Chapter 1 – The Introduction

Six Months Earlier

Baltimore Washington International Airport, Baltimore Maryland

Edward Cullen POV

I’d dressed down quite a bit for my trip to Austin, Texas, to meet up with Marcus Volturi, that Fall.

Late Summer, actually.

I was tired.  Exhausted.  But not because of the amount of time I’d already spent on flying and layovers.

It was more because I thought I was done with this BS.

Promises were made.

Hands were shook.

But I should have known.

None of that means shit in Marcus’ world.

I laughed at myself, remembering how defiant I’d felt when Felix had come to “fetch” me for another job I was needed for.

Another job I wasn’t supposed to have been on. 

But this was apparently Marcus’ way of telling me I’d never really be retired, no matter what insinuations he might have made.

Anyway, I still had another long flight ahead of me and I was just not about to get all gussied up for the guy.  It was just one way for me to stick it to him.

And it was only the beginning.

At least I hadn’t checked any bags.  It’s a waste of time and money these days, so I just brought some, you know…essentials and figured I’d pick something up in Austin then change before actually seeing him live and in person.

I shipped the guns.

No big.

Not that I was in the habit of using them unless absolutely necessary, but, you know, who needs the hassle of checking a gun or two during air travel?  And why would I need them anyway?

I was anonymous.  No one knew me or of me and that was what had always been the one thing I could count on.

Everything was going pretty smoothly as far as flight experiences until security, when some…crazed, wacked out, OCD woman who seemingly had forgotten to take her happy pills, apparently had a problem with how many “carry-ons” I was putting on the belt.

“Excuse me,” she said all…complete snob and a half like.  Which was all I needed.

“You’re excused,” I told her, not really bothering to look at the person who was acting like I’d purposefully thrown her off her time table for the day.

I mean, if she was that worried, maybe she should’ve left a little earlier, right?

“You’ve got like…four carry-ons.”

It wasn’t really four carry-ons…it was more like…a backpack, a laptop and some munchies for the flight.

“And?”

“And you’re only allowed one.”

“I don’t really think that’s anything for you to worry about, do you?” I asked her while I took my shoes off to put into the bins the airline had so graciously supplied.

She laughed.  But not really, it was more like a, “I’m so not amused with your sarcasm”, snort.

“I think it absolutely is something for me to worry about, considering the security guards are no doubt going to catch you, stop the line, take…for-ever to frisk you, since you look…” she eyed me up and down once or twice. “Completely cocaine dealer-ish…”

I stopped my coordinating of things for that one.

“Cocaine, dealerish?” I asked her, curling my eyebrows just a tad.  “Really?”

She ignored me, throwing a hand up in the air.

“Then the line is going to stop and I’m going to miss a very. Important. Flight…which means, I might have to kill you…or worse…maim you.”

The pinch between my eyebrows hurt and I turned to look down at her menacingly… then my head pulled up a little because she was almost eye to eye with me, actually.

On the way to meeting her eyes, I couldn’t help but appreciate her outfit.

Black leather pants, to be exact…matching button up jacket with what I had to assume was a tank underneath… I’d see it soon enough…she’d have to remove the jacket for the security line.

Then I noticed the shoes…which explained why she was eye to eye with me.

I smiled taking her in and that just made her scowl a little more.

“Six inches?” I questioned her.  “Compensating for something?”

She bent down to take them off and start her own bin, which was going to be completely bare except for those, a watch and her purse…which looked pretty goddamn expensive too.

Money.

She had it, that was for sure, but come on, Jimmy Choos for a flight?

I pulled my sunglasses down a tad, peeking over the brim of them, tilting my head a little, noticing the perfect shape of her…

Nice ass, I thought and I coulda sworn she lingered in that position a little too long for someone who was simply taking her fucking shoes off.

Not that I was complaining or anything.

I busied myself when she finally stood back up.

“I happen to like shoes, for your information, not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Clearly,” was all I gave her.

We moved up a little in the line and I already noticed the security detail eyeballing my stuff.  Not that I was worried about it.  Most people knew Marcus.

And when I say most…I mean like, half the upper class and then some population of the United States of America.

At least.

Maybe even a few other countries.

Point is, even if they gave me grief, I knew their manager wouldn’t once I dropped his name…I’d been down this road before and anyway, I was pretty sure I could get away with the carry-ons I had without any problems.

“Well?” she pushed me.

“Well…what?”

“Are you going to go check your bags?”

I laughed through my nose at her, thinking…she was kinda cute now that she was her normal smurf like size.  I wondered if that would somehow make up for her pain in the ass attitude, in the bedroom.

“No.”

She snorted again. “Jerk.”

I laughed.  She was kinda fun.  In a very annoying kind of way.

“Brat.”

She made a face at my retort. “Asshole.”

I turned my attention back to my things.  “Bitch.”

“Dick.”

I shot my eyebrows up a little and looked to her again.  “Don’t make me break out the big guns, now,” I warned her, settling on the fact that no…the cuteness definitely wouldn’t make up for her pain in the ass attitude, in the bedroom.

“I can’t miss this flight.”

“I don’t know what to tell ya,” I told her, scooting up a little more.

She took a deep, frustrated breath of air in, like she was practicing some yoga thing or something.  I could tell she wasn’t used to not getting her way and, let me just say, it was my pleasure to be the schmuck to not give it to her this time.

We moved along as the people in line with us started to notice how heated our discussion was suddenly becoming.

By the expression on her face, you’d have thought she was about to have a conniption fit, so finally, I decided maybe I could be the bigger person here.

Maybe I could… you know, compromise.

“Listen, if you’re that upset about it, take two of mine and pass ‘em off as yours.”

“What?”

“Take. Two. Of. Mine….and…”

“I heard you, jerk off…I’m not doing that.”

“Why not?” I asked her, looking around to see if anyone had noticed my proposition, then I whispered sideways at her, “No one will know.”

“Because,” she insisted. “It’s against the law…and besides….how do I know you really aren’t some cocaine dealer trying to pass your stash off on me so I’m the one that gets hauled off to jail while you go Scott free out of here?”

I scowled at her. “I think you’ve been watching one too many dramas, little lady.”

She rolled her eyes and it was nearly our turn to go through the scanners.

“You gonna take two?”

“No.”

Stubborn.

And fun.

“Alright then,” I said and I started to push my things through when security stopped me.

“Jesus Christ…I knew it,” she whisper yelled from behind me.  I nearly laughed except I knew that wouldn’t gain me any points with security.

“What’s the problem, sir?”

“Are these all your bags?”

I made a bubble face, deciding on what story to give him since I hadn’t had the opportunity to think it through with Miss Chatty Cathy talking my ear off.

But I didn’t have to.

She reached forward, pulling two bags back. “These are mine,” she said and he eyed her…then me…then her again.  “You sure about that miss?”

She cleared her throat. “Positive,” she told him with a smile, and I thought, well what do ya know?  She actually holds the sun in that smile.

Weird.

The moment was short lived of course, because as soon as he nodded and I went through the scanner, bitch face was back in full on I’m definitely going to try my best hand at kicking your ass mode.

I was putting my shoes on as she made it through, and when she walked passed me to get her things, she kicked me.

“Ow.”

“I hope someone arrests you,” she told me.

I said with fake excitement, “Well, look at it this way, if they do, you’ll be implicated as an accomplice and then we can spend more quality time together.”

“Yay,” she mused, twirling her index finger in a small circle for me.

She kept on walking. Despite the temptation to stay and banter some more and by the time I got through the tram ride and the walk all the way to the end of the fucking airport for my gate…I’d actually pretty much forgotten all about her.

I was more concerned with deciding what drink I’d be starting with, once I got my lazy ass into one of the first class seats I’d be riding in.

I got settled after they called us to board and all four of my carry-ons were stored properly.

Imagine that, OCD lady.

We took off, climbing effortlessly to ten thousand feet…I was drinking and feelin’ good when…

“Excuse me.”

No.

My head dipped into my hands a little because… Just… no.

An airline stewardess stopped almost right beside me… just behind, actually.  “Yes Miss?”

“Could I get another Bloody Mary, please?” she asked, then corrected herself. “A little more bloody and a little less Mary, this time?”

“Of course Miss, I’ll be right back.”

Please no.

I downed my Jack and Coke and stopped the same stewardess, waving the drink at her and she acknowledged my desperate need for alcoholic consumption, then went on her way.

I slunk down a little but that wasn’t gonna help me.

Not when I could feel the most recent pain in my ass screwing around under my seat.

“This doesn’t belong under there,” she growled, pulling carry on number three out. The backpack.  

“Excuse me,” she blurted, standing up and swinging around the seat to find…Me.

I smiled and waved. “You really need some new vocabulary goin’ on, ya know?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not…you really do need to look up some new phrases…that one makes you seem…” I shrugged sarcastically. “Bitchy.”

She shoved the carry on into my lap. “I’m talking about your bag.  Dipshit.”

“Nice one.”

She rolled her eyes again and made her way back to her seat.  “Don’t take up the space I paid for with your cocaine carrying crap.”

I unbuckled myself and turned around. “You don’t even have a carry on…”

“And?” she asked, mocking my earlier tease in the airport.

Touche.

“And if you keep using the word cocaine with regards to my bags…security might really think I’m a dealer and stop me. I have important shit to attend to too ya know.”

She arched an eyebrow and smirked.  “Doesn’t sound like that’s my problem.”

And Jesus fuck, why was God trying to make my week ten times worse than it already was? “Look….I’ll buy you a drink if you just let me stow it under the…”

“Drinks are free in First Class.”

“I’ll buy you a fucking bottle when we land, then.”

“I don’t think so,” she said flippantly, opening up the SkyMall magazine that had been sitting in the empty seat next to her.

My eyes narrowed.

My lips thinned.

“Fine…be a bitch.”  I swirled around and sat back down into my first class pain in the….

“Don’t make me break out the big guns, now….” she mused and then my drink was there.  As was hers.

Thank. God.

“Sir,” the stewardess said, noticing the bag that was now in my lap. 

“I know, I know, I’ll…make sure it’s up in a bin before we land,” I told her, trying my best to turn on the old Cullen charm, but failing miserably because the current object of my deflection was giggling from behind me. 

Pissing me right off.

The stewardess handed me the Jack and Coke and I ordered another, plus an additional Bloody Mary for my not so friendly neighbor. 

My thinking was that maybe she’d get drunk and fall asleep, which very well might have been the case because the rest of the flight seemed…not quite so annoying.

Until it was time to land, that is.

When I slung my backpack over my shoulder, apparently I was a little too close for Miss I own the world, and it quite accidentally knocked her on her ass.

I made the mistake of chuckling a little at the sight of her on the floor when I offered her a hand to help her get up.

She batted it away. “I don’t need your help,” she spat as she stood up, taking a moment or two to gain her balance.

I told her, “A good pair of Nike’s would solve that balance problem, ya know.”  I got the old stink eye for that one.  “Or…you know, maybe not quite so much alcohol.”

“Shut up,” she demanded, then proceeded to push past me and follow the crowd off of the plane.

Affording me a nice view of that ass of hers…which I didn’t complain about, again.

We exited and I thanked...GOD I would finally be free of her only… I wasn’t.

She followed me to the escalator.

Not abnormal, she’s probably just headed for the car rentals…. just… avoid eye contact.

We both took a slight right off of the escalator and I started to wonder if she was stalking me or something when I noticed the limo driver with the sign in his hand that said, “Edward Cullen,” on it.

And… “Bella Swan”.

Someone else was joining me?

I slowed as we approached him, side by side, giving a confused look to the driver.

“Oh… I don’t think so,” she said, almost amused only… not. 

“So you’re…” I pointed at the sign. 

“Yyyyep,” she answered. “Which makes you…” she pointed as well and I mumbled, “Uh huh.”

Silence.

“Awkward,” I said, letting the driver take my things.

“Nice to see you, sir…madame…Mr. Volturi would like me to take you to the Driskill, if that is acceptable to the both of you?”

“As long as it’s separate rooms,” I bellowed, letting out a completely nervous laugh after… immediately stopping myself so I didn’t look like too big of an idiot.

Bella Swan didn’t say anything. She just got her snarky little self into the limo and I took a breather or two before following her, unsure as to why Marcus had arranged for two of us on this job.

Maybe she’s just meeting him for something else…

Maybe she’s his latest play toy.

That made sense only… if it was true, why wouldn’t he have flown her over on his private jet?

I decided she probably wasn’t his play toy…Marcus wasn’t crazy about smart mouthed play toys…this much I knew.  So then, I was back to getting a little antsy about the limo drive over to the Driskill.

Because if I thought the plane ride was intense… I figured being in such an enclosed area like the limo would probably be like shoving a proton and a neutron into close proximity of each other and….

Wait.

That’s not a good example…

“Are you coming?” she bellowed from the back seat.

I bent down a little, smiling at heras best I could from outside of the car.  “Yes, dear.”

When I stood back up, I locked eyes with the driver who was on the other side of the vehicle then.  “You know her?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“She been around long?”

Another nod.  “Awhile, sir.”

I looked up at the night sky before giving my attention back to him. “She always like this?”

He nodded one more time for me and then smiled. “Almost always, sir.”  Then he slinked his way into the front seat like the coward that he was.

Leaving me to fend for myself.

I rubbed at the scruff on my face and re-grouped.

It couldn’t be that bad, right?

When I slid into my seat, she was typing something into her phone but abruptly stopped when I was too close for comfort.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” I told her, reaching for a bottle of the strongest thing available in that back seat.

I was gonna need it.

“You couldn’t interrupt me if you wanted to…Edward Cullen.”

“Oh…Ouch…that hurts…using my full name like that,” I teased, sarcastically, putting a hand to my chest like she’d shot me.  Then got serious with her, again.  “You reeeeeealllly got me there.”

She huffed and made some womanly species type noise out of her nose and I found what I was looking for.

“Well,” I said, pouring myself a shot.  “This oughta be fun.”

And because she couldn’t stand not getting the last word in, she added, “Super.”

And oh yeah.

Marcus was gonna pay alright.