A/N

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Chapter Nine: Underground

Edward

xXx

"One drink, motherfucker." I tell Ricko, splaying my legs as I relax in the booth. Big J's fist meets mine, and I greet the other guys too. Slash, Whiskers, Monkey, Ronnie. All Charlie's guys, but underdogs of underdogs.

"How's it going with the boss man's daughter?" Slash asks me, his red hair glinting into the harsh overhead lights.

The bar we're at is a time-old haunt for this crew. I've never been—never been to half these places. Shit wasn't in my lines before. Cinna's borders are East and Charlie's West. It's small, packed in with lots of bodies, a beaten-up pool table in the corner with fraying green on top. Places like this, they're the real grit of New York, underground bars where motherfuckers who haven't got fancy shit come, to have a beer, to relax. Big J and Ricko can afford better haunts, but they don't care about that shit. It's part of why I like them.

"It's going, fine man," I tell them; loose lips around here would be an easy death sentence. I trust these boys, but I don't know who's fucking listening.

A large beer is placed in front of me, and I meet Ricko's gray eyes. They glint playfully, "If you fancy a fuck, girl at the bar is sittin' pretty and has her eye on you."

I follow his gaze and find a red-headed woman dressed in jeans and a cropped black T-shirt. Her fiery hair is thick and curly, and that shit would look good wrapped around my fist, her tight little body just my type too. But I gotta be back at Charlie's in a few hours, and I don't feel like fucking a woman in a bathroom stall.

Done plenty of that shit the past two months since I've been out, and I'm fucking bored now. Pussy is like pizza; even when it's bad, it's still kind of good, but I've lost my appetite for the cheaper stuff. I want some gourmet shit.

My mind flickers with images of Isabella pressed against the cabinet this morning as I searched her for the drugs, her soft skin under my fingertips. Girl has a fucking gorgeous little body hidden under that sinful school uniform. I bet she looks fucking beautiful naked.

Those weird, fucking colored eyes, all hooded and shit when I was on my knees in front of her. I'd been thinking about that all fucking day. Need to stop thinking about it because she was fucking high, and she's seventeen, and I fucking hate her.

"Nah. One of you have her." I tell Ricko, taking a sip of the beer. It's bitter and bubbly on my tongue, and I gulp that shit down thirstily.

"Dibs." Monkey grins, jumping up from the table and tucking his shoulder-length hair behind his ears, revealing the colored ink that carves out his jawline.

"Wear a fuckin' rubber, Seth." Big J snickers.

"No fuckin' way, asshole, shit feels like trying to fuck a chicken."

I spit out my beer, and the boys laugh raucously. "The fuck you been smokin', you strange motherfucker?" Slash rumbles.

"You been fuckin' some chicken's you backward bent fuck?" Ronnie follows, his deep laugh making all of us laugh harder.

"It's the only chick he can get." Ricko howls.

"At least chickens don't have the clap," I add, smirking at Monkey.

"They do now!" Whiskers wheezes through his laughter.

We all smack the table as we burst into laughter. Monkey gives us both his middle fingers, then downs his drink and walks up to the bar, pretending to accidentally fall into the woman on the stool.

I snicker. Monkey's just seventeen, and he's green as they come. Won't be for long, though. This world makes you grow up real fucking fast. His best hope is that he advances up Charlie's ranks and ends up where Big J and Ricko are now, but Ricko ran shit on the inside for Charlie, and his status was well fucking earned. He got out earlier than me too, been out here grinding for six months now. Big J, he's been working for Charlie since he was sixteen, and his dad before him.

Nepotism doesn't buy you favor in the underworld, but it does buy you chances to prove yourself if you want them.

"I'm going for a smoke," I announce, getting up. Ricko comes with me, and we walk up the cement stairs to the street, leaving behind the poignant smell of stale beer and sweaty bodies.

We lean against the wall, and I breathe in the nicotine gratefully, holding the cigarette between my thumb and pointer finger. The end glows cherry red, and I stare at it for a second.

"How's Tommie, man?" Ricko asks quietly, accepting the cigarette from me and taking a drag.

I sigh. "I've almost made enough to get him started, another few weeks, and I'll be there."

"That's not what I asked, brother." Ricko's voice is softer.

I take the cigarette back and inhale sharply, feeling my lungs burn from the effort of taking such a deep drag. The slow exhale calms me.

"Truth? I don't fucking know. He feels like shit, but he doesn't want to fucking talk about it. Es keeps fucking crying, but I don't want that negativity anywhere fucking near him right now."

Ricko nudges his shoulder to mine. "Look, it 'ain't easy, comin' out and having to...deal with this shit. You know if you need extra cash, man…"

I nod, "You got your own shit to deal with, brother. How's the kid?"

Ricko shrugs, "I don't fucking know him; he doesn't know me. The first two years of his life, I was just a fucking kid myself. Then I was in fuckin' prison. I'm twenty fuckin' three, and I have a seven-year-old, that shit is just...Ness is a piece of work, too, living off her dad, bitchy as sin. I'm lucky I can even see the kid."

"Any chance you two could make shit work? For the kid?" I ask curiously.

Ricko chuckles, "Nah. Ness is into chick's now; shit, I guess she always fuckin' was. Got a girlfriend called Ruby. Seems decent. Sam likes her. That's important, 'ain't it?"

"Yeah, man, that's dope." I elbow him gently. "Kid's got three people lookin' out for him, more if you count Ness's parents. That's better than we had growing up."

Ricko's childhood was a lot like mine.

He nods, sliding his hands into his pockets. "So, how's it actually been? With the girl?"

I snort, "It's...fine. I mean she's being a bitch, as usual, but I can handle it."

Ricko and I stay outside talking for a while before we head back in, Monkey looking very satisfied with himself as he leans with his elbows on the table. We roast the fuck out of him.

When I get back to the Swan's, Emmett is waiting for me in the foyer. I look around for Isabella, and he gestures his head upstairs. "She's in bed already. It's...tomorrow, I mean, did Charlie tell you what it is?"

I shake my head, "Nah, he was going to talk to me earlier, but Isabella pissed him off, so…"

Emmett nods, loosening his tie. "Tomorrow, it'll be two years without her mom, my aunt."

So, she did die. I feel a flicker of guilt for bringing up Isabella's mother but then push it down. She doesn't care what she says about mine; why should I feel bad for just giving her back what she gives me.

It does explain why she was high as shit this morning, though.

"No wonder she…" I trail off.

"She what?" Emmett asks, tilting his head, his blue eyes scanning mine. "Look, whatever she did... if you're gonna tell Charlie, please don't for a few days. It's a rough time for them both."

I stare at him curiously and nod. I wasn't going to tell Charlie about the coke anyway. I'll take it off her if she has it, but I'm not gonna tattle on her. She shouldn't fuck with that shit anyway, fucking idiot.

Emmett sighs, "Cygnet doesn't want to go to the service at the graveyard tomorrow, and when she tells her dad that, shit is gonna blow the fuck up. Be ready to grab her and put her in her room."

I frown, curiosity bubbling in my gut, but bite my tongue. None of my fucking business. "Sure."

Emmett sighs wearily, "it's going to be a fucking shitshow. You're covering for D all weekend, yeah?"

I nod, grimacing a little. I'm not happy about having to cover. Weekends are my time with Tommie. "Yeah, then off on Monday and Tuesday, so D is gonna guard her then."

Emmett nods back, "All right, Mase. I'm off, got shit to sort out at Land's End."

I raise my eyebrows, "Cinna?"

Emmett smirks. "I forgot you were a native to the East."

My shoulders shrug. "Is this about the docks?"

"Yeah, Charlie's put out a freeze, but Bano and Cinna aren't being patient; both are trying to use other means. Shit is getting hairy."

I nod thoughtfully. "Cinna will be using the lorries coming from Philly."

Emmett frowns. "We thought he might try getting stuff in from Connecticut?"

I hum, "My knowledge isn't fresh, remember that, but Marcello used to have secret warehouses down in Philly. The ships dock in Atlantic City and then take the product out to the outer districts; they sell their shit, cut it, and it comes into New York as an additional revenue. If Charlie's put the docks here in lockdown, that product is still going to push through, so unless you want Bano to rise up against Charlie for letting Cinna use the docks and not him, you need to stop those lorries."

Emmett whistles, "Fuckin' A, Masen. Does Cinna know you know that?"

My chest aches a little, and I narrow my eyes at Emmett. "Of course not, and you didn't fucking hear it from me."

I'm not supposed to know it. Wet slaps against pavement, bang. Blood everywhere. There's a roaring in my ears, and I grit my teeth.

"Hear what?" Emmett smirks, making me sigh in relief. "You know...we could really fucking use you," he says pointedly, arching an eyebrow. "Just on a...consulting basis. It'd just be chatting to me like this, no one else. We'll pay?"

"Nah." I shake my head, "You bring shit up like this, then I'll tell you what I think, but officially you heard naught from me, yeah?"

That isn't worth the money. Too damn risky.

"No problem, dude." Emmett shrugs. He goes to clap my shoulder and then stops, laughing. "I don't want to get in trouble with Cygnet for touching her pet...don't know how you put up with that man. Her shit is childish, but I've seen it reduce guys to tears. She doesn't know the fucking line."

Yes, she does, I almost say. But I don't. I still have no fucking idea why she decided to stop trying to touch me, but she hasn't even come close since.

xXx

"Cygnet, are you awake?" Emmett knocks on her bedroom door. I hover outside of mine, not sure what I'm supposed to be doing.

The door flies open, almost hitting Emmett in the face, and he steps back quickly.

Isabella is standing there in an oversized shirt and knee-high socks; her thick brown hair piled up on top of her head in a messy bun. My jeans tighten, something tugging in the pit of my stomach at the sight of her. The T-shirt is barely covering her shapely thighs, revealing almost all her creamy skin. There's black stuff on her cheek and all over her hands; it looks like soot.

I frown at her in confusion.

"Did you sleep at all?" Emmett asks worriedly.

Isabella shakes her head, lifting her chin, the sadness in her blue-green, brown eyes making something pang in my chest.

I may think she's a fucking bitch, but I can appreciate the fact she lost her mom; I'm not fucking heartless.

Her voice is hollow, "No."

"Bella…" he says softly, reaching out to hug her.

She steps into his arms, and I'm suddenly struck by how small she is. I've never seen her like this before, so subdued and quiet. Emmett kisses her head.

"He's downstairs honey, are you sure you want to do this?"

Isabella pulls back from him and crosses her arms, her eyes flashing angrily. That's more like the girl I'm used to seeing.

"Yes," she says bitingly.

"I'll see you downstairs in a sec then," Emmett says sadly, walking down the corridor. "You coming, Mase?"

"Gotta piss, be there in a sec." I nod.

I start to step into my room when I glance back and find Bella standing in her doorway, staring at the floor. She looks so tiny and helpless.

Suddenly her eyes snap up to mine, and she glares. "What the fuck are you looking at, Fido?"

"Sorry about your mom," I mutter.

Isabella's face darkens, and she marches up to me, her little fists clenching, cheeks flushing with fury.

"Don't fucking talk to me, Fido." She snaps, "I didn't ask for your fucking white trash, fake-ass, sympathy, so get the fuck out of my face."

I arch an eyebrow at her. "Actually...you're in my face."

She sneers at me, "You're nothing but a desperate, worthless criminal."

I can't help but smirk at her. "Like the rest of your fucking family, huh? Hate to break it to you, sweetheart but criminals are all you have."

I regret my words the second they leave my mouth, but I don't have time to take them back because she slaps me across the face.

Hard.

The burning anger that explodes in my belly is so forceful that my teeth snap together with a loud clack, jarring me. My fists clench at my sides.

Isabella gives me a cold look and turns on her heel, her bedroom door slamming so loudly the picture frame on the wall next to it goes crashing to the floor.

I spin around and punch my door, the sharp pain in my fist suddenly replaced by a burning warmth as blood pours over my knuckles.

"Motherfucker," I hiss, slamming my door too.

It takes me less than a minute to calm down, and when I do, I feel like shit.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Baiting her when she's fucking upset, hasn't slept, is grieving for her fucking mom. I run my hand over my face wearily.

I'm not a fucking child; why am I lowering myself to her level?

I head downstairs after taking a piss and cleaning up my hand, I just split the knuckles, shit stings, but I've had a lot worse.

Everyone's gathered in the lounge, a room I haven't actually been in more than a few times since working here. It's filled with gleaming oak furniture, leather sofas, and armchairs that look stiff until someone slumps in them and seems to melt. Not that I've sat in here before, Isabella doesn't like this room. She prefers the one behind it, where a projector spans an entire wall, and the huge, L-shaped couch is essentially a gigantic black cloud.

I stroll past the multiple art pieces and come to a stop by the grand piano, the sun gleaming off the black and hurting my eyes.

"Edward." Charlie greets me, his voice quieter than usual. He's sitting in one of the chairs, dressed in black slacks and a crisp white shirt.

I nod at him, "Boss." There's probably more shit I should say, but I don't fucking know what it is, so I stay quiet.

Charlie's eyes drift to my knuckles, and he raises his eyebrows, "You damaging my walls again, kid?"

I smirk, "Nah, just myself, boss." I cleaned the blood off the door, and there's not even a scratch; shit is solid as fuck.

Charlie's lips twitch, and he resumes talking with Jimmy, Marcus, and Eric. They're talking about Philly, and Emmett catches my eye and winks. I hide a smile.

"Doesn't this look fucking cozy," the bane of my existence says coolly.

Everyone's head snaps to her, and Isabella glares. She's wearing teal leggings and a big gray hoodie that definitely belongs to a guy, her hair wet and dripping down the front, darkening the material.

"Bella," Charlie says, almost gently. It's the first time I've ever heard him use her nickname. Her facial expression seems warring, and she glances down at the ground for a second. "What the fuck are you wearing?" He suddenly adds, and her whole demeanor changes, her head lifting sharply, eyes burning with fire.

"Clothes."

Charlie stands from his chair, rising to his full height, and I feel a spike of admiration for the girl in front of him, standing up to someone so dominating, without even a shred of fear.

"I can see that, Isabella," he hisses. "We have to leave in half an hour for the service."

Isabella's face darkens, her fists clenching. "I'm not going."

Charlie recoils, "What?"

A single tear runs down Isabella's cheek, and something twists uncomfortably in my stomach. "Mom hated the idea of graves," she sniffles. "I want to stay here and draw all day; that's how I want to remember her, to grieve for her."

"No." Charlie's voice is cold. "You're coming."

"I'm. Not." Isabella says sharply.

"How can you be so fucking disrespectful?" Charlie growls. "Your mother is buried there, Isabella."

"It's not what she would have wanted!" Isabella's voice trembles. "I don't care about her grave; she's not in there, she's gone, and she'd hate the thought of me going there, so I fucking refuse."

"Don't be so fucking childish," Charlie says icily. "I need to go, and I need you there."

"Then go ahead and do what you need," Isabella hisses. "Fucking forget about what your daughter might need or want."

"I'm not talking about this," Charlie snaps. "Get fucking dressed, now."

Isabella's voice is deathly quiet, "Fuck. You."

Charlie's face goes purple. "How the fuck do you think it's acceptable to speak to me like that? Get dressed right the fuck now, or I'm selling the shop."

Isabella's face falls, her mouth falling open. "You wouldn't," she says shakily. "Dad, you wouldn't, please."

"Get dressed, and I won't," Charlie says bitingly.

"Daddy, don't do this," Isabella pleads, her voice trembling. "Please."

"I won't if you go and get dressed and come down here."

Isabella takes a step back, her eyes flashing with pain. "Please. Em…" She turns to Emmett.

"Charlie…" Emmett says gently, "Let her-"

"No!" Charlie roars. "Stay the fuck out of this, Emmett."

Emmett falls silent, and Isabella's lower lip trembles. "I...I'm not going. You can't manipulate me."

"Then the shop is getting sold," Charlie says coldly.

"I'm not going!" Isabella sobs, tears running down her face. "Please don't do this, dad, please-"

"I don't want to fucking hear it." He growls, cutting her off. "Just get the fuck out of my sight."

"I fucking hate you." Isabella shrieks, spinning around and storming upstairs.

The second she leaves the room, Charlie collapses into the chair, putting his head in his hands.

"Fuck," he mutters, his voice hollow. "Masen, go up there and keep an eye on her, please. We have to go soon." Charlie doesn't look up, and I leave the room immediately.

I don't feel sorry for her; I don't feel sorry for her; I don't feel fucking sorry for her.

A/N

Lots of revelations in this chapter...what are you thinking so far?

Are things going as you expected?

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Ella xx