..::.. Chapter 42 - A Gyro and Lingerie ..::..

I barely sleep that night. Mostly the gore and blood, but the lingering scent of Edward on my bed didn't help. Imagining what he did to Riley just rolled in my mind in a loop. His strong hands were always stained with blood for me. Most, I never knew about; Edward always carving a clear, safe path for me, even when I wasn't aware.

It's morning. I turn my head over his pillow, and I hate myself.

I make breakfast with the leftover items he left behind yesterday, and I hate myself.

I make a smoothie to take to Sue's shop with more snacks, and I really hate myself.

I've never had so much food in my fridge before. It can't all go to waste.

Damn you, Edward.

"Damn you," I say it out loud. I look up. The spot in front of the building on the street is conveniently empty. Come to think of it, it always is. Just for him? That wouldn't be a stretch. This man is a marionette.

He leans and pops the passenger door open for me. His shades low to his nose.

"Time is money, beautiful," he says, and he's driving.

I drag myself in, bag and purse following, dumping it over my lap, lunch included because there was even enough for that.

He glances at the lunch bag. He grins. He looks casual in a cashmere sweater and slacks.

I should hate him.

"I don't need all your damned left overs in my house."

He frowns a bit and pulls out to the road. "Of course. My mistake. It won't happen again."

I narrow my eyes at him knowing full well his plan is to move me into his place. Some way, somehow.

I can't remember the last time I was in a car he was driving. He looks … better than he did when we were eighteen.

I sigh.

"Where's your posse?" I ask. He doesn't answer. "A day off? That's nice of you."

He shifts to a different gear making us bounce, and I can definitely see the car following behind. He's never alone. I keep that note to self.

"Work, please," I ask. He's begrudged but makes the correct turn. I don't know what plans he had for us today, but I can't be around him, and I have a full-time job now. Sue needs me.

He stops the car in front of the shop. Before I push myself and all the baggage out of the door, he pulls me back by the elbow. His nose just inches from mine.

"You okay?" he murmurs. He smells good. His shades are off, and his eyes bore into mine. Concern?

Concern.

I'm taken.

"Yup."

"You sure?" His finger pulls back stray hairs.

I take a deep breath. Definitely smells good.

"That's why you're here, to check up on me? You really want to know?" He waits. "No." I shake my head.

I take my arm back and climb out. Claire, Sue's receptionist, aka the skirt-flipper, walks by to open the shop. She gets a good look at this situation and stares—more like gawks.

Maybe I'm also gawking, but inside. I watch Edward drive off, and I've never really felt that concern from him before. Have I? I try to remember. It's weird.

Sue saunters in at ten, frazzled in her silk blouse and tailored slacks.

"You would not believe what happened to me this weekend," she announces for whoever wants to listen.

I can't help but smile. I wish I had her life. Simple. Fabulous. She goes off to explain a meetup with important people, more business, etcetera. I can't entirely focus on her tangent. She breezes toward me and with hands tightly pressed to her chest she says, "The shop is expanding! A new branch!"

Her smile is infectious. I can't help but smile, too.

"That's wonderful, Sue. Well deserved," I respond. She caresses my arm, looks at my casual attire—more like tired and unplanned attire—and kind of cringes.

"How was your weekend, honey," she asks.

I almost laugh, or cry, as all the moments come rushing back. Well, I bedded an ex and ordered to kill another.

"Uneventful," I reply.

She pats my cheek; her large ring thumps there heavily. She smiles and walks away.

Claire and I are noticeably quiet for the rest of the morning. There are no appointments this early on a Monday, but the phone does ring. In the slew of greetings, rings and holds to take down messages, there's one call that seems to sound the loudest, or maybe it's the shrill coming in after a pause of peace. Claire goes quiet after her lengthy, winded greeting. She looks over at me.

"One moment, please." She dips the receiver and announces "It's for you?" she says confused.

I've never had a call here. She huffs when I take long to react. I gather myself and take the receiver. Her eyes stuck to me, her ears pointed and ready also. I turn my back to her and stand away.

"Bella speaking."

"Meet me at the deli at noon. Order me a gyro; you owe me anyway." The line goes dead.

I'm … confused. Claire stares, and I play the part to shake her off. "No thank you, not interested," I say to the dead line.

I hand her the phone. "Telemarketing."

I'm all dried, blink-less eyes at my desk as I watch the clock. It can't be Edward. Not Emmett.

I leave five minutes before the hour and walk to the deli. There are no others around; it has to be this one.

The guy behind the deli counter looks up at me over all the heads already in rush hour. He jerks his head, beckoning.

"What will it be, sweetheart?"

I order the gyro and a wrap for me.

It's like he already has it prepared when he turns and slides me a white package. "That'll be fifteen. There's a table in the back waiting."

Oh.

I pay and shuffle my way around elbows toward the back of the shop. The guy shouts an encouragement, "Just ahead, sweetheart, past the curtain."

So, I pass the curtain, and can't help but smile. Ben is leaning on a metal table with kitchen supplies. There's a table, just not one you'd sit at to have a quick bite.

He smiles and extends his hand to grab the package from me.

"You shit," I say. I lean by him and watch as he devours the gyro.

"What? Emmett doesn't pay you?"

He smirks around a greasy lump. He swallows, licks his lips. "Not enough, actually. Definitely no perks like you're getting."

I watch him and realize what he means. The word travels, I guess. People know how my weekend went after all.

"And? It's just a show, Ben. You know that."

He widens his arms. "For fuck's sake, who's Ben?"

"Sorry. Jenks." I roll my eyes.

"Still, you have perks. Get what I'm saying? You need things I can get, and you can get things I need."

I narrow my eyes. "Okay."

"So let's get what we need."

"I get it." I enunciate, losing patience. "Now what do you need?"

He chews. "I need ledgers. I need accountant names. I need to know where else they're laundering money beyond the city. You get to see the inside of his palace. The information is in that palace."

"Excuse me? How do you know I'll be seeing where he lives?"

He gives me a look. "Bella, you were obsessed with the guy in high school, I'm betting the feeling hasn't changed in your adulthood."

My mouth hangs. "How dare you? I was never obsessed with him!"

He pulls at a napkin from around the bundle still wrapped in my hand. He commences wiping his mouth.

"Then tell me, straight-faced, you two haven't already … gotten friendly."

I go pink, maybe more so from anger.

"It's none of your business how I get my business done."

His chance to roll his eyes is now.

"You're right; I don't care. Just send me the wedding invite from prison when he picks the font to his tastes, all right? I just have this proposition for you."

I cross my arms to listen. Biting inside at his ridiculous remark that I won't entertain.

"The FBI just found out about you. They see you as an asset, and they're willing to protect you if you're willing to help. You know him personally as well as the Cullen brothers. We're actually dumbfounded that we didn't think of this sooner." He waves a hand and flicks the empty foil in a trash barrel. "All you have to do is this. Case closed."

"That simple? They're caught? Jail time?"

He grins. "Bella, we've been on this case for years. Way before you showed up, very much on time by the way. We're this close." He pinches his fingers.

"So, I help, you get a pat on the back. Possibly a medal for your achievements on trapping the most wanted men in Chicago, and I get what?"

He shakes his head like he's reminiscing. "'Don't mess with Bella' still stands." He chuckles and sucks on his molar.

"You know, I knew you would say something like that. So, I'll have to hang this over your head," he says, suddenly serious. "And I apologize, really, but seeing the look on your face when you confessed it to me, I have no choice."

I stare at him. My stomach twists at the imminent reason.

"If anyone in this case goes missing or comes up dead, you're the first suspect. What I will let you do is find your mother's murderer. That secret, I have not revealed to anyone. But you turn them into me. If you take this into your hands, I'll put you in jail myself."

"You son of a bitch," I mutter.

He shakes his head. "You don't get it. I'm saving your life. You cannot do this alone with this family. They'll take you out, and Charlie. Forget Sue. She'll be dead the moment they find out. They're ruthless, Bella. I've seen things."

I feel irate inside, angry, mostly at myself—my stupid mouth.

But his eyes are sincere. The familiar pair that looked after me when we were kids are still there—a pseudo-brother.

I feel chastised, but I get it. He's a damned federal agent. He always liked structure and went by the rules, just not applying them to girls around him.

"I'm so fucking glad I didn't sleep with you when I had the chance. Dirtiest bastard I've ever met."

He beams. His smile infectious, bright, and warm. His eyes can't help but take me in from head to toe. "I regret it."

I huff. All the memories are now coming back easily. He was perfect for me, and he wasn't. Even with his full plate he still would've been a healthier choice for me than Edward ever was at that time. I look at him, tilted head. He's serious. I guess some charmers never change.

He points at my lunch. "Eat and get out of here." I guess I silently question because he explains, "It would seem odd to leave with lunch after all this time. Gotta play the part."

"Fine," I say, opening my chicken wrap and taking a bite.

I lean back beside him as he crosses his arms to watch me silently, this smirk around his lips as he watches mine, and this feels like the old days.

"So, how do you expect me to figure out how to get inside his place?" I say muffled.

He looks surprised. "Haven't you already?" I glare. "Show up in lingerie?" He tries again.

"You're an asshole."

He shrugs. "That's your department. You've done okay alone so far. Figure it out."

I think.

Well, there is one thing …

I groan. He smiles.