Had Citrix connectivity issues today and I had to kill the time somehow lol

Usual things, mistakes are mine. Shit's heating up in Miamiii~


I knew Jazz wasn't home, but Allie was conspicuously absent when I entered their rooms after knocking with no response. Everything this evening had happened so quickly, I didn't actually know what time it was; when I went to check my watch, I remembered I'd taken it off before going to the club. In my experience, plausible deniability always seemed to work for the cops, and that included not knowing what time it was.

My phone told me it was just after 11pm, but it was also a Friday, and Allie could also be anywhere in the house. I sent her a text to tell her I was borrowing some clothes, and to call me or come find me when she got my message.

After grabbing a pair of loose-fitting heather gray jogging sweatpants and something called a 'boyfriend fit' black t-shirt that I ripped the tag off, I started back to my room. If Allie wanted to return it, I'd fork over the cash for it.

The temptation to simply duck in and leave the clothes on the bed had a certain level of appeal, but I did really feel like shit. Clearly the news that we knew each other was a bombshell for her, and I just dipped without giving her a chance to say anything. I knocked on the door, waiting for an answer, and entered when none came.

The shower was on, but I couldn't hear much else, so I set the clothes on the bed and went over to the built-in bench seat under a bay window to the left of the bed. Hefting a window open, I lit a smoke and sat, resolved to wait so if Bella wanted to talk or chew me out or hit me, she could.

I was on my second cigarette, and wondering if she tried to off herself in the shower, when I finally heard the water turn off.

"Clothes are on the bed." I called over my shoulder, trying to keep my voice flat and indifferent.

It felt like there was a knot in my stomach, and unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I wondered if I did have a hero complex, and held Bella on some kind of distorted child-like pedestal; was I only obsessed with her because she was an unresolved question? Maybe I was stalked by nightmares of her bloody and cold because of the life I lived, and Bella was a fond, innocent memory. Maybe they represented the death of my own innocence, and my subconscious was just now catching up.

No matter what it was, the feeling was uncomfortable and really fucking unwelcome. I couldn't avoid talking to her forever now that she was not only in my face, but a place I frequently called home.

I forced myself not to turn when I heard the bathroom door open. Partly because I wanted to respect her privacy in nothing but a towel, but mostly because some part of my fucked up head was getting way ahead of itself with the delusions. Thinking about why she was married, if she thought of me as much as I thought of her, if she would like who I had become – shit was getting out of hand.

She appeared in front of me, dressed, a few beats later, catching me off guard. Ballsy, not to even bother changing in the bathroom. I smirked, shaking my head. Little Bella had been the same, imperiously ordering me to turn around while she changed just behind me, totally sanguine I wouldn't peek.

I threw a glance at her, trying to gauge the emotion on her face, then looked back out the window and exhaled a breath of smoke. Her face itself was impassive, but she couldn't hide the tempered sadness lighting her eyes. Apparently she and Alice were pretty similar in size, the sweatpants hugging her ass and thighs, the shirt far too large but still not concealing the fact she wasn't wearing a bra.

Bella sighed, sitting down opposite me, before she spoke. "Is that really you, Edward?"

I flashed her a crooked smile, taking another drag. "In the flesh. Sorry for dropping that on you like that. Honestly didn't think you'd remember me."

She smiled at me in return, then threw herself at me, and enclosed me in a massive hug. Jesus fuck. If she kept this up, I was a fucking goner. Wrapping my one free arm around her waist I squeezed, burying my head in her wet hair, breathing deeply. She smelled like my body wash, but underneath was something woody, slightly floral, and spicy. She smelled like fucking home, and I hated myself for loving it. She was a claimed woman, and her very full, very soft breasts pressing into my chest was not helping to remember why I should give a fuck.

"Of course I remember my first crush. I was so sad when you moved away." Came her muffled voice on my shoulder. I forced my body not to react to that news; her first crush? The fuck did that even mean – as in, first crush, she doesn't have feelings for me anymore? Or first crush, I still care about you? I felt like I was back in the California surf, arms twined with my buddy's, getting thrashed by the violent tide.

My laugh was pain and relief, swirling into a bitterly happy sound. "First crush, huh? I knew playing with Barbie dolls had an upside."

When she released me I desperately want to hang on, clutch her to my chest like a fucking grenade and let her demolish every piece of me. Instead I let go, taking another drag, trying to quiet the surging emotion in my chest.

I sniffed, my thoughts immediately snapping back to reality when I remembered why the two of us were even here in the first place. My eyes turned hard, emerald boring into her tawny browns.

"Bella, what the fuck are you doing mixed up with Marcus? You're his fiancée…? I get it was childhood shit, but the fuck happened to wanting to be a dancer?"

That sobered her; immediately she began twirling the ring on her finger, her stare buried in the plush, grey carpet. "It's kind of a long story…"

Scoffing, I tapped out another cigarette, then started as she held out her hand for one as well. Obliging, I lit mine and handed it to her before igniting one for myself. "I got fucking time, Bella. Or should I call you Arie?"

I meant to be light-hearted, but I was only capable of sounding like a sarcastic jackass. At only 28 I was already an old dog, and I couldn't learn new tricks, especially not demure tact. I was conditioned to be rough as sandpaper, all honesty, and flat as champagne with no bubbles. As much as the feelings I was experiencing for Bella were foreign but delightful, I couldn't magically turn myself into a fucking prince for her.

"My mom was killed in a car accident not long after your family moved. My dad was wrecked, and the only family we had was my grandma in Cuba. He moved us to Havana, but then he got cancer. I couldn't keep up with the hospital bills. At first I only sold some pills on the side, just enough to keep food on the table, but then I met Marcus at a club one night, and he told me he could take care of my family, pay off all our debt. We were getting harassed by some local gangs… the protection was too good to turn down."

When she stopped, she was looking out the window. Deliberately ignoring me. My own eyes narrowed, too many years of interrogating people in my pocket for me to believe that's all there was to it.

"What else?" I asked, cocking my head slightly.

Bella jumped slightly, her cheeks flushing red. Yeah, I knew better. Marcus was into bad shit same as us, but his went deeper; we didn't traffic underage girls and mule or sell them out.

She cleared her throat, trying to buy time, but I kept my gaze pinned to her face, waiting. Finally, after finger-combing her hair for a good minute, she kept going.

"Marcus had me muling shit at first, just some kilos to the Keys and shit like that. But my grandma was already long dead at this point, and Charlie finally died and I just… I wanted out. And he wouldn't let me. We'd already been dating for a while, and when he proposed I said yes, but I didn't love him. I don't love him. I just went along with shit until he finally relaxed enough so I could fucking bail. Jane picked me up, and helped me change my name to Arie M-M-…"

She paused, scarlet flaring under her cheeks again. "Spit it out, it can't be that bad." I said, laughing, trying to loosen her up a little.

Her voice barely a whisper, she said, "Arie Masen."

It felt like I'd been punched in the gut by fucking sunshine. She used my last name. Good fucking God, I wanted to tell her how happy that made me. It made it really fucking hard to focus on the important facts, like why exactly Marcus was going so hard to find her.

"You're not telling me something, Bella. Why the fuck does he want you back so bad? You know something? You told Carlisle you'd tell him anything." My eyes scanned her face, alert for some kind of reaction or tell.

She didn't make me look hard. "I heard him setting up a meeting with some cartels in Mexico – he wants Carlisle dead, bad. I know where all his stash houses are, what his travel schedule is. I guess that shit could all change but still. I know too much to keep alive, especially in Cullen territory. I kept the ring on 'cuz I was kind of hoping anyone who saw it would maybe think twice about pulling the trigger."

Fuck. This was good – even if he changed all his routes and schedules, we could still make preemptive hits. It was also bad, because I knew what Carlisle would do to a rat. Marcus would make it 100 times worse. No fucking way in hell was that happening to Bella, not while I fucking breathed.

Silently I held out my hand, beckoning for the ring. She seemed to understand, because she slipped it off her finger and dropped it into my waiting palm.

"We're going to tell Marcus that jackass in the hotel offed you. I have to image Jazz and Jake are working on dumping the bodies, so we'll say we dumped you with 'em. You are not to leave this fucking house until I talk to Carlisle, you understand me?" I stopped, sliding my eyes from the ring to meet her wide, brown stare. "I will keep you safe, I promise you that, Bella. On my fucking life, Marcus will eat dirt before you do."