Chapter 30
~You Were Warned~
After the strange dinner with Jimmy's father and the charged moment I shared with Bella in the kitchen, I pray for a boring Sunday. I wake up early as I always do and go for a run. My feet rhythmically hitting the ground, the beats of the music pouring through my earbuds, and the elevation of my heart rate combine to create a sense of euphoria that I rely on. It's my release valve, my way of stepping back from problems and sometimes solving them. Many of my best ideas have come to me while zoning out during a run. I don't solve any problems today, but some of the stress that's been plaguing me has loosened its hold.
When I return, I take a hot shower, determined to banish any lingering thoughts of fantasy Bella from my mind.
Emmett shows up in ratty sweatpants and an old T-shirt. "Yo, E! I have an idea, bro! Let's get a team together and play paintball."
"When?"
"Now. Duh!" Emmett holds his arms out. "You think I'd dress like this otherwise?"
I smirk. "I was beginning to wonder. That sounds like fun."
"Yeah! That's what I'm talking about. Let's start making calls."
I call Jasper. To my surprise, Ali is off today and excited about Emmett's idea. We make a bunch of calls and end up with Seth, Leah, Rose, Paul, and Jacob. I know Jimmy and Bella are meeting Ash for drinks, so I don't bother calling. Part of me is relieved because I need to have a good time and let off some steam.
We agree to meet in front of Marty's Paintball Madness. The guys arrive first, and we horse around and exchange jabs.
"Holy hell." Emmett remains unfazed, even as he gets distracted and takes a punch to the gut.
The rest of us turn to see what has him slack-jawed. Three women dressed in black stride up to us. Black beanies conceal their hair, with smears of eye black applied beneath their eyes and guns slung across their bodies.
My sister is the first to speak. "Ready to rock, boys?"
"Three ninjas. Fuck yeah!" Jasper does a quick fist pump, putting his arm around Ali as she rises up on tiptoe to kiss him.
Rose sidles up to Emmett and taps a hand under his chin to close his gaping mouth. Leah hangs back a little. Paul and Jacob whistle and catcall until she struts around like the beauty she is.
The day is overcast, and it's even darker in the woods on the playing field. The teams are let out on opposite ends, and we race through the woods, spreading out. Some of us climb trees while others hunker down behind bushes or fallen logs.
Ali, Rose, and Leah parade around, distracting our prey. They pop out from strategic places to draw attention, giving the rest of us opportunities to pick the competition off. Ali is thoroughly enjoying herself. She drops to the ground and rolls up on one knee, shooting a guy from the opposition before disappearing into the mist.
I sneak around behind, outflanking some of our enemies, and shoot one in the back. His buddy turns and takes a shot at me. The paintball whizzes so close, I feel the breeze. I take a page from Ali's book and drop to one knee, shooting him in the stomach.
I'm deep in enemy territory and find myself alone; the rest of their team must have moved to our side of the battlefield. I start weaving my way through the trees along one side, determined to catch some of them unaware as they stalk my team. Screams ring out in the far right corner, followed by shouting.
"Jesus, guys. Way to be stealthy," I mutter as I hurry in that direction.
The end-of-game horn sounds, and I glance at my watch; we still have two hours of play left. Could we have taken them all down already?
Screams and shouts continue, and the horn sounds again and then a third time. Spotlights turn on, chasing away most of the shadows, and burly guys in padded uniforms and helmets rush from both sides of the battlefield, running full speed toward the yelling.
I shout at them, "Hey, what's going on?"
They ignore me.
Starting to worry that someone is hurt, I follow the sound of chaos at a run. Before I reach the edge of the woods on our turf, a figure steps out from behind a tree. With all the spotlights, it's hard for me to see him clearly. What I do realize right off is he seems unnaturally calm and unworried. The clamor continues on somewhere behind him, but his focus is on me. He walks forward slowly, and I slow from a run to a jog.
"Hey, man! What the hell is going on?"
He remains silent, still heading toward me at a casual pace. My heart drops and kicks into gear, pounding hard when I realize his face is covered by a ski mask. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a pistol, aiming it at me.
"What the fuck?" I drop to the ground and roll, coming to my feet close to a barricade. I slip behind it and crouch down, unsure what to do now. I grab my gun by the barrel, wielding it as a bludgeon, and wait for him.
Sirens wail in the distance, drawing closer. Something is very wrong, and I have a feeling the culprit on the other side of the barrier is very much involved. Fuck. I take a chance and peek over the top so I can get a sense of his position. There's no one there. Did he run back into the cover of the woods? I scan the area as best I can with the garish spotlights blinding me. I contemplate waiting a while longer, but I'm afraid of what's going on at the other end of the battlefield.
Ducking low, I run for the woods in a crouch. A click behind me stops me in my tracks. The bastard was hiding on the other side of the barricade this whole time. I turn, flipping my gun to hold it by the barrel again, and lunge for him. He shoots me before I can reach him, and I hit the ground hard. Lights out.
oOo
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I'm cold, and my chest hurts. I want to rub it, but my arms won't cooperate. I consider lifting my head. The pounding behind my eyes discourages this course of action.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
My mouth is desert dry. My lips feel glued together. And it's really cold.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The center of my chest throbs, and my eyelids won't respond. Dizziness washes over me, a spinning, swirling vortex in the dark. It topples me into free fall, and I want to scream and grab onto something to stop the nauseating tumble, but I don't seem to have a voice or hands that will obey.
oOo
Snatches of conversation drift around me, a disjointed word soup that my mind chases but can't nail down.
I'm cold.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
More whispers close by that I just can't grasp long enough to decipher.
My chest throbs dully, an improvement over the earlier ice-pick sharpness. I manage to part my lips and emit a guttural "uh" sound.
This causes a scurry of activity.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The beeps chase each other around in my head. "Shu the fu up," I mumble.
A familiar scent wafts up my nose. Ali. I force my eyes open and immediately close them against the harsh light.
"Wait, Edward. I'll tell you when to open your eyes," Ali says softly.
After a few seconds, she lets me know it's safe, and I lift my lids cautiously. Ali's pretty face looms over me, relief etched into her expression. "Welcome back."
I look around. Drab beige walls, pale green curtain on a track. Hospital.
"How is he?" Jasper's sleepy voice comes from my left. He's slumped in a chair, arms crossed and legs splayed out.
I try to sit up and flinch in pain, falling back with a groan. This time my hand obeys my brain and seeks out the soreness in the middle of my chest. The pads of my fingers rub over a bandage.
The door to the room flies open, and Emmett bounds in. "Thank fuck you're awake!"
A nurse bustles into the room and shushes him. She gives Ali a pointed look. "Do not disengage the monitors, please." She grasps my wrist and looks at her watch, timing my pulse. "Good. How are you feeling, Mr. Cullen?"
"Confused . . . sore. Cold. I'm really cold."
"Confusion is normal. I'll grab you an extra blanket." She grabs a blanket from the wardrobe and lays it over me, then backs away, hovering in the doorway. "Let me know if you need anything else."
"Thanks, Sally." Ali lowers the rail and perches on the side of the bed, swiping a hand across my forehead. "You scared us, asshole."
I huff a laugh, which really fucking hurts. "Why are you calling me names?"
"Because I thought you were dead too!"
A rush of fear crashes over me. "What do you mean 'too'? What the hell? Who died?"
"Nobody we know. It was someone from the other team."
"Team?"
Ali's eyes widen. "Paintball. Do you remember?"
I close my eyes, and memories of playing paintball play behind my lids. I was alone behind enemy lines and decided to stalk them onto our side of the playing field. There were shouts, and the end-of-game horn sounded—
My mind blanks. I try harder to remember. In surreal slow motion, guys in body armor and helmets come from either side of the field. I yell something to them, but I can't remember what. They run past me as if I don't exist.
A figure steps out of the trees.
I grab at the sleeve of Ali's sweater. "I'm gonna hurl!" My stomach rolls and spasms.
Unfazed, she leans over and grabs a basin, placing it under my chin. "Go ahead. I've got you." She encourages me to lean to the side, placing a cool hand on the back of my neck.
When I throw up, it feels like I'm being turned inside out. The pain in my chest causes a burst of flashing lights in my vision, and I fear I'm going to pass out. I retch again. Again. I'm lightheaded and woozy, the room dimming.
"Edward!" Ali snaps her fingers in front of my face. "Stay with me! Take slow, deep breaths. In . . . out. That's it."
My vision clears as I drag in several breaths of cool air. Ali pours some water from a plastic pitcher into a cup and sticks a straw in it. I take a few sips, then ease back against the pillows.
"Ali, what the hell happened?"
"Someone on the other team was shot with a real gun."
I press my palm against the bandage on my chest, wincing. "Was I shot?"
"Yes—no. Well, you were, but it was a tranq, not a real bullet."
I stare at her open-mouthed.
Emmett hurries over to my bedside like an overexcited puppy. "Yeah, man—can you believe this shit? And that note!"
Ali hisses at Emmett, baring her teeth. "Would you shut up?"
"Note?" I ask.
Jasper grabs Emmett's arm. "Let's go, bud. Give Ali a chance to talk with Edward."
"But—" Emmett resists, looking between me and Jasper. Ali shoots Emmett a death glare, and he relents. "Okay! I'm going." He mumbles something under his breath that sounds a lot like "Hitler."
Jasper and Emmett leave the room, shutting the door behind them.
Ali slumps over, head in her hands. "Jesus! Emmett is such a child."
A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I fear I'm going to throw up again. I take a few deep breaths, and the nausea ebbs away. "What the hell happened out there?"
She grasps my hand. "What do you remember?"
"We were playing paintball. I snuck behind the other team, and took out a few of their guys. I found myself alone, so I decided to double back and catch them on our side. Before I could get there, I heard shouting, and the end-of-game horn went off. Floodlights went on, and guys in body armor rushed from both sides of the field. There were sirens. Then this figure . . . stepped out of the trees." I hesitate, fighting to remember what happened next. The image of the man fades, and my next memory is of waking up in the hospital. "I can't—that's all I remember."
"It's okay if you can't remember anything else right now. That's normal in these cases."
"These cases?" I echo her words.
"Traumatic events, especially when injuries are involved. The bastard shot you in the chest with a tranquilizer dart strong enough to take down a horse."
"But another player was shot by a real gun? Why? Did the police catch the shooter?"
Ali shakes her head. "We don't know why that player was targeted. And the guy wasn't caught yet. There's some video, but he wore dark clothing and a ski mask. The victim was visiting friends in the area. They can't think of any reason someone would go after him specifically. The police think it might have been random . . ." She trails off, looking away. My sister is the most direct person I know, so when she won't look me in the eye, it scares me.
"Ali, what was Emmett talking about?"
"We found you unconscious. There was a note pinned to your shirt. It said, 'The next shot will be real. Stay away.' Seems odd to go through all that and not be clear about what he wants you to stay away from." She looks at me for a long moment. "Do you know what he meant?"
"No." But deep down I have a feeling this is about Jimmy and Bella. I think of the anonymous text I received while I was at the farmhouse. What is your relationship to Jimmy and Bella? There have been a string of strange events that followed Jimmy to town. A feeling of certainty settles between my shoulders, and I know I'm right.
Ali glances at the ceiling for a moment before meeting my gaze. "Edward, there's something off about Jimmy . . . and Bella. She's lovely, and I have nothing against her, but she's been abused. Worse, she's been groomed, and that kind of programming is not easy to break out of." She pats my hand. "I don't mean to interfere. I just love you and want you to be happy . . . and safe."
"Thanks. I love you, too, and I know you have the best intentions." I swallow around a lump in my throat, and tears sting my eyes. "I'd really like to rest a while. I'm so exhausted."
"That's from the effects of the tranquilizer. Perfectly normal. I'll take the 'kids' to the cafeteria for some lunch, give you some time to yourself."
I didn't lie about being exhausted. The moment I'm alone, my eyelids droop, and I fall into a fitful slumber filled with splotches of brightly colored paint. A man dressed in black, wearing a ski mask steps out of the trees, heading my way. And then he multiplies—there are five, then ten, then fifty or more of him—stalking forward slowly, surrounding and closing in on me, and there's nowhere to run. In unison, all of them point their weapons at me and say, "You were warned." Shots are fired from every direction, and I close my eyes, knowing I can't possibly dodge them all.
"Fuck!" I jolt out of the dream, heart pounding in my chest, and run my hands all over myself, feeling for bullet holes. The only sign of injury is the bandage on my chest. "Shit," I mutter, swiping a hand over my sweaty brow.
Darkness has fallen, and with only the low light from the bar on the wall behind my bed, the room is deeply shadowed. I decide to go back to sleep and nearly miss the slight figure huddled in the corner. I blink a few times, thinking maybe fragments of my dream are plaguing me, but then the form moves.
"Ed-Edward?" The tearful whisper belongs to Bella.
"Bella?"
"Are you all right?" She speaks from the far side of the room, remaining in the shelter of darkness.
"I've been better, but I'm alive."
"Thank God." She strangles back a sob. "When I heard . . . that someone was killed, and the description fit you . . ."
Surprise rockets through me. My sister never mentioned that the victim looked like me. It must have been intentional on the shooter's part because he had me dead to rights. If he wanted me dead, I would be. The knowledge doesn't stop a horrible feeling from snaking through me, causing my heart to pick up speed.
"Where's Jimmy?"
"I—I don't know. He's been gone since this morning."
I use the remote to raise the head of my bed, sitting up straighter, and hold a hand out to her. A cloud of fear and uncertainty rolls off her. "Come here, Bella. It's okay."
"It's not," she whispers.
"It will be. I promise."
Slowly, she walks forward, head bowed. Her feminine curves are hidden within baggy sweats and a loose hoodie. When she reaches the side of my bed, her trembling hand peeks out of the too-long sleeve and seeks mine. Hers is cold, and I envelop it with my own, holding it gently. Her long hair creates a barrier that hides her face from me.
A tear drips onto the back of my hand . . . and then another . . . and another.
"Hey . . . what's wrong?"
"Everything." She sobs softly, trying to pull away, but I hold on.
"Talk to me, Bella."
"I sh-shouldn't have come here. It's just going to make things worse."
"Why?"
Bella laughs, but it's an ugly sound. "So many reasons. I–I have to go. I'm sorry—I'm glad you're okay."
"Don't go. Please talk to me." She hesitates at my plea. Encouraged, I lean forward, though it causes me considerable pain, and swipe a lock of hair back. I gasp when I see her face, and she cries out, trying to pull away again. Her hair slips through my fingers, covering the swollen eye and bruising that mottles her creamy skin. My hand tightens on hers, holding on firmly. "What the fuck happened to your face?"
"It's nothing. Let me go!" Bella struggles, but I refuse to let go.
"Bella, for fuck's sake! Stop. Please." The desperation in my words seems to get through to her.
She relents and turns slowly to perch on the side of my bed. When I reach out, she holds her palm out. "No! Don't touch my face."
"I won't. You're in control here. I'm just—I'm worried about you."
She sniffles. "You're the one in the hospital."
I take a chance, letting her hand go and opening my arms. She hesitates for a few seconds before leaning into my embrace with a soft sigh. I ignore the pain in my ribs and wrap my arms around her slender frame. Resting my chin on top of her head, my fingers stroke slowly through the silken strands of her hair. This is to soothe me as much as it is for her. I breathe deeply, sampling her scent. My heart flip-flops, but it's for a reason other than fear this time.
I've never held Bella this way. We've touched before but never by mutual agreement; one of us was always fighting to escape. For a few moments, I simply revel in the weight of her in my arms. I forget about Jimmy, about loyalty, and allow myself to feel. If there was any question before, I know the answer now. I'm falling head over heels for this woman. It doesn't make logical sense—I don't even know the real her. For that matter, Bella has admitted she's not sure who she really is either. And yet a deep down part of me recognizes her at a cellular level.
"Bella." My voice is hoarse.
"No," she whispers, lifting her legs onto the bed and curling herself into a ball. "Don't ruin this moment."
"There are things we need to—"
"I know. Please give me this—this peace. I haven't felt a moment of peace in so long." Her words are filled with such longing.
Tears prick my eyes, and I cocoon her in my arms even tighter. I kiss the top of her head and whisper, "Okay. Whatever you need."
"Thank you." She snuggles closer, her breaths lengthening until they turn into soft snores.
I will wait to find out who bruised her beautiful face, and then I'll go nuclear on them. For now, I enjoy holding Bella as I sink into a peaceful slumber.
~oOo~
Rough seas ahead. How about we let them enjoy their moment of peace because they won't have much of it. A reminder . . . this isn't a pretty story. There's a lot of tough times and raw emotion and references to abuse, grooming, and trafficking, but this will (eventually) be HEA.
PSA: Fanfail is being a weanie. No email alerts, lots of blank pages, problems reviewing, etc. Notifications are showing up on the app (for now). Not sure what's going on or what the outcome will be.
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