..::.. Chapter 25 - Cover ..::..

Present...

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I hiss. He pins me to the wall by the bathroom. It's dark.

"I could ask the same about you," he says angrily. He frames me in with a palm against the wall. "It's dangerous here."

I scoff. "I don't think it's the right place for you, either." He pulls me close. Tucks into my neck. It's all for show.

"You need to leave."

"We. You and me. I have questions. You're driving me home. And my friends." He pulls away. "What? I can't leave them here alone. You said it yourself."

He dares, he grabs me and gives me a lingering kiss. I smile a little when he pulls away. He always was so sweet. Seems like he still is.

"Outside. Five minutes."

I grab his shirt. "Are you married yet? Any kids? That definitely felt like a dad kiss." I say.

"Outside, Bella. Shit." He hisses.

He heads out the door where we came from. I gather the girls in whatever drunken state they're in. Some stay behind as they've found their hookups for the night. Lauren assures me they'll be fine, but a few giggling fools follow us.

Emmett watches me from across the room. I didn't get what I intended to get; he's relentless, but I think I got his attention tonight. Jenks and I got his attention. I'll let this show express itself with time.

I leave, but I leave with more questions.

We climb into a very beat up Toyota, and it feels like high school all over again. Ben at the wheel is simmering, getting through streets and stopping only long enough to wait for a friend to climb out.

The girls are loud and obnoxious. Lauren hangs out a rolled down window waving, hollering vulgar things at the girls staggering to their apartment.

The moment I close the door to the car and watch Lauren stumble through her apartment, I say, "Spill it. All of it."

He hits the clutch and shifts; the car lurches.

"What do you mean?"

"Ben."

He's quiet. Eventually, he speaks. "I'm a friend of Emmett's. He gave me work. It's my first month on the job."

"Bullshit. You call yourself Jenks, and you're wearing … that. I don't know what that is. I know you, Ben."

We bounce around on the road through the longest silence ever.

I reach over, covering his hand with mine. "I'm out for the same reasons you are."

The car swerves. I brace myself. He leads us into a makeshift road. He slams the brakes and kills the lights. We sit here in darkness.

"What are you trying to say?" he asks. "What are my reasons?"

My heart speeds up.

"Do you think this is a joke, Bella? We're mafia. We hunt, we kill, we make serious money. Is that what you're out for?"

"No, I'm out for the people who killed my mother. And when I find them, I plan to kill them myself."

He stares at me. He blinks.

"You'd boldly say that, straight-faced, to an FBI agent?"

"I don't know. Am I talking to one?"

He leans in; his arm on the steering wheel, the other on my headrest.

"You're talking to an undercover agent, and you almost blew my cover back there. I could take you in for this."

I smile. "Holy shit, Ben. I'm so proud of you."

He scoffs as he rolls his eyes.

"How? Where did you go to college?"

He starts the car and backs up.

"Far away."

I nod. "Mysterious. I like it." I stare at him with this involuntary grin. I open my mouth to ask—

"No wife or kids. Now leave it alone," he interrupts with grit.

"Solid." I nod. "They must fall at your feet; women. You've … obviously aged well."

His jaw flexes along with every hard shift under his palm. His leather jacket is nostalgic. He'd always wear one when we were young. His buzz cut tells me otherwise.

"You should probably let it grow."

"What?"

"Military, right? How many years?"

He looks over at me, then rubs his head.

"It's too obvious," I say.

"Marine Corps. Four years. Infantry. Got injured, so I left. This isn't my first job."

I'm stunned. Come to think of it, I don't remember him at all after… everything. I feel this pang of sadness in my chest.

"They killed her." My eyes blur. All the weight finally settling in the presence of an understanding friend I used to confide in.

"I figured that when you were gone." He doesn't look at me.

Then I realize how everything must have affected the people I left behind. Friends, close ones.

I reach and cover his hand. His thumb comes up and over mine.

My apartment is dark. I lie awake in bed. The air smelling of herbs. A warm teacup on my bedside table. All the things I try to remember are sparks flicking over my ceiling. It's like this most nights, until I tire and drift off.

I wait for it.

My eyes drift closed, and maybe my plan really didn't follow through tonight.

But then I hear the door budge. My heart speeds. I grip the knife under my pillow with all my might.

The bolt seems to give way like paper. And there he is, like a thief in the night. Standing in the shadow of my doorway, letting out all the heat.

He seems to have frozen over for a moment. I blink up at him from my pillow.

He moves.

He steps in and disappears through my small kitchen, and then he's back. He steps right into my bathroom. No one there. The loft is open, no real clever places to hide. Maybe he'll go as far as looking under my bed.

"I fucked him. He just left. I'm … tired," I tell him. Edward doesn't move from where he stands, watching me. But if I closed my eyes, I could find him by his fuming breaths alone.

I smile.

For once, my plan worked.

. .

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