

It's not the worst threat I've ever heard, not even close, and I barely blink at him as I nod. "Loud and clear."

Charlie searches my eyes, and I know without a doubt he meant every single word he just said to me, that he would easily carry it out, maybe even happily.

"Good," Charlie says, again sipping at the scotch. I have some more, too, forcing myself not to be greedy with it and savor it on my tongue. "It's five days a week, twenty-four hours a day; you'll stay in the room down the hall from my daughter. She doesn't go anywhere without my knowledge; she doesn't see anyone without my knowledge; she doesn't bring any fucker to the house without my knowledge. On your days off, you do what the fuck ever you want, and while she's in school, again...do whatever the fuck you want, as long as you're there in good time to pick her up."

I nod in acknowledgment. That sounds fine to me.

"Don't speak to her unless it's necessary; trust me, it's better that way for you. If she wants to go out, she can, but you go with her, and if it's in the evening, you run it by me first. I'm not opposed to her socializing, but I want to know if anyone's acting suspiciously around her."

I nod again. "Okay."

Charlie swirls the glass in his hand, "you know how to shoot?"

"Yeah." I shrug, "but shit didn't go down with guns much, and I'm rusty."

Charlie purses his lips. "Honest."

"Why lie? You probably know the answer anyway."

He smirks. "I do. You can train this week and next while she's in school, and I want you working with one of my guys on hand to hand, though I know you've got some good experience there already. I hear you took down six guys on your own, paralyzing two of them, that embellished or true?"

"They interrupted my shower." I point out, "shit is out of order."

And I was damn lucky I had Ricko to get me out of getting caught for that one, or I'd have been in at least another year or two.

Charlie laughs, "Listen, kid, simple question, would you die for my daughter?"

"Yes," I state firmly. "Whatever it takes, though..." I swallow, trying to think of the right way to say what I need to.

Charlie's crystal blue eyes pierce into mine, and he nods suddenly. "If anything happened to you working for us, we'd sort something out for your family, keep paying them your salary for the rest of the year. We look after our own Edward."

I exhale and then nod. That money is worth more than my life.

Charlie studies me and then nods. "Good, because things are stirring, and shit could go down any day now."

I raise an eyebrow at him, "Oh yeah?"

Charlie laughs, "You know every single one of the bosses would slit my throat given half a chance; everything in New York is held together by a thread. I've been staying out of Cinna and Banno's hair, but shit is getting problematic at the docks, and I'll have to step in soon. Won't go down easy when I do."

"Never goes down easy when you try to shove your cock down someone's throat, boss," I say seriously, meeting his eyes.

Charlie's eyebrows raise, and then he throws his head back and laughs. "You start tomorrow. That good? You need to tie up any shit?"

"Nah, I'm good." I tell him, "I can start tomorrow, no problem."

"I'll send one of my guys to get you in the morning, and he can talk you through all the boring procedural shit. I'll hire you officially under the company with a contract, but that salary will be less than half. Money on top of that is hushed. Fuckers take most of that shit from you in tax anyway."

I feel my lips tug up a little. I wasn't expecting a clean job role, too, but that shit's useful, especially if I need to explain how I got the money.

I don't ask him why he's choosing me instead of going through an official company or why he doesn't pick someone with military experience. I don't need to. This shit is all about trust. We both know, if Cinna or any of those other fuckers want Charlie's daughter, a nice bribe to the bodyguard will do the trick in most cases. Charlie wants loyalty. I need the fucking money, but I don't turn face, and I'm loyal to my fucking bones. My reputation speaks for itself on that shit.

Though none of them know what went down the night I got caught.

I've never told anybody, and I never will.

I walk out of the restaurant and find Ricko chatting up a leggy blonde with baby blue eyes and an innocent-looking smile. Body is nice too, short little yellow sundress, decent tits. She's not his type, but she's definitely mine. Ricko turns to me with a smirk when he sees me. The woman's gaze rakes over me from head to toe, her little mouth parting as her eyes dilate.

I fuck her in the alley, the chaotic sound of the city hiding her screams of pleasure.

A/N Up next, we meet Bella. Let me know what you think in the reviews! What do you think of Edward? What do you think of Charlie? Big thank you for all the love so far, can't wait to hear what you're thinking!